Dungeons and Dalliances

“Because historically," someone said, drawing a collection of eyes her way, “powerful adventurers end up as tyrants.”

It was a face Natalie recognized: the girl with long, straight red hair, who Natalie had formed a poor first impression of back in the barracks. She had had a certain arrogance to her face, even still. The amused quirk to her lips almost said that this question was ridiculous—but she’d answered anyway, because who else, if not her?

“Exactly,” Harper said. “And ‘historically’ might even be too gentle, as if it’s a trend that’s done and over with. Fun fact. How many countries, can any of you tell me, are ruled by dictators?”

“Individuals, or oligarchies?”

Natalie’s head turned; the speaker this time was a girl with short, neat black hair and round spectacles. Her response was timid, and she quailed when everyone’s attention turned to her. At a guess, she hadn’t even meant to answer, but was intrigued enough by the question she’d responded instinctively.

“Mm,” Harper said. “Let’s rephrase to, totalitarian rule enforced by an overwhelming power advantage, granted by their class. Groups or individuals, either or.”

“Twenty or so?” the same girl said.

“Of?”

“Forty seven nations?”

Harper seemed impressed. “That’s right. Twenty-two of forty-seven. Nearly half of all nations—despite the modern age—are ruled by individuals, or groups of individuals, who abuse their gods-granted power.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“You can see the PR nightmare, yeah? And Valhaur, and most of the Tascian continent, have of course come to understand the monstrous, unethical nature of such rule. But, we have millennia of distrust to work past … and even our nations don’t have clean hands in that regard. Not even in recent history.”

That was true enough. Natalie’s thoughts flickered to, as most of the student’s surely did, The March of Three Kings—that bloody event only four decades back.

“So, it’s an uphill battle we’re fighting to make people trust us. Which is why,” she emphasized the last word, “Tenet students—the best of the best when it comes to adventurers—cannot be seen by the general populace abusing their powers, or acting an idiot.” Harper leaned back. “I’m side-tracking. The point: public relations quests. Tenet seeks to foster good will from the general population. They don’t pay the best, but they’re great from a difficulty-to-pay standpoint. Maintenance, cleaning, public events, honestly sometimes just showing up and looking pretty. Worst these sorts of quests get are monster exterminations, and only ones you’re overqualified for—again, to improve confidence, and the general populace’s image of us.”

Harper breathed in.

“Kay! Taking too long on tokens. Lots more to go over—check out the quest boards, or chat your friends up to get more ideas. There’s all kinds of shit you can do. Extracurriculars, tournaments, research assistance, and some you wouldn’t expect, ‘specially if you’ve got a weird class, something helpful in, like, construction, or,” She shook her head. “Whatever it is. Okay. Moving on. Classes and daily life.”

Natalie sat up straighter. Though the brief on tokens had been interesting enough—surprisingly so—class would be the most pervasively relevant topic in her life. And more than her classmates, Natalie didn’t know what she was in for, not besides in a general sense.

“You’ve all taken a look at the schedule on the pamphlet, I assume?” Harper asked.

Natalie had. They’d been given tri-fold papers filled with all sorts of information. She hadn’t had a chance to read it in depth, but she’d scanned the tight-cramped text. Natalie idly opened the pamphlet up and took a second look at the schedule.

~~~

7:00 AM - Wake Up

8:00 AM - Training Facility, Conditioning

9:30 AM - Spars

11:00 AM - Lunch

12:00 PM - Academics

3:00 PM - Extracurriculars

5:00 PM - End Academic Day

11:00 PM - Lights Out

~~~

“It’s self explanatory,” Harper said. “But there’s a few things worth bringing up. First, eight a.m. conditioning. It’s less structured than you think. This is your warm-up and exercise time, for the fighters, or your mental training time, for the casters. You won’t have an instructor assigned. That said, plenty are available, should you want or need one. Or do your own thing. All you’re required to do is sign in and be there.”

“Next, academics at noon. You’ll have your own schedules for that—some of you are exempt to certain class, some of you aren’t. Most likely, expect to see public relations, intro to delving, and monster 101. You’ve gotta really try to fail these courses, but it happens. But really, just give it an effort. Not even your best effort … just an effort. That’s really all it takes. Tenet’s not expecting geniuses. Don’t be the second year retaking 101s.” She shrugged. “Or, like I said, do. I’m not your mom. But it’s pretty embarrassing.”

“Five p.m. is the end of the academic day. Now, I hope this doesn’t mean you’re done—have some ambition. Extra training, spars, whatever, but if you’re done at five each day, you’re not going far. Assuming you’ve made it to Tenet, that probably won’t be an issue.”

“Finally,” Harper said, “eleven p.m. Lights out. That means curfew. Yes, you have a curfew. But, it’s only for being out in Aradon. Inside Tenet’s walls. And like I’ve been saying—don’t fuck around when it comes to this. If you break curfew and make it back without incident, it won’t be the worst thing in the world, even if you’ll be getting community work for it. But, break curfew, and do so while making an idiot of yourself …” Harper grimaced. “Just don’t. I’ll leave it at that.”

Harper breathed in. “And finally … one of the real reasons I’m giving this briefing, rather than the faculty—the fact I can be candid. Everyone ready?”

Everyone looked around, perplexed. Natalie didn’t know where Harper was leading with this, either.

Harper put her hands on her hips and frowned at the collection of students.

