Jim blinked himself awake in the swaying cabin of the ship, having received a vision of his death once again.

  “Arrival in two hours, everything all right in there?” Banging on the door.

  “It’s all fine,” Jim shouted back distractedly as he ran a hand down his face.

  “The headmaster,” he muttered once the professor had left. “What is he planning?” A hand went under his cloak to confirm that his coin purse was gone.

  The image of his disembodied feet and the other heads flying in the air suddenly flashed through his mind in vivid detail. As if what he’d seen wasn’t just a memory of a vision, but something that had happened barely a few seconds ago.

  The room suddenly spun in a nauseating series of spirals, closing in further and further towards insanity. Not opening the window so as not to risk suffocation from an insect going into his mouth, he fell onto all fours and puked on the ground.

  He stayed in that position long after he’d finished retching. The rhythmic swaying of the ship redistributed the contents of his stomach in an ever-expanding and flatter circle towards the palms of his hands. It was just before the pancake batter of stomach fluids reached his limbs that he found the power to stand up and stagger out of the cabin.

  He drew a funny look from the Ezengerdian skulking around and dodged the brown-cowled figure seemingly set on crashing into him every time he went on deck. He leaned on the railing, letting the firmness of the approaching city island stabilise him.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Professor Mirtol asked from next to him.

  Jim looked at the swirling runes of fires branching out endlessly over the towering peaks of towers and palaces. “It reeks,” he said, thinking of the headmaster. “Corruption, murder, filth.”

  “Nothing is perfect, but our lives can be spent making it better,” the professor retaliated with a toxic amount of positivity.

  “Say,” Jim suddenly said. “You are the combat professor, no?”

  The older man smirked, tugging at his silver beard. “Yes indeed, and I imagine since I do not know your face, that I will have the pleasure of instructing you this coming term.”

  “Not really,” Jim said with a frown, thinking of the man’s assasination. He quickly corrected himself. “My magic missile and shield are good enough to test out,” he boasted, receiving a quirked eyebrow.

  “There’s more to combat magic than just attacking and defending, despite what some would think,” he chastised. “I don’t know where you heard this, but two spells will not be enough to leave the class, despite what some may wish, but regardless, you had a question?”

  Jim almost felt bad that the guy would die soon. But, well, the first time he’d lost his coin pouch, he’d been very rude, so he didn’t feel like thinking about it. “I saw a combat spell recently. Supernova. It compressed mana and then released it in an annihilating wave. How difficult would it be to learn it?”

  Professor Mirtol’s eyebrows travelled all the way up to his hairline, and he turned away from the city to give Jim his full attention. “You saw it?” he asked. “Then you must have had an exciting summer; there are barely 100 people alive in Rotto who are good enough at shaping to use that spell. It’s the epitome of simplistic destruction just like teleportation is the epitome of movement, discounting gates. As for learning it,” he twitched his fingers, before laughing. “Well, I can use a rudimentary version, but even I struggle with applying it fast enough in combat. Technically, it functions on the theory that by compressing mana and releasing it, you get more output than you put in because the explosion is the result of a natural phenomenon alongside your intent. Like for teleportation, you would need to be at least a fifth circle mage to attempt it, and probably more to master it.”

  “I see,” Jim muttered, thinking about how talented Alice must have been to survive the headmaster’s attack. Where had the capital been hiding such a woman? “I guess it's not for me then,” he decided. He’d already struggled and toiled to become a second circle mage, a high achievement in itself. Continuing the suffering to the fifth circle just because of a cool spell…

  “Don’t discount yourself just yet,” Professor Mirtol said cheerily. “If you can do magic missile and the basic shield already, you’re probably well on your way to graduating as a third circle mage. Second to third is difficult, but nothing a successful second year can’t achieve.” He looked back towards the city. “I have to go now, we’re docking soon, I’m looking forward to seeing you in class!" he finished, before turning around and walking off.

  “Third circle,” Jim snorted wearily. So even if he wanted to become strong enough to protect himself from crazies like the headmaster, he’d need several years to get there. The man was an archmage. A classification beyond circles. “Ridiculous,” he complained.

  “Jimmy boy!” an enthusiastic voice suddenly said from behind him, causing him to turn around and blink confusedly at Lebowski who’d somehow managed to sneak up on him despite his girth.

