LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 3 Apprentice
The words Mr. Fergus appeared in the librarian’s nameplate. He seemed friendly, but reading his expressions behind his thick spectacles wasn’t easy.
“Hello, sir. My name is Apache, and I’m a new apprentice. I hoped to acquaint myself with the library and, perhaps, find a magic tutor. I want to become a wizard one day.”
His face fell into a mask of regret. “Oh, I’m so sorry. We have no one like that here. I’m afraid we’re a vocational school, and this region isn’t renowned for its use of magic.”
His apology seemed sincere.
Mr Fergus, a thin, elegant man, extended his fingers at odd angles when he spoke as if grasping for the perfect words to match his thoughts. “Perhaps I could introduce you to one of our liturgic or alchemical associates.”
I brightened, remembering light magic counted as one of the major disciplines. While I had little desire to become a healer, perhaps someone at the local temple could point me toward a proper wizard.
“I am Mr. Fergus. I can recommend Mother Marteen, the abbess of Our Lady of Balance, and she, too, has a respectable library. Their satellite temple is right here in Belden.”
“Thank you for the suggestion.” I tried not to sound disappointed and didn’t mention I’d already run into Mother Marteen in the courtyard, serving in the ratricide chorus.
“Baldrick is an adjunct instructor and proselyte of Tarnen. His illusions make combat training more realistic.”
Wondering how illusions could add realism to combat, I detected a note of disapproval when he mentioned Baldrick.
Mr. Fergus beckoned me to follow him for another tour. I closed the book, returned it to its shelf, and followed him to the bottom of a stairwell.
“Everyone must decide for themselves whether dark magic is right for them. But I doubt Baldrick has the sort of magic you’re after. I don’t quite trust the man but can vouch for Mother Marteen. She has a rounder grasp of magic schools.”
That he only named two people, both of whom I’d already met, didn’t raise my confidence.
He started up the spiral stairs. “Our library has several sections you’ll find relevant, but I suspect you’ll spend most of your time in history. I’m sure you’ll get a grip on magic craft with a little digging.”
Mr. Fergus stopped climbing on the fourth floor, even though the stairs continued upward. He gestured to one side of the room. “You can access books on the first four floors as a Belden apprentice. The fifth floor holds special collections and offices. Our special collections have illuminated manuscripts ranging from poems and songs to children’s fables. They have monetary value, but I’m afraid they’re not academic.”
Mr. Fergus waved his hands toward an area well-lit by glass windows. “You’re free to use these desks in the reading section. Our cultural studies are over there, including what we have on language and theology. We keep city chronicles, histories of noble houses, and royal genealogy on floor three. On the second are our philosophical, agricultural, and natural studies. You’ll find material on flora and fauna, but our alchemical apprentices monopolize the best books, as is their right.”
Mr. Fergus made a rueful face. “And if you have too much time on your hands, the first floor has fables and fiction. The library’s patrons regard books as status symbols rather than sources of knowledge. We’re moving away from decorative showpieces, but our benefactors disagree with this direction. They value ornamentation and prestige more than content. What books the university can procure isn’t entirely under our control. I try to keep the piffle out of the stacks, but beggars can’t be choosers.”
He stopped himself. “Are you of noble blood?”
“Um, no. Is that a problem?”
“No. Not at all. Nobles rarely make for good academics. They’re too social and haven’t the backbone for hard study. No, you look like a budding philosoph.”
I smiled and shrugged.
“Philosophs are a paradoxical breed. If we ever reached the point where we had nothing left to learn or discover, we’d lose our purpose—yet we dedicate our lives toward that very end. But I don’t suppose that’s a dilemma for today, eh?”
His question seemed rhetorical, so I opted for a safe response. “I’m here to learn. May I ask if there is a library catalog?”
He grunted. “We haven’t cataloged our new material. You’ll learn your way around soon enough, as we don’t have many good books. There’s an inventory on the first floor, and next to it is a longer list of recent acquisitions. I’ll combine them one day. I should do that soon, as our best books are undocumented.”
He studied me for a second. “Perhaps you could help me with that. The university could compensate you for your efforts.”
New Quest
White-Collar Work
Description
Mr. Fergus has asked you to update the library’s catalog with another list of new acquisitions.
Objective
Sort the new acquisitions section into the rest of the stacks and rewrite the library’s catalog.
Reward
50 experience
3 silver
50 copper pieces.
The relatively safe nature of clerical work made this my kind of quest, and I could cover material I already wanted to learn. The experience reward would raise me to level 1, and the monetary compensation amounted to 35 times the rat-fest.
With fewer than a thousand books in the library, this felt like a win-win-win decision, and I accepted his challenge with a nod.
“Excellent! You may begin tomorrow after you’ve settled.” He turned to a narrow window and unlatched a heavy storm shutter, pushing it with no minor effort against the wind. He pointed. “If I may direct your attention, I can show you Our Lady of Balance from here. It’s the big yellow dome. Mother Marteen runs a daily seminary but is usually available around noon. I know their library well. It’s not big, but they have more than parables and hymns dedicated to Laros.”
“Laros?”
