Bloody hell! Bloody, bloody hell... What got me so much off the rocker was the long line extending all over the city's main plaza.
If not for knowing that the coliseum was actually outside that extensive piece of decorated space only nobles gathered to gauge their investments... I would surely believe the next few turns were what separated me from the darn office.
But no! There were just this many desperate folks out there, crowding an otherwise artfully erected plaza with lots of space and trimmed trees with the unwashed bodies of stinky cavemen.
"Fuck off!" "You stand on my foot." "This is...argh!" "Uncut swine, your urine spilt—not my bag, no!" A lot of dishonest folks were out here too. I didn't focus on them, though.
As far as I was concerned, the unforgiving preliminaries had already started. The goal is to reach the admission office on time and with energy to spare.
Just by waiting here, cramped in between one sweaty back and a pimple-covered hairy front, the obvious struggle wasn't lost on me.
Though I couldn't harp on about that. I was left mostly alone. Might be because of the long overcoat I'd borrowed from Spice.
Maybe also my rather giant size compared to those busy mammals. Or it was the stench... who knows.
At least no noble bothered me. Which others couldn't say. They came and dragged anyone they fancied away for closer *inspection*. Arrogant asshats so full of themselves.
"Wouldn't bet my honour on random douches either." "Words that suit a challenged mongrel." The sarcastic remark came from my left.
I turned my head slightly, staring down at a man no higher than my abdomen. He was quite thin, too. "You talking to me, buddy?"
My voice obviously didn't sound all that pleased. "No," he smirked, his azure eyes blinking mischievously, "talk with hill giants go well, you see.
Whatever you say, nobody understands nor bothers either," it was supposed to be a joke, for the man started cackling madly.
"Ahh... spoilsport." I didn't humour him as I took another two steps forward, hoping that this darn registration office would turn up right ahead before midnight.
"Indeed, humour is lost to a brute of mana." Without waiting for my answer, he briskly continued, "mana racing along unchecked, proof of a misguided fool.
A miracle the baby hasn't grown cold yet." Right, the youth. I remembered her slumber should be over any moment now.
And as she also didn't humour me by chugging down any nourishment I got my claws on, I could only tremble at the thought of what colossal headache was just around the corner.
For some reason, she loves to shriek and brawl her eyes out three or four hours a day. Which would animate me to do the same, contract be blamed.
The sight of me rolling around on the ground to her striking tune of course hadn't made life easier for me. But no guards showed up fast enough to apprehend me, which was probably the only silver lining.
Meanwhile, the damn blabbermouth went on and on about how bloody difficult it was for the medium talented to open up their minds to more than one School of Magic.
How beloved and great the human race was... It irked me to no end he essentially stepped all over me in the process of exalting himself while I could do nothing.
Or at least not now. In the ring, perhaps. But one way or another, I had to get there, no? "The very process of imprinting is consuming part of the available space on the soul.
With time, aptitude, enlightenment and sheer willpower, it is possible to compact that imprint. But why am I spilling pearls before the swine?"
Racist as pretty much every citizen here to varying degrees, the man spat so-called truths I knew better than him.
If not for these many injuries holding me down, I'd love to see what face he'd make after I gave him a foretaste of what a dozen or so such imprints could do if working in tandem.
Casting magic was only possible through a spell model, a matrix, which obviously wasn't compatible with all spells. Talent merely cut down on time, a resource precious to mortals only.
That was why some ugly collective of truth-seeking twats came up with classifications and put everything under the big umbrella known as Schools of Magic.
I knew them personally so... the memory didn't do me any good, worsening my mood for sure! Anyway, the vessel had to grow, the soul had to dig veins through the body to control mana better.
This was the only truth there was. Also, the reason why I could hardly cast any flimsy spell right now. From a magic perspective, my body looked like a sieve.
Or, as Spice put it, I was leaking. Though I much preferred the term radiation over leakage. I was positive I turned into a lemon, so very sour.
"Do your best with the given cards..." I mutter so weakly nobody heard it. I had to placate myself, or the long road to this damn coliseum would soon be washed in blood.
Suddenly, the youth in my arms wriggled. "No-no-no-no-no..." She opened her eyes, let her curious eyes wander and... I, yes, I sighed. She started her daily shrieking marathon.
The worries of a common man stuck in a crowd... How far would she come today? I didn't know for sure.
The only thing I did was that everyone around me was looking my way with unkind eyes while the two stinky fellows at my front and back ignored the commotion entirely.
Even that wannabe magic researcher was so engrossed in his monologue, a literal sea of foolish ideas by the way, he showed no reaction whatsoever other than to converse with himself more freely.
This simply left me, hoping for the youth's mood to not turn as sour as mine or worse befall her in fear of the consequences. While everybody around me was staring. S.T.A.R.I.N.G.
In between, I took my seventh step since finding myself in this long line. The commotion wasn't enough because she...
She crapped all over the place too, increasing her audience and my anxiety. I heard myself sigh once more. In utter defeat.