Chapter 1

''Those of you who've already had your affinities tested and know your class, please step over here." The administrator's voice was bored, mixed with a hint of annoyance. "The rest of you who still need to be tested, line up over here."

I went into the line for those who already knew their affinity and class.

Heck, I even had a small amount of levels. Not much, but it was hard being a necromancer in Inneshys. I was worried what folks here would think when they found out. Necromancers used to be a kill on sight class, a hated one. I wasn't the first or only one the duchy let live, but I knew they were watching me. I pulled up my character sheet as I waited for everyone to line up.

Morgan Lovecraft Level 3 - Necromancer Strength - 10 Dexterity - 8 Constitution - 10 Intelligence - 12 Wisdom - 14 Charisma – 13 Unarmed Combat – 2 Identify – 2 Mana Control – 1 0 Unassigned Stat Point(s) 0 Unassigned Skill Point(s) 0 Unassigned Class Skill Point(s) Equipment Without Stats:

Bag of Holding (Medium) Spells:

Level 1 Spells -Cause Wounds - Touch - Causes necrotic damage Death Bolt - Ranged - Orb of necrotic damage Mark of Death - Ranged - Marks a target and prevents stamina and health regeneration for a short period of time.

Level 2 Spells -None Learned Level 3 Spells -Animate Undead - Animate a body to do your bidding for up to 24 hours mana dependent.

Undead Summoning - Summon an undead spirit. Most common are Specters, Ghostly Skeletons, etc.

Life Steal - Damage caused with this spell active is returned to the caster as healing energy.

Life Siphon - Same as Life Steal, but can be used on group members.

Only half as effective.

Death Speak - Perform the ritual, and the spirit will speak with you for up to two minutes.

I had forgone my level two spells entirely. I had a ton I wanted to learn when I hit level 9, but I must admit, I had learned a bunch of level three spells when a wandering necromancer had sought me out. I owed that man, Owen Cantrell. Somehow, he had heard about me at the orphanage, and just showed up one day, requesting to speak with me. A reluctant Corlina, the headmistress, and Mrs. Amara Kinson, had both sat in with me.

Owen had been able to feel the mana of another necromancer, me, and knowing how rare it was, he'd visited the orphanage to give me a set of spell books he'd outgrown. He'd also given me a medium bag of holding that actually was a messenger satchel with a leg tie down. It held so much, I'd never bothered unpacking again. His only request? Someday he'd find me and request repayment. If it was within my ability, I would do it without argument.

That was some heavy stuff, and I'd been sixteen at the time, an adult by this world's standards. Not by Earth's though, which is where I was originally from.

"I can't believe how they lowered the standards this year," a young woman said to me.

She was in line like we all were, but we weren't single file. I turned to check her out for a moment. Tall, pale skin, freckles. Wild red hair that curled, despite being nearly waist length. Nice figure. Too bad she had the attitude of a cave troll who'd been eating rotten fairy dust.

"They did?" I asked, in as mild of a tone as I could manage.

"Sure. This is the first year they're bringing in those orphans and criminals. I can practically see the fleas and lice jumping off them. Look," she said, pointing.

I turned and saw two guys, who had to be twins, standing together in the line waiting to be tested. They wore rough clothing that was gray more than anything else, worn boots caked with mud, and faded knit caps. They both sported leather vests, though.

"The twins?" I asked her.

"For starters. I can't believe I'm going here, with degenerates and...

and... such low-class commoners. If my father hadn't insisted, I'd still be training with our private tutors and the guilds."

"Wow." I chuckled.

"I know, right?" she said, missing the sarcasm. "I mean, if I'd known it was this bad... maybe he'll change his mind after I let him know what an absolute shitshow today is. Plus, these people smell horrible."

Many in line with us had turned to listen to her acerbic words, their jaws dropping. I took the chance she wasn't paying attention and used identify on her.

Missy Blackman – 18 years old Level 5 - Wind Mage "You're two years past marrying age. I wonder why you're still single?"

I asked her.

"Oh, that's because whenever Daddy tries to set me up with somebody they always... hey, what are you saying?" she asked, realizing I was in no way showing interest. In fact... "Do you know who my family is?"

Her feet stomped, and I just rolled my eyes and turned forward, putting her out of my direct line of sight.

"Don't know, don't care. In case you were wondering... I'm one of those degenerate low-class commoner orphan kids, who probably smells bad.

Sorry for your luck standing next to me."

Somebody in front of me snorted, and the girls behind us started snickering.

