Welcome to the University of Sorcery at Haramschall! We’re delighted that you’re considering our lovely campus for your arcane educational needs. Please make sure that you keep this pamphlet and your ticket on your person as you take this self-guided tour around the campus grounds. Please keep in mind the following rules:
No tobacco smoking.
No public inebriation.
No harassment of any kind.
No explanations of student activities (without consultation fee).
No trespassing or diverting from the self-guided tour path for any reason.
If a university regulator finds you breaking these rules, you will be ejected from the school grounds and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
Please begin the tour by turning to the next page.
I will bring your killer to justice.
A chill slid down Captain Karna’s neck as a westerly wind blew through Ziqondi. What remained of Wallach Esserton had been packaged into a small wooden coffin and lowered into the ground, witnessed by the few people in the town who could say they knew him well. Karna counted herself among them, even after only being assigned to Ziquondi for a few weeks.
She couldn’t escape the image of his broken body laying on the floor of his own lab, his bashed-in skull encircled by a pool of his own blood.
What struck Karna most was how easily she imagined Wallach succeeding as a pioneer of his field if he hadn’t been killed. Wallach spoke constantly of his research and how it would change the world, as soon as he could unlock the secrets of harnessing Resource permanently.
Before then, Karna hardly gave a damn about Resource. If a sorcerer made something helpful for her, she would use it, but she didn’t care to discuss the mechanics of it. But Wallach was a visionary. He could paint a compelling picture. He helped Karna imagine a world where the entire members of the Guard were equipped with effective and non-lethal weapons so every criminal would be alive to receive a fair trial.
Tiv cleared her throat from Karna’s side, and Karna watched as Captain Barrask offered some kind words for those who knew Wallach. Kind, but empty. In theory, Barrask should have known much Wallach much better than she did. He’d spent half a year in Ziqondi, but Barrask was content to sit in the tavern and drink his evenings away.
Which is why the Consul sent Karna in the first place, she suspected.
“…He was a good man. He was a kind man. He had honest ambitions and an honest living. He was taken from us all too soon.”
He was taken from us. The words stuck with Karna. Wallach did not live a good, full life like he deserved. Someone did this. Someone chained Wallach up in his own lab. Someone let his barely-tamed beast of a dog feed on Wallach. Someone beat Wallach to death after he tried to escape.
Someone who had looked Karna in the eyes and nodded, standing next to Wallach when she said “I still don’t suspect an orc is responsible for these deaths and disappearances. Prove me right.”
Brexothuruk.
What a fool I was, she thought. I let my guard down for too long. He preyed on my trust for the orcs here, he pretended to be some naive child who didn’t even understand life outside of his clan. He manipulated me into paying for his rations and murdered someone in the very same day.
Karna watched her comrades shovel dirt onto the coffin and she swore that Brexothuruk would face justice for what he had done, even if it meant tracking him across the world itself.
Brex shivered, rubbing his own arm as he rapped his knuckles on the door of what he hoped was a tailor.
“Hello?” he called out. “Excuse me, could I–I trouble you for something?”
Red wrinkled his nose and chuffed, pressing his face up against the glass of the nearby window. It was midday, but the chill outside fogged up most of the view.
“Please don’t mind my dog,” Brex continued. “I can leave him outside if you need me too.” His teeth chattered as he felt another chill slide down his spine.
Why does it have to be so cold right after my clothes get ripped to pieces by a maniac?
Brex knocked again, the coin purse with his borrowed sentas from Wallach jingling at his waist. “I’ve got a hundred and sixteen sentas that I really want to spend.”
There was a thundering noise from inside and the door opened to a spindly young human woman in a cloak, or maybe a blanket, he wasn’t quite sure.
“A hundred and sixteen you say?” she asked in a raspy voice, then cleared her throat, which didn’t help at all. “Please, please come in and bring your dog, sure! What can I do for you?”
Brex thought it would be obvious, with the weather being what it was and his entire wardrobe only barely offering him a sense of decency. “I’d like some new clothes, please?”
