Cynara took care of our registration at the Office of Student Affairs, which let me observe a few things.

As a new student, Cynara had to confirm her identity with the secretary. She used an identity card that had been verified by the Scribe’s Temple. I’d found Acacius’ identity card in his belongings, but as a previously enrolled student, I only had to show his student ID card to confirm my registration. He was nineteen years and going into his second year at the Academy out of three. Cynara, at fifteen, was an early admittee.

The secretary used a computer with projected holographic screens to input and retrieve our information. It was interesting. Did this world have cell phones too? I hadn’t seen anything like that in Acacius’ room.

We both received our schedules, a complimentary planner with a map of campus, a brief explanation of the school’s facilities, and a reminder that the first classes would begin in two days. I also received a key to a dorm room on campus. This was apparently because the Duval family had cut off my non-essential support; Cynara was going to live at a luxurious condo off-campus where Acacius had stayed last year.

I was kind of disappointed I wouldn’t get to live there myself. As we left the office, I said to her, “If you’re going to throw any of the things in the condo out, be sure to sell it for good money.”

“Why would I throw anything out?”

“I thought it might be the kind of thing you’d do with your brother’s things.”

Cynara rolled her eyes and looked away, which I took as confirmation that she totally would have.

“Don’t put me at your level,” she said. “Also, don’t talk to me at school. I don’t want to be associated with you.”

With that, she climbed into the carriage and drove away.

Ah, the sight of a little sibling growing up and becoming independent. How cute.

I looked at my schedule, which went as follows:

Daily Classes:

• Home room
• Governance & Politics: Year 2
• Literature, Culture, and Frame Management: Year 2
• Fantasm World Economics

Elective Block A:

• Fundamental Frame Theory
• History of History: Introduction to Comparative Methodologies

Elective Block B:

• Ritual Development and Formation
• Practical Combat Class: Year 2

The daily classes would be taken together with my primary classmates — Year 2, Class 1 — in the same classroom, as overseen by our home room teacher. Different teachers would come into the classroom to teach each section. This would take up the first half of the day, up until lunch.

In the afternoon were the scheduled electives. On “A” days, students would travel to different classrooms for their Block A electives, and the same for “B” days. A and B days alternated every day.

Since I’d taken four electives, with two per day, I’d be in class until around five in the afternoon. Oops. I could only hope I wouldn’t have too much homework on top of that.

I dropped my luggage off at my assigned dorm room, located in a cluster of residential buildings at the edge of campus. The room was clean, serviceable, and at least by my standards, luxurious; it even had a built-in kitchen for cooking your own meals, stocked with its own fridge. I felt quite satisfied with it.

After putting away the clothes, supplies, books, journals, and miscellaneous tools I’d brought from Acacius’ room, it was time to go walk around the city and collect information. I needed to develop a common sense about this world as soon as I could.

It would be weird for Acacius to go around asking things like what the local currency was, and his fancy noble clothes might be a bit too memorable, so I wanted to take someone else’s appearance. The Duvals obviously weren’t suitable for similar reasons. Luka was an option, but there was a small chance I’d run into my fellow classmate out there, and also, I’d only ever seen him in bloody torn-up clothes. That appearance was not good for laying low.

And I didn’t want to show anyone what I, or my family, looked like.

Which left one other person.

Chen Xiarui had always considered me a brother. He wouldn’t mind me borrowing his face for a while, would he?

I placed on the mask of [Honest Man’s Deception], and my appearance changed.

My line of sight was higher, now. Chen Xiarui’s black hair was cut short enough it didn’t fall into my eyes. I wore the clothes I always remembered him in: a worn coat, a turtleneck, and a weathered pair of boots. He hadn’t changed them even after I’d told him it was time to throw them away.

Tucking a handful of coins into the hidden inner pocket of his coat, I set out into the city.

