Zeroth Moment: My Cheat Skill Is Stupid, So I'll Just Ignore It

Topher slept, as always, poorly; but watching Haruko and Hotaka stagger around the next morning, groggy and achy with sleep deprivation, gave him a tiny bit of satisfaction. That's right, see how you like it. As Haruko prepared for the day, Topher did what little he could to refresh himself (mostly consisting of drinking some water and indulging in a breakfast portion of self-pity), Noboru passed him in the hall; the rotund boy was carrying the wooden plates Topher had seen yesterday under his arm, and Topher noticed that his head had been shaved. Guess they don't allow hair in Magic Church. Topher raised his hand in greeting. "Hey."

"Bailey-sensei." The boy nodded, his gray eyes somewhat distant. "How did everything go?"

"She pulled it off," Topher reported, unable to keep at least a little of his pride from seeping through. "Took us until pretty late, but it all worked out."

Noboru smiled. "I am glad. I hope that today's class goes well for her." Seeing the boy's happiness, muted as it was, made Topher feel sick; he still doesn't know they want her to fail.

Choking back his resentment, Topher nodded in return. "Yeah. Hope your day doing whatever it is priests-in-training do works out well for you, too." The other boy nodded and departed, his tread heavy on the stairs down to the inn's lower floors.

Eventually, Haruko was ready; Topher never saw Hotaka come out of the room he shared with Noboru, and vaguely wondered what the smaller boy did all day. He vaguely recalled seeing piles of books and papers on Hotaka's desk when he'd been in there to speak to Noboru yesterday, but realized that he didn't have any idea what they were for. Guess I shouldn't snoop anyway, he grumbled to himself. If anybody looked through my bookshelf at his age, I don't think they woulda found anything but dirty magazines.

The castle guards seemed to be more used to their comings and goings, now; they waved them through without much comment, and Topher had an idea. As they entered the castle, he pulled up the hood of his hoodie; it was a little warm -- the temperature around here seemed to always be a perfect 72 degrees -- but he wanted everyone to get used to seeing him with the hood up. It'll make it easier for Cailu to pass as me.

As before, they were almost late to class; Topher pondered whether they should have left earlier to avoid it, then realized it wouldn't have mattered. If it's not this, it'll be something else. As the class settled, the dandelion-headed wizard from the day before reappeared in another flash of light; Topher, his head already pounding, idly daydreamed about the wizard botching the spellcasting and exploding into a pile of limbs. As before, he ignored the students, beginning to draw a new series of diagrams on the board; the first was a large five-by-five grid, while the second was some sort of eye-twisting geometrical sphere. Without looking back over his shoulder, he barked, "In descending order, state the spells you successfully cast before today's class."

As if following some kind of prearranged script, the leftmost student at the front of the class stood up; it was a long-haired girl still wearing her school uniform, but she held a wand in her left hand that had a long, flowing red ribbon which seemed to float and whip about gently despite the absence of wind. "Mage Hand, Alkran-sensei."

The mage, whose name Topher inferred must be Alkran, nodded, marking one of the squares in the grids on the board; Topher could see no particular relationship between the student who had spoken, the spell she had mentioned, or the location of the mark, but he supposed it wasn't really his problem. Immediately, the student sat back down, and the next student stood up to report their spell; the rest of the class followed suit. Some of the students -- probably the C-Rankers, Topher supposed -- named multiple spells, and Alkran correspondingly made multiple marks in the grid. After all the other students had gone, Haruko hesitantly got to her feet; she had to clear her throat, but finally managed to stammer out, "M-Mage Light, Alkran-sensei."

She sat back down, looking relieved, but the instructor did not make a mark on the board; instead, he paused, then lowered his hand slowly. Still without looking back, a single word floated back to them: "Demonstrate."

"Ehh? I-I mean, excuse me?"

"Demonstrate." The mage turned around, his expression completely flat. "If you'd be so kind."

Topher closed his eyes, feeling incredibly tired. The fuckers. They didn't make anyone else prove anything, but they're going to put her on the spot. Of course they are. "Go on, Haruko." He opened his eyes, but couldn't meet her shocked gaze. "Show 'em." He looked away, trying hard to think about something else; he didn't want to watch this.

