Control Comes from Within

Points were the exclusive currency of the academy. You could be drowning in circles and it wouldn’t get you anything useful in the academy, unless you were dealing with administrative or clerical issues.

Points were awarded for one of four reasons: good conduct or exceeding expectations during class, making contributions to the school (outside of donating money, which was considered a separate ‘accomplishment’), academic achievement (such as performing well on assessments e.g. tests and exams), and community service.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a total Harry Potter-type situation, with houses and all at the end of each year. Instead, points were used to purchase goods made exclusively at the academy, or hire an academy member to assist you somehow, such as providing private tutoring, helping in experiments, or collaborating on certain projects.

There was an unofficial uniform that could only be bought with points, for example. The older students who could afford it said it came with multiple enchantments that were customizable, such as being able to change the size, color, and even smell.

Naturally, points were relatively scarce to reflect their value, and even though I scored objectively well, above ninety percent in all my classes, I was only awarded a paltry amount of points. I vaguely wondered if it was possible for points, like any other currency, to suffer from inflation, where prices rose and income stayed the same.

Until I overheard an older student tell someone in passing that points could be accrued throughout the years, and it was best to hold onto them until the last possible moment, as the good things tended to be expensive, and you could buy most things off-campus, anyways, if you really needed something.

Of course, I wouldn't take everything at face value, so I confirmed everything with a clerk at the administration building. And after verifying everything I knew about points, I walked away a bit lighter, knowing I could just put them out of my mind for a while as I would let them accumulate in the background.

And accumulate they did.

“Mulvan Delly, congratulations for receiving the lowest number of points thus far this year. Your point total is 85, setting a new record for fewest points awarded as a first-year.”

The headmaster was addressing all the first-years in the arena outdoors, which could comfortably hold fifty thousand people, though it was nowhere near even half-capacity. The staff were seated behind him as he spoke, showing various levels of alertness. While Lady Degrachaff was giving her full attention to his words, Lord Shuubert, as he insisted on being called, was nodding off rhythmically, his head bobbing up and down as he battled with the seductress known as sleep.

“Dofro Ginba, 100 points.”

“Qinda Nistie, 148 points.”

And on he went, announcing those students with the lowest points. Apparently it was a motivational tactic to shame the poor performers into improving through social humiliation.

Which he outright stated at the beginning of the gathering.

“Now that we’re finished with the dunces,” he said, eliciting giggles and snickering from the students, “let’s proceed to the other end of the scale: the dedicated. These are the students with the top results this year, and as such, they have displayed their diligence and willingness to learn. We at the academy believe that while punishment has its place, rewards are equally as effective.”

“Now, when I call your name, come up to the stage and receive your reward.” He pulled out a piece of paper, reading out from it and looking into the crowd.

“Ranked twelfth in this batch, Orma of Jyvra City, step forward.”

A commoner. I didn’t know other unsponsored commoners were in my batch.

Since this was the first time all of the first-years were gathered in one place, I could see the entire ratio of commoners to nobles. While I was marginally familiar with those who enrolled with me in Khobadaar, I knew there were plenty of other cities that had registered newcomers as well, and I predicted that commoners would be the minority. And just as expected, nobles outnumbered commoners nearly thirty to one, highlighting the gap.

And from my very, very rough visual estimate, I guessed that the academy received a batch of nearly seven thousand newcomers this year.

In etiquette lessons, we were taught that while nobles were addressed with their title in front of their name, commoners were addressed as belonging to their place of birth or residence. As I was ostensibly from Khobadaar, people would address me as such. Another answer I got in the etiquette classes was how to identify sponsored commoners, i.e. those commoners who had their tuition paid for by a noble, in exchange for working for them in the future.

The sponsored commoners usually wore something associated with the noble house to mark them, such as a pin or hat, glove, scarf, anything really, as long as it had the house’s symbol or colors on it.

And judging by her appearance, Orma of Jyvra City apparently did not belong to that group.

As she approached the stage with the teachers on it, she looked…meek. Like she was walking to a guillotine instead of being rewarded. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes were darting around, and she kept fidgeting with her hands, all classic signs of nervousness.

I feel you, sister. If that were me up there, I’d be just as nervous. Well, maybe a bit less so, considering I’m a bit more indifferent to all of this than you, but hey, I get it.

“Orma of Jyvra City, as one of the top performing students this year, with a total of 366 points, the academy awards you an additional 40 points, as well as the opportunity to study with a renowned composer and lyricist.”

As soon as the final sentence was read out, it was like the girl was injected with dopamine. She transformed from a meek little mouse to a bright sunflower, a beaming smile plastered on her face. She bowed and thanked the headmaster profusely, after which he dismissed her, calling forward the next students.

The top students were called out one by one, and it quickly became clear that while each student received points, they also received a personalized reward, something they were passionate or curious about. Lessons from accomplished professionals, rare materials or products, the custom rewards encompassed a wide array of fields and topics.

