As they moved on, Duke still heard leveling shouts echoing behind him. Each was met with cheering and encouragement and he could tell that they had become a friendly competition that drove everyone towards higher achievement. The rank-up shouts nearly brought things to a halt as other rushed over to congratulate their comrade.

  The enthusiasm of the work crews buoyed Duke’s spirits as much as the thrill ride of the ships’ combination giving him a sense of hope for what he knew was coming. The sense of existential dread that had crept into his consciousness had retreated, leaving his hopeful for the upcoming fights.

  Sar Borglyn led Duke on whirlwind tour of the rest of the Foundry. People of all sorts had come and were still flocking to the facility, coming from all corners of Teldin. That, Sar Borglyn explained, limited the types of crafting that was available but that corner was being turned as graduates from the Academy were filtering in with crafting capabilities beyond anything seen before in such a semi-public setting.

  There were some problems, however, as not everyone got along in their rivalry in the more common crafts. In some areas, brewing in particular, fights had broken out over perceived theft of recipes or ingredients. The fights were broken up rather quickly but Sar Borglyn expressed some regret.

  “I would like to let those fights settle themselves, you know.”

  Duke Looked up at the minotaur and chuckled, “I bet you would. I bet you would like to set them up in an arena and allow them to fight to the death.”

  “Now that you mention it…”

  “Absolutely forbidden. Do you understand me? I would shatter your Core and burn the shards.”

  Sar Borglyn looked back at Duke, shocked by the vehemence in his tone and words. He paused, seemed to make a decision, and finally spoke, “Understood, Emperor. A gladiatorial arena shall never have a place in the Foundry.”

  “Good. Glad I made myself clear. Now, you were saying something about the Academy…”

  “Yes, we have been getting a steady stream of highly-skilled magical crafters coming from there but it takes so long for them to get here. Years after graduation, they finally show up. Is that something you could help us with?”

  “I have an idea or two, but I want to check out the Academy first. Thank you for the tour but I have to get on to other important things. Keep things running smoothly here. I will return in time.”

  Duke TELEPORTED back outside the Foundry, intercepting Ophirian and Nystriel before they even set foot in the dungeon. They looked at him in confusion.

  “I thought you were going to check out the Foundry?” Ophirian asked.

  “All done. Have you toured it? What can you tell me about the Academy?”

  “Um, no, and nothing. I have not set foot in either place actually.”

  “What the fuck have you been doing all this time?”

  “Rodent control.”

  “Rodent control?”

  “Yes, they were big ones.”

  “You mean to tell me that I have been gone for months and all you’ve done is hunted down some rats!”

  “Like I said. Big rats.”

  “Not going to ask. Come on, you two. Let’s get to the Academy.” Without waiting for a response, Duke TELEPORTED the three of them outside the Academy entrance. The buildings soared above them, towering above the peaks that surrounded the school. Students milled about in their uniforms that all bore the Stormstride regalia, a glowing red gem in a white background surrounded by a sky-blue border. The regalia stood out more on some uniforms rather than others as the overall uniforms differed in color.

  Duke was content to watch the students for a bit. They all seemed to notice him, but not recognize him as they carried on their own tasks. The longer he watched, the more he came to the conclusion that the darker the student’s uniform the more advanced they were. He saw a pair of students in dark red robes bouncing a ball of white-hot fire between themselves, making it do acrobatic tricks before being caught and held by the other of the pair.

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  A trio of white-robed students seemed thoroughly lost and too intimidated to ask anyone else for directions. The fumbled in circles until they finally decided to run off “that way!” Duke watched it all passively, waiting for someone with a modicum of authority to come to greet them. Instead, a student in a dark blue robe broke out of a group of similarly-garbed group, if slightly lighter colored, and rushed right up to Duke excitedly.

  “Is that your elemental? Did you summon it yourself?”

  Another of the group shouted as she walked up, “Have you seen how he’s dressed? He’s not even a neophyte here. And a bit old to be starting out, don’t you think? Go back from where you came from, old man, but leave your elemental with me.”

  Duke raised an eyebrow. This is going to be fun. If Baslin doesn’t want his students embarrassed, he had better step in fast. “You think you can take Nystriel from me? You are welcome to come and try.”

  For her part, Nystriel settled down on Duke’s shoulder to enjoy the show. The student, seeing that her bluff had been called decided to up the ante, “OK, boys, take the old man down. Nobody disrespects us like that!”