His brow furrowed as he studied my face. “Our large, yellow moon? The source of light magic? Every child knows Laros.” Mr. Fergus held the shutter, giving me time to take in the view.
I avoided his questioning gaze and looked at the buildings. The high vantage helped me to ascertain Belden’s size. Beneath me spanned fifty or so structures—only a few stood higher than one story. Did this view represent most of the city or just its outer edge?
Capping the quaint cityscape stretched a sky unlike any I’d seen before. The heavens looked like a mural framed by a storm wall to the west and mountains to the east. Faint lunar crescents kissed the atmospheric canvas, and the late hour intensified the colors.
I could feel Mr. Fergus watching me again from behind his thick spectacles. His brow wrinkled. “Something tells me you’re new here. You don’t have the manner of someone from the Eastern capitals, Malibar and Torzda. I’d happily explain this view to you if you’re interested.”
He crooked his eyebrow to challenge me, but I admitted nothing.
Mr. Fergus turned to the vista. “We call the sun Puros, and the bright moon is Laros.” He pointed to a yellow moon so large that I wondered if it were a planet and Miros, its satellite. Moons weren’t supposed to be so prominent in the sky.
Mr. Fergus continued. “We’re looking north. If you peer out to the East, you’ll see the uppermost tip of the Highwall Mountains. And those dark summits further north are the Bluepeaks—dangerous territory. I wouldn’t go there unless you launch a campaign against the goblins. The small, purple moon hanging above the mountains is Tarnen. It is the source of dark magic.”
He redirected his attention to the center of our view. “The river goes north through Basilborough and onward to Grayton while another fork goes down to Darton Rock. They both flow into Arlington, of course.”
This firehose of information came a bit too fast to memorize. “What’s the river called?”
“It depends where you’re from. Everyone near the coast calls it the Arlington River. Those further inland refer to it as the Grayton River.”
I grunted, trying to keep up with all the unfamiliar names.
Mr. Fergus reacted to my blank expression. “Grayton? The biggest city in the West? It’s the largest city on the continent—although Malibar or Torzda might be larger these days.” He sighed with provincial humility. “I wouldn’t know, having not been there in ages.”
“Uh-huh.” I pretended to know these names and immediately regretted the charade.
Mr. Fergus tilted his chin down as if to chide me. “It’s been raining all week, so you can’t see further than Basilborough—even with your young eyes. But you haven’t a speck of mud on your boots.”
“That’s because I like to be clean?” Giving him a hand-caught-in-the-cookie-jar grin, I hoped he’d let me get away with the explanation.
His smile reassured me he would. “You’ll want to get to dinner soon. The tradespeople sup early, and they’re serving boar tonight. You’ll want to be in Formal Hall before it’s gone. This is where I let you go, I’m afraid. I still have work to do.” He gestured to a door by the stairs. “I will see you tomorrow morning.” With a grunt, he closed the shutter.
As I left, I replayed our conversation in my mind. The depth of the game’s artificial intelligence surprised me. AI seemed to be an aging field. Fooling humans with AI realism became common in games, but this game surpassed anything I’d experienced.
Formal Hall served as the university’s dining area I’d passed earlier. The aged librarian did me a favor by recommending an early arrival as the place filled up quickly. I milled through the food line and found an empty table.
At first, I worried there might be chips of rocks or unsavory bits in the biscuits, but everything tasted good. The pungent spices dispelled my presumptions that the food might be primitive or tasteless. The baked morsels contained zesty seeds and nuts I didn’t recognize, and the pork tasted juicier than I’d ever eaten.
Aside from the sumptuous meal, everything else felt like high school. None of the other apprentices approached me for a conversation, so I surveyed their mannerisms from afar. The diners segregated themselves by studies. The rowdy armor-clad cadets hung out together while the tradesfolk kept to themselves. Those in classic studies dined elsewhere. The hall had more empty seats than patrons dressed as academics.
Halfway through the meal, I spotted a group of contestants. I picked out the five new apprentices milling into the room. Their avatars appeared far more attractive than the plainer-looking NPCs. If idealized bodies and perfect faces didn’t identify them as competitors, the nameplates over their heads gave them away.
Four had reached level 1, and one girl attained level 2. Since I couldn’t see my nameplate, I didn’t know if I blended into the crowd of non-player characters, most of whom registered at level 0. Perhaps the level 0 nameplates looked like NPCs—and if so, that meant the other players wouldn’t identify me as a player. If so, maybe that would give me an element of surprise. I should have taken a more conventional fantasy name, like Yorick or Geoffrey. Apache made me stand out as an American.
The five player-apprentices moved together and looked to be obviously in cahoots. Perhaps staying at level 0 might help me keep a low profile. I wondered how an NPC would talk—would I be able to fake an accent to pull off the ruse?
One of the gorgeous girls looked in my direction, dispelling my reverie. The nameplate floating over her head read “ArtGirl.” She recognized my nameplate as that of another player, smiled, and nodded.
I forced a smile. Gladiators aren’t supposed to make friends—at least, that’s what they say in the movies.
Still holding her food, she conferred with the other players and approached me—so much for subterfuge.