Grim stepped under the archway of the Blackthorne Academy gate, his eyes flicking left and right to take in all the details he could. It wasn’t as large as his own starter guild, but it had the same dry, administrative air. It was a school first and foremost, after all. All around him, students were training in weapons, magic, and delving tactics, guided through the motions by experienced instructors. Even under the beating sun, they showed no sign of slacking or tiredness.

  ? “Showoffs,” Miranda grunted from his left. Then, catching his eye, she elaborated. “Any time there’s a mixing of guilds for business, the host always tries their best to show off how fine their members are. It’s impressive sometimes, but I feel bad for the kids, having to work so hard in this heat.”

  ? She gave a shiver as if it were cold instead of sweltering, and a curtain of misty cold ran down her body. “Ah, that’s better. Did it have to be one of the hottest days of the year today? I’m about to sweat through my clothes! I mean, they’re just plain clothes, but still!”

  ? As they were mentioned, Grim risked a glance. Miranda’s dress–soft ice-blue silk with white snowflake patterns embroidered across the skirt and up her back–was far from plain. It looked more at home in an elegant ball than a school, but he made no comment. It seemed that it wasn’t just their hosts who were trying to impress.

  ? More than a few of the students paused in their practice to watch the newcomers pass. Grim was certain that most of them were gazing at Miranda, who was a natural beauty, though he did notice quite a few eyes sweeping over him. He tried his best to hold his head straight and look forward, but he felt a small flare of pride that he’d chosen to wear one of his new uniforms. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in a window as they approached the weapon, and the smirk broadened slightly.

  ? It still very much matched his motif of blacks and greys, and the cut was similar to his old clothes, but they had a degree of… class to them that he’d never seen before in his clothes. The tunic and breeches, a mottled mix of greys and blacks, were cinched by a dark brown belt with silver fastenings–burnished to stop light from reflecting off the metal. Over it all, he wore a light overtunic that split at the waist to cover down to his shins. It was a blue so dark that it nearly looked black, but shone resplendent under the sunlight.

  ? Whereas the first room in their own guildhall was the mess hall, here they found a lobby of sorts, with plenty of comfortable seats spread along the walls. Already, five people were seated silently, their distant gazes flicking up only for a second to study Grim and Miranda as they entered. Were they all from different guilds, then? That seemed likely, as none of them were talking amongst each other. The only person who showed more than a cursory interest in their presence was a man in simple brown robes and a monk-like hood.

  ? “Welcome to Blackthorne Academy,” the man said, moving forward and extending a hand. “Grim and Miranda from the Cartographers, I take it? My name is Maxwell Istoff. I am the head researcher for our guild, and vice administrator for the school..”

  ? They exchanged pleasantries politely enough, and then he was asking them a rapid series of questions. “Quite surprised to hear that we’d have two attendants from the same guild. Quite surprised indeed. Most guilds are lucky just to have one. Have you both completely grasped your powers? What sorts of monsters gave birth to them? Are you-”

  ? “One question at a time, please,” Miranda said in a long-suffering voice. “You’ll scare my poor junior away with your badgering, Max.”

  ? “Maxwell,” he replied, a touch of acid in his tone. “I’ve asked you before, Ms. Foxgrove.”

  ? Miranda only smirked slightly, then answered his first two questions. “Yes, we’ve both fully explored our bloodlines. I know what made my bloodline, but…”

  ? She glanced at Grim with a small frown, and he realized that, in all their training, he’d neglected to share that particular information. “Krynth.”

  ? “Really?” Maxwell said, his eyes glinting. Grim had seen that look plenty of times in the eyes of booklovers, and knew that he was running headlong into a long session of answering questions. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a Krynth infecting a pre-awakened before. That’s quite rare, even among bloodlines. I’ll have to check my-”

  ? “Records,” Miranda finished in a drawl. “Yes, I’m sure you’ll spend a few hours… no days, buried in your books after this. But for now, can we just get on with things? Are we the last people you’re expecting?”

  ? Maxwell pursed his lips and gave a soft hum of disappointment, but answered her. “I believe we are awaiting just one more. One Steven Stone from Lakeshore Craftsmen.”

  ? “Well, then. We’ll go wait with the others until he shows up,” Miranda said, and Grim silently conveyed his thanks for her immediate interruption. She’d probably saved him from a nasty headache.

  ? “That will not be necessary,” a deep, gravelly voice said from behind them. “I have arrived. A bit late, but I’m sure you’ll accept my apology, as I had to attend to a rather unexpected business matter.”

  ? Grim turned around and saw a mountain of a man standing just a few feet away. He looked to be two and a half meters tall, and damn-near broader than Grim was tall. His arms and legs were thicker than Grim’s head, and each step he took almost seemed to send shockwaves through the carpeted stone floor. He was built like a boulder, Grim thought wildly, noting that even his grey tunic and breeches–cut short to leave his bulging arms bare–seemed to be the exact color and texture of a rock.

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  ? “My goodness, you’re a large man,” Miranda said. It was more than Grim could get out, as he was too busy trying to take all of the newcomer in. “What monster made you?”

  ? A slow smile split the man’s face, like a crack forming in a rock. “My father ate the core of an earth elemental when he was a child. Absorbed all of its essence and awakened on the spot. He was already a large man, but when I came around, well…”

  ? He gestured at his bulk, and Miranda let out a nervous chuckle. “Well. Uh… Nice to meet you, Steven.”

