“Run faster,” said Naomi from the back of the group.
“Well, there is that, I suppose,” said Leonis.
“Drink less flaywine the night before?” asked Lianshi.
“Now that’s a barbaric suggestion.” Leonis jutted out his chin. “Might as well tell me to give up living.”
Scorio chuckled softly as they entered the mess hall. It was a stately and dignified chamber, high ceilinged and reminiscent of the basilica, its fluted columns flanked by huge potted ferns, its windows filled with ancient panes of glass whose colors had begun to bleed into each other, the soft lead that defined their partitions having sagged over the centuries.
The sound of animated voices echoed off the vaulted ceilings, and a crowd milled before the tables laden with food, their trays heavy with trenchers ready for all manner of delicacies.
Scorio still wasn’t used to the richness of their fare. No gruel was to be found anywhere, and instead, they had steaming cauldrons of creamy grains, platters of freshly cut fruit, sizzling spits of sausages, boiled eggs, small, dark loaves of nut bread, wedges of sharp cheese, salted fish, and a variety of drinks served in thick clay pitchers, the favorite of which was a powerfully aromatic coffee.
They chattered amicably as they loaded their trays high, then moved to join a line.
“Back in business, looks like,” said Lianshi softly as they slowly moved to the front. “Guess life is returning to normal in Bastion after all.”
“What’s this about?” asked Scorio. “I thought the food was free?”
“It is free—” began Lianshi.
“But the quality can vary widely,” interrupted Leonis, tone dark. “There have been days when the food is no better than soup and vegetables. Hard times, those days. Sucks the joy right out of you.”
“As I was saying,” continued Lianshi, “this is the treasure line. You present your badge, which reflects your ranking, and are given the according treasure. Supposedly. They often run out, or have trouble buying them, or something. Not too surprisingly, given that there are almost five hundred of us Great Souls in our cohort. Must cost a lot of octs to keep us supplied.”
Scorio thought of the ivy growing over the balconies in the basilica, the many cracked flagstones, the faded art, the scores of rooms that stood empty and abandoned.
Lianshi continued. “The lowest-ranked three hundred of us have badges with one notch, and get Black Star pills. Next hundred have two notch badges, they get Fat Crickets.”
“Fat Crickets?” asked Scorio skeptically.
“Yes,” said Lianshi, smiling in amusement. “Don’t judge, they have a real kick.”
“She did not just say that,” said Leonis with a groan.
“Next fifty have three notch badges, they get Glittering Sage pills. Next twenty-five have four notch badges, they get Luminous Ghost dust.”
“Then you’re at the top twenty-five in the whole class,” said Leonis dourly. “That’s where the good stuff is really doled out.”
“Not to mention, at that rank they’ll definitely have House patronage, which usually means even better treasure.” Lianshi sighed. “It’s tough to claw your way out of your ranking.”
“What do they get?” asked Scorio.
“Next twenty get five notch badges and all sorts of special privileges, along with Peaceful Wheel elixirs. Top five? It’s ridiculous. They get one of everything. What it would take us a month of hard training to achieve, they get every day at breakfast. A number of the elites only do a bare minimum of training, even, and they’re still pulling far ahead of everyone else.”
“One of everything?” asked Scorio, eyebrows shooting up. “Black Star, Fat Cricket, all of it?”
“All of it,” said Leonis, and now his voice had turned grim. “Two of the top five you know. Jova and Ravenna. The other three have become almost as famous. Zala, Jova’s best friend and who made Emberling right after her. She clawed her way to the top five after only scoring in the top hundred on the original Gauntlet run. Kuragin, whom I really advise you to avoid at all costs; and Chen She, whom I trust the least of all because he seems really nice.”
“What’s wrong with being nice?” asked Scorio.
“Wait till you have to fight a duel against him,” said Leonis darkly. “You’ll see what I mean. Guy nearly killed me by accident.”
“So one Fat Cricket is worth how many Black Stars?”
“Don’t know,” said Leonis dourly. “Twenty? More? It’s deeply ironic. Those of us at the bottom of the rankings work ten times as hard as those at the top, and it doesn’t seem to make a difference. It’s enough to drive one to flaywine.”
They reached the front of the line, and Leonis received a Black Star pill while Lianshi was given a Glittering Sage. Naomi and Scorio both showed their blank badges, and after a moment’s hesitation, the proctor gave them each a Black Star as well.
Taking their treasures, which felt paltry compared to the pills and rare bottles he’d glimpsed in the boxes arrayed along the proctor’s desk, they retreated to one of the alcoves where they claimed a circular table. Everyone downed their pill with a drink, then focused for a few moments as they worked upon their Hearts.
The silence was finally broken when Leonis sighed in satisfaction and took up his utensils. His tray was practically hidden by the piles of food, and he set to work eagerly.
“You’re going to have a lot to catch up on, course-work wise,” said Lianshi, smearing thick honey cream over a slice of dark bread. “Our entire cohort is broken into ten groups of roughly fifty students. Each group is assigned four instructors. On the first day of the week, we have the History of Bastion under Hera, which she takes very, very seriously.”
Leonis’s cheek bulged out obscenely as he chewed enthusiastically on an entire salt herring. “She’sh shupposhed to have shtayed here deshpite multiple invitashions becaushe—”
“And you were a king?” asked Lianshi, staring pityingly at him.
“Golden King,” he said jovially, chewing on.
“Golden King of barbarians,” she said despairingly.
“History of Bastion,” said Scorio. “That’s—what—a thousand years’ worth of material?”
To his surprise, it was Naomi who responded. She’d served herself a modest plate of mostly creamed grains and fruits, and was stirring the berries into her bowl. “There are only five phases of note. You’ll learn them quickly.”
Leonis washed his herring down with half a cup of coffee. “You sat in on the classes, Naomi?”
“Nothing so grand,” she said, her smile bitter. “I found that I was permitted to sweep the classrooms beforehand, and could then hide in the alcoves along the top of the amphitheater when classes began.” She paused, frowning. “I found the subject interesting.”
“Fair enough,” said Leonis. “But yes, of course, you’re right. Five main phases, though Hera will love you if you pretend to debate with yourself whether the Himiko Interregnum counts as a sixth.”
“We’re well into the Red Peace Era,” said Lianshi, sipping her coffee. “Third period, so named for how the destruction of imperial House Naga paved the way for the rise of House Hydra, and its consequent dominance under the century-long rule of Imperator Nguru, known as the Cleanser.”
“Pretty impartial cleanser, if you ask me,” said Leonis, leaning forward to spear a sausage off Scorio’s plate. “Anyone who looked at him funny got cleansed.”
“I thought Imperators had to reside deeper in hell,” said Scorio. “How’d this Nguru rule Bastion?”
“Proxies, mostly,” said Lianshi. “Anyone who disobeyed his puppets disobeyed him, and defiance would be met with his returning home to kill everyone. It worked for a century, at any rate, but when he died in the Pits of Ebullience—”
“The what?” asked Scorio.
“Whatever, hell is weird. When he died, House Hydra was forced by House Basilisk and Charnel Duke… what was her name… to sign the Accord of Indemnity, whereas—”