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[b][u][center]Secrets of the Mysticium 1[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]For Anonymous[/center][/u][/b]

[b][u][center]By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

“How…peculiar.”

Bartholomew Pelior, twenty-seventh Duke of the line, could not help but feel that was the proper line as he gazed upon the Mysticium. Compared to the great stone buildings of his homeland of Haufdang, the jewel of the Melshan crown stood proud as something smaller, but no less grand.

As he stood outside of his carriage, he glanced about the grounds of the strange academy, taking in the details of his new home for the next few years. Wolf-men guards loped about the place, dressed in ceremonial green and gold finery that did not quite hide the metal plates beneath the satin, at least, not from his eyes. With a blade on one hip and a firearm on the other, Bartholomew assumed that they anticipated trouble on a regular basis, which meant that students, likely, were given more freedom than many of the academies in Haufdang.

[i]Most peculiar indeed,[/i] he thought as he flicked his eyes back to the edge of the walls between the road and the Mysticium itself. Earth magic, he knew, could raise or lower the defenses in the blink of an eye, and on approach, he’d been rather astonished to see the carvings along the wall moving, as though animated by some ancient mage to give a story that could no longer be understood.

It fit the structure that it protected, as well. Bartholomew looked up, shaking his head slowly at the vast structure of one of, if not the, greatest magical institutions in the land.

With a series of fluted stonework that rose like vines from the shimmering bronze door at the front, the Mysticium looked as if its constructors had molded it rather than carved it. Bartholomew amused himself by following the different lines of vine-like stone lines from the door across the statue-covered front of the building, leading up to the seven-domed top of the building. Each dome, save one, was covered with a sheen of magical energy, glowing brightly in the different colors of their types.

His eyes lingered on the dark dome at the far end of the building, shivering slightly as, even from here, he could [i]feel[/i] the drain that it put upon the world. The other magics felt safe, but that one…

Shaking his head, Bartholomew realized that one of the servants were speaking to him, and he turned. The rat-man bowed in his too-tight black coat, brown fur bursting from several seams at the movement, and looked up at him with hands folded and wringing at the chest.

“Beg pardon, Your Grace, but we…we seem to have visitors. Shall…Shall I introduce you?”

He glanced away from the many-domed building and the rat. He’d been so distracted by the newness of the structure that he hadn’t noticed that its guards had come to pay him a visit. A squad of five wolf-men, led by a female, had stopped a respectful dozen paces away. Bartholomew put on a smile, adjusted his coat so that it no longer bunched up over his hips, and nodded.

“Yes, good man. Let’s allow the locals to see just who they will be hosting.”

The rat-man nodded. He had yet to learn the beast’s name. Not out of a lack of interest or courtesy, but because the trip had been consumed with both the need to learn of the Mysticium, and maintain his connections to the imperial court. His uncle, Emperor Caladrius IV, had suffered a minor breakdown after being poisoned - the food-tester having failed in his duties - and he’d needed to step in with some advice while his uncle had recovered. Not for long, thankfully, but long enough to keep him distracted.

The wolf-men did not move as he approached, nor did they reach for weapons. He appreciated their professionalism, and noted that they lacked the stiffness of more ceremonial guards. Nor did they have the laxness of men untrained. They simply…waited. And watched.

As he stopped two paces away, he gestured for the rat-man driver to do his duties. The rodent stepped forward, stuttering, but Bartholomew just looked at the leader of the squad, staring into golden eyes and conducting his own evaluation of them.

[i]Focused, settled, unworried. Curious, but not consumed by it, and not fascinated or impressed by finery,[/i] he thought as he read her expression. [i]I wonder…[/i]

“May I present, l-ladies and…and g-gentlem-m-men…”

The Duke shifted his position lightly, as if adjusting his coat, but it allowed the flap at the hip to fall behind the hilt of his rapier. The wolf-woman’s eyes twitched, but not in the way of a shocked soldier. No, he noted that she was far more experienced than that, relying on peripheral vision to take in the details so she didn’t have to take her eyes off him.

[i]I approve…I approve very much.[/i]

It had only taken a second, and the rat-man was just finishing his introduction.

