"Come back in please," the dean called, his loud voice easily heard even through the thick doors to his office. Matt pushed the door, which was much, much, much heavier than the High Priestess had made it look, and entered. He tried mimicking the same posture the students had, with his gaze firmly ahead of him. Darius chuckled at the sight, causing Matt's shoulders to deflate.
"Oh, come on. It's not that serious, kid. I already knew I wanted you as soon as Cecilia told me that you were sponsored by an unknown god. I'd literally be spitting in my god's face if I didn't," he explained, lifting Matt's mood considerably. He felt like he was at the top of the world, actually. That didn't stop his curiosity.
"Who's your patron, sir?"
"Why, Loki of course! The Trickster is a fitting patron for me, don't you think?" the large man makes an overly elegant bow, embracing his inner showman. It was hilarious, as he didn't have an ounce that all of Hecate's priestesses seemed to possess, meaning that he nearly went crashing to the ground. Matt stifled his laugh, opting instead to smile.
The High Priestess, still standing by Darius' desk, glided over to Matt. She placed a single hand on his right shoulder, her smile exposing dazzlingly white teeth. "Please come visit the temple once a month. I would like to hear about the evolution of your gifts. Certainly, whenever she is around, Mana would surely love to speak with you."
"Is she still here?"
"Unfortunately, she began her journey back to Mayfeld as soon as we left the temple this morning. The bandits around the area have left her rattled, and she wishes to request the local lord's aid in suppressing them. She worries for her sisters," Cecilia explained. "I wish you good luck, young Matthew. I have a feeling that you will need it."
Ominous message delivered, the old priestess leaves the office, the doors closing once more with an all-encompassing sense of finality. Matt turned his head to look at Darius, who had somehow managed to reclaim his seat at his desk without making a sound. With his feet up on the wood, resting between stacks of paper, Darius was the embodiment of Loki.
The dean passed Matt a piece of paper. It looked like a registration form, full of blanks for him to fill out. "Can you read and write, Matthew?" the man asked, looking at him with concern.
"Yes, sir," Matt said, taking a proffered pen and completing it. Luckily, it was a simple questionnaire, asking about his age, his name, and his place of birth. Still, it seemed like a remarkable waste of paper. Couldn't he just tell all of this to the dean without him having to document it? What benefit would the Academy gain from knowing that Matt hailed from Mayfeld? All this paper belonged in books, not for useless forms. Hiding his dissatisfaction, Matt handed the sheet back to Darius.
Nodding, the man held out a hand. Matt shook it. "Welcome to the Academy of Paladins. You're a few months late, and so you'll be a bit behind the rest of the students. Okay, you'll be quite a lot behind, actually. Given that I'd like to give you a chance to find out what exactly Iapetus' grace means, I'll assign you an instructor for extra time beyond what the rest of the students get. You'll have to work a lot, but I suspect you knew that. Is that a fair deal?"
Matt nodded his head vigorously. "Yes it is, sir."
"Good. If you exit my office and take a right turn, you'll eventually reach one of my secretaries' desk by following the hall. You'll have today off, and you'll begin class tomorrow. Check with the secretary on duty to figure out where you need to go and when. Do you have any questions?" Darius said, his words coming quickly as a particular piece of paper caught his eye. He wore the same expression that Matt's father used to wear when he was behind on filling his quota for the quarry.
"I have just one question, sir. Where can I get a uniform?"
The dean facepalmed. "Of course, I should have recognized that. It wouldn't do to get ostracized because of your bold fashion choices," the man winked, writing a note on another piece of paper. "Hand this to the same secretary. They'll take you to the seamstress and you can get fitted for one. I'll warn you, you'll probably have to wear your current clothes for a few days, even if we get your uniform done as a rush job."
Matt nodded, happy with the fact that he'd get his own pristine white set of clothes at all. A few days with his regular clothing would be a piece of cake. Thanking the man behind the desk, Matt retreated from the office. Before the doors slammed shut, he swore he could hear Darius yell a pair of colorful expletives. That confirmed it, he was really behind on whatever it was. Matt smiled, happy that the dean of the Academy seemed to be a normal person, even if he was theoretically one of the strongest people in the empire.
There was a bounce in his step as he followed the dean's instructions, his mind going through all of the possibilities his future would hold. Lost in thought, he collided with a black-robed man, causing both of them to fall onto the ground.
"I'm so sorry, sir," Matt said as he pushed himself off the ground. He offered a hand to the middle-aged man he knocked down. The man swatted Matt's hand away.
"What in the hell are you doing here, commoner? I'll have you whipped for your insolence," the black-haired man threatened. There was menace in his tone. Matt stumbled backwards before electing to simply run from this particular problem. The man cursed after him, but Matt was long gone before he could do anything.
The secretary on duty, a young woman in her mid-twenties, stared at him with wide blue eyes as he came barreling into the reception area of the keep. Matt waved a hello as he caught his breath. He prayed to Iapetus that he wouldn't have to meet the black-haired man again.