Fate Alchemist - A Regression Academy LitRPG

Dr. Arnau led them to the west wing, the most modern offshoot, where their dormitories were located. Here, each room accommodated two students, just like the Istalis Academy, and it was split in half for men and women (or, as Arnau said, boys and girls). They still shared the same common rooms, though.

She handed them off to the Wingmaster, a young dwarf in his eighth year. He had long red hair, brown eyes, had already grown a hearty beard, and wore a sash that denoted his eighth-year status. A Low-Silver badge clung to his shirt.

"I am Toruhl," he said. "Though you may call me Terrence." He stood up straight and puffed out his chest, if only slightly. "I'll tolerate no misbehaving on my floor, and I will be on the lookout for any un-academic conduct. If I catch anyone denouncing the academy's teachings, it will be reported."

He pushed his feet together and added, "You may notice that I am not a member of any guild. I am currently studying post-arcanist literary theory, how it may be used to assess modern Magecraft and create more open texts. As such, I expect there to be no element-based bias. This is an open space where we will not let stuffy old stone-aspect Pilots determine what we can and cannot do. If I so much as hear a Pilot mention another's aspect in these dormitories, they will be subject to an academic misconduct hearing. Understood?"

Dr. Arnau let out an audible groan, then said, "Thank you, Terrence. You may take it from here."

Terrence shooed her away, in a way that Wulf thought was rather disrespectful, but Dr. Arnau said nothing as she walked away.

Wulf raised his eyebrows and glanced at Kalee, and she shrugged.

They set off through the hallways. Terrence showed them the bathhouse and common room. Each of the ten dormitory levels had their own. Before sending them off to their rooms, he stopped in front of a cork board and pointed at it. There were a few advertisements for lowly guilds and clubs, and near the bottom, a couple posters for the Academy theater troop's current plays.

At the center was a large circular poster with a flow-chart on it, each sterile, wood-block-printed bubble filled with a phrase. "Please refer to this guide if you are confused about academic language and your conduct. I have a zero tolerance policy for deviations."

Wulf blinked a few times, trying to read it. That couldn't possibly cover all phrases in conversation. He skimmed across it, picking out sections. One dictated that, as an example, instead of saying "the Woodfellers Guild," you should instead say, "those who cut trees."

Very little to do with aspects, and making it significantly more difficult to discuss the guilds' activities in detail. Wulf narrowed his eyes.

"No one actually talks like this…" one of the Iron-tier girls muttered.

"You will address me as 'Sir'," Terrence insisted. "As of now, I am an Academy-employed teaching assistant and your Wingmaster, and you must adhere to these restrictions. If I catch you again, I will have to refer you to our academic misconduct committee. They are not a guild, of course. Here, we take great pride in how little say guilds have over what we do."

Wulf couldn't help but notice the stamp of the Inkmaker's Guild at the bottom of the language conduct sheet, but he kept his mouth shut. Surely, the Inkmakers were getting insanely wealthy off all the regulation and ink that the academies churned through.

Then again, if you made it to your eighth year, you either wanted to be a professor, or you weren't very skilled. Or wise.

Terrence pulled out a sheet of parchment from his pocket and ran his finger down it. "Now, let's see. Our room assignments."

He called out a few names, then directed them to their rooms via the room number. Finally, he called, "Hrothen and Redleaf, room three-oh-seven."

Irmond turned away to walk back to his room, and Wulf was about to do the same, when Terrence snagged Wulf's arm and said, "Hrothen. I know you're a Pilot, and you think you're some hotshot. Probably a wealthy snob from some guild. I'll be keeping a close eye on you, and if I catch even an inkling of un-academic conduct from you, you're done for. Pilots are always the worst, thinking they're the head of the team, that they can boss everyone around. Not here."

Wulf nodded placatingly, then set off after Irmond. They found their room close to the stairwell. It had a hardy wooden door, inset into the sandstone wall. Irmond pushed it open, then handed Wulf one of the room keys—a metal key on a chain. Wulf hung it around his neck, along with his two storage pendants.

Irmond began, "What was that all—"

Wulf held up his finger to shush Irmond, then rushed into the room and pushed the door closed behind him. From the candlelight in the hallway, he could still see the shadows of two boots standing outside the door. Someone was waiting outside, probably listening to see if Wulf would slip up.

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Finally, the shadows disappeared, and the listener—most likely Terrence—set off down the hallway.

Wulf exhaled, then stepped farther into the dorm. It had two halves, and two beds. Each bed had a desk beside it, with an unlit candle. They didn't need to be lit right now—there was still plenty of daylight filtering in through the windows.

Wulf dropped down on his bed, then retrieved his uniform from his bag. "We should probably get cleaned up and dressed before dinner. We…have been on a ship for a month and a half." He wrinkled his nose.

