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No One Sees The Janitor Ch.2
🕑 Added 2023-06-24 09:55:10 +0000 UTCChapter 2 -
Cleaning Up.
His first day as a mage… and Dave spent most of it cleaning the toilets again. Some young idiot had put something in the food again. It was such an old prank that was considered ‘harmless’ by the College. They didn’t even punish the ones responsible these days.
But they didn’t have to clean the damn toilets.
There was a spell for this, Dave knew. He had paid attention to any spells to do with cleaning; it was his life up until last night, after all. He always worried that they would figure out the simple fact that they didn’t need him. A spell any first-year could cast would render his job pointless.
It never happened, of course. No mage would dirty their hands with cleaning, ironically. He was finishing up in the last stall when someone ignored the clear ‘Cleaning in Progress’ sign and burst into the room. They rushed into the first cubicle and were very noisily sick. Dave groaned. He had just finished cleaning… he had no doubt he would need to do that stall again. It was almost as if they aimed to miss in the first place.
His situation was delicate; this was the women’s bathroom. His sign had been clear but….
“A thousand apologies, Mistress.” He called from where he was. “I shall remain in this stall until you tell me to move.” He tried to sound polite, even as he seethed inside.
“Dave?” A weak voice called. He recognized it vaguely.
“Yes, Mistress?” He called uncertainly.
“It’s me, Bernice.” A weak chuckle, “At least what’s left of me. You can come out, don’t worry.”
Dave hesitated. A lifetime of training said not to move, to keep his eyes from falling on a superior class in a situation of undress. It also said never to refuse a request. He reluctantly stepped out.
Bernice was bent over the marble toilet, looking slightly green.
“May I be of any assistance, Mistress?” Dave offered.
“No, I think it’s passed. At least for now.” She straightened up and waved a hand; the mess vanished. “They dosed the food again.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Dave stared at the clean stall. She had cleaned up….
“How come you’re.” Her eyes got wide for a second. “They don’t… please tell me the other mages clean up after themselves?” She winced at his look.
“No, Mistress.” He looked away, pretending to examine the stall. “It is, after all, my job.”
“On a normal day, sure.” Bernice frowned. “But for something like this.”
“Mages do not clean,” Dave said, “The Dean has told me that very often.”
“We never acted like that back home.” Bernice shook her head, “I am sorry for their actions, Dave.”
While trying to get over the shock of a mage apologizing to him, it was the first time it ever happened; Dave tried to keep the conversation going. “Are you not from the Confederated Republic, Mistress?”
“No!” Bernice laughed, “I’m not. I am from the Duskan Imperium, a transfer student.”
“My apologies, Mistress.” Dave bowed in case he had given offense.
“Dave, can I not get you to call me Bernice, even privately?” She smiled at him. Genuine warmth in the smile. It was something Dave had not seen in a long, long time. “In the Imperium, we are all equal.”
“That sounds… nice, Mistress. However, I am bound by the laws of my station.” Dave said carefully. Was this a trap?
“Dave, do you know what a Mistress is where I come from?” She asked with a playful smile.
“No, Mistress.” He said honestly.
“A mistress is a woman you are not married to that you have intimate knowledge of regularly.” She said.
Dave blushed crimson as she laughed. He could think of nothing to say as she walked to the door and paused momentarily.
“Oh, come on, Dave. It wouldn’t be that bad, would it?” She winked and was gone.
Dave splashed water on his face and tried to clear his racing mind. He may be a foundling, but he was not an innocent. As if any foundling was ever allowed to remain innocent. She was flirting with him… as an equal would.
Dave did his best to get on with his day, but the thought proved a significant distraction.
=========
Bernice was still on his mind as he climbed the stairs to the top of his tower later that night. He had refused food that evening, claiming the day had taken his appetite. In truth, it had. But he had another reason to skip meals.
‘The Fasting’ was a traditional step in moving from apprentice to full mage. He had not eaten anything since sundown yesterday, and tonight he would attempt to complete his awakening.
The cultivation of mana was the cornerstone of progress as a magic user. But it was not the only one. Three parts make up the Path. To walk the Path was to increase one’s value to society, according to the Confederated Republic. Part one was cultivating a mana pool of a larger size. Part two was the years of study to learn the theory. And Part three was the sacrifice.
The difference between an apprentice mage and a full mage? A night and a day of no food and the knowledge of three spells. That was it.
Of course, it got much more complicated from there on. Going from Mage to High Mage or specializing in an elemental mana type would take a week of fasting and the sacrifice of a treasured memory.
Dave smiled grimly. To get that far, he would need to have a better life. He had no treasured memories to give.
Dave spent the first hour cultivating. Sweat dripped from his brow as he forced mana into his body. The normal process would be both effortless and painless. It would also be slow. By forcing the mana into him with all the willpower he had, he could reduce a week to a single night.
He had spent the last three years perfecting this cultivation method, and now he could get the benefit at last. Until last night, his body had simply stored the mana, the constant pressure forcing it to purify minutely every time. Now he had a class; that process was infinitely faster. In only an hour, he had managed to compress his mana more than he had in the past three years.
He felt a faint ‘pop’ as his mana purified at last.
The first threshold had been passed.
His body burned as it was purified and remade with the new, purer mana. He bit into the gag he had brought for this occasion. Screaming as the burning continued, his mind sought to escape. He found it drifting to Bernice. Her fierce eyes, her warm smile. The way she looked at him, seeing an equal instead of an inferior creature to be used and abused.
As the pain passed, Dave struggled to his feet. It was time for the second stage. He cast the first spell as he gripped his focus tightly, feeling the silver handle in his grip. A small flame burned in the palm of his other hand, forming a small sphere of fire.
