Young Writers Society

“Bridget, you’re next,” the Count called. Eagerly, the redhead walked into the circle. She closed her eyes and Rudi watched as a translucent, light blue wall surrounded her for a half-second. On the Count’s paper, a hard-to-read yellow text appeared below Rudi’s name. Bridget had a six, if Rudi had read correctly.

Chem went next, also receiving a six beside his purple name. After that, the neater Norden twin’s name showed up in deep, ocean blue with a five. The other one’s number and color were the same.

“And Vinnia,” the Count said, “I know you’re apprehensive about magic, but I promise it won’t harm you. Step into the circle, please.”

Sniffing haughtily, she did as asked, testing the circle daintily before setting foot in it. “There. I am in the circle, Count.” She closed her eyes and lifted her chin as the blue wall enveloped her for a moment. When it was gone, she immediately flashed her eyes open and leaped out.

Rudi looked to the Count, who peered almost suspiciously at his parchment. Scratching his stubble, he looked at Vinnia again. “I don’t understand how a girl so hateful of magic can use it while someone measures her. Are you so afraid of other people that you’ll use something you despise in order to protect yourself from their power?”

Vinnia hmphed and crossed her arms. “I was not using magic. Whatever number you’ve got there, it’s a true representation.”

Slamming a fist on his desk, the Count raised his voice. The room shook with a clap of thunder, and the desks shoved to the edges of the room jumped along with all the pages. “Anyone with this little natural magic would be dead, Vinnia! If you think I’m fool enough to believe you have less than even a bed-ridden crimson fever victim, you’re wrong!”

That shut Vinnia up. She wrinkled her nose and pressed a hand to her forehead. Was it just Rudi, or was she sweating? Then, as if nothing had happened, Vinnia stepped back in the circle. “Fine. I swear I will not use magic while you test me. I swear on my right eye. The thing doesn’t do much for me anyway.”

“Oh for goodness’ sake,” the Count gasped. Nonetheless, Rudi watched Vinnia’s pink text disappear from the Count’s paper. Vinnia was tested again, and the exact same numbers appeared on the list. She had a little open arrow pointing to a one. Rudi knew that sign from math; whatever scale was being used, Vinnia had less than one unit of magic, and this was considered a miniscule amount.

Rudi glanced at his own ten, furrowing his brow. How did this pattern work? Were the levels determined by simple multiplication, or by exponents, like his Pa had explained for the earthquake measurements? He didn’t want to admit it, but Rudi rather liked the idea of the scale going on exponents. He’d be much, much stronger than his peers that way.

“Well, Vinnia,” the Count said, “you appear to be correct. If you don’t mind, may I test you after breakfast tomorrow morning? It may be that your magic was decreased by lack of rest and proper food.”

Vinnia shrugged. “It won’t help, Sir, but I’ll come.”

After the conversation ended, and the Count filed away his paper, he directed the pages to return his room to its normal state. With all six of them, it didn’t take long to return the desks to their original grid pattern. It looked very boring now, and the Count’s removal of the chalk only exemplified the feeling. If Rudi didn’t know better, he might think this a mathematics classroom.

With a wave and a mutter, the Count sent the pages on their way to the mess. Chattering smugly, Bridget and Chem led the way through the pastel hallways of the palace.

The mess, as it turned out, was located in a part of the palace that still seemed like a castle. Right by the kitchens and servant quarters, it still had stone walls that were uncovered by plaster, and wooden floors that creaked underfoot. Every table in the room had at least one person, and the six new pages delved into the crowd to sit with their mentors.

Food had already been set out, but Simon held Rudi from eating. “The Count’s got to come in and say all the nonsense about ‘long live the king’ and ‘thanks for the food’ and whatnot. So even if the food stops steaming like it is, you’ve got to wait.”

Across from them, Vinnia ran her fingers along the table. “It’s not sanded,” she said disdainfully, “I’m going to get a splinter. And I cannot believe that you don’t use plates.” She gestured at the bread and meat in front of her. “Eating off the table is unsanitary, and not eating the bread would be wasteful.”

Simon, wrinkling his nose to better make fun of Vinnia’s voice, added that she’d probably get splinters in her mouth from eating off the table.

“Northerners,” Vinnia mumbled. Beside her, Axel looked slightly offended.

“We do use plates, Vin,” he explained, “but only when the royal family is here, or when we’re at home. It’s just that plates are so expensive that the royal family only owns one set, and they carry them between their palaces.”

“We own five sets,” the girl said, “all of them have twenty pieces each, and we’re planning on getting another set for the solstice festival.”

“You live in what used to be Altland,” Axel argued, “of course you have lots of plates.” He turned to Rudi and Simon, who were next to each other. “Did you know that many soldiers brought plundered plates back to use in their own homes?”

Rudi nodded. His own Pa had insisted on using plates, and tried encouraging others to do the same. He hadn’t had much luck.

