The Scholarium taught everything that might be relevant to the city. Mercantilism, Law, Mathematics, Magical Theory, Practical Magic, Magical History, et cetera – even basic courses on etiquette, martial arts and cooking. Though for those you were most likely better off with a tutor.
Being mostly autonomous in his studies, Levi had not put serious thought into his curriculum – there was a recommended set of beginner lectures that he ended up taking. It was fine, Lady Mia had been taking the same – but now she was telling him that might not have been the best decision.
Mia rolled her eyes. “Levi, you accepted that invitation and you don’t even own any party clothes?”
He didn’t really feel she was being fair. Also, she could just answer the question. “I will after somebody tells me what they are and where to get them.” The party still wasn’t for another eight days, after all. Plenty of time.
Mia didn’t know what to say, she was flabbergasted… or perhaps she just also didn’t know where her clothes came from.
Her Knight, Luna, brought things back in perspective. “My Lady, his student robes will do fine. It’s not the formal of events.”
Mia narrowed her eyes, but changed the subject. “Regardless, Levi should take etiquette lessons. He’s hopeless.”
This time it was Levi’s turn to narrow eyes, “What’s etiquette?”
Mia frowned and her Knight hid a smile.
—
The next day, Levi came to the door which he had been directed to by a scholar receptionist. He had taken on etiquette as a subject without consulting anyone.
Well, without consulting anyone other than the rich person he’d ended up hanging out with, who was not an adult and so didn’t count. He’d been told these were expensive, but Oliver would be able to handle it.
Levi pushed the door open, finding a room set with round standing tables and various mirrors. He was alongside older students – all guys in their late teens. The ladies must have had a separate class. Levi was a bit intimidated, it would sure be handy to have a knight backing him up – but he didn’t shy away as he entered.
Even though most of the people there were looking at him…
The resident professor clapped his hands. He looked different from the students and scholars, a middle aged man with a thin coat that went down to his knees. “We’ll be having a mock dinner party, so assume your positions.”
The professor’s eyes stole over to Levi, who was standing on the edge of the classroom. “Boy, come.” He waved Levi over.
He pulled Levi to the side, “Welcome to the class young man. It’s more about practice here than any sort of structured program. Just imitate the others as best you can.”
He nodded to Levi, then gave him a push on the back, and Levi went off to join the tables.
People meandered around from table to table, Levi watched the way that they walked, their hand gestures, the way they smiled and covered their mouths as they ate the small snacks situated around the place.
Aside from not being able to reach the standing tables, Levi watched everyone with fascination. People approached him and spoke to him like an adult, like someone deserving of respect.
Similar to the cool and spectacular tricks of magic, he burned it all into his mind. He tried to embody the kind but austere presence of the type of man he ought to be. Of course, this kind of thing had levels to it and couldn’t be mastered in a day.
It was not unenjoyable, and the merchant’s sons around him shared the topics of high society over the course of the time before the party. Much of it trends and speculations, the recent fiasco with the expeditionary guard unit, and rumoured happenings in the capital of the empire.
Unrest among some of the high houses.
—
Oliver’s metaphorical plate was loaded with work.
Anticlimactic, but as he went through pages upon pages upon pages of work done by Lower Officials. Checking the numbers against each other, finding barely anything of note – he did keep another piece of paper on his desk.
The trouble with conspiring to find answers about something they preemptively behead you for, is that if you write any of it down, you’re cooked.
The scribblings on the paper were indecipherable, more just absent pen movement while thinking than any actual document.
You couldn’t keep notes, you couldn’t orient yourself, and if you had a prospective idea – you might lose it by the time you woke up the next day. Especially if it was only half baked and you had all these side concerns. So. Notes, plans, ways to keep ideas.
Codes would be perfect. Oliver didn’t know any. Pig-latin didn’t count.
He shifted his stack of work, blinking as he frustrated himself with his own tepid thoughts.
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He had some influence, reach enough to do something. None of it was really in the convenient places it would be useful.
He needed authority over somebody with information he didn’t have. People in the city’s defence ministry, in high places of government. He needed to get answers out of them, uncover their secrets.
Uncover their secrets… Oliver wasn’t a conspiracy theorist. But he a conspiracy. Real life conspiracy theorists were often searching for baseless things, but not always.
Oliver looked down at the piles and piles of paper on his nice desk. But it wasn’t like he could follow the money… Right?
Of course, political adversaries and the like were probably out of Oliver’s reach too.
Oliver leant back in his chair… and fell backwards, eliciting a snort from Edward, his new coworker. Emilia was out for the moment, interviewing people.
“Edward. Do you think there are people that might already know about malpractice that we can just pay for the info?”
Edward gave Oliver a disappointed look which was unnecessary, but answered in good faith. “Probably, but not anything substantial. Besides, that’s tantamount to outsourcing our job to criminals– who have a harder time getting access than us anyway.”
Oliver sat up cross-legged on the ground next to his fallen chair. “Still, it would give us some perspective on where to look… Perhaps it’s best to get a more expedient view on any corruption already evident to the public.”
Edward sat there, looking down at Oliver for a solid few seconds.
Oliver raised his hands and struggled not to smile. “Just wondering. We can be systematic as we are, but it’s good to stamp out any obvious examples as proof of our value to the Ministry.”