The woman pulled back her cloak’s hood as she brought them inside, then immediately began to pack a pipe with some plant matter before lighting it. “Yes, yes, darling, but what kind of clothes? What are you looking to do?”
Brex looked at Red, as though he could help, but the lion was just looking back outside from the very same window he’d been pressed up against before, fogging the glass with his breath.
Cats.
“I’m a sorcerer,” Brex said, feeling as though he didn’t really qualify for the title. “So, something that could hold a lot of catalysts–“
“Catalysts, you mean rings and jewelry and whatnot, yes?” the tailor asked, Brex finally detecting the hint of an accent. Probably a side effect of his translation spell.
“Yes, but I need to make sure they don’t touch. And they can’t touch my skin either. I need to be able to take things off and put things on at will.”
The woman’s smile grew. “You, as a sorcerer, need something to hold a lot of small items.” She winked. “And you are, ah, large fellow. Big strong orc man.”
Big, sure, Brex thought. I dunno about strong..
The tailor sprang to life again and darted across the room, opening a massive closet of fabrics. Roll upon roll of leather, hide, cotton, silk, in a glorious array of colors. Spools of thread that hung upon hooks, dangling strings to the ground.
“I will create for you a beautiful set of traveling gear that will impress all of those that you cross paths with. You will dazzle everything in your vicinity. You–“
“P-please,” Brex interjected. “I…I’d really like to just blend in. Something with a lot of pockets, and something that fits me well. A-and maybe something durable.”
The tailor’s smile turned as sour as old milk. “Very well.”
Brex checked on Red again, expecting him to have curled up in a corner, but the lion was still paying careful attention to the scene outside the building. Watching. Waiting.
“We’re…in a bit of a hurry. Can you just give me the biggest thing you have with the most pockets?”
The tailor sighed and then strode over to a different closet, opening up a display of gear with mostly brown and black hues. “You come with big promise, lots of sentas, and then ask for stock clothing because you are in hurry.” She glanced back at Brex. “I will not have perfect fit for you. You deserve a nice set that is measured just for you but you are in hurry.” Her stare grew cold for a moment, and she puffed a cloud of smoke from her pipe. “I sell you good clothes now, you come back later when you have time, yes? Let Titania give you proper wardrobe for a good price, won’t you?”
Brex gulped. “Sure, yes, that sounds just great.”
“Very well then! It is decided.”
She pulled a hangar from the closet and laid out the vestments across her sales counter.
It certainly qualified for “the biggest thing with the most pockets”, clearly sized for a barrel-shaped person with a thick chest, waist and legs. And there were pockets just about everywhere. A leather strip stretched from the shoulder to the opposing hip, pockets sewn in along it. A bundle of more pockets were placed at the other shoulder. There was a circle of pockets at the waist, too. There had to be more than two dozen in total. There was even a strip sewn around the thigh. …But the arms looked thin. Surely too thin for Brex’s thick body.
“I will let you take this for fifty sentas and a promise to return for even better wardrobe. Reasonable, yes?”
Brex had no measure for appraisal. But it seemed fair based on what he paid for food, especially if he got as much use out of the outfit as he planned to.
“Sure, yes, it’s agreed.”
“Excellent!” She motioned for him to give her the money, and Brex bit his lip while starting to count out the coin.
He watched her face as he put each sliver of metal down on the counter, waiting until she raised her eyebrows in surprise and put that last coin back.
I really need to find a book on how money works for the rest of the world.
He slid the pile of coin toward her, and she just nodded.
“Now!” she spat and clapped twice. “Off with those rags!”
Brex blushed furiously and started taking off what little fabric he had adorning his body since escaping Ziqondi. The tailor was not one for modesty, though, and quickly began helping him put his new outfit on. As expected, it fit pretty well, until he put his arms through the sleeves.
The fabric held tight to his biceps and he could already feel his arms losing blood flow. He could barely even move his arms down to his sides without fearing to rip the fabric.