“His G-Grace, B-Bartholomew Pelior, Duke of Castrel.”

“I know who he is.”

The wolf-woman’s voice cut under the stuttering rat with ease, and he was slightly surprised to hear how deep it went. She had never looked away from him, either. The canine female tugged at the cloak of rank she wore over one shoulder, and he heard the sheer weight in the rustle.

“You’re late.”

“Am I? I believe that a Duke arrives as he pleases.”

“Not in the Mysticium. Your goods?”

“Already unloaded.”

BANG!

The clatter of a suitcase was bad enough, but Bartholomew’s eyes went wide as he heard a crash so loud. He slowly turned, and saw the remnants of keys and strings scattered across the ground. The human servant that had been unloading it still stared at the destruction from where he stood on the carriage.

“…I am…rather thankful…that I packed a second instrument. Driver.”

“Yes, your G-Grace?”

“Upon your return to the courts of Haufdang, you will requisition me a second harpsichord, and deliver it here, post haste. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, your Grace, of c-course.”

As the rat-man hustled away, calling out orders to the other servants, Bartholomew shook his head. It was a pity to lose the harpsichord, but he supposed there was no way around it. It had been a risk to bring, anyway.

“It seems I’ll be limited to my lute while attending. A pity.”

“Or a blessing, for anyone listening.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he turned back to the wolf woman, looking up at her. The strangeness of being looked down on by a furred being held him for a moment – there was not a member of the Haufdang imperial court that could do the same – but he spoke up a moment later.

“Your name?”

“Captain Renata, Mysticium Guard Commander.”

“Hmm.”

“Get your things.”

“I –”

“Or leave them in the road. Don’t care. We’re late.”

[i]Such rudeness,[/i] he thought, unsure if he should be offended or not. On the one hand, it was something that nobody would be so crass as to offer him back home. Whether in his home duchy or at the capital with his uncle, nobody dared speak to one in his position like that. Such impertinence was not only potentially fatal – depending on how he or his own supporters felt – but simply not done.

But apparently, Melshani customs allowed for more freedom. Or perhaps it was just the way of this Renata, to be so abrupt. It would be interesting to see how that developed over time.

He shrugged, walking back to the carriage and taking the luggage that was most important to him. A rolling trunk of clothes, the sling that held his lute, and a small pouch of correspondence made up the list, and even that pushed him to his limits as he slung them about his person.

As he returned, the wolf-men spread around him, two at his side, two behind, with Renata ahead of him. He chuckled as they made their way past the lowered wall, shaking his head as it started rising behind them.

“This isn’t necessary.”

“It’s my job.”

“Yes, but isn’t it a little too…ceremonial? What will the other students think, seeing me with an honor guard?”

“It isn’t for your protection.”

He arched an eyebrow as the implications followed. New student, unknown capabilities. They were keeping an eye on him, he realized, rather than keeping him protected or showing off. Just in case he might have been a spy, or someone sent to wreak havoc upon the Mysticium, they were keeping him under guard.

[i]Smart, if a trifle insulting,[/i] he thought.

They led him up the carved path, the ground shifting from the cobblestones of the street a few paces past the wall to a stretch of grassy land. A path was carved out of the center, seemingly by a long-lasting stream of water, leading towards the steps that took one towards the front door of the academy. Bartholomew, novice that he was, could still feel the magic that permeated the air around the Mysticium, and though he hid his reaction, he was frankly astonished at the raw amount of power that still lingered.

As they ascended the steps, he felt more. The steps had been carved from stone by fire magic, the rock still warm but the air around him cool, moving, breezy. More magic, he knew, to keep the outside of the Mysticium welcoming, and, he guessed, to show off the sheer power of the mages inside.

[i]It’s working,[/i] he thought, pushing down a slight shiver of anticipation and nerves as he followed Renata up the steps. [i]No wonder the Empire never pushed to conquer this place. We would have lost whole legions.[/i]

They reached the front doors, and the feeling in the air changed. It was beyond his understanding of magic, leaving him unable to pinpoint it just yet, but it was…different. No longer quite so welcoming, but not exactly pushing him away, either. It felt almost like it was waiting for him, but why?

