Chapter 18 | Ravinica

Chapter 18

Ravinica

NEXT MORNING, MY BODY ached. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared down at a thin slip of paper. My schedule.

The pain in my calf had turned into a dull throb. It was starting to scab over when I checked before rewrapping it. I thought of all the things I'd learned about the man who had rescued me, Grim Kollbjorn. The alleged cannibalistic bear shifting berserker.

What in all hells have I gotten myself into?

My first class in an hour was called "History & Tomes," with Hersir Thorvi Kardeen. I knew it would be one I could ace because I was good with books and learning. Even though I couldn't use any powers to Shape the runes, I excelled at book-learning. It boded well for me once I could do magic.

Second up was "Combat & Strategy," another class I knew I'd do well in. In Selby Village, I had dominated everyone in combat. Even if I wasn't the best here—since everyone here was the best of their respective town—I knew I could carry my weight when it came to spear, sword, and axe work. That one was with Hersir Axel Osfen.

The names of the Hersir professors at Vikingrune Academy meant nothing to me. I didn't know Axel from Oxen. I just hope the teachers treat me better than the students.

After that was a lunch break, which I knew I'd need after all the physicality involved in combat class.

My penultimate class was "Stealth & Interrogation" with Hersir Kelvar. He didn't appear to have a surname, according to my schedule slip.

I was curious about that one. It sounded exciting. I'd always opted for forthrightness and forwardness rather than subterfuge, but I figured it couldn't hurt to learn a thing or two about the finer aspects of trickery. Especially if I was going to be Grim Kollbjorn's "little sneak." Had to do the moniker justice.

Finally, to round out the day, I had Runeshaping Basics with Hersir Greta Selken. A wave of butterflies pushed through my stomach when I read the class name, worried how I would fare. What am I even going to do in that class, while everyone is learning to Shape runes and cast spells? Twiddle my damn thumbs?

There was nothing quite like jumping feet-first into the fjord. Maybe some frustration from that class would finally kick my dormant inherent magic into gear.

Before any of the classes, I needed to eat. Before going to sleep I'd washed my shirt, pants, and underwear in my sink. It wasn't ideal, but at least I wouldn't stink.

Standing from my bed, I instinctively reached for the spear I'd brought from home. It rested against the wall. My hand hesitated, opening to grab it, and then I slowly veered over to the backpack sitting next to it.

I wasn't yet sure if I was allowed to bring my spear around with me, despite what had happened last night in the woods. I didn't want to get in trouble on my first day. Plus, I didn't want to seem like I was scared and had to stay armed in order to protect myself from my peers.

Drawing as little attention to myself as possible was key. So I grabbed the pack rather than the spear—the pen rather than the sword—and limped a step out into the hall to attend my first day of classes at Vikingrune Academy.

The mess hall longhouse was bustling with activity. Students lined the edges in a lengthy queue, waiting for cafeteria workers to slop food onto their plates. The grub didn't look very appetizing. It's better than nothing.

As I squeezed myself into the back of the line, I noticed the mess hall was co-ed. Dagny had told me there were multiple mess halls scattered around campus. This one was between Nottdeen and Nottdan Quarters, and the most popular with first-years.

My eyes landed on a few faces I recognized from orientation, and a few others I didn't. Our initiate class was only a few dozen people. Seems the recruitment rate at Vikingrune has stayed notoriously small this year.

I caught a flash of crossword-puzzle hair and my head whipped over to see Dagny walking by, tray in her hand, on the way out.

Part of me wanted to call out to her. I was feeling decidedly lonely, while other students seemed to already have their friend groups. The various tables and long-benches in the high-ceilinged hall were filled with chatting initiates.

The other part of me won over, staying quiet, not wanting to raise my voice and draw attention to myself.

Luckily, Dagny tossed the scraps of her food into a trash bin, turned around, and sauntered over to me. My heart leapt as she approached. I'd been worried she was ignoring me to make it seem like she didn't know me.

Instead, she smiled. She dabbed her rosy cheeks and lips with a napkin, burped softly, and patted her belly. "Rav."

"Dag." I gave her a shy smile.

"How did you sleep?"

"Better than the first night, strangely enough."

"The newness of this place is wearing off." She gestured at the busy crowd around the tables. "As you can see, it's just like any other college campus."

I huffed. "Not quite. I take your meaning, though."

Her smile faltered, her little button-nose scrunching. As she looked me up and down, she shook her head. "Tonight or this weekend, we're going into Isleton."

"Why?"

