The Third Layer of the Capitol had the moniker Paradise to most of the populace throughout the Empire. Known as Kamine, it was the epitome of living that the lower class could ever hope to join, even if it was just in their untamed dreams. Education, cathedrals, and masterful craftsmen occupied Kamine, a hub between the two different worlds of higher and lower levels. The layers below belonged to the nobility, or were used for manufacturing or religion.
Ares walked down veins of impractical artisan cobbled streets nestled between artistic designed small houses and apartment buildings. Crowds of wealthy socialites gathered in squares surrounded by shops displaying clothes and luxury goods behind glass cages. Small cafes wafted a serenade of brewed marsh and light sweet tin, supporting conversation of the latest trends and gossip of the various industry leaders. Different breeds and colors of sifters and disposing fungi coated the houses and streets in vines and rich deep colors.
In the heart of cobbled roots, the University stood over everything. An altar to the Pelevia Empire's unyielding defiance against the hostile world. The University, or at least the Kamine Branch of it, was the ticket to a better life for all the lower cogs to dream about while breaking their backs for fat men in golden thread robes. The prestige of owning a certificate is balanced by the intense, overbearing requirements just to get in.
Every cycle, a test called the University Scholarship and Admittance Examination was held to give the valuable, intelligent, and genius few lost in the mediocre masses a chance to rise up a class. Among the dirt-covered populace, it had the name The Culling instead. Crowds of families and children swarmed just outside the gates of the University, peeking through the metal bars into the elegant refined stone melded together by the words of a god.
Ares walked into the center of the crowd, limiting his breath against the noxious odor of sweat and slum. A semicircle of guards stood like narcissistic pillars, separating the lethal gazes from the long line of individuals waiting. Ares joined the line that leaked out of the old metal gate of the University.
Alchemy was a prestigious industry; it was the backbone behind everything that ran in a world devoid of kind light. The food that needed to be grown in indirect light, food that needed to be grown in no light, a variety of materials created from the same raw resources, it all was created by the magic of alchemy. It didn't matter what class a person was originally, they would become second to the nobility - many of the nobility tried to become alchemists themselves. Most would fail - alchemy was art and science of creating things that shouldn't exist, and paying a price for it. All the scorch that were hunted at the border of the Badlands were sold to alchemists as materials.
The branch of the University was a temple, a beautiful elegant monolith to knowledge and science built near the Tribulation, large enough to house several settlements. Passing the metal gate, sculptures, colorful fungi, and fountains provided a safe and luxurious place to study within line of sight from watchers outside. Beyond the fungal gardens, several towering pantheons oppressed the surrounding cityscape.
After a couple of hours, Ares was able to reach the end of the line at a small shack off the side of the main buildings. Inside a poorly swept shack with a desk embedded in a wall with broken lights and dust choking the air. There, behind the desk, were two male students, one tall with shit-brown hair and the other stock and fat. Each had a smile on them, the same as bullies and rapists when they find some prey.
"Hello, what Program are you choosing?"
"Alchemy."
"Hahaha that will be 250 netrium."
"It is supposed to be 150."
"Excuse me? I am the one telling you what to do. If you want to try the Alchemy program, it will be 250."
Ares reached into his bag and pulled out several bags of coins of different sizes. He pulled out all of the coins and pushed them towards them. The two students grabbed all the bags and checked each one of them. After checking most of the coins for counterfeit, they turned back to Ares and said with a smile, "I am so sorry, I completely forgot, there is a fifty netrium coin fee."
"Dolonshit. Everyone knows that there isn't something like that."
"Oh dear, then there is nothing we can do."
"Oh then, do you have my receipt? I am willing to pay extra for it."
"Absolutely!"
Ares poured the rest of the coin bags from his satchel and put his clenched hand over them while looking at the students. The fat one took the cue, kneeling below the desk and pulling out a piece of restructured paper. He wrote 150 ne under the amount paid and left the signature space blank before giving it to Ares and taking the coins.
The tall one got up and opened a small crate at the side of the desk. Within were stacks of old torn apart textbooks. Ares got a wax tablet of all the names of the books that he needed, and he started to dig. His eyes kept switching from every book cover to the wax tablet, something he tried to shield from the eyes of the students. Each book he checked, the laughter from the students became louder.
Several books that the wax tablet described were broken, with entire halves of the book missing that Ares had to find replacements for. Several were faded and difficult to read, though even if he could understand them, they were made several decades ago and were written in archaic language. As he collected as many as possible, the two students behind him said, "Alright, time is up."
The lid on the crate slammed back into place an instant after Ares withdrew his hand. He grabbed the couple of nearly complete textbooks he had salvaged and stored them in his now empty satchel. Each student stood on each side of him, grasping his shoulder.
"I won't go until you both give me a signature on my receipt!"
"Alright, if that is all you want. It will probably become the most valuable thing you will have after this."
Both students laughed as they grabbed his slip of paper and wrote their names on it along with several slurs and a doodle of dick. The paper was handed back to him a fist to his stomach. After his receipt was stored, he was pushed out of a backdoor of the shack on his hands and knees.
"Gods, I am sick of dealing with these illiterates."
"I know, right? At least this one had heavy pockets."
The students' loud voices leaked from the cracked door. Ares got up and dusted himself, staring at the shack and the source of laughter and coins. He slung his satchel and walked out of the University. The chitchat from the cafes, the laughter of children in school uniforms, the conversation between neighbors, all were a hollow hoax.
Ares walked into a shop for writing and stationeries, and grabbed a charcoal pencil. He walked to the counter and grabbed some money stored in his sleeves. After he bought the pencil he walked out of the store and sat on an unoccupied bench. He grabbed his receipt and looked at the signatures buried under the insults.
"Hmm."