Common Clay

Clay’s instructors had graciously given him the day off—possibly because none of them were entirely confident that he wouldn’t be in some kind of Guild cell after the meeting—a fact that Clay immediately wanted to put to good use. Natalie had mentioned offhand—with a certain amount of envy—that cadets were allowed to explore the Academy’s library, and the potential to find some new [Chants] was too good to ignore.

The Academy’s library had been built beneath some of the main buildings, sunk into the earth in a vault of stone. Its entrance was tucked away in a hallway that didn’t lead anywhere else, and there were at least two peers on guard at all times. As Clay approached, both of the armored figures studied him and dismissed him as a threat. Apparently, the news of his new rank had traveled fast.

If the guards had seemed to be there out of paranoia, the library’s door only reinforced that impression. It had been crafted out of solid stone and mounted on hinges of dark iron that swung smoothly. As Clay walked past the doors, he noted that there was a portcullis retracted into the ceiling overhead for every three steps down into the library proper. There were a lot of steps, to the point where Clay began to worry about ever getting back up if all those gates closed.

The entrance hall of the library was curiously full of light for an underground vault. There was no fire, of course, but the glow of enchanted lights filled a place dressed in white marble and silver fittings. It was a circular chamber, seemingly held up by columns of marble that stretched back up to the ceiling. Gems or crystals of some kind had been set into a curved ceiling of dark stone; their shine and glitter reminded him of a night sky.

More adventurers were waiting in that hall, some of whom were on guard duty as well. Others were simply passing through the library’s hall, on their way to or from the half-dozen hallways that branched off from the library. The halls were labeled, but in a language that Clay didn’t recognize; the angular script seemed far more severe and determined than any characters he’d used or seen Olivia read. A part of him wondered how ancient this place was; another part whispered that he really didn’t want to know. Had the library been here before the Guild, or was the rest of the Academy just as old?

He shook off the thought; he had a mission to finish here. Somewhere in this place, the [Chants] he wanted were hidden away. Given enough books, even the Guild’s own officials wouldn’t have been able to remove the information entirely. If he was right, then all he needed to do was find them.

“Sir Clay. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised that you are already here.”

He jumped a little, and then turned to see Syr Katherine standing there, her eyebrow arched. “Yeah, I wanted to get started as soon as possible. Any advice on where to start?”

The question brought a smile to her lips, but she shook her head. “No. I will remind you that certain areas of the library remain unavailable to you as a cadet. There are wards and locks to keep you out of them. Don’t attempt to bypass them, or you’ll go before the Council over it. Am I clear?”

“Yes.” He privately made a wager that the exact [Chants] he was looking for were locked away in those exact areas, but he knew there was no chance that he’d be able to change her mind. Better to bide his time and find what he could in the unsecured areas.

“Good.” Katherine nodded. “I look forward to our next lecture. I have some… suggestions about how you could better employ your magic, considering how you used it in town. May you find what you are looking for, Sir Clay.”

He bowed, and she glided past him, headed for the long stairs that went back to the surface. Clay watched her go for a moment and then headed for the nearest hallway. He could see row after seemingly endless row of books there. It was as good a spot as any.

The next morning was a hard one, seeing as he’d spent half the previous day clambering around the labyrinth of old tomes and forgotten texts, but Clay still arrived well before the designated start of his training session with Armsman Orn.

He caught sight of the massive adventurer working with some of the smiths at an anvil, hammering some bit of metal into the desired shape. Over the past few days, Clay had come to know that the metal-shrouded leg and hand the man wore were not some affectation or attempt at armor. Orn had lost both limbs to monsters in the distant past and had been forced from the front lines as a result. Orn still fought—and, thanks to his [Class], could still gain levels—but an active role on the teams sent to clear Lairs and Dungeons was denied him.

Of course, he saw it as a sacred duty to hammer on the initiates and cadets under his care to help them avoid a similarly grim fate. Clay supposed he should have been grateful, but sore muscles usually made it hard to maintain the proper perspective.

Orn caught sight of him and paused in his work, just long enough to wave. Then he finished things with another pair of hits that could have smashed stone, and set aside the forgehammer. His metal hand flexed and released the massive tool, before latching onto the hilt of another weapon, this time a battleaxe. The Armsman was fond of switching between weapons and styles in an effort to keep the training fresh. Today would be the second time with the axe, but he had no doubt that Orn had other surprises in mind.

Then again, Clay had one of his own as well.