Exiting the campus quickly brought me to bustling streets lined with skinny shop buildings and vendor stalls. Thanks to the sunny weather, many people wore light and airy clothes that draped to cover their bodies; others wore short shirts and pants, baring more skin for the breeze to catch. Some wore head coverings similar to a nun’s, only in pale colors accentuated by bold embroidery. However, not everyone was dressed according to the norm. I saw someone dressed in all black, carrying a black umbrella, and another individual in a full set of metal armor.

Compared to that, Chen Xiarui’s patched-up clothes barely got a second glance.

What I found most notable was how much jewelry people wore. Earrings, bracelets, necklaces, rings. Some had as few as a single chain; others had thick ropes of jewelry hanging around their necks, wrists, and waists. Occasionally, people would project screens of light from a pendant, or check on a suddenly glowing jewel.

With so many dangling accessories around me, it felt like it’d be really easy to steal something. But since I wasn’t in desperate need to investigate, I pressed down the urge. Who knew what kinds of safeguards people had in this world.

I loitered around some food vendors’ stalls, examining their menus. There were gyros, a kind of grilled meat wrapped in flatbread; honey-glazed pastries; roasted bread topped with tomatoes and olives… The complimentary sauces were all things I’d never tried, and couldn’t guess how they tasted. I hung around long enough to observe one of them sell some meat and spinach pies, which informed me that the currency was called the “drekel” and that the pale golden coins I had in my pocket were decidedly not the copper and silver coins being traded on the street.

I meandered about and looked at some artisanal stalls and cold weapon racks before I located what appeared to be a bank, cautiously letting myself in through the doors. I waited my turn in the short queue and went up to the teller, sliding one of my coins across the counter.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m new in town. Could you help me exchange for something easier to use?”

The teller didn’t react strongly to my request. He used a special light and some plier-like thing to test the material of the coin, before asking if I wanted the equivalent in tens or twenties. I asked for twenties, and he soon gave me a roll of twenty-five small silver coins.

So… that single coin had been worth five hundred drekels?

Most of the street food had only been five to ten drekels a meal. It turned out the pocket change I was carrying around was actually worth quite a lot. Taking into account the fact that the Academy provided breakfast and lunch at the cafeteria for free, that meant that by my standards, the Duvals had already provided far beyond my “basic necessities.” What could I possibly be spending this on?

Well, now that I knew, I’d definitely be buying my own cooking utensils and ingredients.

I left the bank in search of a grocery shop and general goods store.

Halfway down the street, the space opened up to a large courtyard. Light orange and yellow stones, dotted with the occasional green and blue tiles, formed a patterned mosaic around a central fountain and led up to the steps of a temple.

Above the doors was a carved relief of a veiled and hooded figure smiling enigmatically, holding a seamless loop of knotted rope.

It reminded me uncomfortably of the tattoo that represented Acacius’ [Bound Prophet] title.

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the knotted rope and trying to decide if I was making too much of a mental leap or not.

“Hello. Are you here to give confession?”

I couldn’t suppress my flinch entirely as I turned around.

A figure in a hooded cloak stood there, holding a golden crook with a lantern at the end. The darkness condensed inside that frame radiated out into the surroundings, distorting the light. Shadow hid the face more than it had any right to at this time of day. How had they slipped past my senses?

The figure raised their head, revealing a handsome young man with brown skin, short braids woven with golden beads, and a warm and sunny smile.

“Welcome to the Secret-Keeper’s temple. I can be your priest for today.”

“Okay,” I said after a pause. “Who are you?”

He beamed. “My name is Isul, and I offer my services here. I saw you looking at the temple and thought you might have some secrets you want to shed.”

“If this is the Secret-Keeper’s temple, wouldn’t people come here to get help keeping their secrets, not losing them?”

“Of course, that is one of the Secret-Keeper’s gifts,” said Isul. “But just as many people come looking for freedom from their burdens. Would you like to come inside?”

I didn’t have any burdens that I wanted to put down, though?

Still, when Isul gestured for me to come along, I followed his lead.

He took me inside beyond the main gathering area, past stained-glass windows and a large stone altar, and through a small archway to a long hallway full of doors. Isul opened one such door for me with a courteous half-bow. A real gentleman. I went inside and looked around.

