With a screech, the bird dropped a finger-sized metal container, then cawed expectantly. Aaron stepped forward. Three steps from the container, the bird leapt and screeched. The soldiers had stopped what they were doing, standing nearby, whispering. Staring down the intensely yellow avian eyes, Aaron took another step.

  The messenger bird struck out with a sharp peck, narrowly missing his fingers. Aaron flinched as the beak snapped inches from his hand. His muscles tensed—but he didn’t back down. One more step. A standoff between predator and pest.

  “Good birdy?” he tried, earning another screech. This is a standoff. At least it isn’t taking the message back. Death by overgrown carrier pigeon. It is at least a novel way to go. Aaron pursed his lips. Does it want payment? What does this one even eat? Meat, fruit, or nuts? It sure as hell isn’t getting—

  A blur of copper shot past. The bird screeched in outrage, flapping wildly as the pot clattered away. Aaron jumped in surprise. Esnita stormed out, brandishing a pan. “What have I told you about extorting food, you filthy little scavenger?!”

  The bird let out a war cry and dove at Esnita. She lifted another pan, ready to throw. The messenger swirled in the air, twisting sideways. It screeched again, releasing an impressive load of birdshit. Esnita dodged it with practiced ease. “One day, I will roast you on a spit!” she screamed. The bird screeched one final insult—”Witch!”—before vanishing into the trees.

  Everyone stood in stunned silence. Esnita motioned for two slaves to clean up the droppings. Bug burst out laughing. “That bird’s still around? Esnita, you’ve been feuding with it for a hundred years?”

  No one else dared break the silence of the venomously staring housekeeper. She just clicked her tongue, then turned back into the common house. Aaron blinked at the retreating bird. That thing just insulted a war-matron and crapped mid-air. Magic or not, I’m not ready for talking shit-birds.

  All the other things caught up with him. He shook himself.

  They are over one hundred? How? Okay, magic, but that doesn’t answer anything.

  What the hell was up with that bird? It could talk. Is that just a very smart parrot or something sentient?

  I have already run into one alien in the trials, so why not smart birds?

  “Do you want to see what’s in the scroll case?” Rhea stood in front of him, holding the golden tube like a relic.

  He shrugged. “If you wanna open it, feel free.”

  She smiled and unscrewed one side, from which she extracted a scroll. Having read it, she looked at Aaron with pity. He sighed. “What is happening?” he groaned.

  “Your mother. She will have an etiquette lesson today in a restaurant near the academy. I am to escort you there. Apparently, my etiquette needs polishing as well.” She rolled her eyes in turn.

  It was Aaron’s turn to smirk. “Seems like we are going on a supervised date,” he joked.

  Rhea grew stiff, looked at him, and laughed. “You got me this time.”

  His smile held. Tense as a bowstring underneath, though. Dinner. With the woman whose son I body-snatched. Great. What’s next, tea with the reaper?

  At least it isn’t the father. I hope he recovered from the Matriarch’s little demonstration.

  Over the next two hours, what the locals called a tenth-cycle, the group settled into the cottages. They were comfy but unremarkable. Three rooms, one with mats and blankets. One with shelves and wardrobes filled with a vast variety of items.

  Aaron considered the ten yellow robes and belts. He ran his fingers over them. The belts were made of smooth silk. But the robe was rough and worn woven fabric, already fraying at the edges. Why is the fabric so poor if silk is common? No mechanical looms? Maybe.

  Either way, clothes had to be worth more than back on Earth. Other than that, he found a private cabinet of dried snacks and wines. A supply of various blunt weapons—halberd, warhammer, and blades.

  Accessories were plain and simple. Sandals, loincloths, a belt made of what felt like silk. Why are they handing out silk belts if I get worn-down robes? Come to think of it, not only the slaves, but also Rhea and Theon don’t wear pristine tunics. Yet silk seems nearly omnipresent.

  As the sun passed over their peninsula and into the eveward desert, an unpleasant surprise awaited them. Erai walked into the central plaza, the look she gave Rhea murderous. Only Esnita’s presence kept them from coming to blows.

  A rustle of leaves announced new arrivals. Just as Aaron thought the flatmates couldn’t get worse, the siblings from the trials’ dining hall came out of their cottages to investigate the ruckus. Bug’s grin said it all. Bark covered his face. Aaron resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. Cosmic fucking joke. It has to be. Why do I get the two people I made enemies with—out of over a hundred mages—as flatmates?

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  He locked eyes with his enemies, letting the silent venom pass between them. Great. Living with people I might have to kill someday. So much for peace and quiet. At least we don’t have to share rooms.

  Surprisingly, the female twin smiled warmly at Aaron, despite the ice daggers her brother’s eyes shot toward both of them. Aaron found himself checking her out. With her raven-black hair contrasting her pale skin and intense green eyes, she looked like some mythical sorceress.

