"I feel obligated to point out that this doesn't much look like a magical academy," Vess said, Marcus choosing not to pay her negativity any mind. "You can have the Royal Guard section off a wing of the castle and have servants bring over most of your books, but that leaves us with empty classrooms and empty beds and sad looking mostly empty chambers stuffed with bookcases."
"Well, yes," Marcus replied, dusting off a large tome. Just a history book, though one he knew to be particularly accurate. "That's why I went out to recruit teachers and had you find and recruit students. Why are you being mean about this, exactly?"
"Because it's what others are going to think, and until your project shows results the nobility will see nothing but expenses."
"Good thing I'm funding this from the Royal treasury, not their donations. But I do see your point. Of course I see your point. But magic is what allows the Empire to hold back the dungeon, what allows them to feed their people and make war unlike any other. And we will have that, Vess. By all the Gods, we will have that. And if we have to start in dusty rooms with too few books, I will make do."
Vess hummed, stroking the spine of her book before putting it away. "You really are different. Focused, perhaps, or simply more determined. It isn't something most people will be prepared for. Not to be, as you say, mean, but your reputation until very recently was quite negative. Magically brilliant, yes, but power wielded by a child."
"I do so love our talks. They make me feel all fuzzy inside."
"Well, I suppose I'll count it as a victory that I can make you feel anything at all."
Marcus grinned at her, turning. "Don't sell yourself short, Vess. You've been blessed with a robust mind and pleasant features. One would have to be a fool not to at least appreciate the former."
"Some certainly would. Yet here I am, shelving books into bookshelves for some ignorant peasant to damage and misplace."
"I certainly hope not. There'll be lessons on the handling of essentially everything here, and if someone doesn't take this seriously I don't want them. The guards from Mirre should help with that. They won't be magical geniuses, but they are soldiers. And discipline is what defines a soldier."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."
Marcus felt his face darken, forcing unpleasant memories aside. "I suppose I am. Now stop your complaining and help me reshape the kingdom one bookshelf at the time. I need your mind, not your other natural talent. And no, we can't pawn this off to servants. Not with how a single misplaced tome might turn one of my potential students insane."
Vess' reply was interrupted when one of the guards approached, Marcus turning to the man. The faceless helmet gave nothing away, of course, and he wondered how annoying seeing out of them must be. Their captain deemed the extra protection worth it, apparently.
"My Prince. A witch, a druid and a summoner approached the castle gate. They insist that you have invited them."
"They came together? Convenient. Bring them here and don't let them wander."
The guard saluted, moving away as Vess moved closer again. She muttered something unkind about his state of dress, which Marcus chose to ignore, and actually had the audacity to flatten his hair. He slapped her hands away, giving her a look.
"If you're pretending to be my mother, don't. I'm more than happy to ignore some of your more peculiar habits, but you being concurrently nurturing while trying to seduce me is a little much. Actually, it's a lot too much."
Vess clicked her tongue. "Don't be so close-minded. Mother and father issues are some of the most common sexu-"
"Yes, yes, thank you. Please focus on our guests and not whatever you're trying to achieve here. I want to know if they're still willing to help, for a start, and on that note, when do your recruits get here?"
"The peasants I bribed, sweet talked and convinced to come? Tomorrow. Kleph will have probably brought some druids, and commander Mirre is able to send her men here at any time."
"Good. Have Mirre send them, I could use the hands. And tell the commander to keep an eye out for the other recruits. I don't want them turned away due to a misunderstanding. How many did you get, anyway?"
"Thirty seven. And yes, it's been a busy few days. None are particularly strong, magic wise, but all of them are intelligent. Not educated, but bright. Eager, too. I mostly spoke to the young and those standing to inherit little, so if you do this right their loyalty is yours and yours alone."
"Very good. Then all that remains to be done is not fucking up royally enough to unite the various political factions against me."
Vess went silent, which somehow felt like more of an insult than an actual insult would have, and Marcus rolled his eyes. Vess was, as easily to forget though it might be, a demon. She enjoyed her little cruelties more than most.
