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An Otherworldly Scholar - 202

Published: February 12th 2025, 1:41:04 am

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Lord Astur’s fingers tightened around the armrest of his chair. The wood creaked under the strain, but just before it could splinter, his grip eased and a slow breath escaped his lips. Astur poured himself another glass of whiskey and leaned back. He remained silent, measuring me. However, I understood him better than he understood me.

Joan had warned me that nobody in their right mind would refuse Lord Astur, but I now understood why. Astur couldn’t see beyond the System. He saw himself as one in a million—one of the rare few with the power to push the kingdom in the ‘right’ direction: a leader, a guide, a savior. To him, everyone else was meant to fall in line and pave the way to his ideals, just like Janus.

I sighed. 

Janus was smarter; he had me dancing in his hand without me even knowing. 

Astur’s method lacked nuance because of his power. I could see a ripple effect, each small concession followed by a greater demand, and sooner than after, the self-serving prophecy would become true: nobody refused Lord Astur. Folding to Astur’s wishes would lead to even greater trouble.

Astur’s gaze bore into me, but I wasn’t the low-level Scholar who had arrived in this world anymore. I had a better hand this time, and [Foresight] had found a crack in his facade.

“Is something wrong with my request?” I asked.

“You are a subject of the crown, Robert Clarke. You are not in any position to negotiate. Your children—” Lord Astur started speaking, but I stopped him before he could finish.

“I remind you, Lord Astur, that you brought me under the false pretense that my children were in trouble, and I harbor no doubt you will use them against me if I decide not to humor your offer; you almost did. Still, I’m willing to overlook that… encroachment and focus on the pragmatics of the matter. You need someone who can bring the talent out of the new cadets, and I can provide that service. Let’s negotiate.”

Lord Astur clenched his teeth, his affable visage suddenly gone. 

“What were your demands?” he asked.

“Same salary as your senior faculty, complete access to the Imperial Library, and a fresh batch of first-year Cadets,” I said. “Additionally, I need a hundred pieces of gold as a bonus to hire security for my state at Farcrest during my absence. There are Wendigos in the area.”

Lord Astur drummed on the table, trying to compose himself.

“You ask for gold, yet with a single word, I can send you and your kids back to your backwater town with nothing but your clothes,” his voice came out cold as ice, revealing his true self.

I leaned back on the chair and grinned.

He was bluffing. He needed me.

“You and I aren’t so different, Lord Astur. We have explored many avenues just to find the best teaching method, but you haven’t found it yet, have you?” I said. The irony wasn’t lost to me. Usually, the villain was the one using that line. “You have all these powerful Imperial Knights at your disposal but you haven’t discovered what makes them triumph where others failed. You called that elusive quality ‘talent’, something that can’t be imitated nor created, but let me enlighten you. Your logic only seems right in appearance. You are so obsessed with searching for that ‘one percent’ of powerful warriors that you have trapped yourself. You are seeking answers in the wrong place.” 

Lord Astur gave me a look of hatred.

“The reason you are not going to raise a finger against my kids is because you need me and I can deliver,” I said. “You won’t have a new pawn, Astur, but I’m willing to work with you under my own terms. Tit for tat. Easy as it goes.”

The crackling mana behind Astur’s eyes dimmed.

I won.

“I will have my scribe draft the contract,” he growled. “Leave. Classes start tomorrow.”

Without saying more, I got up and walked towards the exit. Joan was right. Nobody said no to Lord Astur. Still, even if he didn’t get things the way he wanted, at least he would get results. 

Cadets were completely different from orphans. They were here at the Academy of their own volition and would do anything to survive the first year. I wondered how far I could take a class that was a hundred percent eager to learn from the start.

Astur saw the Imperial Knights as a weapon of war, but the perfect soldier was the one who yearned for peace. 

Wouldn’t it be funny if I gave Astur a class of pacifist Knights?

I was trapped in the capital for a whole year, but I grinned. Izabeka would have the laugh of her life when I told her that I had just fleeced the Grandmaster of the Imperial Academy for a hundred pieces of gold.

However, there was another reason why I wanted to work at the Imperial Knights Academy. Something that had nothing to do with my children, or the pedagogic practices of the Kingdom. Even if Astur was wrong, had a point. If things got ugly with Corruption, I better have a lot of high-level friends, and what better place to find them than the cradle of the most powerful warriors in the kingdom.

The aide stood as soon as I crossed the door.

“I will guide you to the teacher’s quarters, Lord Clarke.”

I froze.

“How did you…?”

“Knowing is part of the job, sir.”

I made a mental note not to underestimate the Academy’s support staff.

The aide guided me back to the main building of the Academy. The orderly row of classrooms was only the tip of the answer. The deeper we went, the stranger the place became to the point [Foresight] was the only thing keeping me from getting lost. Without the constraint of non-magical building techniques, the architects had let their creativity go crazy. Space optimization wasn’t a concern: long winding corridors, crooked stairs, irregular rooms, inner balconies overseeing halls and vestibules.