"Are you making fun of me?"

"Yup," I told her. "We have three years of academy together. Let's just...

agree that you're a spoiled, entitled nitwit, and I'm a low-class, uncouth degenerate, and not speak anymore. That sound ok to you?"

I could see out of my peripheral vision that her face had turned scarlet as she realized she was surrounded by people who had all gone to the orphanage. I ignored her as people muttered agreement with me, or commented on how merchant families had lost their ability to one up everybody. Now money couldn't buy education, guilds, and apprenticeships, especially without talent. I could hear Missy grinding her teeth.

"Ok, you lot, come on up. The four of ya," a tired scribe said as the line moved forward.

The two in front of us started, so I followed.

"Name, affinity, and class?" he asked them.

The first two went. One was an earth mage, the other was a storm mage.

That storm mage was somebody to watch for; I'd heard that they had big AoE spells that were great at warfare if they got involved in the country's military.

"And you, Miss?"

"Miss? My name is Missy Blackman, daughter of Seamus." She paused like she was expecting gasps or clapping or something. When the man sighed, she started talking again. "Elemental affinity. Fire Mage. Level 5."

"Oh good, extra information I don't need," the man said. "Go inside and find the dining room. You'll be sorted into your houses there."

I wondered if this school knew there were copyright laws in the other world. Weird to think that at a time like this, but when the man looked my way, I was ready.

"Morgan Lovecraft. Death Affinity, Necromancer," I told him.

"Sure you don't want to tell me your level, too?" he asked, just loud enough for a departing Missy to hear it.

She spun to glare at the man, but he was looking my way, snickering.

"I mean, if you want me to, I can."

"Sure, I just asked that to get her knickers tied in knots," he said, then chuckled.

"I mean, level 3..." I winced.

"You're only the second necromancer we've seen in twenty or more years. Welcome to Inneshys's Mages' Academy. Go right through the double doors in front of us to the dining hall where we'll sort you into houses."

Why was he talking to me more? Just to get her goat? I didn't mind if he did, but this extra bit of information was helpful.

"Can I ask a quick question?" I asked him.

"Sure, kid," he said.

"How do they divide us up?" I asked.

I'd asked everybody I could who had ever gone here, and nobody would tell me.

"You'll see. Arcane secrets."

I nodded his way and started walking in. The angry lady was already through the doors ahead of me, so I didn't have to make her breathe the same air as me. What an idiot she was. I knew who her family was. I knew it because I'd learned it from Master Blackthorn and Duke Kinson himself, on the few times he'd come into the basic hand to hand classes that were taught to all the kids at the orphanage. He'd killed Silas, Seamus's brother, and disbanded his guild. How did this girl think her family still held so much power? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

I saw four long rows of tables set up, with about thirty chairs at each table. Surprisingly enough, they weren't filling up fast. Probably because a lot of folks needed to be tested first? Looking around, I went to the second most left table in the middle, and sat down mid row. I looked and saw a small podium at the far end, underneath the painted ceiling of the dining hall.

My stomach rumbled at that thought. I'd eaten a pretty healthy breakfast this morning at the orphanage, my last day there. Now, though? My stomach was sending indications that my throat must have been cut at some point, because it was empty. Sighing, I reached into my bag of holding, and pulled out a small loaf of bread, this world's version of rye bread. It was larger than my left hand, and about as round as my fist.

I broke it in half, and started munching away while I watched the room fill in. I nodded to guys and gals I went to the orphanage with, but noticed there were many, many more faces I didn't recognize. Suddenly a large group of students came in, and the tables started filling quickly. Somebody bumped me, and I turned around and looked up to see an exasperated looking Missy, standing next to a shorter woman with a boyish haircut. The newcomer was short, like... five foot nothing. Notable were her blue eyes and black hair—not something you would see here in this world very often.

"Please tell me this isn't happening," Missy said in a snide voice.

The chairs on either side of me were open. I smirked, and pointed with both hands to my left, then to my right.

"Move over one so we can sit together at least?" Her question was more a demand.

I pretended to be deaf and turned around, looking towards the podium.

"He's not listening," the shorter lady said.

"Come on Fel, there's gotta be more seats somewhere."

"Everybody sit." The words came out loud, like the old PA systems we had in our gym.

"Move," Missy hissed.

"Naw, I like my spot. You go. Shoo. I'm not sure your entitled ass could even stand sitting at the same table as me. Wasn't it enough growing up with a silver spoon shoved up your—" "Excuse me?" Fel asked, bumping me from my right side.

