Chương 4: Chapter 3 ~ The Board

18/10/1111 EotTS, 11: 00 A man in his mid-to-late twenties had opened the coach-door; his face was riddled with a mix of acne and freckles, or maybe just one or the other, and his light brown eyes had the disinterested glaze of Father when a topic other than trade came up. The top of his shaggy, ear-length brown hair was covered by a round, brown hat with two gold bands wrapped around it.

He wore a three-piece suit, with a brown jacket with gold buttons, brown pants, and a green, brown, cream, and black tartan vest (a vest like that would be a welcome addition to any wardrobe), judging by his appearance, he was a Bellhop.

The attendant stood from her seat and walked with a slight stoop to the open door, exiting the coach; Gysel followed, but without the stoop, for the roof was a good ten centimeters above the top of her head, and she had a more practical choice of footwear, her leather whole-cuts, unlike the high boots the attendant wore.

"Did you enjoy the trip?" He asked, as he looked to the attendant.

"Yes," she answered with a shrug, "It was quiet."

"And you?" He looked to Gysel.

"Yes," Gysel answered.

"It was quiet."

"Glad to hear it," said the bellhop, as he opened the boot of the trunk.

"I will get you a cart, and then I must be off," the attendant said.

"Bring the cart back to the front once you are done with it."

"All right," Gysel answered, but the woman's voice blended in with footsteps against the flagstone path of the portico, and the clicks of hooves and tires.

The grandeur of the Thoranyn Academy of Alchemy and Magick was far too distracting to make one care about where the attendant was going: the high, wooden roof was being supported by bronze statues of men; each was in a different pose: some holding up the roof with their hands, others had it on their backs, but all were compressed by the weight, squatted, or taking a knee (upon a closer scrutinization of the faces, these men were not many different men, but only one man, with large rubies for eyes, and a wide grin).

The attendant returned with a cart just as Gysel set out to see if this man had a name. It had two brass handles attached to a wooden platform. One of the wheels was not cooperating, and all four clicked loudly against the stone.

"Here." The attendant let go of the cart, and it slowly rolled to Gysel.

"I will see you around campus, Gysel." The attendant turned away.

"Who is that?" Gysel asked, pointing to the man holding up the roof.

"I'm sorry, I am rather busy. I am sure you will learn," the attendant answered, offering only a wave over the shoulder. Gysel waved back, "Bye..."—what is the woman's name again? oh well, what is the benefit of knowing someone's name if they do not answer the questions they are asked, there is no point in calling upon them.

"Gysel? That's your name?" The bellhop said. Gysel turned around to see the bellhop holding one of her trunks.

"Yes."

"Take this and put it in the cart, Gysel. I've got a lot of people to get through, and I can't have you dawdling." Gysel stared at the bellhop; what was the point of a bellhop if he only passed the trunk off to the patron: this reduced the patron to their own bellhop, and rendered the bellhop pointless. He shook the trunk, and Gysel took it, setting it in the cart, then the second, and finally the third.

"There, is that all of your luggage?" Gysel nodded.

"Excellent," the bellhop said, holding out a gloved hand. She looked blankly at him, then at his hand, then back at him: he was asking for a tip, but why would he think he deserved payment for moving three trunks less than five meters—he did not even put them on the cart, he made the very important guest do it.

Sighing, she reached into her left pocket—it was empty; then she tried the right one—empty as well: the coin purse was still in the bedside table—that is what was forgotten, but this is all right, the scholarship included everything, there was no need for pocket money, if the school had enough money to do that for provide such a stellar student with a full scholarship, then the bellhop is certainly comfortably paid. She took his hand, gave it a firm shake, said a soft 'thank you,' and turned to the cart.

The bellhop groaned as she pushed the cart away and entered the line of students; if his job was so dependent on tips, then the bellhops of the Thoranyn Academy of Alchemy and Magick should unionize—this is what Father would say... this is what he always says to the waitresses, this is also why Mother stopped asking to go to restaurants for dinner. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

The doors of the Academy were towering slabs of black oak, nearly six stelar students (or about ten meters tall), and had been engraved with the scenery of the Grand Northern Forest: the ferns, bushes, and ponds sat above the bottom rail, each inhabited by wildlife, a wolf peering through the ferns, a bird hiding in a bush, and a frog on the rocks by the pond; the hinge stiles were engraved with knotted boles of the trees the doors once were, and their splitting boughs worked across the door to form arching frames above the scene below; the three moons were in the sky above the scene, one entirely on each door, and the third in the center, split between the two.

For a door, it was likely one of the finest, but why someone would choose to put this much detail onto a canvas that was black made little sense; if it were not for the large sigil lights that came out of the frame, the work would never be visible (either way, it was something nice to look at as the line slowly moves forward and through the gap between the doors).