  ? He nodded in agreement, and Miranda and Grim stepped aside to let him speak to Maxwell. On the way to their seats, Miranda glanced back multiple times. “So that’s Crusher.”

  ? “Huh?”

  ? “Oh, that’s the nickname his guild gave him. Beats monsters with just his fists and is crazy hard to hurt. Rumor is he can even mine ore with his bare fists.”

  ? Grim didn’t doubt it, glancing at the man now. He could probably have fit that entire hand around his head and crushed it like a grape if he were so inclined. “He’s scary. Glad he seemed so nice.”

  ? “He’s a fantastic blacksmith, apparently. The way he works steel is remarkable. I heard he’s only level twelve, but he can work up to level fifteen material. He made Orren’s staff, if memory serves.”

  ? Grim nodded, thoroughly impressed. Then, frowning slightly, he turned to face Miranda. “There are a lot of people who have a job outside of delving. Is that common?”

  ? “Oh yeah,” she said, her face serious. “Not everyone, mind you. Some of us are full-time delvers, running at least one dungeon per day. It pays well, but not everyone wants that. So most pick a side job, kind of. I make jewelry.”

  ? He hummed thoughtfully at that as they waited, watching Maxwell direct Steven to the waiting area before disappearing deeper into the building. What would he even do to supplement his income? He liked delving for the power and money it gave him, but he wouldn’t do that every day. Would he? He certainly didn’t have any other skills he could draw upon to make a living.

  ? “Just make sure that whatever you do, you report it all to Maven,” Miranda added. “The guild gets a cut of all the profit you make, including delving profits.”

  ? He knew that, of course. He’d already paid his share of the sales from his delving loot so far. Maven had given him a personal logbook in which he could record everything. He’d probably do the same for… whatever job he picked. Even five percent of his earnings was a pittance compared to the costs he’d had to endure living as an unaffiliated delver in Beastwick.

  ? Maxwell returned, accompanied by a severe-looking woman in stiff robes. Her hair was steel-gray and pulled back into a tight bun, and her face seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl. Miranda let out a sigh and whispered just quiet enough for only him to hear, “Ah, Headmistress Sellida. If any woman needs a good fucking to loosen up, she does.”

  ? Trying his best to suppress a snort at Miranda’s joke, he joined the others in rising to their feet. Maxwell stepped aside to give Sellida the floor, and she began immediately. “Welcome to my guild, ladies and gentlemen. I thank you for taking time out of your schedules to cooperate with today’s lesson. Rest assured, we have ensured that the students know not to ask stupid or insensitive questions, so you will not have to worry about revealing anything too personal.

  ? “The focus of today’s lesson is not in the history or cause of bloodlines, but rather the different ways in which they can manifest. As such, we will ask that you demonstrate your primary ability–your skill to be specific. Demonstrate it for the children, and answer about fifteen minutes of questions. I doubt we’d have time for more, in any event. Are these terms agreeable?”

  ? She glanced around the room, getting eight solemn nods. “Excellent. Once you have finished answering questions, you are free to leave. Your payment, of course, will be given at that time. If there are no questions, I will ask that you follow me.”

  ? After a few seconds of silence, in which it was clear that there would be none, she turned sharply on her heels and led the way deeper into the building. “Please, do not wander. Much of our guild’s practices, though funded by the Council of Guilds, is proprietary. I am sure none of you wish to be caught and arrested as spies.”

  ? Grim and Miranda took up the back of the group, and he leaned closer to her, whispering, “Just how big is the stick up her ass?”

  ? Miranda looked at him in surprise for a second, then snorted in laughter. Grim understood the shock. He’d never spoken that way about a senior delver before–Sellida just reminded him too strongly of the headmistress from his own Starter Guild. “Clearly not that big, or she’d be in a better mood.”

  ? They chortled quietly together as they filed through the door. Sellida led them through a long hallway and past many doors, turning left and right at more paths than Grim could track. He was sure he’d need guidance on at least two of those turns to find the entrance again. Finally, she came to a stop at a large set of double doors and rested one hand. “Now. Please enter and line up along the wall behind the teacher’s podium. Maxwell is our teacher for this lesson, so follow his lead.”

  ? Well, that was a comfort, Grim thought, filing into the classroom with the others. At least they wouldn’t have to deal with her beyond finding this room. They lined up as requested, and looked out at the group of students–just over thirty in number–then fixed their gazes on the distant wall.

  ? “Right, cadets,” Maxwell said, stepping to stand behind the podium. “As we’ve previously discussed, these men and women are members of the other guilds that have bloodlines. Today, they will give a basic demonstration of the skill that their bloodline gives them and answer any questions you may have. Do not ask them foolish questions. Keep it limited strictly related to their bloodlines, and nothing more.”

  ? At their chorus of agreement, Maxwell turned to view the line. “Any volunteers?”

  ? For a solid half minute, there was no reply from the line. Damn, Grim thought. Nobody wanted to do this, did they? Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward toward the podium, ignoring Miranda’s muttered “teacher pet” and the snickers that followed it. Maxwell beamed at him and shuffled back with a half-bow, gesturing towards the podium. “Then please begin.”

  ? “Right,” he said, nodding in reply, then turning to face the class. Just get it over with, he thought. “Hello, everyone. My name is Grim Kestrel.”