I watched as the trio of judges scribbled notes on their parchment and shuffled off. My adrenaline was still pumping from my rune demonstration, but the crafting portion of the tournament was officially done, at least for me.

  “What happens now?” I asked Master Borduk, who was hovering at my elbow.

  “They’ll let us know,” he said with a shrug. “You know, I’m used to your unique shenanigans, but they aren’t. Making runes less magical just to get ‘cool whooshing’ noises isn’t exactly going to impress them.”

  I gave him my best nonchalant shrug. “Genius is always unrecognized in its own time.”

  He just smirked, shaking his head slightly. “The fighting starts tomorrow. You need to report for the seeding after breakfast. Let’s get you settled into your room.”

  I knelt down and packed away my rune tools. As I was closing the leather roll, a stray thought popped into my head. “Why are you being so helpful, anyway? Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate all the teaching, but traveling all the way here and showing me around seems a bit… extra.”

  Master Borduk folded his arms. “Well, this is my alma mater. And your parents were worried about you running off unsupervised. This arrangement was our compromise.”

  I frowned. “Why didn’t they come themselves?”

  “Most dwarves don’t like being aboveground for too long. You know you’re a weird little dwarf, right?” he said, eyeing me up and down.

  I snorted. “Doesn’t that make you a weird old dwarf in the same way?”

  “That’s why we’ve got to stick together,” he retorted with a faint grin. “Now, let’s see which dorm they’ve assigned you. After that, you can go see the festivities.”

  “I was kinda hoping there’d be some elaborate ceremony with a talking hat that sorts me into a house based on my personality,” I joked.

  Master Borduk looked at me like I had three heads. “What? That’s stupid. Imagine taking the greatest wizarding minds of a generation, making them self-segregate, and teaching them they’re better than everyone else. And then you do that for year after year, What do you think would happen to the ones deemed ‘ungifted’ in that scenario?”

  “Probably start a war,” I admitted. “You’re really harshing my magical school fantasies, though.”

  He grunted, shaking his head again, and gestured for me to follow him. We both knew tomorrow’s fighting tournament was going to be interesting—maybe even more so than the crafting portion. After all, I’d never really done much formal sparring. But if I could swing a hammer, I could take a hit or two… hopefully. With that thought, I hefted my pack and followed Borduk to find my dorm, feeling the nervous thrill of tomorrow’s battle settle in my gut.

  Master Borduk consulted a folded parchment map, squinting at the tiny script before nodding decisively. “Here we go,” he said, motioning for me to follow. He guided us along a wide cobblestone path that ran between two towering academic buildings, each with rows of tall windows and old, weathered stone walls.

  All around us, students darted about carrying books, scrolls, and all manner of odd magical instruments. A few nearly crashed into us, too busy chatting or looking at their own maps to notice a short dwarf and his even shorter apprentice. I was glad Master Borduk was here. For all the teasing I did about his gruff demeanor, he was dependable.

  As we walked, he began reminiscing about his days as a student. “That building on the left is the Lecture Hall,” he said, nodding toward a structure with carved pillars flanking the entrance. “Had my first lesson on rune theory in there. Ended up with my beard singed after trying to combine two runes that weren’t meant to be combined. Learned a quick lesson about caution.”

  I chuckled, picturing a younger Master Borduk hastily patting down his smoking beard. We continued walking, passing statues of various mages and scholars. One was of a tall, slender woman in flowing robes, her hair carved to look like it was billowing in some imaginary breeze.

  “She’s Linera Stormcall,” Master Borduk explained. “Legend has it she created a storm so massive it saved a city under siege, but the magic aged her thirty years overnight. That’s why her statue looks older than she really was at the time.”

  We passed another statue of a stern-faced dwarf wearing armor and wielding an ornate warhammer. Master Borduk puffed his chest out ever so slightly. “That’s Borgrim Ironbeard. He helped found the college with a group of elf scholars. Used to insist that practical application was worth ten times more than theory—he’d probably appreciate your hammer-smacking approach to fixing things.”

  I nodded, imagining Borgrim in his day, stomping around campus telling everyone to stop fussing with dusty tomes and start forging something practical. “My kind of dwarf,” I muttered with a grin.

  Eventually, Master Borduk halted in front of a dormitory with an arching wooden door and ivy creeping across the windowsills. “This place hasn’t changed much,” he said with a quiet sort of fondness. “Come on, let’s get you checked in.”

  He led me through the door, and I tried not to gawk too much at the vaulted ceilings and winding staircases. Everything felt grander and busier than my old home—people hurrying along, the faint hum of magic in the air. Part of me was excited for the new life ahead, while another part felt a bit overwhelmed. Still, I trusted that Master Borduk, in his own cantankerous way, would see me through.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “This is where I leave you, kiddo,” Master Borduk said. We had stopped at a desk manned—or rather, “snaked”—by a bored-looking lamia. She had long coils draped around the chair and was flipping through a stack of papers with one slender hand.

  “New student?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “Paperwork,” she said flatly, barely looking up from her pile. I guessed she had been doing this all day.

  I glanced over at Master Borduk, since I had no clue what paperwork she was talking about. He held up a packet and handed it over. “Here you go, young lady.”

  The lamia flicked through the pages, then rang a small bell on the desk. A young orc jogged over, giving her a quick salute. “Ma’am?”

  “We’ve got a new one,” she said, nodding in my direction. “Can you show him around?”

  “Sure thing, boss,” the orc said. Then he turned to me with a friendly grin. “Welcome to—uh—Dorm Hall Seven,” he said, though it sounded like he wasn’t entirely sure of the official name. “I’ll be your guide for the rest of the day.”

