FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

-5-

Ethelred couldn't pretend he wasn't nervous, so he didn't. He walked timidly up to the front receptionist and smiled shyly, and asked how to apply for the university. The secretary at the front desk looked up and he asked, "Because, sir, we are in a state of war, you should be aware that we are only accepting admissions for schools related to the war effort. Will you be applying to--"

Here, Ethelred cut the man off, "I'd like to apply to the clerical school, specializing in chemical to electrical energy conversion. Is that one of the acceptable programs?" The secretary nodded, "It certainly is, and what will your energy source be? We need this to know what to stock and provide you with." Ethelred smiled sheepishly, "Adipose tissue." The secretary laughed; it was not a cruel, mocking laughter, but a warm friendly laughter that invited Ethelred to join in, "Well, you have no worry about material shortages. Those of us chemmies who use other substances might be s.o.l. with the war and all."

Ethelred smiled wanly at the thinly veiled fear in the sarcastic humor, "Well that sucks." The secretary nodded, "But anyway, this is good. Do you have a literacy test and a letter of recommendation?" Ethelred frowned, "No, I was told protocol was to come here first for validation that I was to be enrolled in a course deemed necessary for the war effort. Is there an application?" The secretary nodded and handed Ethelred a sheaf of vellum pages to be filled out. "Would you happen to have a pen?" Ethelred asked, and the Secretary handed him one of the pens that was lying nearby and an inkwell. Ethelred filled out the forms required, and the secretary stamped it in accordance with protocol. Ethelred smiled and headed back to the cultural ministry to get take his literacy test.

The literacy test was a printed test consisting of a medley of timed passages about which Ethelred had to answer questions--seemingly elementary questions, but que stions that required thought and attention to detail, which Ethelred found pressed him for time. Then came the numeracy exam. The questions asked of Ethelred were more like puzzles that Ethelred, things like: "Suppose a door has 15 panels. How many distinct ways can you paint the panels, assuming that the order in which the panels are painted does not matter, no panel can be painted more than once in a sequence, and the panels are reusable once a sequence has been applied?" There were six such questions that Ethelred attempted to brute force. Some of the questions he had seen before--or at very least, similar types of questions--but others he had no idea how to answer. In particular, the last question: "A general wants to send you a message, so he sends you a pair of numbers, 323 and 5. He tells you to raise your message _m_to the fifth power and take the number mod 323. You need to send him the message 7. Explain how the general would decrypt your ciphertext."

The question about the panels, Ethelred, either by luck or by his own cleverness, got the correct answer, 15! (though he wrote it out the long way), but the encryption question stumped Ethelred. He knew that he wasn't going to get the answer he needed, so he turned in the test early, showing some attempt at the problem, but not getting any answer.

The secretary at the culture ministry thanked him and asked him to wait for a bit while his exam was graded. Ethelred sat nervously by, waiting for his exam score to be processed. After what seemed to be a few hours of interminable waiting, Ethelred began to grow cross and hungry. He knew the scorers were moving as quickly as they reasonably could, but the slowness of their work was grating. Suddenly, a street vendor walked into the ministry room and asked if anyone wanted a potato soup bowl. Ethelred, before he could think twice, heard his stomach growl angrily. He stood and approached the vendor, handed him what the man asked, a silver coin, and sat down to eat the bowl. The warm, refreshing potato soup and the complimentary tea that the ministry provided gave Ethelred renewed patience and confidence. They also made him sleepy.

Before long, Ethelred sat breathing deeply, sprawled out on a chair. How long he slept he didn't know, but he awoke to the secretary shaking him gently awake. Ethelred snapped to and smiled sheepishly, "I'm sorry, lunch does that to me," he muttered. The secretary smiled and handed him another sheaf of papers with his exam and its results in it. Ethelred opened the envelope in which the test was held. The scoring sheet for his literacy test rested atop the test. On the literacy part of the test, Ethelred scored at about the 77thpercentile, but on the numeracy exam, Ethelred only scored at the 65thpercentile. It wasn't ideal, but Ethelred couldn't help but sigh contentedly. At this point, it was early afternoon, between two and two-and-a-half hours after noon.

Ethelred smiled, thanked the secretary for her time, and marched quickly back to the university. A different secretary now sat behind the counter, reading a book quietly when Ethelred approached, "Um, hi, I'm here to enroll in the clericy school--studying chemical to electrical transmutation. I have my stuff here."

The secretary smiled, taking the now thick sheaf of papers from Ethelred, "Ok, Ethelred, these will be considered immediately for review. If you'd have a seat, we'll get back to you shortly." The secretary then left to bring Ethelred's papers to a back room where they were ostensibly being reviewed. Ethelred smiled at the secretary and floated a slow question to her, "So what are you studying, ma'am? Or are you a student here?" The woman smiled, but it was a saccharine smile, the kind that Ethelred knew to be disingenuous, "I'm studying mental linking and mental configuration--cognitive function and mind-linking."

