Thousand Tongue Mage

As Zora and Enki stepped past the threshold of the academy's front gate, the soundscape around them swelled into a proper chorus.

Boots crunched over neatly tiled stone. Young voices laughed and called out in clusters. Smaller ant-pulled carriages creaked over polished flagstones, their segmented haulers clicking and clattering as they dragged uniformed students and officers from place to place. Somewhere nearby, someone was playing a harp out of tune, and not far from that, a squad of soldiers barked cadence in rhythm as they practiced their marching.

This was the Royal Ayapacha Military Academy.

Zora tilted his head towards the sky. Its daylight warmth was long gone given how long it'd taken them to reach the academy, but compared to Amadeus Academy—built into the bones of a crumbling lord's mountain estate—this campus was a glutton. Massive. Open. Alive with grinding gears and ritual order. From his hearing alone, he counted over fifty distinct buildings in his range, some as tall as minor towers, others flat and wide like barracks. The layout was patterned, imperial, but the materials and structure unmistakably regal. The chill of the lamp-lit night wasn't a problem at all.

The two of them walked aimlessly forward, following the stone path that led them through the campus.

They passed stone plazas surrounded by angular pyramid-like structures. They passed covered walkways bridged by terraces lined with ant symbols carved into the walls. The air carried scents of roasted maize, hot spice, and ground antshell polish, and it was all designed, Zora suspected, to remind every student that they weren't just here to learn. They were here to live. 'A city within a city' was certainly an apt way to describe the place, so naturally, the lavish and comfortable living of the Divine Capital just beyond the gates was extended into the academy as well.

Most of the Noble-Blood students they passed by wore their uniforms like capes, their laughter crisp and clipped. Their clothes were gold-threaded embroidery. Their sigils were polished lapel badges in ant shapes. Their speech had the educated sneer of someone raised to be right, and their silence—their quick glances at his and Enki's relatively plain uniform—spoke louder still.

It's all to be expected, I suppose.

Even though this was supposed to be a military academy that trained officers and generals of the various armies under the Attini Empire's banner, it was still a 'royal' academy for the scions of Noble-Bloods, and thus wealth, status, and bloodline weren't insignificant matters. Even here, students had to flaunt their power. It was certainly unlike Amadeus Academy in that sense, and it was most definitely unlike the training camps Enki had been in as a former soldier.

Zora tilted his head at the Worm Mage, half-worried the boy was showing ire to the Noble-Bloods around him, but Zora just kept on underestimating him. There was no irritated twitch of an eye behind his mask. No curious glance at even a single building around him. He was looking straight ahead, face completely blank, like none of the Noble-Bloods bothered him a single bit.

"... A man who knows himself cannot be unarmed," Zora said idly, humming mostly to himself. "Doubt breaks more blades than any enemy ever could."

Enki didn't look at him, either.

They lingered in a particularly large plaza longer than they should've, caught between the knowledge of where they were and the absence of knowing where to go. The plaza around them had four branching avenues, each stretching into different courtyards filled with movement. Zora tilted his head again, ears parsing through layers of footfall and tone as he searched for a reception hall or student office, but the academy was too large. Its soundscape was overwhelming even for him. The streets kept curving, the voices kept shifting, and none of them carried the cadence of staff explanation.

It was already well and deep into the evening. Even if Enki couldn't get sleepy, Zora wanted to lay down on a proper bed rather soon.

"Perhaps we ought to ask someone and figure out where we have to go," he muttered. "That, or we roam until we get thrown into a random dorm."

Before Enki could reply—or refuse, more likely—a voice slurred up beside them.

"From what corner of the empire did the two of you crawl out of?"

Zora was just about to consider stopping someone for directions when a group of older students stumbled toward them from behind. They were in their mid-twenties, by the looks of it. Broad-shouldered, slightly drunk, and carrying the kind of cheap swagger that came from half-earned confidence and full-strength liquor. One of them squinted at Zora and Enki's masks as the two of them turned around slowly.