It reminded me of Escher’s drawings.

“These are the teacher’s quarters. Cadets are forbidden to go past this point,” the aide said as he put an old key in the keyhole and pushed the wooden door.

We entered a common hall with old couches, a stained table, opaque window panes, and a soot-covered fireplace. Hidden near the corner was a staircase that led to an elevated balcony with bookshelves against the walls. The place looked old compared with the white and golden facade, like people actually used it to live. 

“The men’s bedrooms are to the left, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall,” the aide said as we climbed the spiral staircase. 

The elevated balcony led to two corridors. We chose left. There were five doors on each side. Each door had a powerful spell on it, preventing me to sense through the walls. The aide used an old key to open the last door to the left.

The room was rather humble compared to Astur’s chambers—bed, wardrobe, nightstand, and desk. The walls and floor were naked stone. Still, everything was in a better state than the orphanage when I first arrived at Farcrest. 

The aide pulled a ring with a single key and handed it to me.

“It will open all the doors you are allowed to cross,” he said. “Don’t lose it. It’s a hassle to create a new one. Only the Fortifier who set the wards can do it, and he is a bit… absentminded lately. Things of age.”

The aide crossed the room and opened the window. A warm breeze entered the room. Across the gardens was a structure that vaguely reminded me of Bruegel’s Tower of Babel. I recognized the building from Lyra’s description. The Imperial Library.

“Paper and quills are on the desk, towels on the wardrobe, and extra blankets under the bed. The wardrobe sometimes locks itself, but a light strike should unlock it,” the aide continued, disregarding the vistas. “If you need supplies, you can ask the warden, but I recommend you get them yourself. The prices inside the inner wall are ridiculous, if I may be frank. Breakfast is at six in the great hall, lunch at midday, and supper by the sunset. If you are hungry or late for a meal, you can try your luck with the kitchen personnel, but I don’t promise anything. Instructors don’t have a curfew, so as long as the key allows you to enter a door, you can wander as much as you please.”

The aide straightened out the wrinkles in the bed and signaled me to make myself at home. [Foresight] indexed the information even if I was a bit distracted.

“Do you have any questions, sir?”

“About my class schedule…”

“It will be handed to you soon. ” 

Considering classes started tomorrow, I needed to start planning my lessons.

“Where are the third-year Cadets? I have someone to greet.”

“Third-year Cadets should return to the Academy tomorrow. Field trip.”

Bummer. I wanted to see the kids as soon as possible.

“That’s all. Thank you,” I sighed.

The aide nodded and walked to the door. He stopped before he crossed the doorway.

“Should I make an appointment to receive additional luggage, sir?” he asked.

I remembered Lyra’s procession of three carts full of her ‘essentials’.

“Only the backpack I brought with my steed,” I said.

“I will make sure your belongings are delivered here. Your mount is already quartered in the stables,” the aide said, closing the door behind him.

I lay in bed, processing the last hour. I wouldn’t be Astur’s favorite employee, but he wasn’t going to come after my neck any time soon, which was an improvement from the last time I angered nobility. I closed my eyes, thinking about the System Avatar. There was a third reason why I accepted Astur’s ‘invitation’. I needed information and the only place where I could find it was the Imperial Library.

I needed to write a letter. 

Quality paper and ink were inside the desk drawers.

Dearest Elincia,

As expected, I got in trouble. The stories of my legendary teaching skills have traveled fast and reached the capital. Lord Astur asked me to teach at the Academy, and fearing he might retaliate against the kids otherwise, I agreed. I will be here for a year until the kids graduate. Then, I will take them home. The kids aren’t in trouble. Firana and Wolf are two of the best students in their class. I still haven’t met any of them. They will return to the Academy tomorrow. I will send you another letter then.

If you want to contact me, send the letters to the Farcrest Alchemists Guild office. Don’t send any letters to the Imperial Academy. If something happens in Farcrest, I will return with no delay. I can fly there in a couple days, probably.

Yours truly.

Rob.

PD: Tell Risha to take care of my lessons. The kids won’t survive Izabeka’s regime.

PPD: I miss you already. Cadria is really boring without you around.

I put the letter in an envelope and left it on the desk. I had to prepare myself for the start of classes. However, before I could even grab a towel, someone knocked on my door. When I opened it, I found a young man wearing a simple black robe.

“I bring your contract, Lord Clarke.”

I didn’t expect the document to be ready so fast. The scribe gave me the scroll, and I read it. All the clauses I had asked for were there, clear as day. There were a few clauses against acting against the Academy and the royal family, but nothing outlandish. If anything, the contract was barebones compared to those I’ve seen in the law firm back on Earth. 

When I reached the payment details, the scroll almost slipped through my fingers—a thousand gold pieces a year. Prince Adrien’s yearly contribution to the orphanage was a tenth of that sum. 

“Are you a Novice?” I asked.

“Yes, sir. I’m a Scribe of the Academic Circle. First year.”

“How much do you get paid?”