“Ho, Sir Clay! How goes the life of a young hero today?” Orn’s smile was broad enough to split his black beard, and he moved with a kind of enthusiasm that made Clay return the smile in kind.

“They raised me to cadet, and are going to have me take on a few extra duties.” Clay tried to make it sound like he was looking forward to both of those things, but Orn’s smile took on a knowing quality that told him the Armsman had seen straight through him.

“I see, I see. Well, let us celebrate your newfound achievements, shall we? Councilor Mark has been by to see if I could find some work for you in the Forge, but I told him that your clumsy hands would hurt more than help. I don’t believe he has finished looking, however.”

Clay grimaced. “I imagine not.”

Orn laughed, a deep, booming sound. “In any case, shall we get started? I know that you have arrived a little early, but since your time will soon become quite precious…”

His words trailed off as a group of people stepped into the courtyard where they normally practiced. They were all carrying practice weapons of some kind or another. Orn had to have recognized them; Jack and Anne had both been assigned a bit of training under the Armsman, though it was far less intense than what Clay had been enduring. The other three members of the Rogue’s Gallery were probably fresher faces, however. [Occultists], [Oracles], and [Alchemists] weren’t exactly renowned for their physical strength and endurance among heroes, after all.

Relatively frail or not, all five of the initiates wore determined expressions and the padded armor that most sparring partners wore. They came to a stop when they saw Orn and Clay, and the Armsman studied them with a considering expression. He turned back to Clay and raised one thick eyebrow. “Interesting indeed, young hero. I assume you were kind enough to invite these companions to help you train?”

There was that same knowing look in Orn’s eyes, but Clay managed not to grin. “You are right, Sir Orn. I was hoping we could all learn from one another.”

“A laudable goal.” Orn studied them for a long moment, and then nodded. “So be it. I’ll have them spar a while so that I can focus on your progress, and then see if I can reevaluate the others while you, Jack, and Anne keep each other sharp. Sir Jack is a quick one, mind you, and Anne’s a clever girl with that sword of hers. The difference might do you some good, especially if I pair them against you.”

Clay relaxed slightly; he’d been worried that Orn would refuse to help them, or dismiss them as unworthy of his time. Then Orn’s grin grew a little wider. “Of course, we may have to extend your time this morning. I wouldn’t want you to lose out on my personal attention, you see. We’ll send a note along to Syr Katherine; I’m sure that she won’t mind moving your lesson with her to the afternoon, once you’re done with Syr Taylor’s lecture. That should give us more than enough time together, wouldn’t you agree?”

He groaned inwardly, but Clay forced himself to nod. “Of course, Syr Orn.”

“Good. Now let’s get started.” He gestured for Clay to follow him into the courtyard. “We all have plenty of work to do.”

“Ah, there you are.” Master Taylor’s tone was just shy of shrill as Clay led the others into her lecture hall. “I appreciate that your circumstances have changed, but I hope you do not… make… a habit of…”

She trailed off as Anne and Jack followed the others into the hall. Taylor stared at them for a moment—Jack and Anne had told Clay that they’d never had any of the study sessions that the others had been given—and then turned back to him. “Sir Clay, if I might have a moment of your time.”

Clay nodded tiredly—the more magic oriented members of their sorry band weren’t the only ones limping or nursing sore muscles or bruised limbs. Orn had been rather… enthusiastic about his tutelage that morning. He’d claimed that a cadet should be able to endure a bit more discomfort, but something told him that the [Fighter] was simply enjoying himself. He’d been especially happy about the five-on-one challenge he’d set for himself near the end, taking on the entire Rogue’s Gallery at once.

Taylor waited until the others had fallen into their seats, with Anne and Jack dragging over chairs so they could sit near Xavien and Lawrence. They were considerate enough to leave him a chair open, so at least he wouldn’t have to go hunting for one of his own. “Sir Clay, do you remember the discussion we had about [Achievements]? And how the courses we choose to share with each group of adventurers were both calculated and planned to help them reach the best combinations for their [Class]?”

He nodded. “Yes, Master Taylor, I do.”

She nodded as well, though the expression on her face made the motion look like an agitated bird pecking at the air. “If an adventurer is exposed to the wrong kind of practice before they level, they might be… diverted onto a less optimal course for their [Experiences] and [Achievements]. That is why it may not be for the best to have every adventurer join every kind of training. That is why we limit each [Class] to a prescribed set of instructors—except for yourself, of course, thanks to your… special circumstances.”