Dave let the spell go, listening for any sign he was seen… all quiet.
The second spell he cast created a duplicate of himself. He waved as he stared into his own eyes; his copy did the same. He let the magic go.
The third spell was a nod to his old life. He cast it and watched the tower clean itself before his eyes: the dust, the grime, even all of his carefully inscribed writings… all gone.
He grinned at the clean and empty room as a chime sounded in his mind.
Class upgraded!
Apprentice Mage upgraded to Mage!
Dave collapsed against the wall and laughed; he had done it! He gazed down at the silk cube in his hand, peering through the secrecy silk to see the sliver hand mirror hidden within. He grinned at his sweat-stained, pale-faced reflection.
He was not looking at a janitor in that mirror. He was looking at a mage!
The euphoria soon gave way to exhaustion. His vision wavered, and sleep pulled at him.
As he reluctantly turned away from his reflection and started his careful trek down to his rumpled and smelly cot, Dave failed to notice that his reflection lingered in the little hand mirror, its smile a dark and wicked rictus of hunger… for just a second before it faded.
He slept deeply, no dreams exciting him or nightmares scaring him until the first morning light made its way through the windows and into his eyes.
Today was going to be a big day.
And for once, it would not start with gritty porridge.
===========
The Test had not always been an option in the Confederated Republic. Once upon a time, as the saying goes, there was no such hope for the low-born to rise to nobility. All of that changed during the Battle of the Long Night.
Three full squads of Republic soldiers had been on a border patrol when the neighboring Easter Empire made a sally across the border. Outnumbered and with only a pair of Nobles in command, the squads fell back to a small village. The village was barely more than four buildings and low walls. It was not even big enough to have a name. The squads dug in, fighting off waves of attacks as the night slowly wore on. The Nobles did their best, conserving mana at the cost of lives, hoping to hold on until dawn when the next patrol passed through this area.
Their mana ran out as the first rays of sun broke over the tree line. The soldiers were grim; only half of them were left alive. The villagers themselves were terrified… all except the blacksmith.
As the next wave charged the walls, confident the nobles had nothing left, the blacksmith sighed and picked up his hammer. Unknown to anyone, the Blacksmith had acquired the class of apprentice mage many years ago while trying to strengthen his hammer. In the time since then, he had risen to power. A High Mage is a terror on the battlefield. One specialized in the fires he used in the forge?
Long before the first rays of light found their way above the trees and onto the village, the light had bloomed in the darkness. The Blacksmith unleashed years of pent-up fury and anger on the enemy. It is rumored that, to this day, nothing will grow in the area as the fires were so hot they consumed even the life of the land itself as fuel.
The surviving Eastern Empire soldiers fled back across the border as if the hounds of the eleven Hells were on their heels. Their stories of hidden High mages frightened the Eastern Empire so severely that they signed a peace treaty.
One blacksmith had avoided a bloody war that the Republic knew it would have lost.
And so the Test was born.
Any citizen of the Republic could request the test. Even foundlings or criminals. Once the Test had been requested, they would be treated as Nobles until it was conducted. They would be fed, clothed, and given a chance to rest. On the next sunrise, they would prove themselves a Mage or face immediate execution.
And they meant immediate.
Those who failed the test were incinerated on the spot.
It had become so locked into the society that it was now considered above reproach. No one would ever even consider interfering with the Right of the Test as it became known.
Of course, the Nobles were still the same power-hungry bastards they were before. As they could not remove the Test itself, they made it impossible for a non-noble ever to learn how to become one. They argued that the Blacksmith needed no training and, as such, must have been chosen by the Gods. Surely the Test required, even demanded, that the tradition be followed?
It was bullshit, of course, but they got their way.
It was strange to see the Nobles applauded by the common folk for upholding a tradition that would inevitably make the life of the Commoner inescapable. Still, it happened every time there was a proposed change to the rules around the teaching of magic.
It had even become a popular way for commoners, foundlings, and criminals to commit suicide. They requested the Test, had their day of pampering, and then simply stood and waited to die when the Test came.
The Nobles called it the Noble Sacrifice… then they laughed.
They always laughed.
Fifteen times it had happened since Dave became the Janitor at the College. And every time, his lasting memory was of how the Nobles laughed as they left the stage.
He had taken each bucket of ash and given them burials. He cried for them.
But he would not be one of them.
His steps were strong and confident as he entered the breakfast hall of the College. He walked up the center, in the aisle between the long tables of students, and towards the high table. The Dean was sat dead center, glaring at him the whole way.
“Janitor, what is the meaning of this intrusion!” He hissed without rising from his seat. “I will see you beaten within an inch of your life!”
“I formally request the Test!” Dave said proudly. His voice carried to all corners of the Hall.
The Dean’s smile was wide and vicious as he realized what Dave had said. In his eyes, the joy of what he assumed was Dave’s suicide was plain for all to see.
“Welcome, to the last day of your life!” The Dean roared the traditional greeting.
“I am welcome on this last day of my life as I am,” Dave said back, his eyes never leaving the Dean’s.
“Find a seat then, mage.” The Dean said, “If you can.”
Dave looked around the Hall, seeing no empty places at first. Then a voice called into the stunned silence.
“Over here, Dave!” Bernice waved happily at him as she stood. “Come and sit by me.”
Dave couldn’t help but smile back. With a start, he realized that he was allowed to now. He smiled wider as he strode over to the table and sat down next to Bernice, who had pushed a furious-looking girl out of the way for him to sit.
“Let Breakfast begin!” The Dean called and sat down. Just before the noise began, Dave heard the muttered ‘I’m really looking forward to kill-’ from the Dean.
He smiled.
He was really looking forward to disappointing the Dean.
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