Just as Vinnia opened her mouth to complain again, she whipped her head around to stare at the door. The boys’ eyes automatically followed where she looked, the wind from the opening door forcing them to blink. Finally, the Count had arrived.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” the Count said, pausing to wait for the pages to quiet, “but I have finished writing schedules at last, and they will be delivered to your dorms during supper.” He lowered his head, all the pages following suit, and expressed thanks for the food, and for the king’s good health. Then, the mess hall erupted into conversation once again, as well as the sounds of voracious children eating.

When dinner ended, Rudi followed the crowds to his dorm. A few sets of his page uniform lay neatly on the bed next to his still-packed luggage. On his desk was a sheet of paper that must have been his schedule. Under the light of his desk candle, Rudi stared at it. It looked so complicated, what with the different morning activities for each day of the week, and then the rotating lesson schedule for the afternoon.

A knock broke the silence.

“Rudi?” called Vinnia’s voice, “are you in there?”

Though he didn’t answer, Rudi rushed to his door to let her in. Her hair was no longer in its crown, and her braids hung nearly to her waist, wispy from a day of excitement.

“Can you read this aloud for me?” she asked quietly, holding up her own schedule. “I have bad eyesight and it’s kind of hard to read things close up, and, well, I didn’t want to ask Axel because Simon was there and he’d make fun of me, so…”

Rudi held out his hand and pulled his door open wider in a gesture for Vinnia to come in. As she placed the paper in his hand, he glanced over it, just barely recognizing that many of the classes were slightly different from his.

“What’s it say?” Vinnia asked after a few moments. She stood awkwardly in the center of the room, looping a braid around her fingers.

“Riding first thing Monday mornings, then archery,” Rudi read aloud, “after that is the midday meal, then you have language studies with the second-year pages, and then mathematics, natural philosophy, and history in that order.” He glanced at his own paper, noting that they shared only mathematics that day. Listing off the rest of Vinnia’s classes, he wondered how she would remember all this. He planned on carrying the list with him until he had it all figured out, but if Vinnia couldn’t read well, how would she check her schedule?

As he finished Saturday’s classes, Vinnia walked forward and took the paper back. She muttered a nasally ‘thank you’ before scurrying back through the hallway to her own dorm, gracefully dodging Elizabeth as the older girl walked into the boys’ side.

By lunch the next day, Rudi already felt more than worn out. Everything from his calves to his neck ached, and he still had four hours of lessons to go. Picking at the soup in his bowl—one that Vinnia had pointed out as ‘unsuitable for carrying food for human consumption’—he tried to remember the order of the afternoon classes. He had natural philosophy first, right? Then came math with Vinnia; that was definite. But what was after?

It took a while before he heard Simon calling his name. “Rudi! Oh, Rudolph, are you in there?”

He met Simon’s eyes to let the older boy know he was listening.

“Ah, you’re not dead yet. I’m glad. How was archery this morning?”

Rudi spooned some soup into his mouth to avoid the question, but found himself swallowing all too soon. “Badly,” he replied.

“Eh, that’s normal. The old river-hero is a pacifist now, so he probably wouldn’t teach you this stuff beforehand.”

Across the table, Vinnia fumed. “Excuse you, Mister Tenth-in-line, but it’s rude to call people by the direct translation of their last names.” She thumped the end of her spoon on the table, black eyes narrowed. “And if you’re going to poke fun at his name, do it right. The double ‘s’ looks like a ‘b’, right? Just call him Rudi Flub.”

Looking over at Axel, Rudi noticed that the oldest page looked just as green as Rudi felt. But since Elizabeth stood right over him, arms crossed disapprovingly, Rudi had to wonder if it was really the conversation that made Axel feel so uncomfortable.

“Listen up, Cart-part,” Elizabeth said. All chatting in the room halted. “We’re going to get a nice little assignment on Alten idioms today, and I’d like to challenge you to see who can get a better grade.”

Axel paled. His eyes flicked towards Vinnia, but she was busy glaring at a potato in her soup. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” he asked meekly.

“No, not really.” Next to Elizabeth, Bridget stared wide-eyed at Vinnia. The brown-haired girl still appeared to be ignoring the conversation. She balanced the potato in her spoon and lifted it up precariously.

“Fine,” Axel finally replied, rolling his eyes. Everything about his tone dripped with sass. “We’ll compete to see who has better Alten, Miss Not-buxom-Luxom.”

Suddenly, something whitish struck Axel’s cheek. “My Papi says it’s rude to check a lady’s bosom,” Vinnia said haughtily, holding her spoon like she’d just used it as a catapult. Staring at the starchy residue on Axel’s face, Rudi realized she had used the spoon for just that.

With a cluck of her tongue, Elizabeth’s blue-eyed gaze switched to Vinnia. “I forgot that your charge speaks Alten at home. You’d better not ask her for help.”