  It took one second for Jim to compute that, because he hadn’t yet shown off his awesomeness in the exam, his friend wasn’t jealous yet.

  “Are you alright?” Lebowski then asked during the extended period of silence before sniffing the air. “Are you sick? You didn’t come to the party yesterday, so why do you smell like puke?”

  “You know I need my beauty sleep. Your parties last way too long, and you invite Mitelosians,” Jim snapped back harshly, before sighing and dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, I feel a bit under the weather.”

  The blonde frowned. “Well, it's your loss, as always. I was so close to getting that minx, what’s her name, Katniss, I think, into my bed yesterday. I know she’s hiding something under that brown cloak, and the longer she runs, the more fun it will be to uncover it,” he laughed.

  The attempted womanising, Lebowski had never been very successful at it, turned Jim off the conversation.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Lebowski spent much of his time at the academy chasing women he would be better off buying.

  It was one of the things about the friendship that Jim liked to ignore.

  He now knew that if he ever surpassed Lebowski too obviously, the boy would get jealous and refuse to talk to him. This was a bit pathetic, as Jim had always been infinitely superior to Lebowski, and the boy should have realised it earlier. Why get mad only after it was shown to more people?

  In the end, being massively talented was more of a strain than a blessing for social relations. Jim sighed. He’d always known this, his inferiors turning away from him with sneers and frowns due to their inability to compete in any metric. Wealth, looks, reputation, talent.

  “Someone stole my coin pouch tonight,” Jim suddenly mentioned, remembering what he could use to get out of the conversation with Lebowski. The boy would simply get jealous again at the start of the year's exams. There was no point in continuing to interact with him. A better friend would come along soon enough. Jim was too charismatic to resist.

  “Oh shoot!” Lebowski exclaimed. “Do you need me to lend you a bit for the carriage?” he asked, already pulling out some coins.

  Jim paused. The first time he’d rejected the offer, preferring to simply walk. But, well, the detective he’d gone to last time had said that the faster the scrying ritual was completed, the better.

  “Yes, actually, it would be nice,” Jim said, taking a few silvers from Lebowski. “It would be good to get to the bank sooner rather than later, thank you,” he said, at which point the ship docked at the port, and the students disembarked.

  Lebowski started stumbling towards the dormitory while Jim stood around indecisively for a few seconds in front of the row of horses and grumpy older men playing with the whips in their hands.

  If he walked, he would increase his chances of meeting Alice again; he needed to warn her about the headmaster’s evil plans. She didn’t deserve to die from whatever political machinations the man was spinning inside that demented wrinkly head of his.

  But if he walked hoping to catch her outside, it would delay him from getting to the detective in time. The criminal who’d stolen his coin purse needed to be brought to justice.

  Jim scratched at his chin before eventually getting into the carriage.

  “Part of the road’s blocked because of the protests,” the carriage driver wearily informed him. “Take a few more minutes to get to the bank.”

  “We’ll get there when we get there,” Jim replied. “Preferably as fast as you can make it, the matter’s rather urgent. I know it's unfeasible to crash through the crowd,” he consoled the apologetic coach. “The horses would get spooked, and the amount of body parts under the wheels might throw the carriage.”

  The driver gave an awkward chuckle, and Jim heard the crack of a whip – a good, meaty sound that he liked quite a lot.

  “Maybe I should get a whip…” Jim muttered to himself as he leaned against the carriage window and watched the surroundings pass him.

  He’d prioritise the coin purse now, and if he couldn’t find Alice in the city, he could simply show up at the hidden meeting and rush to her to explain the risk she was undertaking by giving people a voice to speak against the royal family and the status quo.

  He was good enough with words to convince her quickly.

  -/-

  “Curious,” the detective said as he stared down at the small ritual circle with the crushed eye in the middle. His own eyes were glassy and focused on nothing in particular.

  “What do you see?” Jim asked fervently. Finally, some progress! He’d rushed to get here as quickly as possible; in fact, he’d been knocking on the man’s door only an hour after the ship had docked.

  “I see that the person who has the firmest connection to the note you brought me is currently residing in the dormitories of the academy,” Harry started, before pausing. “They just disappeared,” he said with a frown.