"What the hell are you two supposed to be?" he slurred. "Why're you wearing those masks in the academy?"

Before Zora could so much as draw breath for a response, the lead man—clearly the loudest thinker of the bunch—jabbed a finger forward.

"Take it off. A Noble-Blood doesn't hide behind a mask."

The rest stood behind him, arms crossed or hands in pockets, radiating intimidation like they thought it was a major subject they'd passed with honors.

Zora blinked once.

Then, he sighed in utter disappointment.

He thought about all the things he could say. Something sharp that'd sting their egos just enough to confuse them would suffice, but frankly, he wasn't in the mood to perform.

Grown men acting like twelve-year-olds around a bonfire. How wonderful for your future military officers.

He turned slightly toward Enki, beckoning the boy to just walk away and let the dignity-starved seniors bark themselves into exhaustion—it wasn't worth trying to reason with a bunch of drunkards—but just as he shifted his weight, a sound further behind the seniors caught his ear: a sharp mechanical jolt, followed by the unmistakable chaos of a parting, panicking crowd.

Like someone was driving an ant-pulled carriage straight through a group of bell-ringing clowns.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Zora didn't bother turning around, and neither did Enki as they continued down one of the four stone paths on foot.

The seniors shouted and cursed at them, a few voices cracking as they yelled.

"Hey! Stop moving! Take those damn masks off and—"

The ant-pulled carriage ran into the seniors behind them with a loud crack, and Zora glanced sideways as Ifas rolled up beside them in an ant-drawn carriage—completely different uniform, completely different look. The driver held the reins in one hand and gestured with the other like this was all terribly mundane.

"Hello, Mister Salaqa."

Zora allowed himself a grin as he stepped aboard the nicer-looking carriage with Enki right behind him.

As the giant ant jolted forward, leaving behind a tangle of limbs, swearing, and groaning, Zora raised an eyebrow.

"Dare I ask what you're doing here, Mister Driver?"

From the driver's perch, Ifas peered back through the slit in the wall. "The plan's changed a bit. Remember that letter I got at the guardpost? That was from the Salaqa Lord."

"And?"

"There was supposed to be a Salaqa spy planted in the academy—someone who'd receive and guide you two while you're investigating the faculty—but he went missing a few days ago. The Salaqa Lord believes he has discovered something and was erased as a result. Therefore, I was requested to take a new name, uniform, and accompany the two of you into the academy as your attendant."

Zora sighed long through his nose. "How reckless," he muttered.

Ifas gave a small shrug. "I've never been to school before. I'm kind of excited."

The corners of Zora's mouth tugged upward. "Well, first day or not, we still need to check in by the staff or student office. Registration, schedules, dorm assignments… the usual institutional nonsense. Do you know where to go?"

"You want directions?" Ifas lifted a folded parchment through the slit. "I've got a map. Lord Salaqa gave me a copy."

Zora chuckled quietly to himself as he settled back against the cushion.

A familiar face, a working map, and someone willing to run down all of their small problems with a carriage.

I suppose I can't complain.

The carriage creaked as it sped up, slowed, and then eventually rolled to a stop along one of the quieter stone-paved roads of the campus. The evening buzz of the academy was still alive. Footsteps clicked distantly across the open quads, voices murmured at the edge of hearing, and somewhere far off, Zora caught the ringing chime of a brass dinner bell.

They stopped in front of a decently large building.

"You're here," Ifas said. "This is the student office building."

Zora tilted his head and listened. A three-storey structure stood before them, broad and deep. Through the walls, he could hear desks being shuffled, drawers opening, even a muffled complaint about a quill running out of ink, but more than that, he heard the soft, dull thud of bedsheets being shaken, the scrape of chairs on floorboards, and the clink of porcelain mugs. It was a building that doubled as a dormitory.

"I suppose we'll be taking our leave here, then?" Zora said, climbing out of the carriage with Enki in tow. "Where will you be going, Mister Driver?"