Clay blinked. It dawned on him that he’d probably been doing about three times as much training as any other candidate, but he tried not to let that fact—and the resentment that welled up along with it—distract him. “That makes sense, Master Taylor, but do you remember what we talked about? How that plan might not apply as well to people who aren’t actively leveling?”

Taylor frowned. “Yes.”

He pressed on, hoping to get the idea out there before she could start objecting. “Most of the others in this group are in exactly the same situation as I am. So if they aren’t leveling, why shouldn’t they try to increase all of their [Stats] as high as they can go? And what’s the harm of attempting a small experiment to see if they can find new [Achievements] or other combinations that work better with their [Class] than we might have expected?”

She gave him a wary look. “Your companions might not agree with being treated as fodder for experimentation, Sir Clay.”

Clay shrugged. “You can always ask them, but frankly, they asked me to help them with this. They want to be heroes, Master Taylor. This change might give them their chance. Do they seem like they are worried about not having optimal training?”

Taylor blinked. Then she turned to look back at the Rogue’s Gallery. They looked battered, bruised, and tired. At the same time, most of them looked more enthusiastic for the lecture than Clay could ever remember. Even Natalie, who spent most of each lecture glaring a hole in her desk, seemed chipper, despite the remnants of a black eye that Lawrence had accidentally given her in the courtyard.

The lecturer watched them for a few moments more, and then she sighed. “So be it. I will not be held responsible for the consequences later on, but I will not stand in the way of your progress.” Then she fixed him with a gimlet stare. “Sir Orn demanded an extra hour of your time in exchange for his work, I imagine. I will ask for the same.”

“Of course, Master Taylor. Thank you.” Inwardly, Clay was screaming at the thought of being trapped in the lecture hall for an extra hour, but there was no way around it. If he wanted to help the Gallery, they needed to improve, and the quickest way to accomplish that was to convince his instructors to help.

So instead of running out the door like he desperately wanted to, Clay hobbled over to the open seat and took out his notes. Master Taylor took up her own position and began. “Welcome to my new pupils, Jack and Anne. I am sure that you will find great knowledge and benefit for you in this lecture. For our first subject…”

By the time Clay dragged himself into Syr Katherine’s room, he felt like he was back on the first day of his time at the Academy. The addition of Anne and Jack to the lecture had not distracted Master Taylor nearly enough from her incessant questions and thought problems. If anything, the additional students had only inspired the woman to new heights. Together with the additional homework that cadets apparently merited, it made for a particularly hard hill to climb.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there had never been any real chance for the Gallery to accompany him to the lesson with Syr Katherine. Even if she had been willing to share the [Chants] with them, they still lacked the [Stats] to employ them effectively. Which meant the next two hours were going to be his and his alone to enjoy.

Syr Katherine looked up from her desk as he knocked at the door and gestured for him to come in. “Sir Clay. You seem to have had a rather busy day, from what I understand.”

“I have, Syr. Thank you for adjusting your schedule.” He was sure that having to move the lesson twice had not sat well with her, but she didn’t seem to be particularly annoyed.

“It was no problem… this time. From now on, I expect no deviations in your schedule. Especially since I have just secured a number of interesting opportunities for you during the next eight weeks.”

Clay grunted. He tried to sound as grateful as he knew he probably should be. “That… sounds great, Syr Katherine. May I ask what you will have me doing?”

Katherine smiled. “Well, I thought that there is a small amount of time between Orn’s extended lessons and your lunch. I felt that, given your particular interests, you might benefit from sharing a bit of the responsibility with the city watch.”

He blinked. “What?”

Her smile grew, almost becoming mischievous. “I’ve informed the King’s soldiers that they can expect you to escort them on a short patrol each day once you are done with Sir Orn. After lunch, you can eat and attend the extended lecture with Master Taylor before coming here and finishing your day with me and my lesson. You’ll have a few short hours after dinner to work on whatever other projects you might have available—and on your free day, you can spend the entire day in the library, sorting and shelving books. Does that sound agreeable?”

It sounded like a bit of a nightmare… but one that actually sounded doable, now that he thought about it. Getting to patrol around the city with the watch might help him stop feeling so alien to the place, and could stop any feelings of claustrophobia. Working long hours in the library might help him find the [Chant] he was looking for that much faster.

Of course, if it did turn out to be a horrible nightmare, he would only need to stick it out for another eight weeks. It wasn’t impossible. Better than fighting spiders. Probably.