  Jim froze. “Did they do the ritual just as we were in the middle of ours?” he asked.

  “Scrying is easier once you know where approximately the person you’re looking for is. It takes a few rituals to narrow it down fully,” the detective said with a frown. “I was just able to verify that they’re likely a student, considering that they’re in the vicinity of the dorms, but I’m afraid the matter has become more complex with them wiping the associations,” he said apologetically.

  “That doesn’t help me,” Jim muttered. “I already knew it was a student. It was a ship that brought students from Riche to Sredina for god’s sake.”

  “It could have been the servants,” Harry corrected, “they’re unlikely to have gone to the dormitories after, or know of or be able to cast the cleansing ritual, for that matter.”

  “What servants?” Jim asked, confused.

  “The ones on the ship?” Harry prompted back, just as confused.

  “The ship has servants?”

  Harry stared at him, nervously putting his hands in the pockets of his large coat. “Sailors, servants, you name it. It’s impossible that it doesn’t, in fact. How do you think the ship is steered and kept in good enough condition to… ferry people over water and provide services for the passengers?” he asked somewhat sarcastically.

  “Weird,” Jim muttered. “I thought it just did that.” He then shook his head. “But the servants don’t matter.”

  Harry pulled a face.

  “How do I find out which one of the students is the thief?” Jim asked.

  “That’s a bit of a difficult question. We managed to narrow down the fact that it was a student living, presumably, in the dorms. They’d likely need a private room for the ritual as well. This is significant enough since I don’t think all of them do. In addition, it was a student who was on the ship. This narrows it down to what, 50-100 suspects?” The detective shook his head. “Not a lot of people, but still a significant amount. I can continue investigating if you want, but considering that what was stolen was money, rather than anything sentimental, it's questionable if that would be worth it.” He phrased that last bit like a question, but it wasn’t really a question.

  Jim just stared at the man blankly for a few seconds.

  Harry dragged a hand down his face. “Do you want to continue the investigation at the risk of it costing more and leading to nothing?” he asked.

  Jim thought for a second, then shook his head.

  In a way, he’d come to the private detective two times now, and both times the prices for initial scrying had failed and been exorbitant. Not worth it, basically.

  But… at least he’d gotten a timeline on when the thief used the cleansing ritual. One hour after docking, seemingly their priority.

  “It’s alright. I really should concern myself more with other, very important things. I’ll have you know,” Jim eventually decided while looking up at the ceiling, thus missing the detective rolling his eyes.

  The next time Jim died, he could simply try to come here faster…

  He paused. Since when did dying become something he expected to happen? Sweat started building at the back of his neck, and he absent-mindedly paid the useless detective and left the loft to lean on the stair railing overlooking the hustle and bustle of the fabric factory.

  “I will not die,” Jim said to himself.

  He would warn Alice to stay out of trouble, flee the capital when his first year was up to avoid the draft, and then live out the rest of his life in peace and comfort.

  And if this happened to be a vision again, he would try to get to the detective faster.

  “Or maybe,” the student muttered to himself as he distractedly walked off, starting to take the most suspicious alleys he could see to increase the likelihood of getting mugged and potentially meeting Alice so he could deliver his warning.

  “Or mayyybbeeee,” Jim drew the word out as he walked. “I should… Take the divination elective and use the spell before the thief can cleanse their associations?” he wondered.

  “Elective.”

  “Electtivvveeeee.”

  “Elective!”

  He rolled the word around in his mouth in a variety of ways before eventually shaking his head as he arrived at the dormitories, den of thieves that it apparently was.

  No luck with the muggers, no luck with Alice.

  “Taking an elective,” Jim said again as he walked up the stairs to his room. “Just in case, of course.” He opened the door to his room and threw himself into the bed. It had been an exhausting few hours.

  “It can’t be that hard if that idiot charges money for it,” he eventually decided.

  AN: Another unexpected update since we made it into Rising Stars top 10, thanks for your support!

  Make sure to follow/rate the story, as this is the main metric currently pushing it up the list.

  I'll update faster for more milestones on Rising stars. Maybe top 5, top 3. 1 if we manage (I doubt, this story is more off-meta, but it is my darling)

  Next scheduled chapter is friday, let's see if we get lucky before that.