He watched as Renata lifted an amulet, pressing it to the metal seal at the center of the doors. It glowed, and then he heard a series of clicks on the other side of the door. He cocked his head to the side.

“You lock it during the day?”

“Better to keep people out.”

“What do you have to be afraid of?”

“You’d be surprised.”

The series of clicks continued for nearly a minute, and he wondered how many locks had been placed on the door. Were there that many things for the students to worry about? Or were they not telling him something?

He was more convinced that it was the latter. His uncle and the other advisors of the court had little knowledge of the Mysticium, save that it was the only piece of Melshani land inside of the Empire after the many years of conflict between them. Their knowledge of magic and the number of mages within the academy, combined with the fortress-like capabilities of the Mysticium itself, had made it too hard a target to crack during the wars, and afterwards, there were too many foreign students of rank to risk attacking it and taking it over.

It was one of the less-public reasons that he’d been sent here to learn, rather than one of the academies in his homeland. Bartholomew, as well as his uncle, wanted to know what the capabilities of the mysterious academy were, and if there was anything they needed to worry about within it.

Finally, the door opened, and Renata stepped forward. He followed behind, stepping into the well-lit greeting hall of the Mysticium.

The first thing he noticed was the structure. Rather than the round-cornered square rooms that were so common in his manor and the palaces of the capitol, the first room was entirely circular along the walls, and slowly edged up into a pyramidal structure in the roof. It was not a low room, either, but one that stretched dozens of feet above his head, with spiraling lines of magical fire lighting up the room and giving it a heady sense of warmth. He found it a bit stifling, but not overly so. Adjusting his coat to let a little air in, he brought his eyes down –

“Experiment escape. I repeat, we have an experiment escape.”

As the words slipped by like a gust of wind, Bartholomew half-expected to see a panic break out. After all, magical experiments of any sort were serious affairs. Even a small spell going out of control could damage a room. Something that was trying to escape its master could be more troublesome still.

Despite that, none of the students showed much concern. Sure, they left the center of the room and stood by the corners, but aside from that, the humans and beast-folk continued their chatter and conversations as if nothing had happened. Bartholomew shook his head, his hand slowly going to his rapier’s hilt –

“Hmmph.”

Renata’s tail swished, and to his shock, knocked his hand back from the hilt. His eyes widened, and he hissed at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.”

“For what? Shouldn’t we be –”

“It’s coming here.”

“Why? How could you know –”

“Always do.”

Before he could question her, the left-most of the three doors leading out of the great chamber burst open, and a creature of burnt-black flesh and green tendrils reared back on its hind legs. It roared, the echoes of the sound silencing all chatter from the other students, and the magical lights closest to it went out with a flash. Bartholomew stared at it as it pulled itself forward with legs ending in claws and the many tendrils along its back, almost like the tendrils were legs in and of themselves, carrying it forward faster than he imagined possible. In a blink, it had covered more than half the distance between the far side of the room and the front door, over thirty feet in so short a time.

“What is that?”

“Nothing,” Renata said.

“Nothing?!”

“It’s about to be.”

Bartholomew looked back at the creature. No more than ten feet away, and closing fast. It was bigger than he thought, the tendrils at least fifteen feet long, and the body more than twelve from head to tail. He reached for his rapier again out of habit, hoping that he could get to it in time, but knowing he couldn’t –

BANG!

The first gunshot echoed from the wolf-man on his right, followed by another on his left. It took all of his self-control not to crumple down from the sheer volume of the pistols – pistols? More like hand cannons – going off, and he stared as the impact knocked the creature to one side, then the other, stopping its forward momentum.

The wolf-men behind him followed up with a simultaneous barrage to the creature’s chest, and this time he was smart enough to cover his ears. The explosions still echoed around him, flashes of gunpowder at the sides of his head leaving flashes in his vision, and still the creature didn’t go down.

As his mind raced, trying to think of something to do, the wolf-woman in front of him was moving. She didn’t charge, or tackle the creature, nor did she pull out her pistol or sword. Instead, she…flashed. Disappeared.

