“The Magisterium is one of the oldest and most influential organizations still around to this day. Magisters are like children, figuring out magic. Each Villa Magistrorum is led by a few Maestros, who watch over the Magisters as they learn the ways of the mystics, through detailed accounts and study. The Maestros follow the orders of Great Maestros, who oversee Small regions. Then there are the Greater Maestros, who oversee larger swaths of land. Greatest Maestros, who oversee countries, Grand Maestros have their continents, and the Lord Magister and their court watches over the Grand Maestros, though they themselves only have power in the Basilica Magistrorum, the Villa in modern day Istanbul dedicated to watching over Mysticists. The Magisterium has outlived many organizations and will outlive many others…”
I sigh quietly, hoping no one else can hear me. This is the fifth fucking presentation about the ass-backwards structure of the Magisterium. Yeah, I want to join up, no shit. It’s the best program for learning how to use my gifts to change the fucking world. But they make it sound like I’m going to be going back in time and joining a weird monastic cult during the dark ages. Like, I get that I don’t know shit, but damn they focus on how low Magisters are on the totem pole, and we aren’t even Magisters yet. We’re ‘Magister Apprentice Prospectives’. And then we’ll do some weird ritual and become Magister Apprentices, until we take some dumb test to become Magisters. Which, according to the last two hours, are basically blind puppies trying to learn everything by running at walls and shit like that. I lean over to the girl next to me. “Almost makes you wish you ran away to join some dumb Tower, don’t it?”
She looks at me and laughs. It’s a pleasant laugh. “My dad was in a tower; they don’t really know jack. You?”
“Supposed to be a coven bitch, but I ran. You know how it be.”
She nods at the statement. “Actually, I do. I’m glad someone else in this class is coming in with a bit of training. I didn’t want to be top of the class first day, paint a target square on my back.”
I laugh. She looks somewhat confused at that one, and I realize immediately she doesn’t know the rumor. “Oh crap, you’re being serious?”
“What?” she asks.
With a smirk, I whisper, “No need to worry about us getting any targets. We got a genuine Legacy with us.”
“How genuine?” she asks.
I shrug. It’s only a rumor, after all. “Supposedly, they pappy was trying to get them to go to Basilica, but they hated that idea, wanted to be a real Maestro, not a court-person.”
The girl next to me furrows her brow. “I can’t decide whether I hate them to my core for being a legacy or love them for being rebellious.”
I smile wide. “A bit of both, I think,” I say back, only half joking, “Ike, by the way.”
“Nat. Pleasure,” she replies, shaking my hand. We both check around to make sure no one noticed the conversation. No eyes are on us, mostly because it seems like everyone was having the same idea and holding conversations with their neighbors, half paying mind to the presentation at their most attentive.
From behind the two of us, a young woman leans over the rail between the rows. “I can hear both you bitches, you know?” she says to us in a threatening whisper.
I turn around and look at her. Stark features, muscular, flowing hair. Interesting. “Bitch please. Shouldn’t matter much.”
Nat turns back to face me. “Unless she’s the enigmatic ‘they’,” she adds.
“Ooo, good point,” I say to Nat, then turn back to the mysterious woman. “Are you? The enigmatic they?”
“If I was?” she asks both of us.
I look at Nat and shrug. “I’d say you’re hotter than I was picturing.”
“Says you,” Nat retorts, “You’re exactly as hot as I pictured.”
I mock offense. “Are you saying I’m bad at imagining hotness?”
Nat shrugs. “I’m just saying, all the witches got this thing in their mind that powerful people gotta be uggos.”
I laugh. “Clearly, you never seen my old coven leader.”
From behind us, the enigmatic woman sighs. “Goddamn, you two sure you just met?”
“Hey, it’s four hours into learning about how we’re basically ants-in-training, we all got some tension to work out.”
Nat adds, “And its easier to work through the stress if you pretend you’re friends.”
Once again, I mock offense. “Are you saying we aren’t actually friends?”
“Boy,” she replies, “We just met. I need to know you for at least one day, or you gotta look like a movie star for me to think of you as friends.”
I turn to the woman. “She wounds me. I mean, have you seen this face?”
“Unfortunately,” the woman retorts, and Nat holds out her hand for a high five. The woman looks down at Nat, judginess in her eyes. “I didn’t say you were any better,” she adds.
“I think I’m in love,” Nat jokes.
Shaking my head at Nat, I turn my whole upper body to face the woman. “Well, enigmatic they,” I say to her, “What’s your name? Unless you’d prefer us to call you the enigmatic they from here on out?”
“I think I would,” she says with a grin.
Nat feigns shock over at me. “The enigmatic they has a sense of humor!?”
I shrug in response. “At least, an inkling.”
“Anyways,” the enigmatic they says, though not particularly in response to their current conversation, “I’m just planning on playing dumb the first couple of weeks. There’s always someone who knows a teeny bit to let get ahead.”
“Why didn’t you have that idea?” Nat asks, slapping me across the upper arm.
“Because I didn’t think that the enigmatic they would stoop so low,” I reply, “I mean, they’re royalty, right, and if TV has taught me anything at all, it’s taught me royalty would never deign to deceive anyone, ever.”
All three of us laugh at that one. Then, I turn more seriously towards the woman behind us. “So, her ladyship, the enigmatic they,” I begin, “What if we three are the only one with experience?”
The woman smiles at us and shakes her head. “Can’t be. See that dude two rows down? The one in the hoodie who looks like they’re napping?”
Nat strains her neck to see him. I don’t even bother to look, because it’s not like it matters that much. “Yep,” Nat says for both of us.
“He’s been spiritwalking around campus this entire time. If someone’s willing to do that when everyone’s around, no chance he’s going to be shy come class time.”