Hells, if he hadn't spent six months getting beaten around like a fresh recruit he'd probably be irritated. Now he just didn't care much about her needling, a fact that annoyed her more than any other reaction he might have had.
He was winning their game, Marcus assured himself.
More books needed to be checked, marked and shelved appropriately, and before long the doors opened. Six Royal Guards escorted the three magic users inside, the trio looking surprisingly at ease with one another. Not terribly so, but they walked as a group.
The sergeant saluted, leaving the mages behind as his squad left. Marcus smiled at them, taking in their almost visible realization that he was, in fact, the Crown Prince.
It would be pretty easy to trivialize, he knew. A random armored but otherwise normal looking man showed up at their hut, forest or street, displayed some magic and claimed to be the Crown Prince. They believed the man, because it could only really be him with the skills displayed.
Now they were here, in the capital, and a symbol of Royal authority, the Royal Guard, just saluted the man who'd come to their home.
It was a disconnect. Gretched dealt with it the easiest, Kleph seemed to regret being quite that curt when they'd first met, and Barry had that wide-eyed look of peasantry seeing nobility for the first time.
"Welcome, welcome," Marcus began, waving at a number of seats. Vess kept shelving books, though he knew she was watching. "Please sit, and thank you for coming. I'm quite excited to properly get this project started."
Gretched looked around, speaking after a moment of silence. "When will we begin collecting apprentices?"
"Oh, the first batch is already taken care of. Kleph here has recruited druids, approximately twenty of them if he is true to his promise, while Vess has managed to find another thirty seven uneducated but intelligent volunteers. Commander Mirre, who leads the city watch, will send over another thirty seven within the day. The latter will be soldiers, which means we'll have quite the unconventional student body."
The old witch looked somewhat taken aback and Barry's eyes widened. Only Kleph seemed to take it in stride, this time, though he sounded somewhat displeased. "I am a druid. Teaching farmers how to weave matrices is not what I signed up for."
"There will be separate classes," Marcus assured. "I'm thinking of having Gretched teach basic spellcraft, Kleph train everyone in at least the basics of druidism and Barry instruct those that are interested in the art of summoning. There will be roughly thirty people for each class, though some more specialized instruction will be held in much smaller groups. To set expectations early, I wish for each of you to spend half your time teaching and half of it on your own projects. Perhaps with the help of some of your more talented students, but I'll leave the details up to you."
Barry nodded, though Marcus had a feeling the kid would have nodded to pretty much anything. Gretched frowned but didn't seem opposed on principle, though Kleph folded his arms. "I will need a proper place to instruct druids. The forest outside the city will be much better suited than this building. It will suffice."
"I'll have parts of it reserved for our use," Marcus agreed. "But it won't be yours, not in the way your old one used to be. At least not for now. The more success our Royal Academy shows, the more power I can justify wielding in its expansion."
The youngest among them raised his hand, which Marcus found odd for more reasons than the fact that this wasn't class and he wasn't their instructor, and spoke after Marcus nodded. "So, uuhm, I don't know how to teach?"
"Assume they know nothing and teach them the basics, focus on safety and especially on what not to do. As for their discipline. Well. Don't worry about that part," he replied. "The students will know that being here is a privilege. Should anyone give you trouble during the course of your instruction, ask one of the city watch students to escort them out. I'll make sure they know you're supposed to be teaching, not disciplining people."
Barry seemed appeased at that, though there would probably be more talks about it in the future. For now, though, there were other things to dis-
"I demand to be let in at once!" A voice boomed. "Now!"
Marcus sighed. "Vess, could you give our new faculty members a tour? I'll deal with this irritation."
"Of course. This way, please. It might not look like much, but we have classrooms and dormitories set aside, as well as dedicated workstations for more hands-on experience."
She kept talking, her voice fading as she got further away. The commotion at the door only increased in volume, on the other hand, and Marcus managed to smooth his face into one of calm. "Let him in."
The door opened, Gorman the Court Mage striding inside. That stride faltered somewhat when Marcus closed the distance himself, not stopping until he was uncomfortably closer in the man's personal space.