“Arms down, darling. I want to make an adjustment.” The tailor said.
“I can’t. We need to go–“
“Arms down!”
She gave a firm tug on his right arm and the resulting ripping noise rang through the shop. Brex lifted his arm to find that the tear went all the way from his shoulder to his elbow.
Exasperated, he pulled on the sleeve until it ripped off, exposing his arm completely. The tailor let out a hiss, as though she’d felt physical pain from witnessing it. He glanced in the mirror and noticed the left arm was still trapped in its cotton prison, then ripped that one off too. The tailor let out another soft gasp.
“Well,” Brex said. “Fits great now.”
The tailor plucked the ripped sleeves from the floor and then muttered “No refunds.”
“A-are we done, then?” Brex asked.
“Yes, yes, off you go. Remember to come back for a proper fitting mister orc sorcerer. You need special attention!”
Just as Brex was about to run off, Red sidled up to him and pressed his nose into Brex’s hand, making him jump in surprise. Red motioned backward, and Brex realized he was referring to the metal on his back.
Right. The spell that keeps him a lion instead of a person…as long as light can reach it.
Brex approached the tailor one last time. “Actually, can I get a leather shirt? Just a little smaller than my size?”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Darling, I cannot let you buy another shirt just to rip it.”
Brex shook his head. “No, no, it’s for, uh, it’s for my dog.” He gestured to Red, who was straining to keep his muzzle upon her counter, eyes wide. He let out his most bark-like chuff yet.
The tailor took a long drag from her pipe. “Your dog needs a shirt,” she said, disbelieving.
“And pants.” Brex chuckled. “It’s, uh, complicated.”
By way of explanation, Red stuck his tongue out.
Brex stepped out of the tailor’s shop and back into Harramschall’s brisk morning air. His new gear gave him a gracious reprieve from the chill, but the wind still swept through the outskirts of the city. Brex glanced longingly at the massive marble structure that was the University of Sorcery at Harramschall near the center of the city.
It was still so far away, and the city was larger than he ever expected. He knew from stories and from seeing Ziqondi that human settlements and cities were fixed locations that grew outward, but Harramschall was enormous. It was large to the point that he heard people using different names to refer to different sections of it. The idea of it seemed so outrageous, but only because he couldn’t imagine naming the different parts of the settlement at Clan Ironheart. It made sense to divide something as massive as Harramschall into districts, he’d just never considered anything like that before.
Because whenever he looked at the city from the mesa, he always saw the University. He heaved a sigh, remembering how that building seemed no less a monolith from so much farther away.
In the short time he’d spent since leaving Clan Ironheart, the reality of which he was slowly accepting, Brex had learned just how often his imagination and expectations lined up with the truth.
Which was to say: Practically never.
He acknowledged after a while that technically it was possible he might accurately predict or imagine something entirely correctly, but it was better to accept that it would never happen. The hard part was growing accustomed to it.
Red pushed his nose into Brex’s hand again and they walked past a few more buildings and settled into the shade behind an antique shop. In the darkest shadow, Red laid himself down and rolled onto his back, closing his eyes.
Brex glanced at the sky and sat himself against the wall of the shop before reaching out and gently rubbing Red’s belly. It’d take a good while for Red to shift to his half-orc form, which left Brex alone with his thoughts again.
He still hadn’t been into the city proper, but he and Red did manage to get a good night’s sleep a few times. Brex had become a voracious reader. It’d only been a few days, but Brex had managed to tear through all sorts of books, leaving the ones that he finished behind on bookshelves of inns and stores that he passed through, always taking another that would pique his interest.
His new translation spell certainly helped him start to learn the written element of Harrish, to the point where he was catching onto certain words on signs and posters like “danger” and “bathroom.” He was even starting to feel comfortable reading basic sentences without any translation help at all.
But as it turned out, Scary Stories for Steel Hearts through the lens of his sorcery was little more than superstitious warnings for a child. Since the spell revealed the true meaning of the words to him in Orcish, he ended up reading long-winded explanations on why people shouldn’t waste food or trust strangers too quickly.