I make a small fist pump. “Nice.” Then, turning to the others, I put forth a hand. “Team slackers, on three, but like a whisper. Who’s with me?”
Nat puts her hand on top of mine. “I got you,” she says with a smile.
The woman groans quietly but puts her hand on top of Nat’s. “Fine,” she half-spits.
“One, two, three,” I whisper.
Then, in an almost coordinated whisper, we all pull back our hands and say mutedly, “Team Slackers!” Which, of course, elicits another chuckle from the three of us. After laughing, we check the room again, just to make completely certain no one important noticed us. No one seems to, and so we turn our attention to the presentation once again.
It’s just wrapping up as we look over to it. The man in the weird robes smiles at everyone. “We’d like to thank you for your patience in this. The history, function, and structure of the Magisterium is by far the most certain way for students to progress in their studies both efficiently and without mistakes. Now, we will be leading everyone out in an orderly fashion to our picnic luncheon on the lawn, followed by our icebreakers. The Higher Orders shall lead you to the buffet tables. Follow directions, would you please?”
Everyone groaned and looked around. We’ve been here for four hours, so yeah, we are getting a bit on the hungry side. But we’ve also just sat through five lectures which boil down to “Follow direction or you’re in trouble,” so none of us in the crowd was really gonna ignore his directions. That would just straight up be dumb. So, slowly, we all get to our feet and look around for the H.O.s, to see how long it will be before we get to leave. The nearest H.O. to Nat and myself was behind us, three rows, on the outside. He’s also has the rows doing a weird snaking thing to get out, which is confusing enough. Already turned around, I nod to the Enigmatic They. “We’re lunching together, right?” I posit.
“Nope,” she replies, “But after my pops has me handshaking with the bigwigs here, sure.”
I nod. “Dope,” I say right back.
Nat looks at me, scrunching her eyes up real concerned. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”
“So I’ve been told,” I say with a smile, “But isn’t that what family’s for?”
Nat chuckles at that as we begin our weird snaking thing. We get led by the line in front of us out to a big field of grass. No flowers, which was a bit odd for me because, you know, witches and shit like that, but I like it. One of the many fun things I’ve discovered in my short life is hedge-witchery and pollen allergies really don’t mix well. With a deep breath, I grab a plate for the buffet.
The choices are interesting, to say the least. I’ve never had T-Bone steak at a picnic before. Normally, people are sensible-like, keeping to casual food when eating on blankets in a field. Or barbeque. But steak and caviar, that I’ve never seen in a buffet line, much less one that’s outside. I serve myself what I felt is a polite but small amount of everything. Don’t want to offend, but I’m not about to go gorging out on expensive food. That’s how you get gout. Nat doesn’t have the same sensibilities as me, and I watch her dump lots of fancy shit all over her plate. Shaking my head, I walk over to a particularly suitable patch of grass. Nat sits down next to me and, looking at my plate, laughs. “Are you on a diet?” she asks with a smile.
I shake my head. “Nah. I just care about my health.”
“So, you aren’t eating?”
I point down at her plate. “See, that’s how you get gout.”
She laughs again. “Oh, and what’s a hick like you know about gout?”
I shrug. “Not much,” I reply, “But that’s how you get it.”
She groans, quite loudly, and we both look around the clearing. The enigmatic they is over talking with one of the Maestros. He looked rather fancily dressed for a picnic, but that was to be expected. I continue my scan and see the other AMPs all seated in groups of two to four, chatting away. There are three exceptions. First, Hoodie from before is sitting alone, eating an excessive amount of steak. No one approaches him, probably due to the utter savagery of his eating habits. Next, there is this young girl, no more than like, five, eating salad and standing by her lonesome in the corner. I recognize the look in her eyes, she’s like my middle school best friend’s big sister, one of them paranoid types. I take a mental note of that, just in case. Finally, talking with one of the presenters is an attractive young man. Kinda bookish, but whose to complain. I only notice him because unlike everyone else, supervisor and supervised alike, he doesn’t have any food with him. Which is real weird, because after sitting around in a room without food or water for four hours, how isn’t he hungry or thirsty. I lean over to Nat. “See anything interesting?”
“Yeah,” Nat replies instinctively, “Everyone but you are eating like normal people.”
I shake my head, trying and failing to remain subtle. “Not my paranoid girl in the corner. Nor the suspicious chatter up front and center.”
She nods. “I saw them. He’s a religious type, it’s a day of fast. But, why do you say the vegan is paranoid?”
I smile and shrug. “Look in the eyes, position in the yard. She’s scanning the place casually, randomly, but still in regular intervals. Seen it before in my best friend’s hot big sister back in middle school.”
“Best friend’s hot big sister?” She looks at me real judgmentally.
I shrug again. “Hey, you saying you don’t use similar talk, miss ‘you exactly as hot as I thought you be’.” I make sure to do my most horrendous high pitched, ditsy voice possible to mimic her.
“That isn’t what I sound like,” she shoots back.
“Course it be,” I joke as I shake my head. “Anyways, how’d you know the religious thing?”
“Didn’t,” she says with a shrug of her own, “He’s just definitely hungry, and actively not looking at the food. And I remembered it was one of those Islamic days of fasting.”
I nod along with her. “Look at the big brain on Nat,” I joke. She laughs at that.
The woman approaches us once again. “You two are an odd pairing, you know?”
“You telling me?” I joke, “You see what this one’s eating?”
The legacy looks down at Nat’s meal. Her eyes widen slightly and a smile creeps on to her face. “You know, that sort of diet leads to gout?” she posits. With I shit eating grin, I turn to Nat. She sighs, shaking her head at the both of us.