For the first time in the last three or four years, I’m doing almost exactly what my parents groomed me to do for all those years. Only difference is, I’m not here as a Magister Apprentice of the Basilica as they wanted me to be. I’m in town as a Great Maestro’s intern. And not even a powerful Great Maestro at that. Lucas Blum, whom I am aiding for in this meeting, is a relatively fresh Great Maestro who established the newest American Villa. I’m here meeting and learning about the people I’ll be dealing with in a couple decades. And catching up with a lot of people from my life before America. I won’t lie, there’s certainly some overlap, but not nearly as much as I bet those kids from private school thought there would be.
The Principal Mysticists Convention is a month-long formal event, which most people invited do not attend the whole month. Most interns do, assuming they don’t have anything else more urgent that their Great Maestro sends them off to do, because it is a month of fancy brunches every day and formal dinners every evening, all paid for by the Magisterial Court. Which means, ultimately, there are five types of people at any given event, excluding the caterers and other non-attendants.
First are those in power. These are the Greatest and Grand Maestros who’ve got a solid enough foundation to let them live luxuriously for most of these events. These, I know, are the types not to talk to most interns, and not to remember those they did talk to. I’d said hello to one of them earlier, as Valery Gagneux the Greatest Maestro of Western Europe is an old family friend. I’m fairly certain he forgot who I was here with the moment I finished saying their name.
Second, those with time. These are people who don’t have any actual power here, and don’t particularly want any. Generally people like Greater Maestros in regions already stable and expanding, and Great Maestros of stagnant Villae. Those who are that way because they built a stable Villa or region might be interesting to talk to, for people who’s greatest goal in life is to be an eighty-year-old attending all these parties every summer. And that’s the few who actually built their stability. The vast majority of them simply got a stable situation from their predecessors.
The third are the hustlers. These are the ones to keep an eye on going forwards. People who pop in for a dinner or two, who use this as an opportunity to advance themselves or their schools. Many of them will fail to do anything with themselves. Most of them. But some will be key players to come.
The fourth are those seeking luxuriation. Interns who don’t give two fucks about the event itself. They are here to waste time and enjoy the food and drinks they get for free. Not ultimately important for advancement, though they can provide insight on different regions of the world for the very same reason. They don’t matter, so they don’t care to hold their tongues about things they ought not mention.
Fifth and finally we have those like myself. Those seeking to understand and learn, so they can continue onwards. These, I know, are the ones I need to know. Some will be rivals, some friends, some allies. Some will be forgotten as well, of course, but fewer than the other groups. This is the group that I wish I could have some backup facing. Then again, I do need to know how to deal with this sort alone.
As I went party to party, day to day, working with Maestro Blum on his pitches. He does try his best to be a part of that third category, but more and more I get the sinking feeling he’s destined to be in the second camp. It’s not that he doesn’t want to do more and expand his Villa, it’s that he doesn’t care much beyond that. He doesn’t love the game in the way anyone who wants to get far in it needs to love the game. If he’s lucky, and were working anywhere besides America, he might become a Greater Maestro and hate it. Instead, he will likely never advance. We lack the Villae as of yet to really support any Greater Maestros. That’s honestly part of the reason I’m so confident in my own advancement out there. After I met my class, I had an idea of how we could set a future in motion. And so, while the four or five different people who might be useful right hands in the future are off learning more about the mechanics of running and expanding a Villa, I’m doing my part. A part only I can play. Interacting with these people.
At the post-dinner event meant to mingle and make deals this evening, I decide I’m ready. I took a page out of my brother’s book, spent the first week or so just learning the lay of the land. Ric was always good about that. “Know where you’re going to land before you jump,” he’d say, “But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t jump with gusto.” I still have yet to meet anyone else who can pull off the word gusto. But that’s one of those things you take to heart. So, this last week I’ve been focused on helping Lucas with his pitches. Meeting with the interns who don’t care to learn about everything going on in their necks of the woods, meeting with those established and stable, to see where they might land on Maestro Blum’s proposals. But, in helping him, I also learned the state of the game. Not what the speeches at the convention tell us about the state of the world, but how regions see one another. Which of the key interns are never going anywhere because they picked the wrong place to be. Which of the hustling Maestros have a chance to actually succeed in their attempts to gain power and influence. After garnering some support for his expansion, though not as much as he wanted, Lucas headed back to Tennessee this morning. He has a lot of work to do. And now, I am here alone, like many other interns. I head over to the drinks table and take a glass of the non-alcoholic punch. I don’t want to risk misspeaking. Not here.
As I sip my drink, in an out of the way but very visible place, a couple of other interns come over. They’re led by Hilarie, one of the aforementioned private school kids. Of the twenty odd children of our families’ group in the class, there were seven here. Hilarie smiles at me in a way that everyone knows isn’t actually a friendly or pleasant smile. “Alina,” she says, “It’s wonderful to see you again. After you ran away, off to the middle of nowhere, I was afraid we’d never talk.”