Then he looked up, and saw that she’d landed on the creature’s back, midway between the tendrils. Somehow, she’d gotten up there too fast for the creature or him to see, and impaled the beast’s back with her sword. He watched as she used it for a handgrip and then opened her mouth. A tingle of new magic filled his senses, and his eyes went wide.

BOOM!

A thundering blast of lightning crackled from Renata’s mouth, exploding from her maw and into the back of the creature’s head. It was so powerful that it actually slammed in, sparked down the body, and then exploded out through the tail. Despite that, it didn’t seem to affect the wolf-woman, even as it touched the sword impaled in the experiment’s body.

With a burn on its head and a hole in its tail, the creature collapsed, and Renata stepped off its back without a word. She pulled her sword free, the edges of it still tingling and sparking with electricity, and Bartholomew was unable to keep from staring. It lacked all decorum, all stately elegance that he was used to projecting, but this…this was impressive enough to strip him of all learned dismissiveness and detachment.

“How…”

“Mysticium Guard. You’ll learn.”

[i]Holy…I will be learning a lot here…[/i]

With the experiment dead, the students were slowly filing back out into the center of the room. None of them turned to stare, none of them even seemed to comment on it. Even his guard seemed to be fine with ignoring it now that the immediate threat was gone, with Renata stepping over it and the other wolf-men following her. He shook his head, just following along, and ignoring the temptation to look back at the body.

He’d heard that things were more loosely controlled here, and seeing the Mysticium Guard patrolling around the outside of it had confirmed that at least some of the rumors were true…or so he’d thought. No academy employed guards on the outside if they were keeping an eye on their students. But this…this was…this was insane.

He was still pulling himself together as they traveled down the long corridor, barely noticing the statues in little alcoves or the stained glass in the ceiling that added to the magic fire that lit everything up. The Duke was more focused on how this was going to impact his own learning.

For, if he was completely honest, he had neglected his own magical studies. He had learned enough to recognize the basics of magic, to know when it was being used, and Bartholomew credited himself with knowledge of a few basic spells that he could cast, as well. Very minor ones, admittedly, but enough to give himself the confidence that he could learn more with relative ease after his self-education.

He still believed that he had an advantage over other new students, but seeing their complete ease at the sight of a monster rampaging through the hallways had put him off-balance, to say the least. He just hoped that it was less common than he feared it to be.

As they continued walking down the long, tall hallway, the young Duke started to feel his possessions weighing on him, and he realized that he hadn’t seen his servants since leaving the road. He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see them.

“Renata?”

“Commander.”

“Renata.”

“[i]Commander.[/i]”

“…If you insist. Commander, where are my servants?”

“Sent to the luggage room.”

“And where are we going?”

“Sorting.”

“What is that?”

“Figuring out where you belong.”

“Ah, but should that not be where the other Arch-Dukes are? I am willing to settle for staying with other Dukes, but –”

“Not how it works here, Bart.”

“…Bartholomew.”

“Fine. Bart in a fight, Bartholomew here. Happy?”

“Happier.”

She chuckled, and he couldn’t help but smile slightly. Irksome as she could be, he was finding a strange charm in the Commander. Hopefully, that wouldn’t fade as time went on. He would prefer to get along with the head of these wolf-men. She continued.

“You aren’t judged by rank here, Bartholomew. Hell, depending on what Nicolette sees, you could be rooming with commoners more than higher ups. Depends on just what you’re good at.”

“It’s…talent-based, then?”

“Yes.”

“…Well, this will be interesting.”

“Worried, hmm?”

“Not entirely. I am very good at what I do.”

“Not the talent we’re talking about.”

“I know. I’m talking myself up, here.”

Talent-based sorting. Well, that was going to be a little interesting. Of course, it was all so very egalitarian to offer such a thing to students, but it did fly in the face of the rest of the world and his expectations, in particular. Bartholomew tapped his chin as they walked, wondering how it would go.

He knew that there were seven different Affinities for magic in the Melshani culture, seven different types of magic that could be cast. Of course, different cultures had different numbers and differentiations between them – Haufdang, according to some, had a total of fifteen different types of magic – but it was more a matter of different techniques than anything else. The Melshani way wasn’t the most powerful, but it was one of the most wide-ranging to get a basis of understanding, as far as he knew.