"To get you some new drip."

"Excuse me?"

Dagny snapped her fingers. "Gotta keep up with the lingo to stay alive, girl. New clothes. A uniform."

I bowed my head. "Oh. Right."

"They didn't give you a uni at orientation?"

My head shook, more shame washing over me. "Said they ran out of my size."

Dagny snorted. "That's bullshit. They don't run out of sizes here. It's not a fucking Macy's. Someone's pulling your chain."

I didn't doubt it.

She slapped my arm lightly. "Either way, the town downhill has hand-me-downs. We'll find you something. Academy policy is that as long as you have the Vikingrune emblem somewhere on you, you're good."

I grabbed the sleeve of my shirt, which was creased and starting to darken from white to beige. Despite not being flattering, it was comfortable. "Do I have to get new clothes? I just washed these ones."

Dag cackled like she thought I was joking. I mean, I hadn't exactly come here with money. How am I supposed to pay for anything?

"Funny," she said, still oblivious to the seriousness of my question. "Anything will be better than those rags, Rav. If you want to become a Drengr and survive here, you have to look the part. You can't look like the village prophet or alleyway drunk."

My head reeled. Do I really look that bad? Damn.

"Anyway, I gotta go," she said, patting me on the arm again. "Second-years have a different schedule than initiates, and I'm late. See you at Nottdeen later?"

I nodded. "Of course."

With that, she took off, leaving me alone again.

Ten minutes later, I had a tray of bread, beans, greens, and porridge to dip the bread into. Not super appetizing, yet filling nonetheless.

I sat down at a table tucked away from the others, with two long-benches filled with people next to me. I was the only one at my table, and leaned over to bite into a food—

When a throat loudly cleared above me. My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.

A girl stood on the other side of the bench, flanked by two women. She had her hands on her wide hips, a robust frame, and hair the color of the forest—clearly dyed. One of her friends was holding two trays, and I assumed one of them belonged to this girl putting on a sassy stance in front of me.

"Yes?" I asked, putting my spoon down.

"This is our table, bog-blood. You can't sit here."

I froze, blinking at her. It took everything inside me not to roll my eyes. Even without outwardly showing my disdain for the wrinkled look of disgust this young woman showed me, my blood boiled inside.

A shock of adrenaline joined the boiling blood. "It's the only empty table, Miss . . ."

"Astrid," she chirped back. "Astrid Dahlmyrr. You should probably know me." She had an annoying, expectant voice, which made me want to know her even less. High-pitched in that regal, I'm-better-than-you-peons kind of way.

My brow creased when I played her name in my head. I hadn't budged from my seat, despite her looking ready to throttle me, and her two lackeys mad-dogging me like their faces were going to freeze with those disgusted frowns on their lips forever.

"Wait," I muttered, shaking my head. "Did you say Dahl myrr . As in—"

"A bastard?" she offered before I could finish.

"Hey, I didn't say that. If that's your name, then it means you're like—"

"You?" she interjected again. She repositioned her stance and pumped her broad hip the other way. The girl was wearing a striped black dress that only went halfway down her pale, thick legs. "If you say I'm like you, Linmyrr, I'm going to knock that breakfast tray off the gods-damn table. I'm nothing like you." She tilted her chin to make a point of it.

My frustration reached a fever pitch.

"Now move , bitch," she demanded.

"There's nowhere else to sit," I said, making a show of looking around at the filled benches near me.

"Not my problem."

I'm not getting caught slipping again, I thought, recalling my words from last night.

I stood from my seat but didn't get out from it. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest. I was well-muscled from the years of practice, training, and my strong upbringing. I was tall for a woman, which was what made it so comical when Arne and Grim called me "little" anything. I was taller than this girl.

"I don't give a shit about your table, Astrid. I don't appreciate when people speak to me like that. Bog-blood. " My words came out menacingly, spitting the last two through gritted teeth. "Maybe if you asked nicely, this could go differently."

Her eyes blinked in shock. A wicked sort of smirk splayed across her cheeks. She glanced over her shoulders. "Look at that, ladies. The swamp girl has more backbone than I thought."

"Yeah. And this swamp girl doesn't like bullies."

She scoffed, opening her mouth—

And an arm abruptly draped over my shoulder.

All attempts at intimidation fluttered away in a second as I looked over at a smiling face next to me.

She was a Black girl with a radiant smile. A tight dark weave cascaded down her shoulders, the red tips of her hair catching my attention. "Hi, Astrid. Don't mind my friend. She doesn't know how it goes around here."