I smile right back and greet her in a friendly manner, kissing her cheeks. “Hilarie, my dear,” I reply, “I would never do that. You know me, it’s almost like I was born for this.”
They both laugh while the other two interns with Hilarie look kind of confused at one another. “Right,” Hilarie says, “This is Micah and Paul. Micah, Paul, this is my dear old friend Alina. We grew up together.”
I smile. “Lovely to meet both of you, and I apologize you had to meet Hilarie first.” Then, after a brief pause to make it seem like something clicked in my head, I add, “Paul, didn’t I see you with Greater Maestro Ng earlier? Great Maestro Blum was discussing a few things with her.” I mean it as an ego boost to the man as much as a warning to my childhood acquaintance. Being an intern for a Greater Maestro is better than a Great one, right? Except to those of us who know how things work. Greater Maestro Ng has been a Greater Maestro since Hilarie and I were in Primary school. Which means, she hasn’t advanced further than that and likely never will. If Hilarie is at a like she once was, she is far too politically minded to want to associate with someone like Ng, and if Paul is learning from a static force, he wouldn’t make a solid hand in her advancement.
Paul smiles. “Yeah,” he says, “She hasn’t been here much, but I vaguely remember her talking about that meeting.”
Hilarie smiles at her companions. “Paul, Micah, would you mind terribly giving us a little time to catch up. Girl talk and whatnot,” she says in the sweetest voice.
“Of course,” Micah nods and leads Paul off to a different group of interns.
The moment Paul’s out of earshot, Hilarie’s façade drops. “The fucker,” she mutters.
I nod. “I figured he avoided that. You should’ve listened to Ric back in the day.”
“Shut up. Micah’s good, though. He’s got a mind for this shit.”
“I mean, if he can’t see through you…” I trail off.
Hilarie chuckles. “He can. What’s your game? I mean, you’re here, but you’re here with a nobody.”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” I reply.
She gestures for me to follow her into a side area. We sit down at a booth, out of earshot from most people. She smiles. “I’m taking out Marvin.” She’s completely serious. Grand Maestro of the European Rite. She wants to be the second most powerful person in the Magisterium. Good on her. Then both an ally and a rival she’ll end up being. Just like when we were in school. “Your turn.”
“I’m going to become the first Grand Maestro of the American Rite.” No need to lie.
Hilarie nods. “So, we’re allies for the moment. Need any help finding help?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve got a few people in mind already.”
“Really? Like who? None of the people you’ve been hanging with here, that’s for sure. Unless you’ve lost a thousand steps.”
“Nope. But one of the possibilities is currently establishing a new Villa while our ‘Greatest’ Maestro is here enjoying herself internless.” I make sure to put Greatest in air quotes.
Hilarie nods. “I thought that was odd. I just figured no one wanted to intern for her.”
“Anyways, the point is, my team will work because I’m here so that they don’t have to be. They can focus elsewhere.” Then, I ask, “Do you want help? I mean, any more other than warding off Paul?”
Hilarie shakes her head. “Of course, but not from you. I know your games.”
Micah returns to the pair. He clears his throat. “Sorry about that, Hil. I didn’t know.”
Hilarie shrugs. “Neither did I.”
I add in. “Hilarie is great at this part, but despises the first step of the game. If you’re going to be working together, you might want to get good at learning the lay of the land.”
Micah shrugs. “I mean, you’re friends and you’re pretty good at that part. Maybe you should join us.”
I smile cordially. “Friends is a strong term.”
“And my dear Alina has plans of her own,” Hilarie adds with her own cordial smile.
Micah nods. “What exactly?” he asks, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
I lean in. “The sort of goal I only tell old friends,” I whisper.
Hilarie jokes, “Or archenemies.”
“Always,” I say, “What’s the fun of having an archenemy if you don’t tell them your evil plans.”
Micah looks at Hilarie. His expression seemingly dulled, like he’s hiding it from me. Unfortunately for him, I’ve had to deal with Therese expressions for the last three years. And, though he has some skill at hiding his emotions, this Micah is no Therese. He’s concerned I’m an enemy. Hilarie elaborates. “The sort of goals that are aligned with our own. At least, for the moment.”
I can’t help but laugh. “The moment? At least the next decade.”
Hilarie shakes her head. “Maybe I’ve got more faith in our abilities.”
“Don’t be like that, Hilarie,” I object, “Otherwise your left hand here’s going to try and murder me in my sleep when I become a Maestro.”
Hilarie sighs. “Fine. Yeah, I’m on a two decade schedule, you?”
“About a decade after any of mine become a Maestro. Don’t know how long that’ll be, though.”
“Then, let’s say a decade and a half.”
“Nah, the full two decades. The chaos you’ll be causing should be good for me and mine.” And with that, we shake on it.
Micah looks between us. “Are all you elite children this weird?” he asks.
We exchange a quick glance. “Basically,” I reply. Simultaneously, Hilarie answers, “Every one.”
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