Ralth saw hardly anything had changed with the cube so he tried out the magus language and found that he had indeed learned it, but this learning was more like memorizing a dictionary. The words were in his head, but they felt stiff and formal,they were like tools he didn't quite know how to use properly.
When he tried to form sentences in his mind, they came together slowly, each word carefully placed rather than flowing naturally.
If Ralth were asked to read magus texts, he would have the same problem as a beginner, with rough, choppy words and wrong stress on syllables. The knowledge was there in his mind, but the practice was missing. It was one thing to know the words, another to speak them as if they belonged to him.
"It seems that there is a big difference between larning'Skills' and learning'Information,'" he realized, rubbing his temples where a dull ache had formed. The dim light of the cabin made shadows dance across his face as he frowned in thought. "Absorbing information is more like pouring the knowledge straight into the brain, and the areas that need hands-on practice still need more work. On the other hand, skills can be used right away without problems, but it's hard to put those skills into words."
Ralth stretched his arms, feeling the new strength in his muscles. The Tiger Forest Swordsmanship felt like a part of him now, as if he'd spent years training in sunlit clearings and moonlit glades. His body knew the forms, the steps, the way to hold a sword. But this language knowledge was just raw facts in his mind that needed to be sorted and practiced until it became second nature.
The tiny cabin seemed to close in around him as he sat on the edge of his bunk, the rough wood pressing against his legs.
Outside, he could hear the steady hum of the airship's engines, a sound unlike anything in his village. The walls creaked softly as the craft cut through night air high above the land. It was strange to think that they were floating in the sky, held up by magic that Ralth was only beginning to learn about.
Gurgle!
The huge feeling of hunger woke Ralth from his thoughts. His stomach contracted painfully, twisting like a snake inside him. He put a hand to his belly, suddenly aware that he hadn't eaten for nearly two days. The doctor's treatment and the thrill of joining the airship had pushed hunger aside, but now it returned with a vengeance, demanding to be satisfied.
The hunger made him think of his home in his past life, of his mother's fresh bread when she baked it and thick stews that filled the kitchen with wonderful smells. She was a master chef and he missed her. Now he was here, miles above the earth in another world filled with magic. What would they feed apprentices? Ralth wondered, Would it be magical food, or just the same plain fare he had eaten as a peasant ?
"Charlotte, Charlotte." Ralth called softly into the darkness, not wanting to startle her if she was asleep. His voice seemed to hang in the still air of the cabin for a second.
"Hmm? You're awake." Her voice sounded strange - alert yet tired at the same time. There was an edge to it that made Ralth sit up straighter, suddenly more awake.
In the darkness, Charlotte's voice came from the lower bunk, and it sounded like she wasn't asleep yet. He could hear her shifting slightly on the thin mattress, the straw inside rustling with each movement. The air between them felt thick with something unsaid.
"Charlotte, what time is it?" Ralth asked, trying to gauge how long he'd been unconscious. Without windows in the cabin, he had no sense of day or night, only the artificial dimness created by the magic lamp.
"Four thirty-two in the morning." Her voice was flat, emotionless. The preciseness of the time made Ralth wonder if she'd been watching a clock or if she'd been awake so long that she was painfully aware of each passing minute.
Hearing the time, Ralth roughly estimated how long he had been asleep. He was unconscious for about fourteen hours, missing an entire day as the airship sailed through clouds and sky. No wonder he felt so stiff and hungry, his muscles cramped from lying in one position for so long.
"Has anyone delivered food in the meantime?" He hoped he hadn't missed the only meal. As a peasant, missing a meal often meant going hungry until the next day.
"Your meal is on the table, come down and eat if you want." Charlotte's voice was quiet but clear in the dark room. There was something heavy in her tone, making Ralth feel uncomfortable.
The cabin was small enough that he could see the outline of the table against the far wall. It was a simple thing, bolted to the floor to keep it steady during flight. Two chairs stood beneath it, one pushed in and one slightly askew, as if someone had risen hastily.
Ralth could sense that something was wrong with Charlotte. Although he and Charlotte had just met during the selection process, most people would not be so awake at four in the morning unless something troubled them.
"Did you stay up all night?" Ralth asked softly as he carefully climbed down from the bunk, feeling for the ladder in the darkness. The metal rungs were cold under his fingers, a sharp contrast to the warm blankets he'd left behind.
"Um." A small sound of confirmation. Just that, nothing more, but in that single syllable Ralth heard worry and fear, and despair?