"R-right!" She clenched her fists resolutely, stood up again, and cupped her hands as she had the night before. The was a short pause, then a long one; the moment grew exponentially more awkward as the seconds passed. Haruko murmured, again and again, with increasing desperation; finally, she stamped her foot in frustration. "Why won't it work? It worked last night!" She sounded like she was close to crying. "I used the sequence Ehn Ehf Zefekk Zraqq, and it worked!"

"Zoff," corrected Topher absently; then his mouth dropped open. Wait, what?

Haruko whirled, staring at him; then, hurriedly, she cupped her hands and cast the spell again. This time, a flower-shape of lambent illumination obediently bloomed in her hands, but she barely looked at it; her eyes were fixed on Topher. "Why... why was it Zoff? It was Zraqq before."

"Because, sweetie," said another girl a few rows up, very gently, "it's daytime now."

Haruko's cheeks flared red; Topher could see she wanted to die on the spot. Instead, she clenched her hands into fists and whirled back to face the instructor, her back as straight as a spear. "Mage Light, Alkran-sensei," she repeated, defiantly.

"As you can see, this casting is deficient in a number of aspects," droned the mage as if nothing had happened. "Note that the radius of the light is insufficient to reach the full volume of the room; a better casting would have modified Ehn with Dahf to produce Vahraj. Additionally, the light is unmoored; this will occur when the manifestation is unbound too quickly, and a visualization of the Lesser Yashfii construction during casting will ensure that you may continue to direct it with your will even after the spell is complete, as those of you who have cast Mage Hand will be quite familiar with." He turned back to the board and began to write quickly. "Which brings us to the first topic of today's lesson. This is the meta-extrusion of the entire Arzash topology; by projecting it across a two-dimensional plane, you can clearly see which runic circles emerge..." The lesson went downhill from there.

Haruko fled the class as soon as it was over, almost in tears; she'd worked in seething silence the entire time, copying down notes furiously with such intensity that her pencil tore through the paper more than once. Topher, for his part, did what he could to keep up, but it was all so far beyond him that he had almost no hope of salvaging anything, much less retaining it.

I don't know about that; you retained that conjugation pretty well, noted the distant part of his mind. And I bet Sugimoto would have been just thrilled to see you loyally executing his plan to make Haruko feel like dogshit to everyone else's satisfaction.

Topher's dung beetle soul shriveled a little bit more.

Gathering together his sad attempt at notes, he left the emptying classroom; none of the other students spared him so much as a glance. He started to head back to the main gate, but didn't know if he could face Haruko yet; instead, he just wandered vaguely through the halls of the castle, hoping he wouldn't get yelled at for being in a restricted area.

He needn't have worried; everyone just ignored him, which he figured was a good sign for Cailu. Now that they're used to seeing me with my hood up and wandering around like a moron, he could probably steal half the treasury and they wouldn't even blink. Not that there were that many guards around to yell at him; they mostly seemed to be clustered around the entrances and exits to things.

Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he started trying to map out the castle, just for his own personal edification. As he'd expected, a large portion was reserved simply for housing the "Summoned Heroes" -- dormitories, kitchens, eating areas, and training spaces took up most of it; he nodded to himself. That's a big chunk of the castle right there.

Wait.

So what were they doing with this space before the Summoning?

Topher began to prowl with slightly more purpose, his guts twisting. Everything about this still makes no sense. He passed out of the section of the castle reserved for the Otherworlders and began to see things more in line with what he had expected: servants' quarters, storage rooms, and smaller, fancier kitchens. Must be for the people who actually live here. He figured he'd eventually run into an area reserved for higher-status people and have to turn around, but that worked just as well for his purposes.