  She spoke as she noticed his attention. “It is truly a privilege for us all to join the ranks of the Epoptai together.”

  The brother looked about to interject something, but Theon responded before the moron could say whatever his sister’s glare had failed to prevent him from saying. “A pleasure indeed. Our years will simply fly by in such worthy company.”

  Both he and the black-haired girl smirked for a fraction of a heartbeat. So they both play the game, right? Aaron narrowed his eyes.

  Aaron and Rhea exchanged meaningful looks. He nodded at them. “How about you two show me the campus before we meet my mother?”

  “A splendid idea, oh mighty Champion.” Theon said significantly louder than necessary. Aaron began tilting his head, then followed Theon’s gaze.

  The female twin just smiled knowingly. The brother stood as if struck by lightning. Theon’s actions here had been too deliberate.

  Aaron felt the eyes shifting toward him, gauging him. He’s making a move. Shaping my reputation before I can. Clever bastard.

  Theon began walking and took Aaron by the arm, as the poor fellow began stuttering what sounded like an apology. Damn petty, but he knows the politics here.

  Aaron pursed his lips slightly. I really need to learn the customs so I am not dependent on him. He is running my social life right now as first impressions are made. I don’t feel he is malicious, but he certainly will shape it to his advantage.

  Aaron tipped his chin. But is he acting like a sycophant? No, he opposed me on slavery and still embraces violence, knowing my attitudes. Though that could be a distraction.

  Stop it. This way lies madness– hissed a part of his mind. He let it go with a breath.

  “Her insight for your thoughts?” asked Rhea as the group walked through the frosted gardens toward the eight spires. Each of them was made of stone in a different color and stood maybe fifty stories high. Though three were higher, and five were a good bit smaller than the rest.

  His hands clenched into fists. He noticed how hard his breathing had gotten. Too much. Too much all at once.

  Aaron forced out a laugh. “Oh, I’m doing fine. I thought after all of that,” he gestured around them, “I could just settle into my room and enjoy the evening. But instead, a platoon of personal guards shows up, an old battle-axe and a talking bird feud in front of me, and how the hell do they assign flatmates here? Whatever setup will produce the most conflict? Oh, and I now own—” he notched his head toward Theon as he hissed out the next words, “sorry, lease a slave. I mean Bonded, because that is so different. And you two just started poking into their lives and—” he stopped himself short, gritting his teeth.

  His breath was ragged. His shoulders shook. “And this fucking translation bullshit is just a weird mess!”

  Aaron felt tears rolling down his cheek. “Other than that, things are perfectly dandy.”

  The slightly confused looks on his companions’ faces made him clench his jaw. Rhea stepped forward. Aaron flinched, but she simply wrapped her arms around him.

  He tensed. She is guilty.

  But there was no one else here. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

  The dam burst. A choked sob tore out of him before he could stop it. He clung to Rhea like a lifeline, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. Fuck. I can’t hold this in anymore.

  Tears came hot, fast, and unstoppable. He broke, sobbing into Rhea’s arms. Then came the whisper. Quetzy’s voice, curling warmth around the cracks. ‘NeedPeopleAround. LonelyMeansPain. UnderstandTheirSouls. NotJustActions.’

  Quetzy’s whispered words brought on a new wave of tears. Rhea held him like a rock in a storm. Slowly, over a long while, Aaron’s sobbs subsided.

  He felt Theon’s hand squeeze his shoulder. “I am sorry, Aaron. From what you said in the baths… Our world and ways must be traumatizing. We will not do conditioning tomorrow morning. We will do social meditation together, if that is alright?”

  His tone was very careful. Almost full of doubt. Part of Aaron wanted to trigger the counter-social engine skill guide, but Quetzy shut that idea down hard.

  "NotMakeSelfParanoid. ChooseTrustThem. TheyGood. “ A heavy pause was filled by Questzies warmth. “ForThisWorld. Trust."

  Aaron extricated himself from the hug. He smiled, at first lightly, then in genuine gratitude. “Thank you both. I… have some difficulties trusting anyone here. But I think the Weaver might have placed me near you for a reason.”

  Theon pulled him into a firm embrace, hand steady on his back.

  “Faith,” he whispered. “Trust that the Weaver’s providence shapes the fabric of fate and that you can embroider it with the patterns of destiny. Do not deny the gods or the good.”

  Aaron’s eyes widened slightly. Theon is religious? Maybe. But the words had been spoken with kindness. Encouragement. Gentleness. I should not overthink this. I need to take what good is in front of me.

  He gazed over the clearing. The sun hung above the titanic mountains at the eveward side of the desert. Lakes, rivers, and floodplains emptied into wide salt lakes that shimmered golden. The sun dipped low over the shaded dawn mountains, painting the desert sky gold.

  Aaron stared, hollow and drained. Maybe there’s still something worth holding onto here. Just… maybe.

  The group left to explore the academy grounds.

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