Clay pasted a grin on his face. “It sounds wonderful, Syr Katherine. Thank you.”

She smiled back, with far more sincerity and maliciousness. “It was no problem at all, Sir Clay. I hope you learn all that you need to in the coming weeks.”

The next three weeks fell into a blur of lectures, training, and work.

His mornings became a frantic mess of physical exercise, brutal duels, and constant martial drill. By the time Orn was finished with him, Clay felt as if a cart had rolled over him. All the same, he was growing more and more skilled. The moves that Orn was drilling into him were becoming second nature, to the point where the bonuses from [Laborer] and [Determined] were starting to give him extra speed and strength.

Then, just as his limbs were trembling, and he was covered in sweat, the King’s men arrived to take him out into the city. From there, he wandered the streets of Crownsguard for an hour or two, walking along with a pair of [Guards] as they made the presence of the King known in the surrounding neighborhoods. Mercifully, they rarely left the eastern side of the river, which meant that he usually got back in time to eat lunch. He did manage to get to know some of the [Guards] however, and was starting to get familiar with the streets of Crownsguard. A few of the people began to recognize him and call out a welcome as they walked. It embarrassed him every time, which amused the [Guards] to no end.

After he came back from the patrol, he devoured lunch as quickly as he could, and then headed off to the lecture with Taylor. The scholarly adventurer was quickly warming up to the idea of a larger, more invested lecture. She was including an ever-increasing series of books for them all to share and study, with group assignments and discussions about the history of the Kingdom and the Guild. Their conversations began to branch out into the theories of magic, the nature of the monsters they would fight, and even the difference between the various [Classes]. If the entire experience didn’t make Clay’s head spin, it would have been fascinating.

Then, once the lecture was over, it was time to meet with Syr Katherine, who spent hours going over [Chants] and the way that others could use the same [Chants] against him. Those challenges to his abilities, coming at the end of days that were already exhausting, left him feeling battered and raw down to his very Soul, but he could feel his mastery of the spells growing stronger. The instructor also began to give him hints about where he might be able to hunt down more [Chants] within the library—though she accompanied that with dire warnings not to share that information with anyone else.

At the end of each week, he spent nearly the entire day combing through the library, searching for books that would help him. It was a… frustrating experience, one that made him miss Olivia more than he already did. Half of the ones he found were in languages that he had no hope of recognizing, let alone reading. Others were books that promised secret knowledge or powerful magic, only to contain obscure rituals and fairy tales rather than anything useful. His time in the library was busy and somewhat exhausting, but by the end of the third week, he’d started to enjoy the hunt a little. The [Chants] were already more elusive than any spider had been, but he was dedicated to finding them where they were hiding.

The rest of his time he spent with the Gallery, training, studying, or eating. They were starting to grow and develop as they worked; the aura of hopelessness that had haunted them started to lift. Lawrence began putting on weight and looking people in the eye; Jack acted so much calmer and less hostile that he occasionally smiled. Xavien and Natalie had both loosened up, apparently a side effect of trading blows in the courtyard, and although Anne remained almost desperately cheerful, she seemed far more confident as she moved through the Academy. It warmed his heart, if only because he wasn’t the only one suffering through the experience.

He was just returning to the Academy after his daily patrol with the watch when he heard someone call out to him. Surprised, he looked up and saw Enessa waving at him.

His friend from back home had not changed much since the last time he’d seen her. She had the powerful build and obvious strength of a [Fighter], though not nearly as much as Orn did. She still wore her hair short and had a pair of heavy metal gauntlets strapped to her hands. He’d seen her pound craters into the ground with those fists, and he had no doubt that she’d only gotten stronger fighting the Undead in the Sarlwood since he’d left.

“Enessa!” He broke into a smile as he waved back at her. The [Guards] he’d been walking with shook their heads and wandered off as he jogged over to her, his legs aching a little from his earlier workout and the long walk after. “Why are you here? Did the others come with you?”

“Yep, we’re all here!” She put her arms around him and squeezed. When she’d done it before, his ribs hadn’t protested nearly as much. The [Fighter] had gotten stronger, and he felt a flicker of jealousy over the fact that she’d been out growing while he’d been stuck at the Academy. “The Guild finally sent out a messenger to bring us back. I think they might have done it sooner, but Charles’ dad kept us out as long as he could.”

“How is home? Is everyone safe?” When Clay had left, the village had been safer than it had been for a long time. The Lair in the Tanglewood had been destroyed, and even with the Undead encroaching from the south, they had a team of adventurers there to prune the monsters back. Still, the unexpected could always happen.