  The lamia looked at both of us again. “We have an odd number of dwarves this year. You’ll have to share a room with this guy,” she said, pointing at the orc. “That gonna be a problem?”

  “Should it be?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why a dwarf and an orc sharing a room would be considered unusual. Then again, everything around here felt new and different, so maybe some people had issues with it.

  The lamia shrugged her serpentine shoulders. “Some folks don’t like sharing rooms with different races, but if you’re good, that’s that.” She stamped a form and handed it to the orc. “Take him to the west wing, second floor, room twenty-three. Show him where everything is.”

  Master Borduk gave me a nod, then patted my shoulder. “Guess this is where I step aside,” he said. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”

  I grinned. “Me, trouble? Never.”

  His mouth quirked into the slightest smile. “Right. Take care, Gromli. Make sure you do us dwarves proud.” With that, he turned and headed off, leaving me alone with the orc and the lamia, and an entire world of unknown adventures waiting just around the corner.

  The orc flashed a quick grin. “Name’s Grok,” he said, extending a large, calloused hand toward me. “I’ve been a runner here at the college for about a year—helping new students get settled, that kind of thing.”

  I shook his hand. “Gromli Flintfoot, freshly arrived from my dwarven village in the east,” I replied, returning his smile. “Figured I’d have some trouble finding my way around without help, so thanks for doing this.”

  Grok led me down a wide corridor with high, arched ceilings. Doors lined both sides, some labeled with numbers and others with various symbols that, for all I knew, could be wards or advanced runic defenses. Everywhere I looked, students bustled about—elves, humans, a couple of harpies, and even a tall goat-legged satyr stomping by with a stack of books. It was a far cry from my quiet hometown.

  “I saw you come in with Master Borduk,” Grok commented. “He was teaching here when you two arrived? Or was he just escorting you?”

  I shrugged. “He’s my mentor from back home. Taught me a lot about dwarven magic. He used to be a student here, so he figured he’d help me settle in.”

  Grok gave a low whistle, nodding in approval. “That’s kind of him. You might see him around campus every now and then. Alumni like to visit once in a while.”

  He showed me the hallway leading to the dining hall, where the scent of fresh bread and sizzling meats drifted out. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Grok chuckled, overhearing the growl.

  “Lunch rush’ll be over soon,” he said, “so we can swing by later if you want to avoid the crowd. Or you can dive right in, though it might be shoulder-to-shoulder in there.”

  “I’ll wait,” I said, patting my belly. “Need to see my room first.”

  We continued along, turning a corner into another wing. The architecture varied slightly here—less ornate, with fewer decorations and more straightforward stone walls. Grok mentioned this dorm was reserved for first-year students, so nobody felt overwhelmed by the showier dorms in the older parts of campus.

  “You said you’re a runner?” I asked, curious about his job.

  “Yeah, I help out with deliveries, errands, and guiding new folks,” he explained, gesturing to a few packages tucked under his arm. “Between classes, I pick up tasks from the staff. If you ever need to know where something is—or how to avoid something—I’m your orc.”

  I chuckled at that. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Before long, we stopped at a sturdy wooden door with the number twenty-three etched neatly above the handle. Grok jostled a ring of keys until he found the right one, then pushed the door open to reveal a modest but comfortable-looking room. There were two beds, two desks, and a small trunk at the foot of each bed for storage.

  “Home sweet home,” Grok said. “At least for a while.”

  I nodded, stepping inside. The space was bigger than I expected, with a small window letting in a warm stream of afternoon light. Not bad for a shared room at a sprawling magical college.

  Grok dropped off the packages he’d been carrying near his bed, then turned to me. “Feel free to unpack, then I can show you around a bit more, or you can explore on your own. Fighting tournament’s tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said, flopping onto the bed that clearly wasn’t Grok’s. “I’ll need to get my gear ready, but a quick tour would be great. Thanks again for helping me settle in.”

  He waved off the gratitude. “No problem. We might be rooming together, but I promise I won’t hog the entire closet. I’ve just got a few sets of clothes and some training gear.”

  I shot him a grin. “Long as you don’t mind me clanging around with a hammer at odd hours, we’ll be fine.”

  Grok chuckled. “We’ll work something out.”

  With that, I started emptying my pack, wondering what the fighting tournament would be like—and whether my new roommate might end up a friend or a rival. One thing was certain: life at Stoneharp College was about to get even more interesting.

  “Aren’t you a first year as well?” I asked, tilting my head at Grok. “Why do you know the college so well?”

  He looked a little sheepish. “My family didn’t have the funds to pay for everything, and my talent in magic is only marginal. I had to take a job here so I could afford tuition. I’ve already been on campus for a couple of months, running errands and helping new arrivals. I’m really looking forward to actually starting classes, though.”

  I nodded slowly, thinking about how different our situations were. I had a blacksmith footing my bill—and even that was more a matter of convenience for him than charity—while Grok was working hard just to catch a break. It seemed we both had our own quirks that brought us to Stoneharp, and I couldn’t help but feel a hint of respect for him.

  “Well,” I said, “I guess you’ll be something of an expert by the time the rest of the first years show up.”

  Grok gave a small laugh. “I’ve got the layout memorized, if that’s what you mean. Hopefully, that’ll free me up to concentrate on the learning part.”

  I grinned. “You’ll do fine. And if you ever need a little help with runes or hammer-related stuff, I’m your dwarf.”

  He gave me a curious look but didn’t comment, probably still a bit puzzled by the idea of a dwarf who thought hitting things with a hammer was a valid magical practice. I shrugged it off, feeling that this was a decent start to our roommate dynamic. If nothing else, we both knew our way around hard work.