[i]If they’re sorting by Affinity, I wonder which they’ll think I have…[/i]

Bartholomew slipped further into thought as he considered it, letting the world around him fade save for the barest imprint that it left on his subconscious. Instead, he focused on the future, and tried to anticipate how it would come about.

Unfortunately, none of his advisors or supporters had been educated under the Melshani system, and he knew little other than their seven-layered Affinity system. He didn’t even know what the Affinities were.

He was deep enough in his thoughts and ruminations that he would have walked right into Renata if his body hadn’t been trained to avoid contact most of the time. Grateful to avoid that embarrassment, Bartholomew cleared his throat.

“Why are we stopping?”

“Why else? We’re here.”

The Commander gestured to the side, and he glanced at the door. A circle with seven spheres through it marked the wooden door, and he cocked his head to the side. It must have been a symbol of some importance, but it meant little to him. Perhaps the joined Affinities?

Renata knocked on the door twice, and then opened it.

[i]The Guard must have free access everywhere. I wonder how they managed to wrangle that out of the founders of this place…[/i]

“Nicolette? We need a sorting.”

“Already?” an older voice called from the darkness inside the room. “I’ve barely settled from the one this morning.”

“He was late.”

“And I’m thankful for that! Do you intend on driving me to an early grave with all this work at my age?”

“An early grave…at your age?” Bartholomew asked.

Renata laughed.

“Even the newest student sees through that line, old hoot. Come on, it takes you more time to complain about it than to do it.”

“Complaining is the only thing that soothes my aching bones…”

“Can’t do much, with how often you do it.”

“…It’s a remedy to be applied frequently, I must admit.”

Bartholomew wasn’t sure how he was supposed to take that, but he shrugged it off. The wolf-woman seemed to be rather comfortable with this Nicolette, and he supposed that meant that he should be, too.

There was a sound of movement in the dark, followed by a sensation of something else. Magic, he thought at first, but not as a spell, he realized afterwards. It was more a touching, a connection, reaching into him and through the air around him. He glanced at the wolf-woman, and the Commander shrugged.

“Energy magic.”

It meant little to him, as there wasn’t an equivalent in Haufdang that he knew of. It didn’t seem to be draining him, though, so that was something. Instead, it seemed to…illuminate the world, for lack of a better term, and the darkness ahead seemed to fade. Not entirely, as it was still dim, but he could see where before he could not.

Most of the Guard stayed outside, with Renata following him in. As he stepped into the room, he spotted another woman, though once more, not human. Soft feathers in heavy layers of down stuck out over the ruff of a cream-colored dress, one with uplifted shoulders and a plunging neckline that did the wearer no favors at her age. The owl-woman turned towards him, her face severe and drawn as she looked at him, only to drop into something fluffier and wrinkled a moment later.

“So, you’re the late one, hmm?”

“So I keep being told.”

“Well, no worries. You’ll be a simple one, I think.”

“Oh? Am I that developed already?” he asked as the owl led them in. They stopped at a table, and he sat down before being invited. The owl, Nicolette, sat down with him, while Renata stood behind.

“I’m afraid not, young man. But you have clarity, which will help.”

“Well…at least there’s something.”

He smiled, folding his hands together in front of him at the table as the owl laid her feathery arms out along the tablecloth before her. She took several deep breaths, and then closed her eyes.

“This won’t take long, young man.”

“I have a name.”

“And I will learn it afterwards. The sorting is easiest if we simply focus on your magic.”

“Oh, and what of my other abilities?”

“Merely technicalities that may be applied later, I’m sorry to say. But if you would please, focus?”

“Sorry.”

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths. He expected to feel a delving, almost like someone else rooting around, and the young Duke focused his mind on keeping certain state secrets from coming up. After all, it wouldn’t do to have something come out that was meant to stay –

But there was nothing pushed in. Instead, six floating spheres appeared before him, each of a different color. The top two were green and white, respectively, and going down from white in a circle, he saw brown, red, gray, and blue, the last of which led back up to the green sphere. As he looked at them, he felt…he felt something else, an emanation from all of them that pushed at him, and then called him back, almost like they all craved him.