Despite a lack of windows, it was a small and comfortable room with a thick, woven carpet covering the floor. Isul closed the door behind us and moved a slider above the handle to indicate the room was occupied. He leaned his dark lamp against the wall and lit the incense under a carved relief of the Secret-Keeper, before gesturing for me to sit one of the cushion around the low table in the center.

I sat at the cushion closest to the door and watched him take out tea leaves and a bronze teapot from the drawers beneath the relief. He placed the teapot on a metal stand on the table, and I soon heard the water begin to heat.

“What brings you to the temple today?”

“I’m new in the city,” I said. I actually didn’t know what the city name was, either. “I thought I’d look around, and this place caught my eye. Can you tell me about it?”

“Of course. This temple was built almost two hundred years before the Academy was established. At that time, the Keeper’s temples faced persecution from the Lemirian Empire under suspicion of harboring rebellion. After the descent of the Great Dragon, Iyiria was very concerned with expelling spies from neighboring countries, and so developed a tense relationship with our church as well. Still, ever since the Great Dragon graced this city with its presence and bestowed its blessing on the temples, we have been able to offer our services openly.”

I made a mental note to look all of that up later. “Services?”

“Confession is popular,” said Isul. “As are prayers for protection from secrets and hidden plots. Others entrust their secrets to the Keeper’s embrace entirely, relinquishing their own knowledge of it in the process. Are you interested?”

“I don’t have any secrets I want to forget,” I said.

Isul’s cheek dimpled as he smiled. “Then, perhaps you’d like the Keeper’s blessings to help conceal all the secrets you keep?”

Hey. Chen Xiarui was such an earnest, straightforward guy. How could Isul accuse this face of having so much to hide?

“It seems backwards to trust someone else with hiding your secrets.”

“Do you trust yourself with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“That’s great. Not many people can withstand the burden for long.”

Was he making fun of me?

“But if I may offer a suggestion, the blessing of the Signifier or the Secret-Keeper may be useful in obscuring the weight of your secrets. After all, it is quite palpable to an adherent with the right blessings.”

I blinked.

“Are you saying you can tell how much I’m hiding by just looking at me?”

Isul smiled gently and poured the tea for us, pushing a cup across the table to me.

I stared at him a moment longer before I took a tentative sip of tea. It had a light and slightly bitter flavor. Not bad.

“Ordinary methods can deceive the eyes of most,” Isul said, “but to hide from the adherents of the Tripartite, you may need something more special. Of course, that is one of the services offered at the Keeper’s temple.”

That definitely sounded useful, but I felt doubtful about why he would go out of his way to offer it to me. I didn’t really trust people who gave help away freely.

“Do you help just anyone with that?”

“According to our discretion.”

“Is it a monetary service?”

“No.”

“Why offer to help me, then? Usually, if someone walks around with a boatload of secrets, wouldn’t you think that they can’t possibly be a good person?”

Isul sipped some tea while he pondered my question.

“I like working at the temple because I get to meet a lot of people. And people are very interesting. Whether they walk in the light or in the dark, they always have secrets they want to keep. Still… it’s rare that we get a guest like you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are also very interesting,” he said. “And that, for my own reasons, I don’t think my help will be used for evil. That’s all.”

His own reasons?

Well, I hadn’t told him a thing about myself, so I shouldn’t risk prying either. It was enough to know that he had his own motivations, even if it was as simple as curiosity. Selfishness was much easier to trust than altruism.

“How does your service work?”

“Would you rather have a blessing to be seen as you wish to be seen, or to conceal what you wish to conceal?”

“Is there a meaningful difference?”

“Haha. That is a great question.”

Isul seemed to be in a good mood.

“The Signifier’s blessing is less predictable, but more adaptable as circumstances change. The Keeper’s blessing is steady, but once the barrier of ignorance has been broken, there is no restoring it.”

“Then I’d prefer the Signifier’s help,” I said. “Why would the Keeper’s temple offer the Signifier’s blessings, though?”

“It does not. I just happen to be an adherent of the Signifier as well.”