"Homesick?" he asked, trying to understand her mood. He knew the feeling well – the ache for familiar faces and places, the loneliness that came from being somewhere new. It was par for the course of a Transmigrator.
"A little." Her voice caught slightly on the word. It was clearly a lie, or at least not the whole truth. Something else was bothering her.
She seems to be a girl who has rarely traveled far, Ralth thought as his feet touched the wooden floor. The boards creaked beneath his weight. Or perhaps she's afraid of what's to come. He couldn't blame her. This strange world of magi and airships was intimidating even to him, who had memories of another life to help him cope with strangeness.
Gurgle!
Ralth wanted to comfort her, to find words that might ease whatever burden she carried, but the loud rumbling of his stomach made him decide to eat first. Some problems were easier to face on a full stomach, and his brain worked better when not clouded by hunger.
He got out of bed carefully and felt his way to the table. His fingers found a plate and bowl in the darkness, the clay cool against his skin. The plate was rough-made, not like the fine dishes the magi would definitely use. Apprentices, it seemed, weren't yet worthy of better.
"Could we have a little light?" he asked, not wanting to eat without seeing his food. Who knew what they might feed apprentice magi?
The magic lamp flickered to life at its dimmest setting. Charlotte must have known how to control it, another skill Ralth would need to learn. The pale blue light cast long shadows across the small room, making familiar objects seem strange and otherworldly.
In the dim light, Ralth saw his dinner on the table in the room. Two palm-sized pieces of black bread that looked dense and hard enough to use as weapons, a piece of slightly burnt beef that had gone cold hours ago, its fat congealed into white patches, and a bowl of beetroot porridge that had solidified into a purple mass, like the mud along the river after spring rains.
Although these meals were not as good as the food Ralth remembered from his previous life, they were far better than the sawdust black bread he had eaten in Gessian. That had barely been food at all, it was more like edible dirt that scratched the throat on the way down and sat like a stone in the belly.
Ralth ate quickly, not bothering with manners. The food was cold but filling, and his body desperately needed the nourishment. The bread was tough, forcing him to tear at it with his teeth like an animal. The meat was chewy and bland, but it was meat. The porridge was sweet and earthy, slipping down his throat easily after he broke through the skin that had formed on top.
"Huh, I finally feel better." After eating, Ralth sat in the chair and let out a sigh of satisfaction. The chair creaked slightly under his weight.
Although this meal did not fill him up completely, it at least filled his stomach.
In the dim light, he could see Charlotte better. She was sitting up in her bed, her back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest like a shield. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she'd been crying for hours, and her face was pale in the blue light, making her look like a ghost. Her blonde hair hung limp around her face, and she kept twisting a strand around her finger, over and over in a nervous gesture.
"Ralth, are you a knight?" Charlotte lay on the bed, looking sideways at Ralth. Her voice trembled slightly, and in the faint light, he could see tears shining in her eyes, ready to fall like rain.
Charlotte seemed to be... crying? The realization made him uncomfortable. He'd never been good with crying women, in this life or his previous one.
"I'm not, why are you asking this all of a sudden?" He frowned, confused by the strange question. Knights were rare in this part of the world, bound to noble houses or the king's service. What would make her think a villager could be one?
"Then we're done." Her voice broke on the last word, and she buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her whole body curling tighter, as if trying to disappear into herself.
Ralth frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "What do you mean?"
2
"Ralth." Charlotte's voice was choked with sobs, her shoulders shaking like leaves in a storm. "Do you know what our entrance exam is in the admission handbook?"
"What is it?" Ralth asked, reaching for the red book in his bag. The book was small but thick. Charlotte looked up, her face streaked with tears.
"It's murder!"
"What do you mean, murder?" he asked carefully, hoping he'd misunderstood. Surely even magi wouldn't expect children to kill each other?
"The entrance exam," Charlotte said, her voice steadier now but still quiet, as if afraid the walls might hear. "Only half the apprentices will become students. The rest..." She drew her finger across her throat.
"That's why the magi don't care about what happens on the ship," she continued, words tumbling out now that she'd begun. "They see it as practice. They want to see who's strong enough to survive. That's why that magus said 'don't let anyone get killed' - because they want us to save that for the official test."
Her words were all too believable. The casual cruelty of the selection process, the way the older magi had looked at them. Ralth sat back in his chair, stunned. After all, He had not come this far to die on the whim of some magi.