School of Sorcery

Chandagnac said:

'I had that dream too,' Venta confesses. 'But I saw Deryth the Dream-Seller. She offered me a secret in exchange for a secret.'

'And what did you tell her?' you ask.

'Well, obviously I would tell you,' she says, rolling her eyes.

You are mildly offended at that. 'Um, why not?'

'Because you're a boy,' she says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

'I don't see how that's relevant.'

'Come on, Dorian, let me have my secrets!'

'You're eleven years old. What dark and terrible secrets could you possibly have?'

'Wouldn't you like to know?' she says mysteriously.

'Yes, I would,' you say with a nod.

She sighs and shakes her head. 'You're hopeless.'

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'The Riddling Knight appeared to me in a dream,' you tell her. 'She told me that the goddess is close to the surface and she hopes that soon she will be free.'

'Lucky you,' Venta replies, a trifle enviously. 'I didn't even get that much. The Dream Seller didn't seem to think that my secret was worth anything.'

'Well, maybe I could be the judge of that?' you suggest.

She shakes her head. 'No. It's personal. And I wouldn't want to tempt fate.'

'All right then,' you say, giving up. 'Keep your secrets.'

'Thanks, Dorian.' She smiles at you. 'I will.'

Chandagnac said:

On Sevenday morning, more Bladderwrack. You don't play especially well, but the opposing team is worse: they're not creative, they're not good at spellcasting, and they're not physically fit enough to outmuscle you. Another win puts your team in second place on the first-year leaderboard, just behind Athamas Cardos's team; the only reason why they're ahead is that they've played more games than you.

'Congratulations,' says Wing Commander Vancien, adjusting the scores with a wave of his hand.

'What would we need to do to take first place?' Phil asks boldly.

'Hmm. How would you feel about going up against a second-year team?' asks the burly former soldier-mage.

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'Yeah, why not? As long as you don't make us go up against the best of their year group,' you say.

'Very well,' says Vancien with a nod. 'I'll arrange it for next week. Is Sixday morning a good time for you?'

'As good a time as any,' says Phil with an expansive shrug. 'We'll be there.'

Your other teammates, Isolia and Venta don't seem particularly enthused, but neither do they refuse to participate.

'Well, even if we don't win, it's the taking part that counts, right?' you say, trying to reassure them.

'Save the reassuring platitudes for the teachers, Dorian,' says Venta, rolling her eyes and making a disgusted noise.

Isolia laughs at that.

Wisely, you beat a hasty retreat. Discretion is the better part of valour and so on – or it would be, if that wasn't yet another cliché.

---

On Oneday of your sixth week at the Tyrepheum Academy of the Magical Arts, after you've finished a blandly unmemorable dinner and your lessons earlier in the day, you head outside, intending to tend your garden. You are slightly surprised to hear a mutinous muttering in the distance, different from the normal sounds of the city. Because the academy, its associated college, and its grounds occupy such an enormous area of land, it takes you a few moments to realise that the noise is coming from an angry mob standing outside the main gates.

There must be more than a hundred people gathered there, from several different walks of life: many of them are from the city's poor and unwashed lower classes, but there are a few who look well-dressed and prosperous. Some of them have torches and pitchforks – considering that they all look like city folk, you're not sure where they got them from, but you appreciate their dedication to the theme – others are carrying banners and placards, marching up and down, and shouting revolutionary slogans.

'And it's not as if it's Shelinande yet,' you say, making a humorous reference to the month during which the goddess Lissa's worshippers traditionally try to overthrow the government.

When he sees you straying too close, one of the protesters heaves half a brick at you. It misses by several metres, but it serves as a warning to keep your distance, which you are only too willing to heed. Instead of observing the rabble outside the school gates, you continue towards your garden, where you were originally heading.

Because the grounds are so large and the gates are situated so far away from the main building, it is conceivable that the members of the faculty have yet to notice that the school is under siege. Even so, you still think it's a peculiar. Perhaps Headmaster Prentigold is allowing this to happen because he thinks it's amusing, or he's waiting to see what other people will do, or he considers it beneath his notice. You wonder if you should go and tell somebody about it.

Just then, a thin, rangy young man, whom you recognise as Anthikares Neroth, steps out of his hiding place behind someone's shed. He stretches out one of his scarred hands and beckons for you to follow him. Having no reason to do otherwise, you go over to him.

'Salutations,' he says, giving you a nod, when the two of you are safely hidden in the alleyway between two of the larger greenhouses. 'You're looking well.'

'I could say the same about you,' you say, looking him up and down. He certainly looks healthier and less distraught than the last time you saw him. 'What's this about?'

He waves a hand in the direction of the maddened crowd. 'You've seen them, I assume? Did you notice who their leader was?'

Thinking back, you try to remember if you saw anyone who looked as if they were in charge of the rest, but you don't have a clear image in your mind. There were a few big men standing in the middle of the crowd, you suppose: was one of them their leader?

You shake your head. 'Sorry, I didn't.'

'I wouldn't expect you to. I doubt you saw him for longer than a few moments back then,' Anthikares said gruffly. He sighs heavily. 'Slippery Nik. That's who it is.'

'Who?' You frown, remembering the name. 'The loanshark you owe money to? Didn't Green Flame nearly kill him?'

'Yeah. I guess it took him this long to recover. Now, I assume this is his roundabout way of coming to collect on the debt. Ballsy of him. It may seem stupid, but… there's a pretty good chance that our esteemed headmaster will give him exactly what he wants, just because he can't be bothered to deal with any of it.'

You glance dubiously at him. 'Prentigold would do that?'

'No doubt. On the other hand, I reckon that there's an even better chance that our esteemed headmaster will lose his temper and vaporize the entire crowd.' Anthikares shrugs. 'Either way, I don't need to be a soothsayer to foresee terrible trouble ahead.'

What will you do next?
[] Ask, "Why are you telling me this?"
-[] "What do you expect me to do about it?"
[] Try to persuade Anthikares to face down the angry mob on his lonesome.
[] Say something else (write in).

[] Run to the school building and fetch a member of the faculty.
-[] Who?
--[] Opernus Prentigold
--[] Green Flame
--[] Halie Glossoloria
--[] Emerijk Kunrath
--[] Someone else (randomly chosen)

[] Decide that none of this has anything to do with you.
-[] Do some gardening.

[] Wait for Headmaster Prentigold to get angry.
-[] Sit back and watch the fireworks.
--[] Regret that popcorn hasn't been invented yet.

[] Do something else (write in).