“Don’t get someone pregnant,” she said sternly, “and don’t get pregnant. Use condoms.”

A stir went through the crowd, obviously not expecting the turn in subject. Natalie just smirked, amused—then paused, because, uh, that was actually a more applicable warning to her than most. She’d already mused over how she would need to be careful in that regard, but damn, with the thing between her legs, she had to worry from both ends, didn’t she? Both getting someone pregnant, and becoming.

“Yeah, yeah,” Harper said. “It’s awkward, I know. But we’re talking about it. If there’s a quick way to tank your career, it’s getting knocked up. Guess this is more for the girls, because boys are—well. Boys. Hopeless. So, ladies, please. Unless being a mom is what you’re aiming for—and, go for you, if it is, but since you’re at Tenet, I doubt it—then make sure your partner’s wearing a condom. There’s stations where you can get them for free, too. Like, everywhere. Understand? Cool.”

Harper brushed forward. Natalie remained amused. As Harper had said, this must be why they had a fourth year handling this portion of their orientation. It would be inappropriate for a faculty member to be this frank. Harper had handled the awkward topic well, but scolding a group of adults about wearing condoms was enough to break even her thus-far irreverent demeanor. She was blushing.

And, it made sense that Tenet had a problem with an … overly active student base. As a collection of young adults starting a new chapter in their life in a stressful, competitive environment—and with fitness being a general requirement, resulting in consistently active, fit body types—some, well, ‘stress relief’ was an inevitability. It actually fared well for Natalie, viewed that way. You know, seeing how she would be needing to find partners, just to advance her skills. And while for now that only meant kissing, Natalie doubted that would last.

“Now, role guilds and extracurriculars,” Harper said. “Almost done, then we’ll set you free to lunch.”

“Guilds are simple. They’re a stick-around from the old days, and really, don’t matter much. Just don’t be caught saying it. Some people are bristly about guild allegiances.” She flashed a grin. “Either way, you’re required to pick, and there’s benefits to being in the right one. Lets you network with peers, find mentors, both faculty and students alike, and, y’know, it serves as a hang-out place, too. I’m sure everyone’s heard the stories.”

Even Natalie had, and she was less informed than probably anyone here. The guild’s parties were legendary … in both good and bad ways. Another byproduct of that ‘stressed environment’ she’d mentioned. Natalie hadn’t come here to party, but she doubted anyone did. She’d probably check one out, eventually.

“Some people fit several roles, obviously,” Harper continued, “and don’t worry, you can qualify up to two, if your class fills several. It happens. Plenty of, say, priests are in both the healer and mage guilds. Or a more obvious example, lots of brawler classes dabble in both tanking and fighting. So feel free to check out several guildhalls … though I recommend you stick to one. Getting comfortable is important. That said, don’t get stuck in your ways. Your class might be a healer now, but you might find fighter fits you better, five levels from now. Stay flexible. Keep your options open.”

“And last comment, though it might not even be necessary. The divergent guild. If you’ve got a class that doesn’t fit into any of the guilds—it happens, surprisingly—then that’s the one you’ll be slotted in. For those of you that applies to … well, you know who you are. Hard to not.” Harper scanned the crowd, as if seeing if anyone would give themselves away.

Natalie was intrigued, also looking around. She’d never heard of a ‘divergent’ guild. Someone who fell outside all five roles? How would that happen? Wouldn’t that just be a … craftsman class, or something? How could someone be neither a fighter, thief, mage, healer, or tank? Not even in a peripheral way?

Natalie brainstormed. She realized she could think of a few. An explorer class, maybe, with no combat specialties, but useful in delving, or adventuring in general. Someone who could navigate the dungeon, disarming traps, leading the party to treasure … even if they didn’t have any combat prowess.

Though, why be trained at Tenet, in that case? To operate functionally in a team?

She didn’t get a chance to think too hard about it, because Harper was moving on. Like for the rest of orientation, she kept an expeditious pace.

“Last item of business. Extracurriculars. The fun stuff.”

For a few minutes, Harper went over the options available to them. Dueling was the most popular extracurricular, with a close second being the harvesting disciplines. Besides that, there were more mundane options, like drama or band. Natalie hadn’t entirely made her mind up on which she’d pick, since everyone was required to be in at least one. As Harper went on, Natalie’s eyes glazed over. Extracurriculars were one of the things she already had a good idea of, coming to Tenet.

Harper breathed in, clapping her hands together, bringing Natalie’s attention back. “That’s it! We’ve made it through. Just one last quick thing, before I get to questions … it’s time for your generic words of encouragement.”

Natalie’s lips quirked at the continued irreverence.

“Remember, not everyone can be the Dimming Herald,” Harper said. “That’s fine. It’s what Tenet wants you to be, but that doesn’t mean they want to get half the school killed trying for an impossibility. The one percent might provide a third of all monster cores—by energy—but the other two thirds … that still comes from us mortals. We aren’t wholly expendable, and Tenet doesn’t want you to get yourself killed trying to be something you aren’t. You have to realize—some of us are playing different games from each other, and that’s the reality of … well, reality.”

Natalie frowned. She didn’t like that perspective. Anyone could be the Dimming Herald if they worked hard enough. She didn’t believe a special set of people were simply born into fates like that. They earned them.

“So,” Harper said. “Work hard and have fun. Be the best you can be, but avoid croaking it. That’s it! Any questions?”