Irmond chuckled. "Yeah." He raised his arm and sniffed his armpit, then winced. "Alright, but seriously, like, what was that all about? I've never even heard of half the things Terrence was complaining about."

Wulf shook his head. "It's Academy mumbo jumbo. You thought the Istalis Academy guys were full of themselves?" He shook his head again. "In the past—uh, future, I guess. Whenever we got crews in from Centralis, they were usually like this. Rigid, academic, thinking their studies put them on the top of the world. They learned pretty quickly what things were actually like when you're fighting demons."

"I've…never even heard of 'aspect-based bias.' I haven't seen it once back in Istalis, and not really here, either." Irmond lowered his arms. "If there's any bias, it's between Ascendants and non-Ascendants."

"Yeah, well, you can't trust the Academy to see any actual problems." Wulf paused. "We're here for their resources, not their education."

Irmond blew out a long puff of air. "I guess…though at least Terrence isn't too fond of the guilds."

"He's resistant in the way they let him be, and they have him convinced that if he does exactly what makes them the most money, he's somehow fighting them. They know that if we're too busy ranking the aspects and squabbling over that, we won't see them leeching further and further into every aspect of our life." Wulf crossed his arms, trying not to let bitterness seep into his voice. "We're here to actually make a difference. To actually stop the demons and fix some real problems. Just ignore these guys, and keep your mouth shut. They're harmless."

"It's hard."

"I know."

"I already hate not being able to speak my mind."

"I know, Irmond, and I'm never going to get mad at you for that," Wulf said. "But out there, and until we're strong enough to tell them off, we have to play their game. You're going to get an air-aspect, and in their made-up hierarchy, your aspect is still above…water, ice, cloud, and probably some others, so they'll get you on that. It's been a while since I've paid attention to this sort of stuff. But I know they ranked stone at the top."

Irmond squinted. "H—how do I, an elven lordling, have less advantages than a farmboy from Carolaign?"

"It doesn't have to make sense. Poison-aspects aren't even on their list."

Irmond grumbled something, rubbed his eyes, then said, "Alright, alright. I'm done complaining. You're right. Keep my mouth shut, and do what we came here for."

Wulf nodded. "Now, I dunno about you, but I'm ready for a bath."

~ ~ ~

After getting cleaned up, they donned their Academy uniforms, then met up with Kalee and Seith before heading to the mess hall. They didn't have to walk outside to travel between classes here, but given it was the middle of the summer, it was hot and stuffy inside. They took an outside walkway around to the main hall.

Even though the sun was getting close to the horizon, it was still warm outside. An arid wind blew from the south, though considering how close Centralis was to the equator, it didn't really make much of a difference. A promenade of palm and cypress trees quivered, giving them a little shade as they walked.

By the time they reached the main hall, they were almost late. They took a seat at the west wing table. Almost no one was talking, and Terrence sat at the head of the table, watching over them with an intense gaze.

Although there was still a little light filtering through the hall's windows, the chandeliers had all been lit, giving the room a warm glow, and non-Ascendant servers stood at the edges, hands folded behind themselves. Wulf, Kalee, Irmond, and Seith took seats at the very end of the table, as far from Terrence as they could.

"So, in other words," Seith said, finishing off a story of what she and Kalee had been doing in their dorms, "you probably want to stay away from the Bat Association."

"Already making enemies?" Irmond jokingly asked her.

"I'm sure Wulf has already gotten you into a little trouble," she said.

"I'm surprised he didn't," Irmond grumbled.

"I know what's a real problem, and what's just a mild inconvenience, unlike the TAs," Wulf said. "I can bear a little personal discomfort if it means achieving my goals. If Terrence is hurting anyone else, though…that'll be another story."

"It sounds like a good thing we didn't meet the Wingmaster," Kalee said with a chuckle.

"What are these Associations?" Irmond asked.

"They're like clubs," Wulf replied. "Not formal guilds, not yet. Just groups of kids who want to hang out." He pointed his thumb down the table, where, a few seats over, a cluster of students with lion pins on their lapels sat. "I'd bet those guys are the Lion Association. They're named after animals, usually."

"Huh," Irmond said. "Neat."

"I'd suggest staying away from any of them," Wulf said. "The Ascendants who came from them tended to be quite…stuck up and demanding." He folded his fingers together, trying to phrase things as diplomatically as possible.

This was going to get frustrating quickly, and he needed to start pushing forward. He felt like he'd lost a little bit of his momentum for the moment, but there was still plenty of potion work to do, and he had to be getting closer to his next advancement.

This evening, after eating, he silently vowed that he'd get back to work on his advancements. They'd made a few massive strides, and now, it was time to keep working.