“As safe as they could ever be.” Enessa grinned. “We spent a bit of time fighting those Undead down south, and it seems like we pushed them back quite a bit. Good thing too; it looked like they might have been expanding out again. Now it should take them a year or two before they can get much past Sarlsboro again.”

“That’s good to hear.” His father had come from Sarlsboro, before the Undead had destroyed the town. The fact that the monsters couldn’t reach his family yet again was truly comforting.

“At the same time, it seems like we are starting to catch up to you! I’m nearly at level seven now.” She shook him gently, something that was far, far easier for him than it had been. “What have you been up to here? Just getting fat off the food?”

He rolled his eyes. “They’ve been keeping me busy. I’ve already been hammered on by Orn today, and that was before I helped patrol the city.”

Enessa blinked. “Patrolling the city? Why do they have you doing that?”

Clay smiled. “Well, that’s a long story…”

“It always is.” She poked him hard in the ribs. “Come on. The others are already in the dining room waiting for us. We’ve already reported to the Council, and we don’t have much time before we have to head out again, so I’m sure we’d all like to know how the missing member of our ‘generation of heroes’ has been doing here.”

Charles shook his head as Clay wound down his story. “Why am I not surprised? How long have you been here? Four weeks?”

“Getting close to five.” Clay tried not to sound defensive, but his friends simply grinned. George and Ned started chuckling outright, and Charles shook his head a second time.

“Ned, remind me about this when I call you our troublemaker, will you?”

The [Dark Knight] smiled broadly. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m more than ready to point that out from here on out.”

Maribel rolled her eyes. “The difference is that he’s been getting things done, Ned. You just get in trouble for the fun of it.”

“Hey! A little bit of trouble puts some spice into an otherwise bland life.”

George snorted. “I’ll remember to write that on your gravestone, cousin.”

“Oh, like he’s the only one I’ve had to rescue lately?” Enessa leaned back and folded her arms. “Who was it that jumped into that pack of Undead levies again? I can’t quite remember…”

The [Dragoon] flushed red. “Hey, I already apologized for that.”

“Still haven’t given me that cake you promised.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll get on it.”

Clay grinned at the conversation, feeling a bit of bittersweetness. It was good to see them, to know that they were all safe, but at the same time…

When they’d left for the Academy, he’d regretted not being able to go with them. Now that he was the one at the Academy, he wanted to be with them out in the field. He didn’t know why, but it seemed that whatever the Trickster had planned for him, it didn’t include fighting alongside his friends for long.

At least, not yet.

Charles leaned forward, his expression betraying a bit of exasperation. “In any case, Clay, we do have some news from home for you. Your mother sent a letter from your family.” He fished a small bundle out of his travelbag, with what looked like far more than a single letter. “There’s also some things that Olivia sent along as well.”

Clay felt his heart beat a little faster, and he tried not to take the pages from Charles too quickly. “Thank you. It’s been forever since I heard anything from home. They’re all still doing well?”

Enessa coughed into her hand, though it sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Maribel looked a little sour about something, though it could have just been the fact that George had gotten into a mock fight with his cousin and had accidentally bumped into her.

For his part, Charles just smiled. “Yes, Clay, they’re fine. I think Will got into a fistfight with Peter Quilltree, and Saphy was sick with a cough when we left, but everyone is doing just fine. Your father said the crops were coming in just fine, though he’s having a hard time getting out to your place as much as he’d like.”

Clay smiled as another bittersweet pang ran through him. He could almost picture his father trudging the road back and forth between the family farm and the small homestead that Baron Pellsglade had granted him near the Tanglewood. Knowing Sam Evergreen, the man would try to keep both places flourishing until his son came home to take on the job. An idle thought drifted through him; when would the next time be that he laid eyes on his home?

He shook off the question and continued on. “Anything else I should know?”

“Olivia wanted to make sure you got those letters and read them. Said it was very important.”

Ned leaned in close. “He means she was blushing like crazy when she—ow! That hurt, Maribel.”

The [Mage] leaned back in her chair. A whisper of smoke was trailing from one finger, and a satisfied look was on her face. “Then maybe you should learn just a little bit more discretion, Ned Furrows.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be such a spiteful—ow!”

Enessa turned from the developing skirmish between the two friends and sighed. “Don’t mind them. She just wanted to make sure it reached you. I think she wouldn’t mind if you sent a letter her way, either. Your mom mentioned that she’d taught you to write fairly well also, so you might as well put it to good use.”

