“The Collegium is a very uninhibited place,” the instructor explained. He was a bookish type with slicked hair—Gerard, the Head Instructor for engineering. The player couldn’t take his classes in-game, hence why it felt very strange hearing him call this place ‘uninhibited.’

  “In this place, you get out only as much as you put in. We have the best instructors in the world in this place, and each of them are able and willing to devote time to help you progress individually. That said… you have to do the hard work!” Gerard emphasized by holding a finger up.

  After coming to register for his classes, Lucian had to sit through an orientation. Ordinarily, the main character would register on the last possible day and receive orientation from the school dean, personally. Lucian thought it was novel to see another instructor present it.

  “From dawn until dusk, if you go to a class you want, an instructor will be available, I promise you that. For every two of you, there’s at least one instructor,” Gerard boasted. “Yeah. I can see the surprise on some of your faces. Even if one class is busy, you can always attend another. We don’t cut corners here. You’re the future of this continent—we won’t spare any expense, believe me.”

  Gerard grabbed his pointer and tapped it on the board.

  “But as you might imagine, the more skilled instructors will be stretched a little thin if everyone gets access to them equally. When you join a class, you’ll have an aptitude test. They’ll judge where you’re at, then give you a ranking—unranked, then bronze, silver, gold.” He ran the pointer down the rankings, then looked back. “We used to give out little medals, but people started selling them, or they got lost, and it was just a pain. Now we just keep track of it locally.”

  Lucian raised a brow upon learning something new.

  “Anyway, your ranking determines the quality of instructor you’ll be able to access,” Gerard finished. “Some of those people you hear songs about are teaching here, to this day.”

  In the game, your ranking determined which skills you could learn, and which training methods you could access. I suppose it’ll be the same here.

  Lucian already had a build in mind. It required a little setup, but once he got past the first hurdles… he might be able to make something of the talentless hack he’d become. It leaned pretty heavily on a build for a challenge run that he had done.

  “Now, let’s talk about the layout for the Collegium, and the services at your disposal…”

  Lucian tuned out of this part. He knew everything there was to use. Instead, he looked throughout the others taking this orientation to see if there was anyone he recognized. Surprisingly, there was—a Student Ambassador, to boot. Lady Helen Brumaire of the Kingdom of Vantz sat prim and proper, with her straight blonde hair and sharp green eyes. She wore white, betraying some of her house’s tradition—House Brumaire had produced some of the best healing mages in the world, and Lady Helen could definitely become one if the player kept her on the team.

  Does she hate me? Lucian wondered. Their eyes met, and her lip curled in contempt for half a second before taking on a very plastic smile. Yeah, she does.

  Lucian didn’t let his gaze linger long. He tried to recall what Lucian had done to Helen, or to House Brumaire. Then, in a flash, an incredibly vivid memory surfaced in his head unbidden.

  ***

  Lucian stood in a ballroom. Standing across from him was Lady Helen Brumaire. She seemed a few years younger, and had her hands placed politely before her.

  “Why is it that I never see your brother here?” Lucian asked her. “He’s of age, is he not?”

  Lady Helen wore that same plastic smile he’d seen a few moments ago. “You’ll have to forgive my brother. He tends to find places with many people very uncomfortable. Loud noises, socializing… he’s unfond of these things.”

  “Ah.” Lucian gestured toward himself. “I understand. I have a feeble-minded sister, also.”

  Even Lady Helen, ever prim, was taken off back and stuttered, “F-feeble-minded?”

  “Indeed,” Lucian said, drinking wine. “She tends to cry a lot at these sorts of events. Bright lights and loud noises send her into a panic.”

  “…I think you’re mistaken,” she said. “My brother is highly intelligent. The level of focus that he has… he can dedicate his total attention to something for eight hours at a time.”

  “Exactly.” Lucian pointed. “My sister—you could give her a jar with a caterpillar inside, and she’ll just stare at it for the entire day, transfixed. In some ways, I envy her.” He snapped his fingers, then pointed. “Perhaps they could be wed! It would certainly save on buying gifts for my in-laws. The other noble ladies—they want jewels, dresses… but my sister Cate can be satisfied with a spinning top. Besides… I’m sure welcoming her into your family can’t make House Brumaire any dumber than they already are,” he finished with a condescending smile, ripping away any veneer that this was a misunderstanding.

