Chapter 10

As I predicted, when I arrived back at my room, Kiyo’s scarf was neatly folded on my desk. It was the worse for wear, but I could worry about that later. Kowalski had even written a little note of apology, which I had half-expected; every other word out of his mouth was some regret. The purloined undergarment was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed Mariko would find a similar note in her room.

It’s funny what changes a year can bring. I’d have never thought I’d wear the uniform of the hated Wizard Corps, much less have enough of the uniforms that I had a ‘nice’ one to choose. The white suit with its green trim, half-cape and waist sash marked me as a cadet. The wearable fabricata was inlaid with passive runes that could draw on my body’s magical energy to harden it into armor like plate steel. It was an ingenious design, though it tended to be too warm in the summer. Not a problem now, I suppose. I wasn’t sure what the green cap was for, besides looks.

I wasn’t sure what designer had decided that the men’s uniform got trousers while the women got a skirt and black leggings, but I frequently wanted to buy him a drink.

“Oh, this is a disaster,” I said, sitting next to Mariko at a dining table that could have fit either of us.

“Hm? What do you mean?” She had been absorbed in a tablet, which had quivered ever so slightly in her grip.

“We’re wearing the same outfit! One of us will have to change.”

Mariko chuckled. “I see you are feeling a bit better.”

Kowalski wandered in, dressed in the same uniform. There was no sign of Buddy, thank the Dark Lord, but he wore a hangdog expression. “Hey guys, I’m really sorry about before.”

“I saw your note,” said Mariko. “I forgive you, Rafal. Though, you really do need to keep better control of your other half.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, despondently pouring himself a bowl of cereal. The box was adorned with Mr. Maki’s face.

Speaking of the Divine Blade, he staggered in, shivering. His white tank-top was nearly transparent with his sweat. Any reasonable man would have been grimacing, but he was grinning ear to ear. “Well, what a surprise! You almost look like proper cadets!”

“How fortunate, since you usually look like a proper teacher,” said Mariko, smirking up at him. She took a brief sip from a cup of coffee. “Usually.”

Kowalski’s eyes widened. “Ms. Yamada?” He sounded completely taken aback.

Maki shook his head wistfully. “Giving you permission to roast me might have been a mistake.”

“It’s too late to take back now, sir,” I said.

Mariko’s lips curled downwards. “That wasn’t too rough, was it? I am not sure how far to go sometimes.”

“Of course not,” he said. “I’m not going to retire to some fainting couch. Besides, you earned it after you saved my life at the Serving Wizard’s House.”

“If you are sure,” she said, furrowing her brow. “It still feels wrong somehow.”

“I like it better than bickering about your silly pacifism,” he replied, his jovial tone removing the sting of his rebuke. He glanced at an antique clock on the wall. “Blast it all, I took too long on my jog! I’m going to make us late!”

“Jogging? In this weather?” I was frigid enough in my woolen uniform and the help a burning log of synthwood in the fireplace.

“Of course, Marlowe! The cool air is bracing first thing in the morning; it sharpens the mind and helps the circulation.”

What hogwash. I smiled and nodded, keeping my thoughts to myself. “Perhaps I should join you sometime?” I often tried to be a toady with my teacher; it was the character I’d chosen to play.

“No, you’d only slow me down,” he said. “Now, I must be off.” He ran upstairs, his heavy steps echoing through the whole house.

I felt spared and insulted. “Slow him down? He’s nearly fifty and twice my weight!”

“Let him have his fantasies,” said Mariko.

“I dunno, he’s pretty tough,” said Kowalski. “He’s wrestled Buddy before and almost won.”

I considered asking how he’d possibly overcome the shadowy blob of hate, but I decided I hadn’t had nearly enough coffee for deep thinking. Pouring myself another cup, a question came to mind. “It occurs to me that we haven’t been told much about our assignment. At least, I haven’t.”

“I’m in the dark, too,” said Kowalski.

That was completely unsurprising. “Ms. Yamada?”

She shook her head. “I suspect Mr. Maki wants to keep us in suspense so the reveal is more dramatic.”

“That does sound like him,” I said. “We’ll find out soon enough, I suppose.”

Mr. Maki returned, his hair either slick with perspiration or from a hasty shower. I didn’t have the chance to verify with a sniff test, thank the Dark Lord.

A van came by to pick us up soon after, and I will say that Keflavik was more inviting when I could actually see it. We mostly passed homey, pre-Horde wooden houses, though a few of the concrete tenements spoiled the view.

Mr. Maki explained how the city had been known for its musical scene for nearly a century, and he made the driver take a detour to show off a museum of rock and roll. The blond man grumbled a little, since we had to pull a u-turn and go back the way we came for a half-kilometer.

“You won’t have too many days off while you’re here, but I’ve been told it’s a fascinating tour,” he said. “You kids should go get yourselves some culture. See what you’re fighting for.”

There were less official sources of music as well; many of the watering holes we passed promised live performers, and a few intrepid buskers were out playing music for the intrepid passers-by. As cold as it was, they were certainly earning their pocket change. I noticed that the buskers didn’t look awfully Icelandic, and they tended to be near government housing. I noticed Kowalski buried himself in his phone when we were in the midst of the drab buildings. He had mentioned growing up in a ‘Little Poland’ before; the tenements might have brought on bad memories. Meanwhile, Mariko was almost pressed against the window, absorbing every detail she could and peppering the driver with questions about our new surroundings. He seemed less annoyed at her requests than Mr. Maki’s. The privilege of being a pretty young lady, I supposed.

We arrived at an unassuming, single-story storefront, no different from its neighbors at first glance. Unlike the other shops, there weren’t signs about lunch specials or dry cleaning. Instead, the glass window was adorned with a large Wizard Corps logo, a stylized fist clutching a wand.

A pair of wizards stood out front, wearing a uniform that resembled mine, only black where mine was white. They preferred the darker colors for full Wizard Corpsmen; fighting the Horde was a dirty business. A man about Mr. Maki’s age had blue trim, marking him as a support wizard, while the blonde woman standing next to him bore the red of a combat mage.

“Asahi!” said the man, walking over and seizing Mr. Maki’s hand. His slim body looked miniscule next to our teacher, but he didn’t seem at all intimidated. At least, I thought he looked unintimidated. It was hard to see under a salt and pepper beard that I’m sure was too bushy to be regulation.

“Henrik Olvirsson, you old goat!” Mr. Maki took a moment from the happy reunion to look over his shoulder. “What’s wrong with you three?” he barked. “I trained you better than that! Salute!” He led the way with his own crisp salute, which Mariko and Kowalski mimicked, though less smoothly.

I didn’t see why he was so concerned; the blonde woman hadn’t looked up from her phone. Her face was obscured by her red cap, so she wouldn’t even have seen the gesture. Still, orders were orders, and my hand was on my brow in a flash. It was always best to curry the Divine Blade’s favor. I held the pose, looking right at the rude woman.

The blonde finally seemed shamed into acknowledging us. The phone vanished into her pocket and her hand snapped upwards. She stopped halfway up, her eyes widening. I’m sure I wore the same startled expression.

“Tom?”