The Scribe was confused by my question but replied nonetheless.

“Two pieces of silver a week, sir. It’s good money.”

I was paid a hundred times more. Even the earnings from the mines and the stone quarry paled against an Imperial Academy instructor. I had underestimated how important it was to the kingdom to produce Imperial Knights.

With the contract came the Silent Hex. I expected a creepy magician to engrave the sigil on the back of my tongue with some eerie, rusted equipment, but the hex was merely a scroll. I examined it for a moment and felt the mana surging through the fibers. Covertly, I copied a few runes into my ‘potentially useful runes’ mental list. After ensuring everything was on point, I signed. I felt no pain nor even slight discomfort. 

“Did it work?” I asked.

“It always works, sir,” the scribe replied.

I opened my Character Sheet. The Silence Hex was In the Status section. I covered my smile with my hand. If I had to guess, the Silence Hex had a nice patch of runes inside my mana pool—runes I could edit.

The scribe pulled out a small coin pouch and handed me nine pieces of gold, two silver coins, and three bronze coins.

“The warden will take care of your payment from now on. If you want alternative payment methods, you should ask him,” the scribe said, collecting the documents and putting them into his sash. Then, he pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to me. “Your schedule, sir. Thank you for your time. If you’ll excuse me.”

Without another word, he bowed and exited my room. I wasn’t going to get used to that level of deference any time soon. 

Unlike the school schedules back on Earth, this only had a list of the important dates. Two selection exams were held throughout the first semester, the first a month from the start of the school year and the second by the end of the term. There was something called an ‘exhibition’ in between the selection exams, but I wasn’t sure what that was about. There was no indication of what the exam would be about either. 

I massaged my temples. This place needed urgent educational reform.

Then, came a list of squads and their instructors. My name was near the bottom. Squad 27: Martial Instructor - Thane Robert Clarke of Farcrest. Magical Instructor - Talindra of Mistwood. 

I bit my nail. A second instructor complicated things. For starters, my training time would be halved, and with a few exceptions, high-level people weren’t notably easygoing. I wondered if this Talindra was going to make my life miserable. As a new teacher, I had little leverage against a senior faculty member other than my Class. Ultimately, a classroom worked similarly to a laboratory: the more variables I had under my control, the better learning experience I could provide.

“Fingers crossed,” I muttered.

I put the schedule inside the desk drawers and left the room. 

Before the classes started, I wanted to explore the academy and get a new set of clothes. A teacher’s appearance determines to a great extent how students perceive them. I walked down the corridor wondering if I should go for a martial or a more casual appearance. 

When I reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, I noticed the common room wasn’t empty anymore. A dozen men and women turned their heads to look at me. Most wore casual clothes: richly dyed surcoats and tabards, jewel-engraved swords and knives, fluttery tunics, high-quality breeches. Only a few wore fencing attires. Despite the occasional white hair and wrinkled face, they all looked fit and energetic—high-level warriors.

I could recognize a teacher’s lounge blindfolded.

“Hey! Aide! I told you to bring us something to drink!” A woman with tanned skin and dark hair shouted across the room. She wore a flashy pink, violet, and green tabard, with a thick, long sword in the belt. It was the same woman we bumped in Astur’s chambers. She didn’t recognize me.

I looked at my attire. The aide wore better clothes than me.

The woman snapped her fingers.

“Are you slow or something? Go tell the kitchen gnomes to send up a few casks.”

The woman’s words gave me an idea about my first day's apparel. 

I wondered what would happen if I presented myself in ‘alternative’ clothing before my new students. Most of them would probably be sons of nobles who expected an Imperial Knight as a martial instructor. They will show resistance at the sight of a mere thane. Maybe I could force that conflict to settle my authority quickly. I had only one month before the first selection exam, after all.

When I returned to the present, the woman was standing before me.

“Are you toying with me, kid?” the woman grunted, mana crackling around her fists.

I totally had to grow a beard.

Before I could clear the misunderstanding, a familiar voice echoed through the room.

“Be careful, Ghila, he bites,” 

The chatter subsided.

I looked over the woman’s shoulder. Sitting on a chair under the window, Holst raised his eyes from his book. It had been two years since I’d seen him for the last time, but he looked the same: skin pale as parchment, long black hair tied in a high ponytail, sharp features, and his trademark look of disdain. Holst.

“Darius,” I greeted him.

“Let’s not pretend we are besties. Just call me Holst,” he replied, leaving the book on the table.

I rolled my eyes.

“Do you know this man, Holst?” the woman asked.

“Regrettably, yes. If I’m not mistaken, he is the instructor that was missing in the martial roster,” Holst said.

Ghila looked at me from top to bottom.

“He’s not an Imperial Knight! Not even a Preceptor! He doesn’t belong here,” the woman complained.

The way she ignored me was starting to get under my skin.

Holst shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.

“Please, be my guest and try to kick him out,” he smiled as he made himself comfortable in the old, padded chair. “I warn you, though. This is the man that killed the Weasel.”