"Saw at least three buildings on the way here labeled for attendants," Ifas replied, stretching his arms and yawning as he did. "I'll find a stable or a nest nearby for the ant and stay in one of those quarters. Looks like a lot of rich kids here brought their own attendants, so I think I'll blend in quite nicely."

Zora smiled faintly. "Very well. See you in the morning."

Ifas gave them a lazy salute and disappeared down the lane with the giant ant's reins in hand, whistling to himself. In the meantime, Zora turned toward the doorway of the building, hearing the quiet hum of lanterns inside, and followed Enki up the steps. The boy made no sound at all as usual, gliding more than walking.

The heavy brass doors were already open, so they stepped inside without any issue. The foyer smelled faintly of polished stone and some kind of crisp, herbal perfume—lavender, perhaps—laced with a distant citrus.

Ahead, behind a wide stone counter carved with imperial ant motifs, a woman paused mid-scribble and looked up.

"Ah," she said, a touch of relief in her voice. "You must be the late transfers. We were expecting you two hours ago."

Zora gave her a courteous nod, stepping forward with his calmest smile. "We lost our way. The academy's rather vast."

"It certainly is," the woman replied with a knowing smile, setting her quill aside. "No matter. On behalf of the Royal Ayapacha Military Academy, welcome. I do hope your time here serves both yourselves and the Divine Capital well."

"Likewise," Zora said. "I'm Alvay, and this is my cousin Eryn."

"Of course. Let me just check the housing roster…" She flipped through a stack of neatly organized parchments, humming softly. "Yes, two cousins from the northeastern branch of the Salaqa Household. Since the two of you share the same bloodline, you've been placed in the same dormitory room. It's already been prepared for you."

"Good to hear that."

"However… given how late in the semester it is, accommodations are tight. I'm afraid the only remaining vacancy was a shared room, so you'll be lodging with two other students. Both female. I believe they are also of the Salaqa Household."

Zora merely nodded. He didn't hear about that, but, "We'll make do."

"One of your dormmates is already here, in fact," the receptionist said, gesturing behind the counter. "She's been assigned to guide both of you and show you around, but since you were late, she's been waiting behind the counter for a while now."

Zora's brow twitched.

Behind the counter?

His senses reached out instinctively. There was no breath, no shifting weight on the bench, not even the faint sound of a heartbeat. No presence at all.

He frowned.

And then, slowly, as if peeling a curtain back from reality, he heard the smallest rustle of fabric. The girl had been sitting there the entire time, but she was utterly imperceptible until her presence was named. Enki, standing at his side, leaned just a little to peer around the counter. Zora followed suit, guided by hearing more than sight.

And there she was.

Small. Probably thirteen, maybe fourteen years old. She was dressed in a perfectly tailored military uniform, neat down to the brass buttons and pressed sleeves, and she sat straight-backed like she'd fallen asleep sitting at attention.

The receptionist turned and spoke gently. "Wake up, please. The transfer students have finally arrived."

There was a soft gasp. Then, movement.

The girl stirred with a small gasp. She blinked up, dazed, and pushed herself upright. Her boots hit the stone floor without a sound. Then, in a halting motion, she brought her fist to her chest in the Attini Empire's salute.

"Welcome… to Dorm Qa'Bola of the Royal Ayapacha Military Academy!" she said. Her voice was high-pitched but quiet simultaneously, and every word sounded like it had been memorised phonetically. Then she went silent again, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling as if trying to recall the rest of her lines from a forgotten pamphlet.

Her mouth opened slightly. Closed again.

Does she have trouble talking?

Whatever the case, Zora smiled faintly. He extended a hand slowly, steady and warm. "I'm Alvay Salaqa," he said. "And this is Eryn Salaqa. Who might you be, Miss?"

The girl blinked at him, startled, and then smiled so brightly it seemed to light her whole face.

"I'm Eria!" she said. "Nice to meet you!"