"Ah, uuhm," Gorman hesitated, confidence returning by the second. "My Prince. Yes. I have to file a complaint."
Marcus took another small step closer, Gorman taking a small step back. "Do not shout at my Royal Guards again, Gorman. And if you have to file a complaint, you will do so after scheduling a meeting. I am not your apprentice, bending around your schedule and snapping to attention when you call. Am I understood?"
"You are, my Prince," the Court Mage said, though he didn't sound all that intimidated. "Yet I must file a complaint. The creation of this Royal Academy is an affront to the long and faithful service of the Court Mages, to speak nothing of the mandate that even peasantry will be allowed to enter. Worse yet, strangers have been recruited from all corners of the Kingdom to provide instructions, a position that should naturally fall to me and my colleagues."
"So you want to teach at the Royal Academy?"
"I gratefully accept this positio-"
Marcus flared the four matrices that were weaved together in his defensive suite, the man falling silent as his eyes grew wide. "Do not ever presume to put words in my mouth, Gorman. I asked whether you would want to. I was not offering you the position. Frankly, I don't trust you to teach those that I wish to study here. Now, this project is funded directly by the Royal treasury. The Court Mages have no grounds to object."
"This is highly unusual," the man insisted. "You yourself have studied under us, Prince. Magic and all its disciplines naturally fall under our authority."
"They used to fall under your authority, yes. Now they do not. You are more than welcome to push the issue, if you wish. To complain to my father, unite the mages in opposition to the Crown. Is that what you want, Gorman?"
A scowl fell over the Court Mage's face. "You are skilled, my Prince, I shall not deny it. But we have aided the Crown for four hundred years in all matters magical, and I shall not stand by and watch my order's history be replaced by upjumped peasants."
"It is happening," Marcus replied. "Do not make the mistake of thinking you are irreplaceable, Gorman, nor mistake me for the child you knew. You do not know what has happened, do not know why I am so confident, and that is the only reason I shall let you go with but a warning."
Gorman opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, then clicked it shut again. The Court Mage turned, all but storming out of the room. The Royal Guards looked inside after he had passed, Marcus waving them over.
"My Prince?"
"Send for Von, Emma and Somme."
"At once, my Prince."
The guards moved away, Marcus heaving an internal sigh. He'd been planning to wait a while, to see how the politics develop and maybe have Vess snoop around, but it seemed he was out of time. Those three were the Court Mages that would most likely accept teaching positions on Marcus' terms, and getting their assistance would take the wind out of Gorman's sails.
Hopefully.
For all his disdain of them, the Court Mages were well trained. None were able to hold more than two matrices, something which took an effort of skill and control most simply didn't possess, but that didn't mean they were weak. Or stupid.
If all of them opposed the creation of his Academy, they could create a problem. Not an insurmountable one, but not an insignificant one either. And unlike drunken Lords, the Court Mages wouldn't be cowed by a Hornet Lord.
His ability to weave four matrices at once would tempt some, however, and that was the key. Dividing them. As long as they did not fully unite their political power was limited, or at least limited enough his own could overcome it.
They were also the main reason magical learning had never been centralized, something which he found disagreeable. So much progress was lost because people kept their knowledge close and lost it all after they died.
Marcus turned back to his books. Change was needed, and change he would bring.
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"It's possible, but I suggest only implementing the laws in Redwater and the surrounding area. It will attract non-Humans to it, for one, and allow you to show the people it will not negatively impact their lives."
Marcus hummed when his father stopped speaking. "If I must."
"You must do nothing," the King replied, back straight. The Royal Scribe at his side switched out a piece of paper, pretending very hard he wasn't hearing every word. "But you lack the political power to make the laws be obeyed Kingdom wide, and giving orders which will not be obeyed erodes our illusion of power."
"Illusionary or not, I get your point. Redwater it is."
The King nodded, signing the decree with a slightly shaking hand. Marcus found himself not quite able to ignore it. His father was getting old, and he couldn't find it in himself to be glad for it.
