The aftermath of the battle was sickening — somehow, the Bleeder Clan had convinced a Tasked Mage to join their ranks. The elf had managed to quickly and brutally take out over half of the Biter Clan’s front line before Conquer managed to take him down. Learn was in the back line, but he had still witnessed the devastation the elf had caused cause. If Conquer hadn’t been there, had somehow lost the fight, all of the Biters would be dead right now.
It was harrowing, the first time time Learn had experienced such mass killing, such thoughtless, aimless destruction. With nothing more than a motion and a whisper, the green fog had billowed out, tendrils reaching for the nearest of Learn’s clan. Those who breathed it in began to foam at the mouth, falling by the dozens. And it had only gotten worse from there, spreading faster than the orcs could flee.
Learn didn’t have time to focus on the death before being pushed into the fray by the lines behind him. He was distracted, and by the time he could take stock, it was all over. He didn’t know how many Bleeders he had reddened his mace on, but he was certain he had taken less lives than his allies, many of whom were blessed with the Wrath. They had gloried in the fight, reveled in it. He was unable to focus, unable to even think, just trying to live, trying to protect his allies. It was a massacre.
The floor was littered with bodies, and standing in front of the Biters was Conquer. He held the Mage’s head in one hand and the Bleeder chief’s in the other. He roared, triumphant, and the surviving Biters called out their response in kind.
Only Learn stayed silent.
Learn stepped into the Mage’s Forum and was taken aback at the size of the crowd. Well over a hundred peoples of all various shapes and sizes were packed into a room that was clearly meant to hold less than half of that number.
The first thing he noticed was the smell. Sweat and dirt and grime; all things that Learn knew intimately. But in such a closed area, it was overpowering. Cloying, choking. The heat made it worse; he nearly gagged. These were the people who thought they could enter the Forum?
The crowd was mostly elves, with some scattered humans and dwarves — but no orcs, Learn was not surprised to see. No goblins, either. That was surprising, the wee folk’s proclivity toward invention and discovery often meant that they would dedicate their lives toward mapping out systems and discovering hidden mysteries — both things that the Mage’s Forum had a continent-wide reputation about. The inhabitants of the Red Desert knew better than to get on the bad side of a Mage’s Forum Tasked – they were the strongest of the strong sorcerers.
Learn mapped out the room. There was no furniture, nothing for anything of the applicants to grab. It didn’t seem like any of the people had weapons, not like there was enough space to use one. He could still be overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. There was an exit behind him, and a large pair of double doors at the opposite end of the room.
If this was the foyer, then how was it so packed? Learn didn’t know how many applicants joined each year, but it seemed like this was significantly more than the Forum expected. Damn. More competition likely meant it would be harder for him to make it.
The double doors opened without fanfare. It seemed like they opened themselves, there was nobody on either side who was pushing or pulling them. The crowd parted, then after a beat, started pouring through them. Learn took a deep breath when he had the room to do so, then followed the rest of the crowd.
The air here was cleaner, lacking the smell of sweat and nervous body odor that was in the foyer. Thank the gods, Learn thought. If he had to put up with that for much longer he was going to retch. It was almost as bad as some of the battlefields he had been on — though the lack of rust and iron and blood made it slightly more palatable.
The antechamber was much larger. Learn had room to breathe and walk around, and he did. The floor was smooth and waxed, and his soft leather shoes plucked downward with every step he took, making a quiet squeaking noise. There were chairs toward the front of the room, set up in a grid. Learn took a seat toward the back of the left section — he was the only one to do so. Everyone else was milling about and talking, gathered into small groups. Occasional glances were thrown his way. Maybe they weren’t supposed to be seated yet, but he didn’t rise or let himself feel bothered. If he was going to stand out by default, he wasn’t going to waste effort trying to fit in by following — he would blaze his own path, and he would eventually stand out on the basis of his own merits, not just his race.
There was a small wooden plank next to the chair he had sat in — and, he noticed, on every chair. It was attached in such a way so it could swivel up and around; it wouldn’t make a good weapon — it would have to be broken off first. Learn pulled it up, and it nearly flopped into place. His thighs were too large, and the piece of wood sat at a diagonal on top of them. He messed around with it for a while longer, trying to see if there was some way to raise the height, and gave up after a bit.
“I guess they didn’t assume that any orcs would apply,” a voice said from next to Learn, “it is unusual.” A human woman, wearing a fancy dress that was obviously meant to bring attention to her femininity, was looking at him expectantly. She had the dark brown skin of the people born and raised in Shrike, but her hair was conspicuously curly, bounced up and around her shoulders like a lion’s maze. After a moment, she sat in the chair to his right. Something stood out about her, but Learn couldn’t quite place what the feeling was. A tugging at the back of his mind, when he looked at her. A spark.