She spoke easily to the bully, which caused Astrid to pull up short. After a moment of confusion, Astrid narrowed her eyes at me. "Fine. I'll let it slide this time, Randi. But keep a leash on this one."

My eyes flickered from Astrid to Randi, who still stood with her arm draped over my shoulder, despite being nearly a foot shorter than me.

I was shocked into acceptance. Without saying another word, Randi led me away from Astrid and her goons, who were starting to crowd around the table.

"Um, what just happened?" I asked the newcomer.

"I just saved your ass from untold agony. Believe me, you don't need it on your first day."

"How would you know . . . Randi? Isn't it your first day also?"

She slithered her arm out from behind my neck, smiling at me now that we'd departed Astrid's gang. "My brother attended, so I have an idea what it's like here." She stuck her hand out. "Randi Ranttir. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

I blinked at her hand. Looked at her friendly face for any sign of deceit. She was the first Black girl I'd seen on campus, and I had to say it made me feel grateful that there was at least an iota of diversity at this school for Vikings. I hoped to see much more of it as my studies progressed.

Without thinking more about it, I shook Randi's hand. "Ravinica Linmyrr. Thank you for helping me."

"That's a cool name," she said, still grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Yours too." I gave her a coy smile.

She tapped her chin, eyes lighting up. "I can see it now. Randi and Ravin. The unstoppable alliterative duo."

I tilted my head, my smile widening without even trying. "I don't even know you."

"Perfect. Then you don't know all the skeletons in my closet. Clean slate and all that."

Surprise splashed across my face.

She snickered, sitting down at a different table. "Just kidding." She pushed her tray of half-eaten food toward me when she saw me glancing over my shoulder at Astrid's table, where my tray still sat. "You're gonna have to let that one go, babe." With a salute, she nodded firmly. "It was a sacrifice well worth it. Good morrow, fine slop tray."

I chuckled. What a strange girl. The second one to be nice to me. Dagny is studious, Randi is hyper. I looked down at the tray. "I can't take your food."

She gestured at her body, her thin frame. "Look at me. Look at you. I don't need much. Take it."

"Randi . . . are you calling me fat?"

Instead of wilting at my smirking comment, she leaned forward, facing my challenge head-on. "What if I am?"

Our eyes locked for a moment, glittering. Then I laughed incredulously and bowed my head, letting her win the stare-off. "I like you."

I started eating. Randi chatted my ear off, telling me that I'd need to learn the hierarchies of the academy in order to get by.

I told her, "I don't appreciate bullies like Astrid, Randi. I'm not sure I can put up with it forever."

"Oh, I know. You don't look like the type to back down from a fight. You have to choose your battles, babe. Time and place is everything around here."

I nodded slowly, eating a mouthful of porridge while thinking. I pointed the spoon at Randi before eating some more. "She's gonna get hers. Just you watch."

"Don't I know it."

"Besides," I said, my face twisting, "what makes her so special? She's a ‘myrr' like me!"

"Yeah, but she's a silvermoor."

"A what?"

"A privileged bastard, essentially." She tilted her head, staring up at the high ceiling. "Actually, that's exactly what a silvermoor is. Did you not catch the other part of Astrid's last name? Dahlmyrr? She's the daughter of Tomekeeper Dahlia Alfinn."

Color drained from my cheeks. She was talking about the headmistress of Mimir Tomes, who had given Dagny a hard time yesterday and walked through that place like a warlady.

"Oh. That explains it."

Randi's hands fell into a steeple on the table as she watched me eat. "This is why you need to learn the hierarchy. So you can choose the aforementioned battles wisely, yeah?"

"Yeah. I get it now."

Her eyes glanced over my shoulder, distracted.

When she did it a second time, quickly lowering her gaze like she was trying to hide something from me, it had the opposite effect.

I craned my neck over my shoulder to watch the entrance of the mess hall. The same mysterious man who'd caught my attention during orientation yesterday strode through the longhouse.

He wore the same black trench coat covering practically his whole body. Slips of blue tattoos jutted out from the cuffs, up his neck. Sunglasses adorned his pale face, and his dark auburn hair was in a bun.

I watched him walk up to the line, grab a tray, and get his food. He sat down at a table I hadn't even seen earlier—the only one still unoccupied. The man sat by himself, ate alone, and kept his sunglasses on.

I watched him the whole time, drawn to his aura and uniqueness.

"Okay, it's time to start the pecking order lesson," I muttered to Randi. "Because I want to know who that is."