“Dragons have had no say as they make little comment on any aspect of life, except to request specific foods, to complain about tasks, or to express dislike of certain people or dragons. If they had demonstrated a capacity for anything other than merely getting their needs met, then, of course, consultation would take place.”
“One might also ask why dragons don’t engage in higher thought. It was not always the case,” M replied.
“Is this tied to your claim of being Rozenrrath? Because I really don’t have time for delusions. I was instructed an hour ago to make room for another student in classes already at capacity, not due to outstanding ability or even social standing, but because this is some form of commuted sentence. I will show you the History faculty on our way up and you can pursue that line of thought with the History of Dragonology lecturer if he has the time. Now, onto the classrooms.”
We were then taken on a whirlwind tour, whisked past classrooms full of students either scribbling down notes, conducting what looked like a cross between magic and science experiments. We were shown the faculty rooms, but The History lecturer wasn’t there so Miazydar missed his opportunity to discuss his concerns. When we came back to the ground floor, students filed in, picking up armour and weapons, obviously about to learn the art of fighting. I hung back as we walked past the fighting classes, relieved to see the style was in some ways similar to the one I’d learned in Battle Club. The tour ended where we had started, though Bhechro steered us towards a desk against the right-hand wall where a woman sat typing rapidly into a computer.
“Ah, Kelern, this is the new student I spoke to you about.” Her cat-like eyes took me in before she bent down and tore a scroll from what looked like a printer.
“Elementary History, Elementary Geography, Elementary Battle Skills...” she said, her finger moving down the list of inscrutable symbols.
“Hang on, I don’t read Aravisian. I’m going to need to write this down,” I said. Kelern looked at the VC, then me and then sat there, staring implacably as I opened up a note on my phone. “So Elementary History... Where is that and at what time?”
“You need to take this and this up to the Celestial Record on Floor Three,” the woman said, shoving the paper at me. “They can provide you with a translation of this into whatever backward language you’re used to. You’ll also need this,” she added another sheet to the pile. “These are the required texts. You are going to have to submit your assignments into Standard Modern Aravisian though. Lecturers do not accept work in other languages or dialects. The Record staff will do the best they can with the translation. Good luck with that.”
Oh shit, I thought. I’d been feeling relatively confident before now, having sailed through university without too much effort, but from what she was telling me, I was going to have to submit papers using the equivalent of Babelfish.
“I’ll leave you now in Kelern’s capable hands,” Bhechro said and turned on his heel to go.
Apparently, Kelern wasn’t looking after us for long. “I’ll call Scalla down in a minute, she’ll take you to the Record and then to your accommodation,” she said with a dismissive glance. “You’re out in one of the cottages near the eyries. It's cold and shit out there, but you can’t expect much, waltzing in here this late in the term. All the meals for students are provided in the dining hall on the right, down the corridor. You’ll hear the bell.”
“And for my friends?”
“Porters?” She wrinkled her nose. “Tends to only be the rich that brings them. You have to pay for their upkeep, gets put on your fees, payable on graduation or no degree for you. I guess you could send them down to the village to get supplies if you wanted to, but it’s a fair walk. Ask one of the dragon riders in your class. It’s not something we merits have to deal with all that often. Anyway, here she is.”
“Well, she was a bitch,” Jez hissed.
“Yes, but shh. It’s just my luck she’ll be grading my papers.”
“Nah, looks like a glorified door bitch to me,” she said, looking over her shoulder where Kelern seemed to be working very intently at her computer.
“Outside accommodation is what we want. Probably nothing more than a shitty old shack but a lot better than sleeping in general pop,” Flea said, eyes scanning the different floors. “All these people, wanting your dragon. Somewhere away from the masses is a good thing.”
“I agree,” Miazydar said. “These eyries are definitely a modern invention, but they do provide a defensible position and an easy spot to swoop down and obliterate enemies. We aren’t safe inside here.”
“Defendable? Against what? The bloody spike throwing, acid breathing, venom spewing dragon riders? If it comes to that we are fucked!” I whispered back.
“Ah, hi?” We all straightened. Scalla was tall, everyone seemed to be bloody tall here, and had long blonde hair pulled into two ponytails. She waved at us, smiling hesitantly. “I’m supposed to take you to the third floor?”
“Ah yes,” Miazydar said, striding forward, “lead on, please.” Scalla’s eyes bugged, and her mouth dropped open. She squeezed out some really weird sounds I’d never heard a human make them, only cats hurking up hairballs. “All will be well, Scalla. Just take us up to the third floor.”
She recovered quickly, her eyes going all shiny and big like an anime character. “Ohmigod! You are just gorgeous! Can I…” She put out her arms and wriggled her fingers, indicating what she wanted.
“Ah, Scalla, just to the third floor, please,” Miazydar said, edging away.
“Miazydar’s got a girlfriend,” Jez said in a sing-song voice.
“Is your name Miazydar? Can I call you Mizzy?”
“No!”
“But you’re just so cute!”
Kelern looked up from what she was doing with a frown. “Scalla, stop bloody fangirling and get the doomed…I mean student and her flunkies up to the third floor, then escort them to cottage 5.” And with that, she tossed the girl a big key on a keyring.
The Celestial Record was a lot like the one in the Prince’s manor. A blue-skinned humanoid I couldn’t help but think of as female took our requests and produced the written translations in English for me. I looked at it, worried when I saw she had translated what Kelern had called Elementary History into Primary History. Translating was a difficult business, subtleties were often lost and I was worried what kind of gibberish my assignments were going to be turned into in this bilingual process.
We trailed after Scalla, leaving the building to walk out into the grounds proper. The left-hand side seemed to be all about dragons. I glanced up to see several sleeping on the tops of their stone eyries. They were of a similar size to Miazydar, though their scales ranged from dull browns to iridescent greens. The cottages had been built beneath the dragon perches.