"You're right. That was horrible of me. It wasn't a silver spoon, it was a stick."

"I said SIT!"

The chairs on either side of me were pulled out, and the girls sat down. I held up the half-eaten loaf towards the lady she called Fel, and she shook her head. I offered it to Missy, who made gagging noises. I popped the rest of the half I'd started on into my mouth, and stored the rest away for later.

"Good. It seems that even adults as young as you can listen, even though many of you are behaving like children."

The man who walked up to the podium was a chubby mage in red and black robes. He had a lush black beard that fell nearly to his prodigious stomach. Funny enough, he was bald on top. Shaved? Was he the headmaster, or the master of ceremonies? The dean? I listened as he gave us the basic lowdown on the school. It was basically finishing school, or college, but for those of us with magic.

Did you have to go to the academy to practice magic and gain levels?

No. But without some of the foundations, many of which I'd learned in my studies in Inneshys Keep where the orphanage is, I wouldn't likely have any levels or skills at all. I needed this, and I needed a lot more mana control than I currently had. Many of my spells only did so much without mana control. Others would stay active as long as I fed them mana, but currently I didn't have many of them. I hoped that would change.

Plus, what many folks don't realize is, that with my class, other than being the most hated class in the world... I was largely a support class who did lots of buffs, debuffs, and healing. I could even learn a true resurrection spell eventually, not something even the clerics could do. Was I salty about that hate? I don't know. Is the ocean salty?

Eventually he got to the meat of the subject matter. "Now, using our arcane methods to sort you into your classes and dorms, you will all line up on the far left here. You are going to walk up on stage one at a time. We will tell you which table to sit yourself back down at. Now, everybody up."

I sighed and got up. I made sure to get in line ahead of the ladies, since they were lagging. I didn't want to be near that Missy girl. I'd been dealing with people like her forever. It was always tiring, and I knew when news of my class and flavor of magic got out, I'd have a hard enough time. Keep your head down, Morgan. You worked hard to earn your spot here.

"Now that everybody is lined up, see these tables from the west wall to the east wall. The four rows are... 1, 2, 3, 4. You're going to walk up here one at a time and be assigned a table."

There were snickers, and people reshuffled themselves in their lines so they could game the system and be housed with their friends. The speaker just rolled his eyes and started motioning for people to come up. When it was my turn I was given number two. I'd have to move over one row. I shrugged, and headed to my assigned table. I noted the man who had been taking roll call for our line was standing in front of our table now. He gave me a nod, and I realized he must be head of the house. I nodded back, and took a seat.

It took about ten minutes to go through everyone, as folks jockeyed position in line to be placed with their friends, sometimes making a cascading effect of many groups of people having to shift and move. I could tell the speaker was ready to murder somebody, but we got through it.

Surprisingly enough, Missy and Fel ended up at the far side of the room.

For a moment I had worried that karma would kick me in the balls, again, and put them at the same table as me. I was glad not to be near Missy and, by extension, her minion.

"Now, each head of house will take you to your dorms, unless there's any official business yet to attend to?"

That was supposed to be rhetorical, right? Right?!

"I have an honor challenge," a voice I recognized shouted.

The speaker turned to her in surprise. "Yes. Miss Blackman, is it?"

"Yes. House Blackman was disparaged and insulted by a vile necromancer, just this past hour." She paused, letting the murmurs fill the room as everybody looked around.

I wanted to sink into my seat and become invisible. Was this shit really happening? It was literally within the first hour I'd been here at the Mages' Academy.

"I demand an honor duel. I, of course, will be using my house's designated champion," Missy declared.

"Who is the challenged?" the speaker asked.

I stood up, turning to face towards her as she spoke. "Morgan Lovecraft.

Necromancer." The last word was shouted as she pointed at me.

"An honor challenge cannot be ignored. Mister Lovecraft, since you're the challenged, you can decide. First blood or knockout?"

Holy crap!

"Um..." I stammered, my voice barely even able to be heard above the crowd. "Knockout," I said loudly.

"This insult to my honor requires death," Missy said after a moment.

"You don't get to decide that. However, you do get to pick remuneration for the winner, since this isn't a fight to the death," the speaker told her, to a nearly silent room now.

"The loser of the fight is indentured," Missy stated, but I almost thought it was a question she hadn't thought about asking.

Weird.

"Students, clear the tables and make room. Three of you, come move this podium."

Holy shit. Didn't I get a choice in this? The answer was no. Dammit.

My stupid mouth… I sighed.