City of Medoma, University of the Scholars

Celia arrives in Medoma and is introduced to life at the University.

 

The next morning at breakfast, her father broke the news.

            “Celia, my dear,” he said a bit pompously, “I have struck upon a most marvelous solution to our little…quandary.”

The casual chatter around the table died down as everyone turned to look at Lord Saxon.             Celia put down her napkin.

            “Yes, Father?”

            “I am sending you away to study and learn the trade properly.”

            Celia did her best to look surprised. “S-sending me away?” she faltered. “But where?”

            “To Medoma. As of this morning, you are now enrolled at the University of Scholars, with your focus of studies being business- the trading business, of course.”

Francisca and Katharina gasped.

            “But Father, that’s not fair!” Francisca began. Lord Saxon held up a calloused hand.

            “If you are thinking that it will be an easy out, I think you’ll find otherwise,” he said. “Except for paying for your most basic of amenities, you shall not receive a dime from me. All the money I send shall go directly to the headmaster to pay only for your schooling and boarding. Anything else you wish to buy must come from your own pocket.” He leaned forward. “You’ll have to work for your living, just as I did. Perhaps that will teach you some proper discipline.” He sat back in his chair, and then something occurred to him. “Oh. And you are not to set foot in the Academy of Arts.” He smiled grimly at Celia’s gasp of dismay. “I made that very clear in the instructions I sent to the headmaster. So don’t even think about slipping off to further this ridiculous obsession with the arts. I shall be receiving regular updates, and may the gods help you if I hear you’ve been anywhere near that building.”  He snorted softly, and shook his head. “I mean, it isn’t as if you’re any good at that sort of thing anyway. Leave the tune-writing and poem-scribbling to those who actually excel at that discipline.”  He leaned back in his chair. “You leave tomorrow morning ere the sun rises. I suggest you start packing as soon as you finish your food.”

            The next few days passed in a bewildering blur for Celia, and before she knew it, she was riding her placid mare through the gates of Medoma, followed closely by Eras, Justus, and Felix, the manservant her father had seen fit to send along. Justus kneed his bay gelding to the lead.

            “Follow me, Lady Saxon,” he said kindly. “I’ve been here many a time escorting your father’s merchants.” 

            Celia, gazing around her at the bustling city, gladly agreed. Karillon, while a prosperous city in its own right, had nowhere near the same amount of people as she saw here. The narrow streets they navigated were thronged with people of all kinds. To either side, peddlers hawked their goods, shouting loudly to make themselves heard over the din. All classes of society were in evidence, from dirty street urchins darting underfoot to middle class housewives buying bread to the snooty high class servants out to do their masters shopping.  The noise itself was enough to make Celia want to clap her hands over her ears. And the smells! A waft of aroma from the nearest bakery had Celia sniffing appreciatively, only to gag the next moment as the breeze picked up and the stench of the sewers washed over her. She quickly covered her nose with her sleeve and forged onward up the road, following closely behind Justus. As they traveled, the streets gradually grew wider, less crowded, and noticeably cleaner. Celia was delighted to see one of the legendary Catsib soldiers pass by, his tawny leopard companion eyeing her with one bright green eye as they passed. The soldier noticed her interest and gave her a little bow, his black cloak with the distinguishing paw print swirling around him. 

            Soon after passing the Catsib, the little party rounded the corner of a building and entered a large, broad square.  A grassy quadrangle stretched before them, bisected by pathways in the shape of an ‘x’. At the center of the x, an ornate arch stood by itself. Buildings surrounded the quad, decorated with friezes depicting what sort of studies could be found within.

            “Welcome to Academics Square, milady,” Justus announced as they turned onto the path to the left of the arch. He pointed to the large building on their right. “That is the College of Healers. Most of it is the healing ward, but see that smaller wing? That’s where the students live and study.”  He indicated the building they had come past to enter the square. One corner of the edifice sprouted many chimneys, oddly enough. Even odder, multicolored smoke and steam alternately billowed or trickled from some of the chimneys. “That one is the School of Sorcery,” Justus explained. “That corner with the chimneys is where all the workrooms are located. It’s said that strange things sometimes get loose from there. You may want to stay well clear of it, milady.” He twisted in his saddle to flash a quick grin at Celia, and then gestured to the far end of the quad. The building there had three separate wings and images of various forms of art carved across the front.  The path continued from each corner of the square and wound its way around and behind the wings of the building.

            “And that,” Justus declared, “is of course, the Academy of the Arts. Behind it is the barracks for the army and the Catguard, the training yard, stable, archery range, and salle. Of the wings, the Music Guild has the right, the Writer’s Guild the left, and the Theatre Guild is in the rear. Songsmiths, Wordsmiths, and Players, all in one building. Now there’s a nuthouse.”  Catching sight of Celia’s expression, he added sharply, “Now don’t go getting any ideas, young miss. You know your father’s stance on that.”

Celia sighed, and turned her attention to the front once more. The group rapidly approached the building on this side of the quad, directly opposite the College of Healers.

            “Welcome to your new home,” said Justus. “The University of the Scholars.”