Ethelred smiled, "I have a friend who did something similar to that. Do you know Mr. Laimonuit, the elf? A dwarf he was travelling with hired me to guide them here by backwoods ways that only we know about." The secretary's eyes widened, "You got hired to guide Professor Giranscia? I don't believe it. He's one of the most sought-after professors of the university! He's on the veneer of our field! That's incredible!" She seemed to Ethelred both jealous of and excited for him at the same time, "I've had only one interaction with the man, and that was perfunctory and short. Where are you from?"

That question reminded Ethelred of the fate of his family. It nearly brought him to tears, and held him silent for a noticeable few moments. The woman immediately regretted her question, but the question had been posed. "They're to the north, aren't they?" she whispered, "the northwest?" She stood then and walked over to Ethelred for an embrace. Her touch was light, gentle, almost ghostlike--clearly she wasn't comfortable doing this--but Ethelred needed a hug, and he hugged her. Ethelred tried to hold back his tears, but he frequently needed his sleeve to hide them. But he dried his eyes and composed himself. He sat down and breathed softly, "And what, ma'am, was your name?"

"Hrethmin," the secretary responded. Ethelred stood, and shook Hrethmin's hand, "it's been a pleasure to meet you, Hrethmin." Ethelred smiled, cautiously sitting back down. "And where are you from?" Hrethmin smiled, happy to change the subject to be more cheery. "I'm from here, Brarhapa," she chirped. Ethelred smiled, "And what's it like here? Day-to-day, I mean, not now." Ethelred smiled, "Well, you know, it's exciting. There's plenty of stuff to do! You should look around sometime! I know exactly where to go." Ethelred smiled at her, "Know any good places to eat?"

Hrethmin laughed, "Pft, yeah! But that's hardly the most interesting stuff to do! There's art and music, markets, festivals, really fun stuff!" Ethelred nodded, a bit overwhelmed by what she was saying and how quickly she spoke. Eventually he managed to reply, "That all sounds nice. And expensive. And I don't have a whole lot of money." The secretary laughed, "Goodness, are you done? You speak so slowly!" Ethelred blushed, a bit ashamed now of his accent, "I'm sorry. I'm not very smart." Hrethmin now hunched her shoulders and laughed harder, "Dude, it's fine! I'm not trying to make fun of you! I know that I speak fast and loose. This is just different for me, you know?" Ethelred nodded slowly.

Suddenly, another man came through the door with Ethelred's sheaf of papers with another sheet with the university seal stamped on the bottom right hand corner. He was a large houyhnhnm--tall and wide, with broad shoulders and waist--sand-colored but for a dark brown mane and socks on all four limbs. He was about three or four inches taller than Ethelred, and a good six to eight wider. He came wearing mithril scale and carrying a book that could only be an elven tome of magic from the apparent age and size.

"Mr. Ethelred Brownmane," the great houyhnhnm called. Ethelred stood and called back, "I am Ethelred, sir, Ethelred Brownmane." The tall man nodded, and in a lowered voice continued, in a normal voice, of average timbre and resonance for a being of his size, deep compared to Ethelred's, but not basso-profundo or earth-shatteringly loud or resonant. "Yes, I am Professor Brunhelm, and I will be your mentor in the arts of chemical to electrical transmutation. We start tomorrow bright and early, so no drinking or staying up too late for you. We rise an hour before dawn; think you're up to that?" Ethelred smiled and nodded, "Sir, I'm a baker's boy; I have spent many hours awake between midnight and dawn preparing things for others to eat."

Brunhelm nodded, "And for yourself, by the looks of things." Ethelred went crimson before Brunhelm whispered, "My dear boy, I only make fun of you because I see myself in you. It would do you well to remember that. When I chastise you, berate you, demean you, it's not meant to be nasty or mean-spirited, it's because I also know what you've suffered! That has to be the first lesson: learn to laugh at yourself!" And here he paused and poked his belly exaggeratedly, "I was a miller's son! I'm as fat a bastard as they come! Come on, let's get something to eat, shall we? The mess hall's not too terrible--except about green beans for some reason--they can't seem to cook a green bean!"

The meal Ethelred and Brunhelm enjoyed was a fine meal, and though Ethelred wasn't yet covered by the university, Brunhelm used his meal ticket to cover the cost of the meal. The food was remarkable--the breads and jams such as Ethelred had never seen conglomerated in one place, the open cooking fires and bazaar feel to it were refreshing and invigorating. Even though it wasn't quite home-cooking, Ethelred found that it was quite acceptable to him. Suddenly, Ethelred heard the coming footsteps of a creature larger than himself coming his way.

