“There are two main course blocks,” Calum explained to me (and several other ellids) over break–morning meal. I said morning meal, dammit.

  “The morning block is spent academically. We have House Essentials first, where we’re supposed to get our basics in dungeoneering, survivalism, and such. Then we have free study, where we’ll all go to whatever choice course we signed up for.” That explanation gave me just enough time to panic–I hadn’t signed up for any electives!–before Calum added, “Dani, Emmet, and Dane, that’s when you three have to go to Basic Lore.”

  I pursed my lips. Dane and Emmet mostly hung out in Gwyn’s general vicinity. “I don’t get a choice?”

  Calum shook his head. “No. During orientation, the Magisters note students who don’t have the Lore knowledge expected, and Magister Elbexas said they’re counting you in that group too, Dani, considering…”

  Calum trailed off in a way that I had noticed over the past few days, which essentially meant “because you’re a human and I have no idea how to comfortably confront that fact.”

  “Don't worry,” Fennia said chipperly, taking a seat next to Calum. Her hair was still wet from her morning swim. “I’ll be there too.”

  Well, at least I’d have someone to sit with (and ogle), even if she was a (shudder) morning person.

  I sipped my tea,which was an entirely insufficient replacement for coffee, while Calum continued. “Afternoon block is physical training. Athletics, conditioning, and drilling first, then combat practice.”

  I tried to put that part out of my mind. Although I had made sure to stretch and exercise a bit daily–it was as good a way as any to pass time in my room alone–I had yet to practice in front of any of my new grademates, and I found myself irrationally worried that I’d flail around compared to them.

  But first–normal, safe, boring lectures.

  #

  Taught in one of the larger classrooms I had observed on my first day with Calum, House Essentials was as described, the raw basics of the skills valued by the college of rogues. That meant a broad combination of studies blending two primary fields of study, taught by one of Vigilant House’s lower Magisters, Millan. A tall, striking woman with a mane of gray hair and bright yellow highlights, she looked like a storm cloud but had the personality of a sunbeam–relaxed, friendly, even joking.

  The first part of House Essentials was dungeoneering, the study of what dungeons were and how delvers went about interacting with them. While most of my peers found this portion of our studies tedious and boring, presumably because they grew up with these concepts, I was entranced.

  Dungeons were not, in fact, naturally occurring places. They were pocket dimensions created by turbulent magical energy, and could spontaneously spawn anywhere in the world. Left alone, the dungeons would eventually emerge into the real world. Millan was vague on the results of this happening, but her tone made clear that it was on the general scale of a natural disaster.

  Primevus trained delvers to “clear” these dungeons, which allowed them to safely dissolve back into the fabric of magic that (apparently) underpinned reality. Dungeons could spawn at a variety of power levels, each requiring delvers in a certain level range to enter and clear them. This was the source of the “grade” system Primevus used to sort its students–grade one dungeons allowed level one to five delvers inside, grade two was levels six through ten, and so on through grade four. Apparently levels continued past twenty, but the end of grade four was considered “graduation,” as grade five dungeons were incredibly rare.

  In the second hour of House Essentials, we pivoted to survivalism, a field of study that included an assortment of astoundingly mundane topics–foraging, cooking, preparing campsites, tracking, orienteering (even in unnatural conditions), first aid… Essentially, it was what I had expected to learn when I joined scouts when I was little, rather than the arts and crafts and cookie sales that were all my troop did.

  This was interesting to me, too. All the skills were practical and efficient, and Millan was a good teacher, with a light demeanor and the blunt, straightforward nature of someone who had used every one of these skills for years.

  Still, many of my grademates seemed to find these lessons tedious. While Calum and a few others paid as much attention to Millan’s demonstrations and practice exercises as I did, many others seemed to be putting in the bare minimum of effort.

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  Millan didn’t comment on or otherwise chide these students, but she had a look in her eyes that said she was carefully noting the effort of every person in the class.