  Helen’s face looked back at him silently with barely masked contempt.

  ***

  Lucian jumped as he came out of that memory. It was so vivid, it felt like he was experiencing it firsthand. That memory… it must be Lucian’s. The real Lucian’s. Was the other man’s mind still kicking around in there? After what he’d just seen, he hoped not. He touched his chest to calm himself, trying not to spiral into a panic.

  I called her brother feeble-minded, Lucian thought as he calmed down. And then… I spread rumors about it to everyone at the ball.

  Lucian grabbed his forehead. Why? For what reason? He couldn’t comprehend it. That was the old Lucian’s favorite pastime—making up rumors, and then spreading them relentlessly. Half the nobles in the Empire of Riverra still thought Helen’s brother was feeble-minded, and Lucian was the source of that. When Lucian had been a made-up character, stuff like that was so ridiculously awful that it circled back around to being funny again. Now?

  Good lord… I want to kill Lucian too, a little. He kneaded his forehead. At least I know what I did. The big problem, at least. But if everyone important has a similar story… how the hell am I going to pull myself out of this pit?

  There was always the simple route of apologizing. It didn’t feel good, apologizing for something he hadn’t done… but letting grudges persist uncorrected could be bad for his health.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “And that about does it,” Gerard finished, slapping the pointer against the palm of his hand loud enough to refocus Lucian. “If you’ve got any questions, feel free to ask me or any of the other instructors. Elsewise, go on through and collect your student badge, alongside your uniform.”

  Lucian stood, casting another glance back at Helen. How did he start this conversation?

  ***

  As Helen left with her tailored uniform in her hands, she froze in her tracks when she spotted someone that’d been looking at her earlier—someone she’d rather not be looked at by, to say the least. She walked away and hoped he wouldn’t approach, but he did.

  “Lady Helen,” Lucian Villamar called out.

  Helen had the urge to keep walking, but suppressed it. Dignity, compassion, honor—these were the guiding principles by which House Brumaire had to conduct itself, toward all comers. It was especially important when it concerned the only son of the most powerful duke in the Empire of Riverra. She stopped and faced him.

  “Please, call me Helen,” she said politely. “The Collegium dislikes strict adherence to class systems.”

  Lucian stood before her with pursed lips. He looked around and scratched his cheek, as if he was debating what to say.

  “Have I ever expressed my regret toward you?” Lucian said. “And by that I mean what I did to you, your brother, and… other lapses of judgment?”

  “Yes. Countless times.” Helen nodded. This apology seemed especially insincere, for some reason—Lucian was typically better at acting. “The apology was often followed by a request.”

  Lucian grimaced. “Well, uhh… I’d like to do it again. Apologize. But this time…” He snapped and pointed. “I mean it.”

  “I see.”

  Lucian stood there with finger pointed outward. “You don’t believe a word I’m saying, do you?”

  Correct, Helen thought internally, but outwardly smiled and said, “I would never say that.”

  “Instead, you’d say it in your head,” Lucian finished the refrain, curling his pointed finger inward. “Good talk. Thank you for your time.”

  Lucian turned and walked away, scratching his head in what seemed to be distress. Helen had expected some request from him, and watched his parting with a raised brow. Eventually, she shook her head and exhaled in relief, then walked onward.

  No good comes of associating with him.

  ***

  Lucian stood back in his apartment in Verne, studying the uniform that’d been given to him. It was an austere, black thing decorated with buttons and lined occasionally with white. Apparently it had been custom-tailored to fit him, because his family had provided the Collegium with his measurements—one of countless subtle wealth differences between the common people and the nobility.

  That went horribly, Lucian reflected on his meeting with Helen. She’s one of the nicer playable characters in the game. If I can’t even get Helen to believe a word coming out of my mouth, how am I going to placate the people that are far more aggrieved than she is?