Hating people, as he'd discovered with Helios, was much easier if they acted vile. If they were horrible, contrary and stubborn. Instead his father gave good advice, never tried to undermine him and overall did his best to make sure Marcus succeeded.
He would not forgive the man so easily, not for trapping him in the School of Life, but neither could he muster up endless hatred.
"Employment protection, anti-discrimination laws and preferential treatment when seeking housing in Redwater," the King murmured. The man shook his head. "It will make you popular with them, but they are so few in number you gain little. Morally speaking it is the right thing to do, but it makes no political sense."
"It's not about sense. I made a promise, and I intend to be the sort of person who keeps their promises. And the outcry will likely be minimal because of the comparatively few souls able to make use of the laws."
"Don't underestimate how little it takes to get the people riled up," his father said, a tired smile stretching over his face. "But I have faith you will maneuver any challenges to the best of your ability."
Marcus wasn't quite sure what to say to that, changing the subject with all the subtlety of a rampaging Giant. "How is the Princess? I'm sure you've been keeping in contact with her."
"Still making her way. I've sent our own ships to meet her while you were gone, though they won't be able to do much more than guide and provide fresh supplies. Mostly fruits. Rebuilding the navy is, as ever, more costly than its use could ever justify."
That sounded about right. What good was a ship, even with competent mages, when some leviathan could crush it wholesale in but a moment? The only reason they still had ships at all was because the bay stretched inland, something most of the monsters avoided.
It made for good fishing, good enough to warrant exterminating the few beasts that swam inside. Marcus tapped the desk. "They're still on schedule?"
"Behind, if not greatly so. They've avoided every storm, but you know how the ocean is. When they get here their people will be tired, hungry and afraid, not to mention grieving for more than just their lost homeland."
"Not something we can do anything about just yet," Marcus decided, turning to the Royal Scribe. The woman blinked in surprise at being addressed. "I have a task for your order."
The woman straightened and spoke with what he could only describe as caution. "We are ready to obey the Prince, as always."
"The Academy I'm building needs more books. Dispatch your members to make ten copies of every book currently in its libraries, and station people there to continue doing so for every new tome that enters it."
"That would take months," she protested, eyes wide. "More, if we wish to continue our other duties."
"Except that during my studies with your order in my youth, I noticed that quite a few well-trained scribes don't do much of anything. Read the same books over and over, create redundant copies of useless information, invent work to justify the budget the Crown gives them. I'll be blunt. I'm going to put you to work or cut your budget in half. Have your senior members decide which they prefer. You are dismissed."
The Scribe stood, bowing stiffly before leaving. The King smiled a half smile. "They will not be happy."
"No, but neither do they have the necessary power to oppose me. I have a different question, if you don't mind."
"Please."
"How long did we have the School of Life, an artifact crafted by an actual Archmage, sitting in our vaults gathering nothing but dust?"
The King paused, putting down his quill. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I find it really suspicious that something so powerful, capable of simulating reality at a level of time-dilation where a year took only days, is sitting in what could charitably be described as a primitive Kingdom isolated from the rest of the continent."
"I have no answers to give," the King admitted. "No good ones. It was there when I was young, though I never asked my father about it. I did attempt to activate it, of course I did, but all I received was a faint feeling of danger. I never tried again. From the records we have, which become unreliable rather quickly, it has been here for at least two hundred years."
Marcus sighed. "Well, that doesn't clear up much of anything. Nor does it explain why it simulated people but pulled real demons from the Hells. For a certain definition of real, anyway. Maybe because their inherent nature makes them too expensive to emulate?"
The King looked at him curiously, Marcus shrugged, and that was that. His father went back to reading and signing documents, not prying further, and the Scribe returned after a few minutes to silently resume her task of organizing the papers. Marcus continued to familiarize himself with the tax ledgers of the Redwater Guilds.
It wasn't comfortable, Marcus did not exactly consider the man a friend, much less a father, but for a little while he could pretend there wasn't a part of him that hated the man for what he'd done.