Celia looked up at the building apprehensively, but surprisingly, liked what she saw. It had large, airy windows surmounting the entrance, and graceful columns supported a long balcony that wrapped entirely around the second floor. The oak doors were crested by a beautifully carved word in a language Celia didn’t recognize: alhqia. The party halted on the path below the steps and dismounted.

            “Eras, you stay here and mind the horses,” Justus directed. “Felix, you accompany us inside.”

            Celia quickly tried to make herself more presentable, dampening her handkerchief with her waterskin and wiping her face and hands to rid herself of the worst of the road dust. She shook out her skirts and ran a hand through her hair, combing out the tangles. Looking at Justus, she nodded imperiously and led the way up the stairs.

            Inside the University, it was refreshingly cool after the bright glare of the sun. The hallway was floored with some kind of polished black stone. A large staircase stood opposite the entrance, its wooden steps bathed in beams of sunlight from the windows Celia had noted while outside.  A door on the right side of the hall opened and an older woman in a black tunic and long maroon skirts escorted a boy out. He wore a white tunic, but his trousers were the same shade of red as the woman’s. Both tunics bore the same crest on the upper left breast, but Celia couldn’t make out the details from where she stood. The woman also had five red stripes on the sleeve of her tunic.

            “I don’t want to see you back in my office for at least a week now, Kintas,” the woman was saying sternly. “Try to stay out of trouble for at least that long?”

            The boy grinned impishly, tossing a lock of blonde hair out of one eye. “So is that permission to wreak havoc again after the week is up?”

            The woman swatted at him. “Impertinent child! Get along with you now. Back to class.”

            He scampered off, but not before looking curiously at the newcomers. The woman turned to them. “May I help you?”

            Celia stepped forward and dipped into a shallow curtsy.

            “I am Lady Celia Saxon, daughter of Lord Geoffrey Saxon of Karillon. My father recently enrolled me here.”

            The woman smiled. “Ah, yes, our newest student! Welcome! I am Margery Hollybrook, Master of Scholars, and Headmistress here. Please, come in.” She held open the door to her office, and Celia swept in, her guard and servant following. The headmistress seated herself behind a large desk and gestured for Celia to do the same.

            “Now, I have received the letter and payment for the first year from your father. Everything is in order, and I made sure to note his specific instructions regarding the matter of a job.” Here she nodded to Justus and Felix, and Celia’s heart sank. Her dream of somehow studying at the Academy grew farther away with every minute.

            “Guardsman, the stables are located behind the Academy of the Arts. Give this token to the groomsmen there and the lady’s horse shall be properly taken care of. There is a special section for the student’s mounts.”  The headmistress handed Justus a small coin. He hesitated a moment, glancing at Celia.

            “Go, Justus,” Celia said. “Tell my father I have arrived safely.”

He bowed and left. Mistress Hollybrook then turned and opened a cabinet in the wall behind her. Inside, rows of neatly numbered hooks dangled keys. Many were empty. The headmistress removed a pair of keys from the hook numbered 114, one brass and one silver. She handed the brass key to Felix.

            “Take the lady’s baggage to her room and ensure it is prepared for her arrival.” She rang a little bell that sat on her desk. “One of our own servants will assist you.” A manservant in a deep burgundy tunic appeared at the door and bowed. “Help this man with the settling of her ladyship’s affairs,” Mistress Hollybrook ordered.

            “As you wish,” the man murmured, and gestured for Felix to follow him. Once the two servants had left, the headmistress turned to Celia.

            “Now. According to your father’s wishes, you are enrolled in the business and trading specialty. However, what your father seems not to realize is that while the University does encourage our students to focus on a specialty, one of our primary goals is to give our students a well-rounded basic education. Therefore, there are certain classes you are required to take that do not directly pertain to your specialty.” She steepled her fingers and leveled a gaze at Celia. “Many of those classes, in fact, make use of the various other places of education here in Academics Square. Most notably, the Academy of Arts.” She raised a brow at Celia’s indrawn breath. “Am I correct in my assumption that it is not you who has the aversion to the arts, but your father?”

            Celia nodded, and the headmistress smiled. “As I suspected. Well, he will just have to accept it. That is the way we operate here, and no exceptions.” She rang the bell again. Celia couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Take classes at the Academy as part of the curriculum here? Surely this was too good to be true. A young woman in the servants burgundy tunic knocked at the door.

            “You rang, Headmistress?”

            “Yes, please fetch Felice to my office at once. I believe she is currently in Master Smythe’s class.”

            The maid dipped a curtsy and left.

            “Felice is an older student here, Journeyman-level, who I am assigning to show you around and get you settled in,” the headmistress explained. “She’ll take you to get your uniforms and have your class schedule arranged.”

            Soon the maid returned, and with her Celia saw a young woman in a white tunic and red skirts. In addition to the crest sewn on the breast, she wore a colorful patch on her left shoulder, with three red stripes embroidered below the patch.

            “Felice, this is Celia, your new charge. I leave her in your capable hands.” The headmistress gave the silver key to Felice, who smiled at Celia.

            “Hello, Celia. Come along and we’ll get you settled in no time.”

Author's Note

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