From behind Gysel, someone was calling to someone else, but the words were lost in the din of the other students and subsequently ignored: they could not be calling out to Professor Hleenska's Protégée, as the Protégée was not familiar with anyone at the Academy. Gysel kept pushing the cart with all of her might—Kawvel needs to get out of the trunk. Then there was a whistle, and the fast patter of someone running up the flagstones: it was also ignored.

A man stepped in front of her cart, and Gysel barely managed to stop in time. She looked at the man; he was dressed nicely, but clearly put more effort into his outfit than he did into paying attention to his surroundings.

"Whoa, careful there," he said, and made a smile too large for someone who was nearly hit by a cart.

"Why do I need to be careful? You stepped in front of my cart," Gysel answered. The man's face puckered, but quickly returned to normal.

"Well, I was calling you."

"You did not say my name. How was I to know?"

"Well... I don't know your name. I don't know the names of most of the first-years. I'm just here handing out flyers."

"Why?"

"Why what? The flyers?"

"Yes. What are you soliciting?" He laughed at this, but where was the joke?

"I'm not soliciting anything. This is just a schedule of all the events until the next maiden, and a map of the Academy grounds."

"All right." Gysel held out a hand. He did not hand it to her; instead, he threw it onto the largest trunk, and a corner caught under one of the brass bands. He stepped aside and gestured her through the door.

"Have fun!" Gysel did not respond; she just looked at the flyer—is it better to read it now, or later? later was better, it could be read with Kawvel. With a grunt, Gysel started pushing again. The man started speaking again, so Gysel glanced back, but he was speaking to one of the others handing out flyers; he said: "They sure know how to pick them."

She nodded; he was right: they did 'know how to pick them'; they picked an astute young alchemist from nothing but newspapers; Hleenska had an excellent eye for talent. Pushing the cart over the threshold, Gysel entered the main hall (or perhaps only the entrance hall); there was a large wooden board with bronze plaques hung upon it ahead, it was placed between two wide staircases of a polished walnut that conjoined above it, and led (judging by the fog visible behind the windows flanking the stairs) back outside.

The entrance hall had an earthy and smoky musk to it; the former likely stemming from the constant presence of fog around the old stone, and the latter coming from the dozens of sigil lighting fixtures needed to keep the cavernous room lit: sconces on the walls, candelabras on the tables, and chandeliers hanging from walkways that extruded from the walls.

There was a wide, pine green carpet running from the doors to the board, then two more carpets of the same running both left and right, into those attached hallways.

It was difficult to push the cart along the carpet, as groups of people had decided the carpet was a wonderful place to stop, and not a route for people with places to go, and things to do to travel on; the coagulated masses of flesh spoke incessantly and loudly, as groups of parents and their children tried to hear each other over groups of old friends getting ready for a new set of stories to reminisce on—are there not better places to do this? at home or the child's dorm, bars or someone's room, or... or!

a single meter to the left or right... off... the... carpet! With a sharp sniff, Gysel pushed the cart forward towards the wooden board. There were twenty columns labeled with different areas of study, and each had a list of fifty names. Each person had a score next to them. Most people seemed to ignore it, but not everyone knew what the board was doing there, so she pushed her cart over to it.

Gysel looked the board up and down: the name 'Gysel Neekhilst' was written in bronze in the first position of the 'Operative Alchemy' column with a nice round, seven-thousand points—nearly two-thousand points above the plebs below, truly a gorgeous sight, finer than one-hundred sunsets, and a sandwich prepared as it should be with the cheese on top.

The rest of the categories however, were a completely different story: Sigillography—not present in the top fifty; Spiritual Magick—not present in the top fifty; Ritual Magick—not present in the top fifty; Philosophy—not present in the top fifty.

None of these placements were a surprise in the slightest: Father had no skills with Sigils, so the handyman dealt with it when something broke and a lady does not speak to the handyman; Spirituality and Ritual Magick were only for when Mother's friends came over and brought the absinthe; and Philosophy was only useful when it was a rational discourse on economics or government—but Father is wrong about Operative Alchemy being chemistry of novices, so he is likely wrong about the other subjects as well.

There was a note tacked to the bottom; it read: 'More information regarding this ranking system will be provided at the Entrance Ceremony on the twenty-sixth.'

Turning back to her cart, she pulled the flyer from under the banding and opened it, and looked over the map: the Academy was a massive establishment with ten listed wings: the Entrance Hall, Male dormitories, Female dormitories, Operative Alchemy, Operative Sigillography, Spiritual Magick, Ritual Magick, the Library, the Botanical Garden, and the Clock Tower.

This was an interesting selection of wings, and there were likely sub-wings, but it was interesting for the clock-tower to be its own wing, given that it cannot even be seen through the fog, and that it was a clock-tower, not a dedicated education area: it must be worth a visit at some point.

"Can you move?" someone said to her. He sounded younger than the man at the door. Gysel did not look up from the flyer.

"Of course I can move."

"No, I want you to move away from the placement board." Folding the flyer, Gysel set it down on the trunks and started pushing the cart towards the Female Dormitories.