Doing his best to ignore the feeling, he looked up at the owl again, hoping for some explanation. Nicolette smiled as much as her beak would allow, and shook her head.

“I cannot explain. Do what feels right to you.”

“That is surprisingly unhelpful.”

“You have magic. I can feel that, young man. And the magics, they feel you, as well. Just wait…listen…and do what feels right.”

What feels right. That was hardly the sort of advice that he would have given to anyone at court. The myriad plots and conspiracies that occurred merely between the nobles of his uncle’s court were difficult enough to traverse. Once the international plots were his responsibilities to foil and understand, feelings began to be more of a liability than a help. One had to understand, puzzle out, and know everything about a plot that they could before one could bring it down. The fact that ‘feeling’ was such a part of this…

Bartholomew looked at the circles again. He could feel the differences between them now. The green orb…he thought about it for a moment, felt the life in it, the sense of soft warmth, almost a restoring feeling just by looking at it. That…was that Energy? It seemed right.

The white orb next to it, he could feel the sheer kinetic power of it. It moved, bounced, shifted even as it was contained. That had to be something forceful.

Brown? It felt solid, steady, perhaps the earth.

Red was easy, from the heat coming off of it and the flicker that it seemed to have. That would be nothing but fire.

Gray meant nothing to him, but the blue was just as easy as red. It would be water, and felt good against him, something that drew at him almost more than the others, feeling like he could fall into it and be comforted.

But…

[i]There’s more than six…there’s seven. Where is it?[/i]

For as much as water pulled to him, and the others intrigued him, the mystery of the seventh dragged him on. There had to be something that he was missing, something that had slipped his attention. He wished that he’d studied the Affinities before coming; even if it meant that he might have rigged the test to some degree, he wished that he’d looked up what he was missing.

The more he looked, the more aware he was of the space between the six different spheres, and the more aware he was of the gap, the more intrigued he became. Bartholomew turned his attention towards it, and realized that there was a bleeding effect with the other spheres, almost like the magic was being torn from him towards the center, and that what they reached out to him was at cost to what they lost to the middle.

[i]Something else to take it, something else that feeds on the other magics,[/i] he realized. After a moment’s consideration, he reached out, placing his hand in the middle.

Not only could he feel the magics of the six spheres almost equally, but he could feel the hunger that lay between them. It dragged at everything, even him, and the warmth of his body was slowly sapped away. Even then, he felt connected to that hunger, that pulling, in a way that he’d never felt linked to anything else before.

“This…what is this?”

Neither woman answered him, but the owl finally dispelled her magic. Bartholomew looked down at his hand, feeling the warmth slowly returning, but his skin was pale and dry, and when he touched it, he felt a chill as if he had left it on ice for too long. It wasn’t quite numb, but it was scarily close. He looked up at the owl again, and realized that he had lost whatever had given him the dark vision.

“What was that?”

“That was a surprise of the first order, young man. I have seen many people come through here, but I have yet to see someone placed as highly as you be sorted there.”

“It’s not bad magic, Nicolette,” Renata muttered.

“No, no, it isn’t. But it is not noble magic, either.”

“What is it?” Bartholomew repeated.

The owl looked at him, shaking her head.

“Void magic, young man, and a darker magic does not exist.”

[i]Void,[/i] he thought, and a shiver ran up and down his spine. That was a magic that he had heard of. Powerful, but costly, draining the user and the world, almost like a parasite in the wrong hands. He had heard of mages that had ruled as tyrants with the power of the Void, and some few battlemages that had championed causes despite their magic rather than because of it, as others had. It was the magic of assassins, killers, and occasionally, the power of those that stopped them.

Renata helped him from his chair, and he worked to shake himself from his state of shock. Nicolette mentioned taking him to meet someone - Gioconda, from what he heard - and he was slowly led out of the room.

[i]Void...why didn’t I listen to Water when I had the chance?[/i]

[b][u][center]End of Chapter[/center][/u][/b]