Clay winced. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just been so busy with everything…”

“I believe she said something to the effect of ‘actions, not excuses, Clay Evergreen.’” Charles smiled, and Clay was forced to smile along. It had been a poor imitation of his mother, but the words had come through just fine. “I think a messenger might be headed that way by tomorrow. At the very least, I intend to send something to my father, so that he doesn’t worry.”

“I’ll have something ready to go with yours, then.” Clay made the mental note to get that done before he slept for the night. Then a thought struck him. “So where are you headed, if not back to Pellsglade?”

The others glanced at once another before they responded. Enessa spoke up first. “We actually don’t know, just that the Council requested we come back.” She sighed. “I guess that with the Dungeon suppressed, and the Lair destroyed, they don’t see the need to keep a team of cadets out at Pellsglade.”

Charles nodded. “You remember Lord Frensfeld? The Council is still speaking with him.”

Maribel paused in her assault on Ned longer enough to grin. “I’d say they are probably trying to decide whether to keep him as a cadet, or promote him to journeyman.”

Clay frowned. “You’re all still cadets? But you had a lot of success after leaving here. You even helped destroy a Lair!”

Ned laughed. “So did you, but you’re still a cadet too, Evergreen.”

He glared at the [Dark Knight]. “I’ve also only been a member of the Guild for four weeks, Ned.”

Charles broke back into the conversation, as if hoping to head off the argument before it began. “In any case, it turns out that rebelling against the journeyman sent to supervise your first mission was not behavior that the Council approves of. Not that we seem to have attracted enough of their attention to get pulled before them twice in five weeks, but we aren’t all overachievers, Clay.”

“When you’re good, you’re good. What can I say?” Clay grinned to show he wasn’t serious, and Charles rolled his eyes before continuing.

“At the same time, I don’t see the Council endorsing Sir Leonard’s behavior. Last I heard, they’d sent him off on another mission for additional training.”

Clay blinked. He realized suddenly that he hadn’t heard anything about the disagreeable [Outrider] since he’d arrived. Not that he minded, but he did feel another flicker of resentment that even Leonard got to go fight monsters, and he didn’t. Did he just need to break more rules?

George chuckled to himself. “Good riddance to bad rubbish. Anyway, I’m betting that they are going to decide that Lord Frensfeld acted well enough that he becomes our new journeyman. That way they can send us out reliably supervised and still don’t reward the lot of us for mutiny.”

Enessa snorted, and Charles nodded. Maribel met Clay’s eyes and smiled. “He was a decent leader back in Pellsglade, and he’d been on several missions before. I’m surprised the Council is taking this long, actually.”

“Well, maybe they—hey, here he is! Frensfeld! Sir Frensfeld!”

Enessa waved, and Clay looked over to see the [Noble] walking into the dining hall. The man had seemed a little stuffy at first, but once he’d realized the situation in Pellsglade, he’d acted well and fought hard. Charles had said he was a good man, and Clay had learned that his friend had not been mistaken.

Frensfeld looked a little troubled, but he smiled easily as he rejoined his comrades. Clay stood up and extended his hand. “Welcome back to the Academy, Sir Frensfeld.”

The [Noble] took his hand without hesitation. “It has been too long, Sir Clay. You were missed during our fight against the Dungeon.”

“I missed being there.” Clay shrugged, and they sat back down at the table.

Maribel leaned forward, her expression eager. “So? Did you get the promotion?”

Frensfeld nodded. “The Council agreed. I am now a journeyman, and we leave for our next mission in the morning. There is a Lair in the Dolglenn that needs to be culled.”

Then he paused, and his expression became a mix of frustration and regret. “Sir Clay, I asked the Council to allow you to come with us, but they… were decidedly against allowing you to leave. I’m sorry.”

Clay felt a spike of irritation, but he fought it down. “That’s okay, Sir Frensfeld. You tried.”

Ned grimaced. “It’s not your fault, Fren. He just can’t stop himself from causing trouble. We’re mostly just lucky he hasn’t burned down half the Academy.”

To his chagrin, nobody contradicted the [Dark Knight]’s accusation. Enessa threw an arm around him and laughed, though. “Don’t worry about it, Clay. If you ever stopped doing it, we’d be more worried than anything else. At least you mean well.”

“True enough.” He smiled and tried not to think of having missed out on leaving on an adventure with his friends. “True enough.”