He was passing by another identical pair of wooden doors when he almost missed it; the glint of candlelight, which shouldn't have been necessary in the middle of the day. Pausing, he crept nearer, taking a peek inside; it looked like a larger room with a large number of shelves, tables, and chairs. The Library. Jackpot. Stealthily, he slipped between the slightly-open doors and began to skulk about, looking for titles of interest. The room had huge, massive windows on both sides, but they were covered with heavy curtains for some reason; maybe to protect the books? Unfortunately, most of the books didn't have writing on their spines, and the ones that did made no sense to him; they bore titles like The Fall of Jagrulin or Keslegra, Vol. 3. He would start pulling books down to check the front covers if he needed to, but he was hoping things wouldn't come to that; better to find a useful tome and get the hell out of here before anyone could ask questions.

Rounding a corner, he saw something that startled him; a man's back, seated at one of the tables. Whoever it was wore a red robe, and had their head in their hands; books of every size and thickness were spread out around the figure, as if he had been searching to try to find some particular information or solution. Topher winced. Poor bastard. Looks like he's in a little over his head. He started to retreat, but his foot knocked against the bookshelf next to him; he cursed his clumsiness as the figure's head came up slightly. However, whoever it was didn't even look in his direction, just made some manner of mumbled request; Topher had done enough all-nighters to know a prayer for coffee when he heard one. He chuckled.

Well, for some reason, he supposed he felt sympathetic; he retreated softly, making his way back to a small kitchen he'd passed a few minutes ago. A few cooks and serving girls were milling about, cooking or cleaning or chatting; maybe one of them would be able to help him. "Uh, excuse me," he began; a few of the girls turned to look at Topher, but most everyone just ignored him. "I don't suppose you have coffee?"

"Ah?" One of the older girls stepped forward; the others turned away and resumed whatever they had been doing. "What do you need?"

"Coffee. You know, the drink you drink when you're tired." Topher made ambiguous, useless gestures with his hands.

"Ah, well..." -- the girl's eyes darted to the side -- "...we have tea, or derjet, or sepp juice. I'm not sure..."

Topher shrugged. "Let's go with derjet."

The girl nodded, then pointed to a cabinet in the corner. "The sand is in a bag on the top shelf. Mix it with boiling water, then sift." She turned away, going back to the drawer of silverware she'd been polishing.

Topher was, for a moment, taken aback; for some reason he'd been expecting her to do it for him, but upon reflection, couldn't imagine why. Guess Noboru was right about me being an American Karen. Cursing his impulse, he went to the cabinet and did his best with the ingredients he found there; the "sand" was thick and smooth, and generally resembled Kool-Aid powder or instant coffee, so he was pretty sure he was on the right track. One of the cooks wordlessly provided him with boiling water when asked, so it only took a few minutes to do everything else. He risked a sip, then regretted it; whatever derjet was, it was obviously both a powerful stimulant and overwhelmingly sour, like some kind of grapefruit energy drink with the consistency of motor oil. Dear God. Well, hopefully it'll do.

Thanking the servants who had helped him (to their apparent surprise and confusion), he crept back into the library, finding the studying figure where he'd left him. Quietly, he tried to set down the cup of derjet where it would be close enough to be unobtrusively obvious, but not so close it would be knocked over. As the cup made a soft tap against the table, the figure glanced over, looking tired. "Ah. Thank you."

Topher nodded and began to retreat; but he'd only gotten a few paces before his curiosity got the better of him. He turned back and slid into a chair a little ways away. "I gotta be out of my mind to ask this, but can I help?"

The figure's head snapped up; bloodshot eyes stared, shocked, at Topher for a long moment. The face which contained them was about Topher's age, with a thick black beard and braided hair that fell down the man's back; Topher thought he looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't place him. After a long pause, the man sighed and let his head fall back into his hands. "I can't see how. It's not something another can do on my behalf."

"Personal stuff, huh?" Topher winced. "Sorry. Well, hopefully the derjet will help." He patted the other guy on the shoulder awkwardly, then stood up to leave. "Well, good luck."

"Wait." The other figure stood up too; they beheld each other. Then, hesitantly, the man gestured. "Would you... care to sit?"

"All right." Topher sat back down, and the man sat down again too; he was looking back and forth from one book to another, as if they were riddles he couldn't solve. Topher waited, as patiently as he felt he could.

"Have you ever been confronted with a problem," the man started, slowly, "that you felt like everyone knew how to solve but you?" He took a long sip of his derjet, watching Topher tiredly.

