Chapter 19 | Ravinica

Chapter 19

Ravinica

RANDI SAID SHE DIDN'T know the guy in the trench coat, other than that he was an initiate like us. It was a bit of a letdown, because I wanted the tea on him.

Gods, Dagny was right: When did I become such a gossip queen? I needed to change that, fast. I'd find out about these people soon enough.

The pale man in the trench coat struck my fancy because he didn't seem to give a shit about anything happening around him, and I wanted to embrace that vibe. He had an apathetic demeanor, similar to Grim Kollbjorn, yet somehow different at the same time. He interacted with no one while he ate. He sat alone, away from everyone. He didn't talk.

Walking side by side with Randi on our way to History & Tomes, which was thankfully up in Dorymir Hall—familiar territory—I thought of all the people I'd met in such a short time. It had been a flurry of names and personalities.

There were the helpful ones: Arne, Dagny, Randi. I guess my brother Eirik falls into that category for now, too.

Then there were the ones I had to watch out for: Ulf Torfen and his pack leader brother, Sven. Tomekeeper Dahlia had been cordial to me, yet seemed icy. Her daughter, Astrid Dahlmyrr, appeared ready to stab a knife into my side on day one.

It's a shame. Bog-bloods like us should stick together. I guess there's even a hierarchy between regular old swamp rats like me and "silvermoors" like her. And what's the deal with her being a bastard, if the Tomekeeper is her mother? There's something there.

Finally, there were the people I was unsure of, but wanted to learn more about: Grim Kollbjorn and Mr. Trench Coat.

As we neared the vast auditorium on the side of the hill, Dorymir Hall, butterflies returned to my stomach. I desperately hoped my first class would go without a hitch, even though drama seemed to follow me everywhere I went. Please, All-Father, just one relaxing class before the hell that I'm sure awaits me at Runeshaping Basics.

History & Tomes was filled with only initiates—mostly people who didn't know me or my background. The thirty or so students only filled a quarter of the multi-tiered room. Everyone sat near the front, facing the stage, which was lined with a chalkboard and small table—reminiscent of lecture halls I'd see anywhere else.

I took my seat next to Randi on the second-level bench. I watched as Astrid and her posse came in and scowled at me before sitting on the opposite side of the second row. A smattering of students sat in the first row, and most of the initiates took their places behind me on the third. That was all of us.

Mr. Trench Coat came in last, as usual, and took a seat at the very front with his back to everyone—far left on the crescent-moon row, far away from everyone.

It irked me. For some reason I wanted to get closer to him, if only so I could learn what his deal was.

I shouldn't be so snoopy. I feel like I'm a kid again, learning how to behave in this playground for badasses. It's ridiculous.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my bag, pulled out the weighty textbook for the class, and slammed it on the tiny desk in front of me, which was attached to the seatback of an initiate in the first row.

The stranger looked over their shoulder and scowled when their seat shook from me setting the book down.

I winced. "Sorry."

A tall curtain behind the chalkboard on stage rustled. Out walked a diminutive woman with thick Coke bottle glasses, a robe of black with the Vikingrune emblem across the front, and big frizzy hair sticking out at all ends. She looked frazzled yet calm at the same time.

I tilted my head, amused, as I watched her take her place in front of the chalkboard and write her name, then underline it.

The woman looked like a prototypical librarian—much more than the actual Tomekeeper. I couldn't tell if she was forty or four hundred.

She faced the quieting rows of initiates and spoke in a scratchy, raspy voice, sounding like she was a lifelong smoker. "My name is Hersir Thorvi Kardeen. You might notice by my last name, I don't care about titles. You can call me Thorvi."

Okay. Straight to the point. Got it.

"I'm honored to be your first professor in your journey at Vikingrune. As you can tell"—she gestured at herself and her robe—"I'm not what you would call a Viking . The big brawny gene must have skipped me."

No one laughed, but I cracked a smile. I liked this odd little woman, even if everyone seemed baffled by her.

Her eyes were huge in her glasses, yet the rest of her was small. Not even five feet tall. Probably sticks and bones underneath that robe.

"Because I'm not huge and burly, I opted for academia as my specialty," she said. "Like many Hersirs, I was a student here before I became a professor. Scholarly pursuits—researching, studying, discovering—have always titillated me."

At that, a few students did chuckle. I rolled my eyes, since I knew Hersir Thorvi wasn't trying to be funny in that instance, and I thought all of my peers were immature jackasses. Especially Ulf Torfen, who sat off near Astrid Dahlmyrr and was the loudest to laugh.

Or maybe I was just too uptight. All I know is there's a reason this woman is a professor here. If she attended, then she's being humble. She's a badass just like the others. Maybe just in a different way.