Well of course people shouldn’t do that, he’d thought, why would you waste paper repeating that so much?
After he realized the effect the spell was having on his reading experience, he switched to more educational texts like Basic Gardening and Carpentry for Beginners. He’d never let go of his sorcery books, but with the context of other, more boring activities, he started to appreciate his chosen profession a bit more.
The only problem was that none of the books he found ever seemed to cover how to make any money, which was incredibly frustrating, since money was apparently used to purchase everything in Haramschall, not just luxuries. Wallach’s savings had served them well, and he was glad to have finally shed that torn up outfit, but he didn’t have a reliable source of sentas for himself.
Brex realized that his hand was no longer rubbing fur, but skin.
Red had shifted back to the more orcish version of himself—and Brex rubbing his belly had suddenly become much less publically acceptable. Red, naturally, was still content to lay back regardless of his physical shape.
Brex gave Red a pat on the hip, then picked up the illusory catalyst that Red usually wore on his tail in his lion shape. “Morning, sunshine.”
“But it’s not morning, green thing.” Red’s voice was still as silky smooth as the first time Brex heard it, which did not make things any less complicated for him. He’d gotten much better at the general structure of speaking Orcish. Or maybe Harrish. Because of the translation spell, he could never be totally sure what language Red was hearing when Brex spoke.
“It’s a thing people say. At least, people say it here, I think. Here, put these on.” Brex handed Red the shirt and pants. “While you’re still laying down.”
Red scoffed. Or maybe grumbled. Something along those lines, Brex thought. “Why?”
“If any of that sunlight gets on your back, you’ll pop back into a cat again.”
“And why can’t I be a lion? It’s much easier to walk and I can protect you better.”
“I need to be able to talk to you like an orc would, and I need you to do the same.”
Red glared at him before straining to put on the ill-fitting shirt and pants. They were still a little tight on his body. Though Red’s half-orc form was leaner than Brex, it was no shorter or narrower. Graciously, there was no midriff showing, so at least he wouldn’t have a spontaneous shift into a lion if the wrong sliver of his back was exposed.
“All right,” Red said, standing up. “Where are we going now?”
Brex dusted himself off and looked toward the center of the city, where the immense marble structure stood towering over the rest of them.
“The University of Sorcery.”
Red tilted his head while following Brex’s gaze. “Will they just let us walk in?”
“Why not? It’s a place of learning. Where people come to study the ways of sorcery and enrich their lives and the lives of those around them for the better. They probably have a museum and daily lessons for first-time sorcerers.” There was a sparkle in his eye. The same glint of hope that shined from the top of the University’s tallest tower.
“I’m sorry, I must have misheard you,” Brex said. “It costs money just to enter the school grounds?”
He and Red stood at the front gate to the University. Or at least one of the front gates. A massive silver wall surrounded the campus with entrances highlighted by archways and gates. Next to this particular gate was a guard booth. A guard booth with a weary-looking tan-skinned human woman.
“A self-guided tour costs twenty sentas,” she said, unenthused. “A guided tour from one of our sorcerers on staff costs fifty.”
The street next to them was busy with pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages, which were frightening enough when Brex saw them for the first time.
“And what if I want to study at the university?” Brex asked.
The woman opened her mouth to respond, closed it, then looked at Red. “Is this a joke?”
Red pondered it. “Depends. Do you find it funny?”
She looked bewildered. “I don’t think so?”
Red nodded. “Then it’s not.”
The woman sighed. “Tuition is… a lot more than that. Listen, you’re not from around here, are you?”
Brex gave a nervous chuckle. “You could say that.”
“If you’re serious, which I’m still not entirely sure you are, then go to the admissions office down the street. But don’t go in there without, oh, at least fifty diadems.”
“What are those?” Brex asked flatly.
“Ten sentas each. But the next semester starts at the end of the season, so you’ve got some time. Maybe if you’re lucky you can get a job at the school.” She handed him a pamphlet with general information about the University. “Like Gate Entry Duty.”