Was that normal?

Isul reached into his cloak and removed a coin-sized silver disc and metal stylus. In his hand, the tip of the stylus began to emit a purple glow. He placed it to the disc with great solemnity, drawing on one side a sigil of an owl. The way he drew it made its facial disk look like a mask.

On the other side of the disc, he carefully etched a single line — not in the alphabet commonly used in the region, but in the twisting symbols of the golden book and the Record of Existence. As he finished writing, the meaning of the letters engraved itself into my mind.

May you be seen as you wish to be seen.

The glow of the stylus dimmed. Isul let out a breath, then handed the disc to me.

“Keep it on your person when you want to make use of its effects. Otherwise, you can do with it as you please. And if it is ever broken or fading, please feel free to return and ask for my services again.”

I admired the fine etching on the disc before pocketing it.

“By the way, Isul, do you attend the Academy?”

“You mean the Nithemoore Academy of Knowledge?” I nodded. “No. Well… Not exactly. Why?”

It sounded like there was quite a story behind that.

“Isn’t it said that everyone who attends the Academy is very talented? I wondered if people could run into you there.”

“Not for now. Though, you look about the right age to start attending this year. Are you a new student?”

I laughed. “I don’t think I’d be able to pass their entrance requirements.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe we could have been classmates.”

I’d have to find out more about Isul later to make sure we didn’t run into each other at school. After all, as the creator of the talisman in my pocket, wouldn’t it be awkward if he sensed it on the Duval heir?

We chatted for a little while more as we finished our tea. He told me where the other temples were located and recommended a few good supply stores at my request, and then he walked with me back to the temple entrance.

As we stood on the doorsteps, Isul said, “By the way, there are a few things I have learned as an adherent.”

I blinked and looked over.

“People project their own experiences on others, and the more secrets a person has, the more suspicious they become of others. I thought about it for a while. What is the best way to show your sincerity to this kind of person, who only believes in the ugliness of human beings?”

I didn’t like that he was saying this. “Why are you asking me?”

“The best answer I could come up with was to take the initiative to bare my own secrets as well. Not all of them; that action would not be fully trusted either. But I thought it would be enough to show the existence of a secret that the other did not know.”

I really didn’t like where this is going.

“Isul,” I said. “You don’t need to show me anything about yourself. I don’t want to know.”

I didn’t want that kind of closeness.

But Isul just smiled.

“If you ever need help from one of the Tripartite’s temples, I hope you will look for me. Because I am the best priest you could find.”

He raised a finger to his lips and stepped backwards, melting into the shadows of the wall. Within seconds, it was as if he’d never been there at all.

As I stared, a veiled and hooded priest opened the door.

“Hello, dear guest,” she said. “What brings you to the Keeper’s temple today?”

“I was just passing by,” I said slowly. “But, while you’re here… Do you know Isul?”

“Who?”

“He’s one of the priests who works here.”

The priest was silent for a moment.

Then she said, “Dear guest, I know all the priests of this temple. There is no one named Isul among our number.”

Then who had I just met?

More importantly, how did he expect me to find him again if no one knew who he was? I mean, I couldn’t deny that it had been really cool, but… Sometimes, showmanship got in the way doing what you needed to do. Maybe he should reconsider his methods.

Like the way he’d made it blatantly obvious that there was something really suspicious about him. What would he do if I decided to throw his talisman away?

I traced my thumb over its texture in my pocket, but in the end, I held onto it. I thanked the priest and hurried away into the street.

Recent experiences were really making me doubt how reliable memory was in Kosmonymia. And it was already such an unreliable thing in the first place.

Maybe I should be thankful that people’s minds were so malleable, though. Otherwise, wouldn’t it be impossible for me to deceive everyone into thinking I was Acacius Duval?

But of course, that also was only possible because Acacius had kept everyone at arm’s distance, until no one understood him anymore.

Then, if I wanted to live as Acacius, should I do the same?

The talisman was warm in my hand.

May you be seen as you wish to be seen.

Chapter 8 Back to Index