  After tossing the uniform on his bed, he walked toward his reorganized wardrobe. A new thought came to mind.

  I guess actions will speak louder than words, Lucian reflected, sorting through the outfits. Maybe once I’ve earned some goodwill, people will start to look past what Lucian's done.

  Lucian pulled out a humble gray outfit, which had a matching cap.

  Speaking of actions… how about I start acting?

  It was time to start putting the pieces in place to save his life. Only… insofar as ‘good things,’ this certainly wasn’t one.

  ***

  Lucian had changed his clothes from the garish purple outfit he’d attended the registration in to a more nondescript gray outfit. He’d also tied his long hair in a ponytail and stuffed it beneath a cap. Walter had been confused, but he hadn’t asked questions. Lucian didn’t plan on telling him that he planned on getting wet after committing crimes.

  If Lucian was going to have any hopes of keeping up with the frenetic pace of improvement that the average Student Ambassador had, he’d come to realize one thing.

  I have to ceaselessly exploit every opportunity available, he thought, walking in long strides through Verne. It seems that I woke up before the game is actually started. I have a head start. One of the very few lucky breaks I’ve gotten…

  Right now, he could be considered decently below par the Student Ambassadors, stat-wise. The difference was they had tremendous rates of growth that would soon see them become twice, even three times as strong as he was within the first few months. Surprise, surprise: main characters were exceptional.

  On the upside, this game had plenty of optional content that he could use to raise his ability. Currently his choices were pretty limited—he couldn’t fight anything. But there were a few quests available from the beginning of the game that were well worth seeking out. He was headed to one right now. He only hoped it would be there even before the game had started.

  Lucian stopped at his destination—the canalworks. It was a pretty large building in the center of the city. Two men stood guard at its gates, and Lucian stayed out of their line of sight. They were public guards of Verne, wearing white uniforms with ornate swords at their waist.

  The canalworks, Lucian confirmed. This place ensures that Verne doesn’t flood when there’s huge rains upstream, or go shallow in certain parts if the rivers get all strange.

  Lucian studied the outside, then went around the back while avoiding the public eye. It was tightly-packed, and no people walked with Lucian through the stuffed alley. If things remained as they were in the game, on the back wall there’d be a hole. Lucian went around to the back, and felt both anxiety and triumph when he spotted a small crawlspace on the wall.

  Do I send it? Lucian asked, looking around to be sure no one was watching.

  There were guards and workers inside the canalworks night and day. If he got caught in War of Four, they just threw him out and he could try again. If Lucian Villamar got caught here, who knows? They might think he was trying to sabotage the canalworks and flood the city. He knew the layout of the place, and knew where the guards patrolled, but being branded a criminal…

  No. The blessing in the canalworks was the cornerstone of his build. He couldn’t just give it up.

  Man up, commit some crimes, Lucian commanded himself. He reached for his Evercodex to remind himself of the plan, but he’d left it at home—he didn’t want to get it wet, after all. After making sure no one was watching, he kneeled down and then crawled forth on his elbows and knees. He tried not to ask questions that made his skin crawl, like whether or not this city would have any spiders. ‘Tried’ was the operative word, there.

  Whatever the case, he began to hear the mechanical noises that he was familiar with from the game. Before too long he saw a light up ahead and hurried toward it. In time, the clicking and grinding of gears and the rushing water became loud enough he couldn’t hear his own breathing. He felt endlessly relieved once he was free, and then stood up to get a look at the place.

  The canalworks looked just like he remembered it. Rushing water manipulated a few watermills, which made the entire building come alive with movement. There were a few steel walkways up above—he spotted a guard and crouched down behind a thick pipe to hide himself. He didn’t need to worry about being overheard—he could barely hear himself think. Being seen was the problem.

  The hell am I doing here? Lucian already had doubts. He wanted to check his Evercodex again to console himself, but for the second time he accepted it wasn’t here. Alright, look at it this way. You’ll die if you don’t go, he thought, trying to psyche himself up. He realized very quickly that didn’t help calm his nerves.

  Lucian plotted out his route once more in his head, and then stepped forward.