Brex’s eyes widened. “Wait, you’re a student too? Are you a sorcerer?”
She nodded. And that’s when Brex noticed her jewelry. Earring, necklace, even a clip in her hair. As soon as he knew, he felt for that subtle vibration between them and barely sensed it. One of the pieces of metal she was wearing acted as a catalyst.
“Can’t you just let me in for a little bit? Maybe let me have a book from the school—I can come back later when I’m a better sorcerer.”
She scrunched up her face in confusion and bemusement. “If you want to read a book on sorcery, just go to the library. That’s free.”
Brex’s eyes went wider somehow. “Library?”
A gentle tone rang out from within the booth, like the warmest of chimes from a bell tower. The woman grinned. “Would you look at that? My shift is over.”
Without another word, she slammed the window to the guard booth closed and stepped out of it from the side, walking away with a small bag down a side street.
“Wait, can you tell me more?” Brex called back.
“Sorry!” she said. “Can’t hear you when I’m off duty, bye!” She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Brex with only a pamphlet and a very lofty financial goal.
Red placed a thick hand on Brex’s shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t feel too bad. She looked…tired.”
Brex just leaned against the booth and looked over the pamphlet in detail. There was a little cartoon human in some kind of formal wear draped over his shoulders that stretched down to the ankles, and he held a star in his hands.
The University of Sorcery at Haramschall
Harvest Session 2551
Classes begin on Haron 21, 2551
Enroll by Haron 10 to attend!
Full tuition ranges from 200 to 4000 diadems
Scholarships available.
Brex slumped against the booth and slid down until he was sitting on the ground. “What does any of this mean?”
Red peered over and read it line by line. “Harvest Session probably means the season. Our friend before said that there was a new semester at the end of the season. These dates tell you when to sign up. The tuition is how much it costs to go to class, and a scholarship is something that you earn because you’re special and the school will pay for your tuition.”
Brex took a moment to process all the information, then looked back up at Red. “You have no idea how you know all of this, do you?”
Red beamed. “Not at all.”
Brex sighed and noted it in his growing list of Things Red Knew But Couldn’t Explain Why.
“What will we do now, green thing?”
“She said there was a library. With books on sorcery. And it’s free.”
“Great,” Red said, satisfied. “More books and we don’t have to spend money.”
Brex shook his head. “No, I probably know most of those.” Red seemed to frown disapprovingly, but Brex paid it no mind. “But if there are books on sorcery, then there are probably books on how to make money.”
Red shrugged. “But do you know where it is?”
Brex rubbed his shoulder. “Not exactly. We’ll, uh, have to ask around.” He looked out at the crowd of people mingling about the city around the University: Humans and dwarves as far as he could tell. He thought he saw a few strange ears popping out of hair, but couldn’t catch the faces that matched them.
But they were all so much smaller than him. When people passed him, they looked upon him in wonder, at what Brex could only guess were his orcish size and features. Nobody seemed to have the same sense of fascination over Red. But Red never seemed bothered by much to begin with.
“Let me handle that, green thing.”
“What now?” Brex’s eyes widened.
Red stepped in front of Brex, walking directly toward an older man on the street corner. “Hello friend!” he said in a bright, clear, booming voice. “Might I ask you where I can find the library?”
Brex couldn’t hear the man’s reply, but he did seem to perk up at Red’s appearance. He pointed down the street and then tipped his hat after Red bowed in thanks.
“This way, three blocks,” Red said. “I don’t know how you’re going to use blocks to get there. Maybe he meant using them to break down a wall or two?”
Brex, still shocked at Red’s ease of conversation with citygoers, shook his head. “It’s…that means there are three streets between us and the library.”
“Excellent, let’s go.”
Red started off, heading toward the center of the city. Brex, still trying to ignore the looks from the people around him, kept close to Red.
“This library…It’s got to be pretty big, right?” He asked. “An entire room, at least…”
Orcanist 