“Whereas,” continued Naomi softly, “no Great Soul over the rank of Blood Baron can claim direct control over Bastion and its political bodies.”
“Huh,” said Scorio, food forgotten. “What’s to stop an Imperator from breaking the Accord, though?”
“Nothing, really,” said Lianshi.
“The other Imperators?” asked Leonis.
“Custom,” said Naomi, looking down at her bowl. “Centuries of bending their efforts toward reaching the Pit. It’s been four hundred and sixty-five years since the Accord was signed by House Hydra and Basilisk, and Chimera and Kraken signed on when they, too, rose to sufficient power. The signing marked the end of the Era of Red Peace, and the beginning of the Great Southern Expansion.”
“You really do know your history,” said Leonis. “Can we study together?”
“Don’t agree,” said Lianshi sharply. “His idea of studying is very disagreeable.”
“History sounds interesting,” said Scorio. “What about the rest of the week?”
“Tomorrow is the Geography of Hell with Helminth,” said Leonis, picking up another salted herring. “You know, it took that class for me to notice why her name is so ominous.”
“Oh, Mighty Ox,” said Lianshi pityingly.
“That’s Golden King to you,” said Leonis, pointing the herring at her face. “Though the Wielder of Nezzar is equally suitable.”
“Thirdday is my favorite,” said Lianshi, ignoring him. “Fiends with Instructor Rex. Though given that there seem to be thousands upon thousands of them, it’s clearly a lifelong study.”
“Mana Theoretics is on Fourthday,” said Leonis. “Really, really fascinating stuff. I mean, truly and utterly riveting. My absolute favorite.”
The three of them simply stared at him till he laughed and raised both hands. “What can I say? I’m a masochist at heart. Lay on those dry philosophical treatises!”
“Fifth Day is Great Soul Organizations, which is fascinating,” said Lianshi. “Apparently it’s a new addition to the curriculum—Praximar was blackmailed into including it eight years ago when House Hydra lost so much authority with the failure of the Empyreal Prophecy. A bunch of distant groups threatened to force their way into the Academy and teach it themselves. The instructor rotates from outside the Academy and is tasked with giving us a fair assessment of the political structures deeper in hell outside of the Houses. Showing interest is a surefire way to lose any hope of patronage, however.”
“Wait,” said Scorio, leaning forward. “Which organizations are these? They’re—”
The lights in the mess hall flickered in a defined pattern, and Leonis immediately began shoving food into his mouth.
“Time’s up,” sighed Lianshi, setting her spoon down. “First Rust is imminent. We need to be in class before the cycle changes. Ready?”
Naomi had finished her bowl of oatmeal. Her tray looked positively spartan compared to Leonis’s riotous and half-eaten feast. “Ready.”
“Sure,” said Scorio, rising to his feet. He’d not eaten his fill on purpose, wanting to remain on edge and alert, and followed Lianshi as she led the way through the mess hall toward one of the exits.
Was it his imagination, or were people still watching him? Some surreptitiously, turning away when he glanced at them, others more openly, frowning when he met their eyes? He resolved to just stare ahead, relieved when they entered the hallway that led toward the distant classrooms.
Through the bustling corridors they went, losing themselves in the flowing crowd, till at last Lianshi and Leonis peeled away and hurried down a side corridor where the lower halves of the walls were covered in gold leaf. Through an archway at its end, and into a small amphitheater that was already filled, Great Souls slouching down into their seats, pulling forth stacks of parchments, arranging their ink wells and plumes, whispering to each other and settling in for what was obviously going to be a long lecture.
Their arrival caused a fair amount of stir; students turned to stare, others leaned in close together to whisper, while a few affected stiff disinterest.
“Good morning, class,” said Leonis, spreading his arms wide. “I, Leonis the Golden King, have arrived. Please, do not be unduly affected. Surely you are used to being graced by my presence by now.”
Mutters, some stifled laughter, and the other students looked away.
“There,” said Leonis, leading the others down to an empty row of seats. “I have masterfully quelled all curiosity.”
Instructor Hera entered a few moments later; tall, severe, her waist-length braids held back by a golden circlet, she swept the class with her glittering gaze as she moved to stand at the lectern. “Good morning, class.”
Her gaze fell upon Scorio, who held it for a beat before sitting up a little straighter, everyone once more turning to regard him.
“Cinder Scorio, Emberling Naomi, welcome to the History of Bastion. Scorio, you’ve missed many months of material, but I expect you to learn it regardless in time for the final exam. Now, seeing as you performed a great service to Bastion and have already become a part of its history, I won’t expect you to catch up to speed for a few weeks yet. That doesn’t mean you can relax; you will need to arrange a study group to cover the missed material. Good luck, however, on finding volunteers.”
A blonde woman seated in the front row raised her hand, her smile genuine. “I would be happy to help tutor Scorio, Instructor Hera. It would be an excellent way to review the material as well.”
“Is that so?” asked the instructor, raising an eyebrow. “Very generous of you, Juniper. Is anybody else interested in helping?”
From the skepticism in her tone, she clearly didn’t expect more volunteers, but a half-dozen hands went up, and Scorio was surprised to see that most of them were women, Famissa amongst their number.
By his side, Leonis could only shake his head.
“Well, it seems I was wrong in my assumptions,” said Hera wryly. “Everyone interested in so nobly assisting their new classmate should meet with him by the west door after class is over to structure a learning plan. Now. Considering the unrest in the streets, it’s poetic that we should be studying an ancient parallel. We’ll pick up where we left off, with the Garannil Uprising of 745. Who can explain Garannil’s reasons for starting the non-violent revolt, and why he thought Bastion would be better served by having regular citizens dictating policy instead of Great Souls?”
Scorio slouched down in his seat, cheeks burning. More than one of the volunteers continued to glance his way as the class began, a few shyly smiling, most just considering him in a speculative manner.
“It would seem,” murmured Lianshi to his right, “that your reputation has preceded you.”
“It’s confusing,” whispered Leonis on his other side. “But his scrawny physique must be appealing somehow.”
“He’s far from scrawny,” said Lianshi, frowning. “Scorio just isn’t a shambling bear like you.”
Leonis looked innocently ahead. “Shambling bears are criminally underappreciated.”
“And Scorio is very handsome,” whispered Lianshi firmly, as if that settled the manner. “We’ll have to start barricading our front door.”
Scorio sank even deeper into his seat. Even his ears were burning now.
“I need some tutoring as well,” muttered Leonis. “Scorio, lend me some of your tutors? Say, three of them?”
“Shambling pig, I meant,” said Lianshi.
Instructor Hera’s gaze scythed across the students to where they sat. “Cinder Lianshi, since you seem so eager to contribute, perhaps you can answer the question.”
Scorio hadn’t even been listening, and for a moment panicked on his friend’s behalf, but Lianshi sat up straight, expression clear and forthright. “The blue sashes were worn by the protestors to indicate their alliance with the Peerless Heaven sect from the fifth band of Hell; they hoped to draw sympathy and support from Blood Baroness Nyala.”