  I took a hardback board with several sheets of paper and a fine charcoal pencil to House Essentials with me each day, and I took detailed notes. While I was out of my depth in dungeoneering, lacking my grademates’ familiarity, I took to survivalism easily, as the lessons almost entirely avoided magical topics, aside from how they influenced the mundane practices of survival.

  The first day of House Essentials stayed fairly general, but by the time we left the classroom, after two hours, I found myself looking forward to my studies to come.

  Maybe Fallon was right. This may have been school, but it really wasn’t so bad…

  Why did I have to think of her?

  Fortunately, I was distracted from any brooding by Fennia coming up behind me, putting an arm around my shoulders. Over the past few days, I had managed to overcome the worst of my tongue-tied reaction to the gorgeous sea ellid, and I only looked down at her skimpy top for a second.

  “Ready for the real fun?” she asked.

  #

  As Basic Lore was required for students from all houses, it wasn’t taught in one of the Vigilant House halls. So, for the first time since Elbexas had brought me into the House field, Fennia guided me out to the Campus at large.

  Our destination had some sort of very formal pseudo-latin name, like most buildings on the Domus Campus, but Fennia and my grademates referred to it as Rambles. It was an over-sized, amphitheater-style lecture hall, large enough to fit a hundred students easily, even if only about thirty were crowding it today. The majority seemed to be from Iron Curriculum, the warrior college (“They’re not looking for brains and education over there,” Fennia explained in a whisper) but there were a few exceptions.

  Including Fallon.

  I stumbled in place when I saw her among the crowd queued up to enter Rambles. Of course, it made sense that she was there–she didn’t know anything more about Elida and whatever Lore was than I did–but I still hadn’t considered it.

  She was ahead of us, walking with a couple central ellids, chatting lightly with them in a way that I just couldn’t manage with any of my grademates, and she didn’t seem to take any note of me as we filed into the lecture hall and took our seats.

  Or she did, I thought to myself, and she just didn’t want to talk to me.

  Fennia led us into a pair of seats in the middle of the amphitheater, where she claimed the Magister would be less likely to see us when we dozed off, while Fallon and her friends(?) sat down at the very front. She did seem like that type, I guess.

  “Is that the other human you mentioned?” Fennia asked, apparently noting Fallon for the first time only after we sat down.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice a little vacant. I thought I had been doing better, but seeing her again, apparently flourishing socially in the way I hadn’t managed, ripped open the barely-scabbed-over wound.

  Fennia looked from me to the back of Fallon’s head, her expression thoughtful. “You’re cuter,” she finally decided.

  I blinked, and swallowed, and looked at Fennia, my angst thrown completely out of whack by the vapid comment.

  The sea ellid smiled at me. “She fits right in with the centrals and storms,” she explained. “Especially with that hair. But you’re more like one of the rest of us–colorful and bright and cool.”

  I felt a little color rush to my cheeks. I wasn’t sure if Fennia was being serious or just making an effort to help me feel better, but either way, the words were nice.

  “Thanks, Fen.”

  Another familiar figure soon emerged to begin teaching–Almara, the Amethyst Magister and the first instructor I had met after arriving at Primevus. Apparently, in addition to leading orientation classes, she taught this most basic of subjects.

  Lore really should have been interesting. It seemed to be some combination of history, geography, and culture, what we called social studies in grade school. I should’ve coveted the chance to learn more about the history of Elida, and the interplay of its peoples, and how the Church and Primevus came to be, all in connection with the endless threat of the dungeons.

  But it just wasn’t meant to be. For one thing, Almara didn’t have Millan’s teaching style. She was the type to make a podium and just speak at an audience for two straight hours, neither expecting nor accepting questions. On top of that, I’d be lying if I said I was paying very much attention. My eyes kept wandering away from the Magister, and they couldn’t decide if they wanted to drift to the back of Fallon’s head, of course downturned as she took laborious notes, or to the beautiful blue-skinned girl sitting next to me, somehow managing to doze while sitting at attention.

  By halfway through the lecture, a new anxiety began taking root to replace my other distractions. Once Basic Lore was done, it would be time for lunch–afternoon meal, whatever–and then it would be time for Physical Training.