And finally, the moment I was waiting for arrived.

“Ranked third in this batch, Rhaaj of Khobadaar City, step forward.”

My name echoed throughout the arena, drawing raucous laughter that was quickly stifled, along with plenty of glares filled with envy and disdain.

A commoner that outperformed nobles not being well-received, who could have possibly seen that coming?

In any case, I walked up to the teacher’s stage, presenting my usual ‘slightly apathetic but still honored to be here’ attitude that I had worn at nearly all times at the academy.

The headmaster glanced at me briefly before returning to his pre-written speech.

“Rhaaj of Khobadaar City, having garnered a total of 519 points, the academy hereby awards you an additional 85 points. Moreover, you are given the opportunity to study under two experts in their field, a pair of tier one tamers.”

Once again, I was shocked. I hadn’t told anyone about my interest in taming. At most, I had raised one or two questions in class, and having gotten less than satisfying answers, I searched the library for answers to my queries. Again, I was limited in my ability to search, restricted as I was by the first-year limitation. No doubt, studying under a pro tamer could be helpful, and tier one’s at that, but the question remained…

The headmaster smirked when he saw my face, gesturing for me to walk back down.

I snapped out of it and copied what everyone else had done, thanking him while giving a salute, then went back to my seat within the crowd.

How did he know?......tracking? Some kind of secret magical surveillance?

Wait…

I slowly pulled out my student card, looking at the back. The row labeled ‘Points’ now showed ‘604’, having updated since I last saw it a few hours earlier that morning. More importantly, there was a blood magic GPS imbued into it that I had been rightfully paranoid about, until I forgot about it.

Well, not anymore.

Yeah, I’m cranking up the paranoia to 100. From now on, until proven otherwise, I should assume I’m under constant surveillance, audio, video, the works.

While I was lost in my thoughts, the headmaster continued handing out prizes, the top two positions belonging to two bookish nobles I wasn’t familiar with.

“And with that, I’ll conclude this year’s gathering. To those of you who have done poorly, I advise you to dedicate more time and effort to your studies, even outside of lessons. To those of you amongst the top, maintain that drive. I urge you not to become complacent with your current position, but to continue striving, to always improve, or at least, keep the fire burning within you that pushes you further. Dismissed.” The headmaster took a look at the crowd of first-years, nodded, then left the stage and the arena. The teachers followed him, and finally, the students poured out.

“Well, that went about as well as expected.”

He glanced around the room, his colleagues either nodding their assent or waiting stoically for the meeting to continue.

“Shuubert, wake up dammit!” He pounded on the table, startling awake the perpetual partygoer and functioning alcoholic.

“Wha-what’s happening?” The introduction to magic teacher looked around, dazed and confused. The man was a major pain in the rear, but the grievances he brought on a daily basis were matched by the donations accompanied by his research, and their results.

So the headmaster simply made do as best he could.

“Shuubert, if you fall asleep again, I’ll go back on our deal. Is that what you want?” The headmaster threatened.

That got him wide-eyed and awake.

“You can’t do that! You swore if I took the last period every day, I’d get the early class on Sixthday! Ugh, if it weren’t for that flowery fowl who calls herself a royal, I could have an entire additional day to my weekend!” he shouted.

“Oh? You have a problem with my first-year’s lessons being scheduled in the morning?” Lady Degrachaff may have presented a stern yet nurturing appearance to the first-years, not counting that one fool, but outside of the classroom, she was just as quick to discard etiquette as a common sailor.

She had apparently gotten herself deep into debt investing in her friends’ failed business ideas, and her family sent her here to work it off. It wouldn’t do for a member of royalty to be seen as a failed investor, even if they belonged to a branch family and not the main line. Better she be presented as a dutiful royal, enlightening the new generation with the wisdom of those who stood at the top.

Which made it his problem when the far-removed, barely blood-related cousin to the current king got into disagreement with the other members of his teaching staff.

“So what if I do? What, you gonna sic the royal hounds on me? Give it a try, princess.” Shuubert scoffed, waving his hand dismissively.

“I have a better idea, Lord Popsemout. How about we–” she was interrupted by the scream that came out of her rival.

“For the last time, it’s Shuubert!” He sent a spell her way, which she quickly blocked and dissipated. The royal cousin struck him where it hurt: his surname.

Lord Shuubert’s ancestor was apparently known for being fertile, which led to his entire line having to bear the apt yet humiliating name of Popsemout when the king of that era granted him lordship.

“ENOUGH!”

The headmaster raised both his hands, activating the array which stopped the use of magic in the room. The two combatants were standing across from each other, their wands drawn and looking livid, until they felt the flow of essence abruptly stop.

“Now, if the two of you are finished, can we get back to the end of year assessment? Or would you prefer a more physical altercation?”