Hersir Thorvi spun, her robe sweeping across the ground. She grabbed a piece of chalk after erasing her name, and drew a large circle. Next to it, she drew other circles—some small, some large—until there were nine.

She tapped the board with her chalk. "Can anyone tell me what I'm drawing? Shouldn't be difficult."

I raised my hand. A few others did too.

Astrid Dahlmyrr called out, "The nine realms."

Thorvi frowned at her, wrinkles forming near her thin lips. "Don't just blurt out answers, Astrid. We're not barbarians. We're trying to deviate away from that stereotype. Even if your mother is a friend of mine, that doesn't give you special authority in my classroom. Yes?"

I got a sick sense of satisfaction seeing the veins distend on Astrid's neck at getting reprimanded so quickly—forced to hold her tongue and nod curtly.

"Good. You are correct, however." She tapped the green chalkboard again. "This is a poor representation of the nine realms. I hope everyone here knows them, because you should have learned about them in your childhood studies. In History & Tomes, we will be discussing the realms at length. We will also be talking about the politics that make up our standing with the other eight realms, currently. There will be deep dives into all sorts of interesting subjects. The faculty and I decided to teach this class first this year, so you don't all fall asleep while I lecture you. I hope you have your coffee on hand."

A few more students chuckled, this time warranted. I didn't have a notepad to take notes, but Randi noticed and tore off a page from hers so I could write. Most people just watched blankly, while some nodded along, and others yawned.

"Really, Georg, yawning already? What did I just say?" she lambasted a student sitting behind me.

His voice came out meek. "Sorry, Thorvi." A second later: "Um. Can I call you Hersir? Or professor? I feel weird calling you by your first name, as my superior."

Thorvi frowned. She looked around at the students, eyes landing on everyone, and noticed some nods joining Georg's plight. "Does everyone agree with dear Georg here? Is it weird calling me by my name?"

More nods.

She shrugged her bony, robe-clad shoulders. "Fine. Call me Hersir Thorvi. Or professor. I really don't care, as long as you're listening."

With that, the professor put the chalk down and started to pace in front of the board. She put her hands behind her and watched the stage floor. "Now then," she said after a beat, "who can tell me why you're here, at Vikingrune Academy?"

Hands shot up. I refrained this time, opting to watch instead. It seemed like a trick question.

She waved her hand in the air and pushed her big spectacles up on the bridge of her nose. "Let me rephrase. How you're here, rather. And I don't mean the Wraith longships."

Hands went down. People glanced around, confused, looking to their friends for the answer.

"Here's a hint: The how and why are related."

From the far left, Mr. Trench Coat raised his hand slowly. Everyone looked over at him. I noticed more ink circling his arm as the sleeve of his coat drifted down his forearm a few inches.

Hersir Thorvi pointed at him. "Yes?"

"The Taldan War." The man's voice was low and brooding—quite raspy, though in an alluring way.

The professor nodded, her frizzy hair bouncing. "Very good. Yes. Vikingrune Academy being founded is a result of the Taldan War. Specifically the Third Taldan War, though it was the first one that instigated the whole thing and got the ball rolling."

She turned and scribbled on the chalkboard, evidently excited someone had answered her esoteric question correctly. Once she was done writing, she tapped on the board, which read a single phrase:

The King Who Saw.

"We're going to be talking about this man quite a lot in this class. Especially in the first half of the semester." She wrote some more, putting a name under it:

The Deceiver in Gold.

"And this man. Together, these two men—human and elf, once the greatest of allies—helped tear our worlds asunder and begin the Taldan Wars. It was King Dannon and Lord Talasin who set in motion everything that has come to pass on Midgard for nearly a thousand years. A millennium of strife and devolving race relations that have only gotten worse in recent years. That is how you're at Vikingrune Academy, and why you're here is to help prevent further bloodshed from befalling our fragile realm. Midgard."

She stopped talking, watching us. My eyes were wide, and I assumed other students' were too.

"No biggie, right?"

The chuckles were nervous this time.

Hell of a thing to toss at us in the first ten minutes of class.

"I hope you are all up to the task," Thorvi said, before putting her chalk down. She nudged her chin toward Mr. Trench Coat. "Good answer, young man. First one in years who has gotten it right on the first try. What are you called?"

"Magnus."

Okay. I have a name to put to the pale, handsome face. That's good.

"Magnus what?"

A pause. Magnus was leaning back in his seat, aloof, almost disrespectful how he slouched.

"Magnus Feldraug."

A sharp intake of breath filled the auditorium from nearly every student present. I glanced around wildly, looking for an answer they all seemed to know already.

I wasn't privy to the vast complexities of our naming conventions, yet I knew the word "draug" well enough from my studies in Selby Village.

I glanced over to Randi with my brow creased, to make sure I heard correctly.

She nodded, leaning in to whisper. "Undead."