Edward narrowed his eyes, “You’re making a pretty thorough case for yourself here…”
Oliver’s expression wavered, he was getting ahead of himself. He would look into it alone. “... Just an idea.”
They worked through the rest of that day.
And the next.
On the third day, Edward looked up from another stack of paper, bored out of his mind. “... I don’t know any information brokers. Why would I?”
Oliver’s drooping head hit the desk which shocked him awake. “What?”
Emilia was in the room this time, rather than doing the fun part of interrogating people, she was joining them in the grunt work for once. She seemed confused by the comment.
Edward summarised the idea they had spoken about – then continued, “I keep thinking about the optics of what we’re doing. It’s not such a bad idea to set that example…”
Oliver blinked a couple times, “Yeah. Emilia, do you know information brokers?”
Emilia narrowed her eyes and lifted her eyebrows, “... No.”
Oliver thought for a moment, then raised his hand. “Permission to search on ministry time?”
They were about halfway through the workday. Emilia sighed. “You have the day, we can’t spend too much time on it.”
And so he was off… Oliver hadn’t managed to find the time to search, even having said he’d do it alone. Obligations got in the way, but he had brainstormed a bit on where he might find what he was looking for.
When one thinks of ‘information brokers’, one might think of alleyways, locked doors, connections. All might well be accurate, but when the city government came-a-snooping, there usually wouldn’t be a trace to be found of such individuals without some underground intermediary. Oliver was literally a government worker on a government task.
Realistically, Oliver wasn’t going to delve into the underworld. As threatening as even the guardsmen of the city were, they still abided by a structure.
The best place to go was, when you thought about it, the most obvious.
The Scholarium, that beacon of education in this city of Willowhaven. Oliver couldn’t be sure how or where to find the information he wanted, but one thing he did know was students and their insatiable appetite for gossip.
So that was where he went, opting not to talk to the front desk in favour of just asking Stephen instead – and so Oliver ended up outside Stephen’s door, knocking again.
And knocking…
Oliver stopped a robed teenage guy walking down the hallway. “Do you know if the guy staying here is out?”
The teen shrugged and continued on their way. Oliver knocked one more time before jogging after the teen. “Uh, any chance you could answer a couple questions?”
The robed teen stopped with a huff, looking like he was about to say no– until he thought about it more, and decided to nod. “... Why not.”
Oliver cleared his throat and looked around before asking. “Where do I go to find… information? What I’m trying to say is, does anyone around here trade in secrets?”
The young wizard looked him up and down. Turned away– stopped. Looked back, gave Oliver side-eye, then tsked. “Lots of people around here do that sort of thing, it depends what you’re looking for.”
Oliver lifted his chin in thought, breathing in through his nose. “Discontentment with the system–”
The wizard scowled. Oliver quickly added– “Trying to fix it. I am in a position to do that in… a couple ways.” Oliver stuck out a hand. “Oliver. I was a prisoner soldier in the recent battle.”
The young wizard’s eyes widened. But they still darted around in thought. Eventually, they rested back on Oliver, and he shook the outstretched hand. “Yona. Secrets are not usually my business, but I can pass things along for you.”
Oliver made a strained smile. “That should do. I actually–” Oliver opened his pouch and plucked the curled piece of paper from it. “The questions I’d like answered are written here.”
He placed the paper in Yona’s hand, it had questions relating to their finance audit, but Oliver wasn’t done. He glanced around again, not sure if he could trust this person, but he would keep it vague regardless.
Yona leaned in, seemingly more interested in this bonus question. Oliver breathed out.
“What’s with all the executions? Having fought, I understand it even less. The uh…”
The two of them stood, talking in the thin hallway that held the dorms of students living in the Scholarium.
A hint of a smile pulled at Yona’s face. “The ‘foreigners’. I’ll see if anybody knows anything, but none of this will be free, believe me.”
Oliver felt around for his coin pouch. Yona shook his head. “Money works but secrets are a surer bet. Knowledge for knowledge is usually how it goes, and you have a story to tell that not many have heard.”
This guy sure was business savvy for not being a broker himself…
Whatever, as long as the information he wanted ended up in his hands.
Oliver nodded to Yona, “I’ll recount it for you. Might take a bit though, is there anywhere to sit?”
Yona smiled. “Just write it down, we’ll trade later. How about the tenth of the month?”
—
River had not been a troublemaker back home, she had been pretty academic all things considered. She still didn’t think she was a troublemaker, really. Well, what it really came down to was – living was a bit ethereal at the moment.
Things mattered less. Relatively.
One of the biggest stressors in River’s life used to be social pressure. Attend more parties, wear this and that. It just seemed so far away as she stood on the tips of her toes, making symbols on the wall with paint she had bought.
The building’s owner rounded the corner with thunder in his expression, and she was gone.
River flitted from place to place.
Read history at night, run around the city by day. More tasks to complete, but she added her own twist to it. If she could keep playing this game of hide and seek, completing quests in exchange for the safety of a woman she didn’t know, maybe the practice would mean that horrors wouldn’t reach her.
On the edge of the Merchant’s Guild, River watched as a person left the room, and slid the ornate window open before slipping inside. She rustled through the desk drawers before finding the document, some deed to land. She folded it and put it in her pocket, then left and continued her escapades.
She was thinking about smiling. Why and how people did it. Why was she, now?
Sunday Sunday
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