The two uttered their apologies to the headmaster, feigning contrition and conciliation for the moment, while shooting pointed looks at each other whenever their gazes met.

Sighing to himself, the headmaster proceeded with the original purpose of the meeting: assessing the progress of the students.

“We’ll start with the first-years. While the dunces are just that, it’s good that there appear to be fewer and fewer of them each year. We can hold remedial lessons for those in need of it during the winter break.”

They hammered out the details for the remedial lessons, determining which topics needed to be covered, and which were important enough to review multiple times. The students had increased in both quantity and quality, having many more than expected as a result of their expansion policies, and those that were accepted were of a higher quality than in previous years.

Across the board, the majority of students performed better than in previous years, no doubt due to the influence the academy had in the establishment of other educational institutions across the continent.

“Now, the elites of the first-years. Four of the top twelve were commoners, proving the effectiveness of our policies. If we look at the batch as a whole, most commoners placed somewhere in the upper half, with only a few outliers, most likely the sponsored ones.”

“Should we….”

A round of suggestions was put forth by most of the teachers, offering possible avenues to improve commoner outreach and integration. Eventually, the meeting reached one of its more exciting sections: discussing promising candidates for scholarship and transfers.

“Citizen Orma is an excellent choice, given her enthusiasm for music composition, although…being a native from Jyvra City, it might be better for someone less accustomed to the academy to receive it. Perhaps as a lower-priority candidate.” one teacher said.

“Prenaria Gashly, third daughter of Baron Gashly of Rictius Meadow, ranked….fifty-eighth in this batch. Rather good, all things considered. Perhaps her?” another teacher proposed.

“I’m quite certain I know the perfect candidate. At least for the top spot.”

All eyes turned to Lady Degrachaff, as her hand rose in the air, accompanied by a small smirk on her face as she turned to glance gloatingly at Lord…Shuubert, who was watching the proceedings with detachment.

“Citizen Rhaaj of Khobadaar. Not only was he ranked third, only being edged out by those two ducal heirs, he is a rare breed. And I do mean that in both the literal and metaphorical sense, despite his name.

“You see, young Rhaaj, despite registering in the tier 3 city of Khobadaar, despite his attention to detail and voracious appetite for knowledge, despite his ability to provide for his own tuition without a sponsor…was born in a little, backwater, hole-in-the-ground….village.” She said the last word with emphasis.

And it caused a reaction that caused her smile to grow even wider.

“What?!”

“How is that possible!”

“You’re lying! There’s no way!”

“Ahem.”

The headmaster’s cough ended the outburst of the staff, as they returned to their previous state of propriety, and he questioned the royal further.

“Lady Degrachaff. Olyn. Would you mind explaining to us how you found out this information? With all due respect, while I do not doubt your word, this matter has a large impact on both the student in question, and his potential benefactors.”

“Of course, Lord, forgive me, Headmaster Lewyinlook. While I admit my first source was the gossip mongers of the capital, I know the rumor mill is hardly a reliable source of information when dealing with something so sensitive. So after delving into the mire of bits and pieces I heard about, imagine my surprise when I learned that a promising student at the academy had apparently been working to gather the funds needed for tuition nearly a full year before enrolling. Working day and night, taking odd jobs and even those we disdain, maintenance and crematory jobs,” she shuddered at even mentioning them, “all to fund his education.”

“And of course, who was it that confirmed this nugget of truth? One of my old friends, who happens to have an estate in the same city young Rhaaj registered in, as well as the Head Workman of the Society branch in the same city. Being a royal member does come with privileges every now and then.” she said, ending her story.

“And, your friend? They are?” the headmaster asked, ignoring the mention of blatant bribery.

“The good countess Ryfellin. Perhaps you would remember her as Lady Troia Wordsome, headmaster,” she responded.

“Wordsome…it’s been a while since I’ve heard that name. Is there anyone who doesn’t know the story of that house? It would appear your source is credible. Forgive my doubt, Lady Olyn.” He said, slightly inclining his head.

“And that’s not all! Did you know our young candidate has had multiple encounters with voranders?”

The meeting was then hijacked by the technically-royal family member, as she regaled the teaching staff with the story of a boy picked up by a trading convoy and who had had multiple scraps with humanity’s oldest enemy, managing to survive every time.

It would appear her sources were both accurate and widespread, if she could manage to piece together someone’s past only knowing their name.

It took another hour before the selection of candidates was finalized, and the discussion of second-years could begin. The annual meeting to determine scholarship candidates was yet another of those activities that fell under the category of boring but necessary.

The headmaster’s pounding headache grew more intense as he thought of the work he needed to finish before tomorrow’s end-of-year ceremony for the second-years. And just as quickly, it lessened as he thought of his frankly ridiculous salary, and the incoming donations from noble parents.