He turned to move out of the way of a dragoness--or so Ethelred felt. He could see no definite signs of femininity, but there seemed an aroma about the dragon that made Ethelred assume it was a dragoness. "That, my boy," whispered Brunhelm to Ethelred, "Is the dragoness Iliagan, considered by many to be the wisest of her kin. And dragons are not fools--not all of them, at least, not yet." Ethelred frowned, "And what does Iliagan study here?" Brunhelm frowned, "She's a researcher of the arts of her kind, and a mentor to Thranazar, the young drake that lives here in the city. Perhaps you could see him out and about if you so wish, but I advise you this: do not, for any reason, ask about any other dragon in either's presence. It is extremely intimate knowledge at the best of times for dragons and will likely result in your being smacked through a wall at the worst."

Ethelred nodded, saddened by the fact that this knowledge would be kept from him longer. They ate, watching Iliagan meander through the market, trying carefully not to hurt or break anything or anyone. "Will she not march off with the rest of the king's army?" Ethelred asked in earnest, but quietly to Brunhelm, who in response glared back at him angrily, "No, she is not a servant of the king as you or I are servants of the king. She will help defend the city if push should come to shove, but she will not march with the king to battle."

Ethelred then watched Iliagan. She was about 15 feet long and about 6 feet wide, with green scales--bright as a fern's in march--and legs that made right angles to the ground. Her wings were folded on her back, but could be deployed at a moment's notice. Not that Iliagan flew terribly often--it was dangerous to fly because the soft membranes were about as thick and sturdy as a sail, and her legs were frequently ample to catch what she desired. Ethelred smiled. This was a secret weapon to be used in desperation.

But it was also a weapon that required great stealth and secrecy in order to be useful. Iliagan and Thranazar would have to be used to torch camps and make supply lines thin rather than as front line units. Ethelred broached his idea nonchalantly to Brunhelm, who scoffed. "You would torch those good supplies? Or would you carry them back to Brarhapa? Both outcomes seem unlikely." Ethelred considered for a moment. "Well, we could torch weapons and bring food and other niceties here." Brunhelm smiled. "That might work at first, but they'd start caravanning their supplies. That would be rather difficult to deal with." Ethelred smiled, "And when that happens, we'll find other uses. Surely there are other clerks who have Master Laimonuit's skill in sense-deception?"

Brunhelm frowned, "Sure, but would the army be willing to spare one good enough to hide two dragons? I shouldn't think so." That was a worthwhile objection, but Ethelred kept the idea on the backburner.

After returning to the tavern at which he had stayed the previous night, Ethelred sat down at the bar and called over Hirmyun, from whom he ordered a pint and a meal. He was hungry again, and figured that he should eat heartily before a long day of magic. He then asked Hirmyun if it were possible to have breakfast readied for two hours before dawn. He was willing to pay extra, but his request was important, he noted. Hirmyun nodded, took the money for the night, and said that the breakfast could be arranged. Having eaten a second dinner, Ethelred thanked Hirmyun and went straight to bed.

He was awoken hours later by the knocking of a gentle hand on his door and a quiet whisper, "Mister Ethelred, your breakfast awaits you." Ethelred went to the door opened it a crack, found Hirmyun's wife Mrebreth at the door with a hot plate of food. Ethelred immediately took it from her, thanked her, and handed the woman whatever change he could scrounge. He then dressed and ate silently, and set out, an hour and a half before dawn.

When he got to the university, about ten minutes before he was supposed to be where he was, Ethelred realized that Brunhelm had not told him where to meet. Ethelred began to walk quickly and nervously around campus looking desperately like a lost child for his mother at a carnival. After a bit of sightseeing, he noticed a cooking fire that appeared recently lit in the distance--the only one like it that he had yet seen. Ethelred was curious--the normal market didn't open until an hour after dawn--what was going on? As he approached, the smell of simmering oats became recognizable, and Ethelred saw a dark figure sitting beside a small pot tending the creamy oatmeal, and adding generous handfuls of brown sugar and cinnamon.

Brunhelm looked up impatiently at Ethelred, "Late on your first day--you know that isn't flattering for you, right?" Ethelred stood, mouth agape and spluttering, "Well, sir, you didn't exactly tell me where you'd be!" Brunhelm looked impatiently at Ethelred, "You're right; I didn't. But I did invite you to join me for breakfast, didn't I? Where else would I have cooked breakfast?" "At your house?"

"Yes, I want to show you where I live! That's brilliant! Brilliant! NO!" Ethelred could tell that Brunhelm would have been shouting if it weren't still a half-hour before dawn. "My boy, I'm not angry, just excited. I shout when I get excited. It's when I go quiet that you should be nervous. It's when I won't talk to you that you know you've done something wrong. I'm sorry for stage-whispering; I didn't mean to offend you, but really you shouldn't take it so personally, I don't mean it like that."

"Have a seat. I can assure you that you won't muddy your pants. Let's eat; you'll need it." And Ethelred did eat, to the point that he nearly felt like his stomach was pressing against his lungs. Brunhelm stifled a belch before he stood slowly, first getting on to one knee and then standing up tall. "This," he proclaimed, gesturing to the quarter of a pot's leftovers, "will be for later should you need it. And if I'm right, you will. Shall we begin?