Topher shrugged. "Lots of times. Most of the time they were just as confused as I was, though; they just didn't want to look stupid."

The man took a long swallow of derjet, grimacing, then nodded. "In many cases, I have found that to be true as well. But this time..." He gestured at the books. "I'm not even sure the answer is here, and I am too dim to see it; or, alternatively, if it's not and I am just wasting my time."

Topher didn't understand, and he was sure his face made it clear. "Look, pal, I might not be the smartest guy in the world --" at least, not with a D-Rank Intelligence "-- but I can be a sounding board. If you talk it through with me, maybe you'll give yourself the answer."

The other man sighed. "Very well." He looked up at Topher, his gaze forlorn. "Let us suppose you were the king of a kingdom threatened by an army so unstoppable no one had ever defeated it, and your only hope of victory was to hand every scrap of your power over to a child. And, upon investigation, you found that such a child exceeded you in every aspect; that, in comparison, you were slow-witted, narrow of vision, and short of resolve to do what was necessary." He looked back down at the books. "Would you relinquish your power utterly? Would you resist your only chance at salvation? Would you try to find a middle ground, or another path entirely?"

"Jesus." Topher blinked. "You're the king. The guy who summoned us. I didn't recognize you without your crown."

The king nodded, his eyes looking weary and hollow. "And you are one of the F-Rankers. The least of the least, rejected, and you the most unfortunate of the lot; denied even the promise of youth. Yet, when no one in my kingdom offers me aid, you appear, with a cup of derjet and an offer of counsel." He looked away. "It is comical."

Topher shrugged. "That's life for you." He thought for a moment. "I think if I was in your position -- not that you should necessarily take advice from an F-Ranker -- I would let Sugimoto run my army too. It's not like you have a lot of choices."

The king sighed tiredly. "We agree on that. But why stop at the army? I am C-Rank, Otherworlder; there are many among your people who could run every aspect of my kingdom with greater skill and ability than I will ever be capable of. If I truly love my people, shouldn't I do what is best for them?"

Topher laughed, surprising himself; he didn't know what, exactly, about all this was funny, but he couldn't help it. "Buddy, just because someone else might have better ideas than you doesn't mean they've got your best interests at heart. If you're willing to even ask the question, you already know the answer. If you handed your crown over to Sugimoto, or even an A-Ranker or B-Ranker, do you really think they'd be a good king? Or do you think they'd just be good at doing the things they think a king should be doing, rather than the things a king should actually be doing?"

The king ran his hand over his forehead, grunting, then released another sigh. "You're suggesting I should use them for advisors."

"Maybe not all of 'em. But if one of them seems like a good person with good ideas, why not?" Topher shrugged. "And I don't think their rank matters as much as where their heart's at; an S-Rank asshole who can think up the best ways to do King Stuff can also think up the best ways to screw you over, and you have no way of knowing which one they're telling you. But that's probably what you'd expect an F-Ranker to say."

"I do not know what an 'asshole' is, but I believe I take your meaning." The king stared at the books for a while longer, then began closing them and gathering them up. "Very well. I suppose we must both return to our duties."

"Yeah, I got a whole day of performative ineptitude ahead of me," Topher grunted, standing up. "Lots of failure to get to."

The two faced each other for a few moments; then, unexpectedly, the king stuck his hand out. "Zashe. Zashe Vicon the Fourth."

"Topher Bailey." Topher shook his hand; the king had a nice strong grip. He must work out.

The other man nodded, then turned away, but stopped after a moment. "I'm sure you are aware that you are not permitted in this library," he said, seemingly to no one in particular, "so it is a good thing you were not here. And it is an even better thing that all tomes were accounted for, so that if any particular tome were to go missing, it would likely go unnoticed as long as it was returned." He walked out of the room.

Topher wasted no time; as soon as the other man had left, he began scanning the shelves with purpose and haste. There were several books he might have chosen; he wanted answers, and he had an inkling that they might be here in this room. But when he departed a short while later, skulking down the hallways back towards the entrance, the book under his arm was Venger Arburg's Introduction to Basic Magical Concepts.