Find a trustworthy bank to deposit the money into, then head back to the crowd and try to find the people I noticed again.
Christina walked through the streets of Folstag, amazed at the legal of activity in the streets, despite the snowfall. As she reached the gates of the University, she saw a lavishly dressed man with a whitewood staff, heading back out into the city. Figuring that he must be a fellow student, she heads in his direction and introduces herself. "Christine Denare, class of 444. You're another student here, I assume?"
Find a trustworthy bank to deposit the money into, then head back to the crowd and try to find the people I noticed again.
Christine accompanied Demivh on his way to the bank for a short while before interruption by a pair of city guards, whose
vertically striped dress uniforms of cinnabar, navy, and saffron look rather cozy, and none too cold in this weather. They wear no armor and bear only spears with flat edges as protection, as their role is less that of a military soldier and more of a peacekeeper and a symbol of justice.
They stopped the two students, and briskly asked of their enrollment.
"Are the both of you looking for Folstag? It's just in the other direction," asked the senior, pointing in the direction the students came from.
Over the guard's shoulder, however, Demivh spies exactly the kind of bank he was looking for: a separate building, not a shop built into the side of the two-story masonry lining the streets, built in classical architecture with two statues beside the steps to the platform. A lead plaque with glass letters reads simply, 'bank'.
One statue depicts Humility, god of the sky and the progenator of all the gods, well-known throughout the region: an easily-recognized androgynous robed figure with a pair of eagle's wings on the right shoulder, and a pair of bat's wings on the left.
The other depicts an emaciated human male with an imbalanced scale in hand, surrounded by piles of gold (the statue itself is almost certainly copper or bronze). The figure doesn't exactly come to memory.
To say Murble arrived with only the clothes on her back was perhaps unfair to the dignity of clothing. Her nice clothes had been seized by a pair of ravening eels called her younger sisters as soon as it was learned the university would be providing a uniform, so she'd had to make the trip here in sackcloth. One of the burdens of living up to her family name under less than ideal circumstances, she supposed.
Speaking of which, she's more than a little irritated at the number of probable students arriving in actual carriages, both because her own trip had been considerably more prone to exercise and because the display is making her feel like a pauper. The sackcloth is not helping that. Mumbling to herself about the virtues of thriftiness is probably not helping her look more regal either.
Rather than stand about looking like a poor, cold, and crazy person, Murble decides to make a break for... hrm. On the one hand, the school probably doesn't want her looking like a pauper either; if the quartermaster is available before the parade it'd go better for everyone. On the other, there's a gaggle of students nearby, and it'd behoove her to get to know some of her possible vassals.
...of course, then they'd know her as Murble the Crazy Hobo, so she decides to calmly walk (read: dash like a frightened eel) to the school proper.
Get to the school proper, see if the quartermaster is available to give me my uniform.
Indeed, the bags are a problem... directions were scarce with most guards brushing off your requests, perhaps justifiably. Who knows how many beggars try to sneak in every day? Then again, you haven't counted any beggars yet.
Despite the setbacks, occasionally a guard will help you, followed by a snide comment to the effect of "Good luck sneaking in." Indeed, when you finally arrive at the gates, you find a troupe of guards standing guard in their
ostentatious dress uniforms, lined up with their spears and standing taut as loaded crossbows.
Seated at a whitewood desk centered in a pool of amazingly dry pavement, the faculty gatekeeper raises her eyes to meet yours (however incompatible your stares are). She takes notice of the acceptance letter in your hand—and promptly has you arrested.
"Guards, have one of you fetch me the recordkeeper. I want to know whose letter this... pauper stole."
Raioyris paces through the jeweled gates passing rapt glances at the carriages and rich treasures of the wealthy students. Not even in the many hours he spent watching merchants enter and leave his village did he spy such extravagant fortunes.
One can only hope that their magnanimity matches their processions.
Raioyris wandered to the middle of the crowd were he found himself caught between the calls of two luxuriously dressed youth. Such presentation and projection! I can not imagine the gentle feather of thought finding rest on their audacious skulls.
He nimbly traverses the tarrying students and slips into the halls of Folstag.
You arrive at the gates just in time to observe a spectacle of sorts; a pauper dressed in sackcloth, accused of stealing an acceptance letter. You could perhaps flash your own letter and walk on past without any hesitation.
Incidentally, this marks the second sackcloth-wearer you've seen in the whole city. The first was someone preaching in the streets about some 'Silent' god.
Author
Topic: Folstag University of Magic (Between Light and Shadow) (Read 54681 times)