  To their credit, they acted as a group, forming constructs of electricity and circling Duke. He simply activated his MANA DRAIN and waited for them to actually take an offensive action. He did not have to wait long. Once they all surrounded him, the leader flicked her lightning whip forward and it served as a signal for the rest of the group to attack. Lightning attacks of all sorts lashed out at him. The attacks connected as Duke made no attempt to evade, instead relying on his MANA DRAIN, SPELL RESISTANCE, and ARMOR SKIN to deal with their attacks.

  As he suspected, their attacks did not have nearly enough of an impact to even make it past his MANA DRAIN. He looked at them, his face intentionally puzzled. “Is that the best that the Academy can produce? Pathetic, and thoroughly disappointing. I may have to shut this place down.”

  He was met with looks of grim determination. As one, they upped the level of their Spells and prepared to attack again. Attacks lashed forward towards Duke with full intent behind them and not an inconsiderable amount of power. Crackling constructs of lightning flashed from their hands, streaking towards him. Each attack fizzled before it even reached Duke, all being absorbed as they left the student’s control. The energy of the attacks swirled around them before being sucked into an ebony staff wielded by a white-furred minotaur with patches of black.

  The minotaur spoke, “Each one of you are to return to your rooms and handwrite a deeply apologetic letter to the Emperor. You are on full restriction until I tell you otherwise. If you are lucky, he will accept this as your punishment and not decide to execute you for having the unmitigated idiocy of attacking him!”

  The students paled as the realization struck them of what they had done, but before anyone else could react, Ophirian shouted, “A magical talking cow! That’s awesome.”

  “That’s a minotaur, you idiot!” Duke found himself unable to restrain his response to Ophirian’s outburst. “And, by my guess, our host here at the Academy.”

  “Quite correct, Emperor. I am Brian and I am your host here at the Academy. I bid you welcome and hope you will allow me to escort you on a tour of the campus.”

  Duke’s XENOGLOSSIA was picking up something from the minotaur that he was having trouble processing. He continued to follow as he tried to lock it down in his mind but the longer they walked, the worse the feeling lingered. Finally, as they were entering the first building of classrooms, it struck him and he blurted it out without thought.

  “Where is Baslin?”

  Brian stopped abruptly, turning to look at Duke, confusion etched onto his face. “Baslin? Baslin retired to his cottage a century ago. Surely you didn’t expect him to meet you at the entrance?”

  “What do you mean he retired a century ago?”

  “Over two hundred years was certainly long enough for him to act as Headmaster. We all leave him in peace at his request. He has been waiting for you, though.”

  Duke’s eyes snapped to his screen where he pulled up the Dungeon details of the Academy and his blood ran cold. His mind locked on to a single field. The Time Dilation was set to 1,000:1. One thousand days passed for every day outside the dungeon. The four months that he had been gone had translated to over three hundred years at the Academy.

  “Where is his cottage?” Duke demanded, the urgency and overt violence in his voice causing Brian to step back and students to scatter.

  Brian began to point with his staff, but Duke’s pulse of DUNGEON SIGHT had already located it, giving his TELEPORTATION a target. He came alone, leaving the rest of them behind without a care. They would fend for themselves. He knocked on the door of the cottage and almost didn’t wait for an answer before heading in.

  He burst in as a feeble voice called out, “Don’t make an old man walk to the door. Come in, come in.”

  “Baslin!”

  “Ah, Duke. So good of you to come see me at long last.”

  Duke stared at Baslin. He was bent over, leaning on a staff for support and just looked feeble, barely able to support himself. His stark white hair and beard had grown dominate his face but Duke could still see that his mentor’s eyes had turned milky white with cataracts. Duke rushed over to help him back into his chair.

  “What…what happened to you, Baslin?”

  A chuckle that turned into a wheezing cough preceded his simple response, “I got old. And to think I always called you my best apprentice. And you still overlook the obvious.” He paused to catch his breath, the act of uttering so many words at once, draining his fading energy.

  Duke pulled up a chair next to Baslin, creating it out of dungeon substance. The old man reached over and patted Duke’s arm with his hand, showing liver spots dominating his skin that seemed so thin as to be near translucent.

  Duke’s voice faltered as he asked, “How long?”

  Baslin’s response broke him, “Just stay…stay a while. It won’t be long now that I can let go. Tell me of your travels.”

  Duke sat with him and told him of his adventures. Before he could finish, he felt the spark leave Baslin’s eyes as he passed.