“I’m Farai,” she said, and held out a diminutive hand toward Learn. He reached out to give it a shake, as Celeste had told him, but she reached around and gripped his neck, bringing their heads together in the traditional orc way.
Surprised, Learn told her his name. She grinned wide, sitting back in her chair, but remaining turned toward him.
“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Learn. If I may be so rude as to ask, what brought you to apply today?”
“You work here?” Learn asked, suspicious. Farai laughed.
“No, silly. I’m an applicant. Just like you.”
Learn grunted. “Command. Gotta Learn.”
“That’s… very forthcoming of you. Wearing your heart on your sleeve, I guess?”
“Hard to hide my Name.”
Farai looked confused. “But… I mean… couldn’t you lie about it?” She wore an expression of confusion on her face, but Learn saw her eyes. Dark blue, they were like the ocean after a particularly bad storm, hidden depths that couldn’t be seen from the surface. She was smart, smarter than she was letting on.
“Could,” Learn started patiently, “won’t. A gift is not something to hide.” Though is it a gift, or a curse? He didn’t know the answer yet.
Farai didn’t answer, but pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together in thought. The tugging came back in Learn’s mind, though what it meant he was not sure. It was something near an idea, a mist of thought that had yet to clarify into a solid idea. As quick as the tugging had appeared, it ceased. It felt familiar.
“Seem to know your stuff,” Learn said. “Applied before?”
She looked away, face reddening. “Yeah. I’ve applied a few times. I’m doing something wrong, clearly, but hopefully this’ll be the year.”
“How difficult is it?”
“Well… there are so many people this year, right? I feel like they’re going to make it harder than it normally is, probably, just to get fewer entrants. They only have so much space for new people each year, and the number of applicants keeps going up.”
“Huh.” She thought the same as him.
“I hope you make it in, Learn! I’m rooting for you.” Farai’s face brightened, grin wide. “I’m going to go mingle before we start, we probably don’t have that much time left. I want to make the most of it. You want to join me?”
“Nah. I’ll sit.”
Farai laughed and stood. “Well, okay then! Best of luck!” And she was gone, disappearing into the congregated cliques in the rear of the room.
Learn sat back and waited for the exam to begin.
——
The elven woman had waited patiently for all of the applicants to seat themselves before she had begun to speak. When all were settled, she tapped on a small gem in the jewelry around her neck, and began to speak. Her voice echoed through the room, strained voice carrying much further than would be expected. It sounded to Learn like she was speaking from directly in front of him, despite his seat in the back of the room.
“Welcome to the Mage’s Forum, and thank you for applying to join the ranks of the scholars, magisters, and mages who have come before you. Our lineage is long and storied, and you have shown great initiative in coming here today.” Her voice was warm, but it trembled with age.
“It is brightening to see just how much interest there is in joining the Forum. Yet, as is always the sad case, we do not have room for all of you.”
Learn looked around at the other applicants. None of them looked surprised at this declaration. Farai was near him, just a few seats down but in the same row. Instead of focusing on the elderly elf at the front of the room, she looked like she was studying the other applicants. Learn was confused, until he realized that she was doing the same thing that he was. Besides, she had applied before, none of the information was new to her.
Learn shook his head. He had gotten distracted, and missed some of the speech.
“-will cover most of the subjects we will have expected you to know. Philosophy, mathematics, languages, and, of course, magic research. For this exam, it does not matter if you are Tasked or not. All that matters is your grasp on the basics. After all, we can’t be expected to create scholars from the ground up, can we?”
The proclamation was met with scattered laughter from the crowd, tense and humorless. Lysselia shook her head and plowed onward.
“You will have one hour from the time the final exam is given. We will know if you cheat.” With that, she stepped off of the pedestal and nodded to three gathered humans at her side, one old and bearded, two who seemed far younger than Learn would have thought. The three began to spread through the room, handing out quills and ink alongside thick sheafs of paper.
The old bearded man made his way to Learn, and started when he handed over the supplies. Learn’s hand dwarfed the human’s, and the man pulled back quickly once Learn had the exam.
Learn continued to wait patiently, leaning the ink against his thigh, trying his best to avoid spilling the tiny pot. He twisted the desk upward, nearly into position, but it was still deeply slanted. He wouldn’t be able to balance the inkwell on top of it, but it would be a decent surface on which to write. More and more, Learn was noticing that this city biased things away from him — rooms were too small, desks weren’t large enough for him, and the population was constantly wary. It was as if he was being punished for being an orc, consistently, always starting disadvantaged, always having to work harder than everyone else for the same results.
But he couldn’t give up now. Doing things in half-measures was not his strong suit, and he would not be able to stop learning; he would as soon give his life. He had to learn, had to bring knowledge back to the Red Desert.
With a nod from the elven matron at the front, the room was swiftly filled with the sound of rifling papers and the scratching of quill on parchment, like the sound of sharpening steel.
Learn took a breath and dipped his quill.
