Chapter 4: Ambition’s Prize

  Headmaster Charles Vanderborn was a legend, and not just for his power. He was a master artificer, able to use both his combat and noncombat decks to create wondrous artifacts of considerable power, including one of the world’s only flying ships, called the Wanderer. Unlike most of the other professors, he had a full three affinities instead of the two that most topped out at, and more cards in his decks than possibly anyone in the world.

  So when he brought the full force of his sullen, disappointed glare down on Ambrose, even the soaking wet shadow wizard knew to shut this mouth. At least for now.

  “I expected better of you, Jessica,” he said, finally looking back at his granddaughter. His thick, bushy white eyebrows furrowed as he spoke. “Your opponent went out of his way to put you on a time limit, but he didn’t actually hurt you. You had every opportunity in the world to put pressure on him early, but you allowed him to control the fight.”

  The other students watched silently for the most part, but an audible wince passed through the crowd. No one wanted to be chewed out by the headmaster, let alone in public.

  “But Grandfather, if this were a real fight -- “

  “If this were a real fight, chances are you would’ve been dead with a showing like that,” he snapped. “You have all the tools you need to succeed, but you lack conviction and the power to finish the job.”

  Jessica swallowed hard, and anyone could see her tight control was the only thing keeping her from breaking down crying. If or when she broke, even Ambrose wouldn’t torment her for it. In fact, he didn’t even want to let this stand.

  “Good thing she still has another year to grow stronger,” he said, drawing the headmaster’s attention back to him. “And unlike me, she’s going to be a lot more dangerous in general situations. Put me and her on a team, and I guarantee you we could take on any other duo in the school. So maybe get off her back and give her time.”

  Altruism wasn’t exactly Ambrose’s forte, but then again, he could count people he considered his friends on one hand with a finger or two left over. Professor Vanderborn was a man who was not shy about having favorites. It was a gamble, but he bet on the headmaster valuing his name, if nothing else.

  “You would do well to stay out of family business,” the aged wizard warned. “You are not as secure as you think.”

  “All I’m saying is that there is no dishonor in losing against me,” Ambrose said, throwing his arms up in the air, sending droplets everywhere. “Isn’t that right, people? Boo me if you’ve been humiliated in the dueling grounds by me.”

  It presented a dilemma for his classmates. Did they boo and jeer at him because he deserved it, or did they deny him what he wanted?

  “Boooo!” Raeva called, a big smile on her face. Her seeming dislike of him was only matched by her joy of trouble.

  Raeleq joined in a second later, as did a few others, but they were in the minority. Ambrose walked in a circle and soaked in their ‘praise’, determined to be a lightning rod.

  Professor Vanderborn’s eyes shone with an inner, pale fire. The others shut up immediately. He took a step forward, until they were face to face. When he spoke, it crackled with repressed power. “I think it’s time you and I had a long overdue conversation, Ambrose Adams.”

  For a second, he expected the Pause and an actual battle. Instead, his stomach churned as if he’d been turned upside down and spun around. Darkness enveloped them. Screams pierced through the void, along with the sound of sobs and people begging. It lasted for nearly five seconds before his stomach rolled and they appeared in the headmaster’s office.

  Ambrose caught himself on the man’s enormous, ornate mahogany desk and nearly puked. He swallowed hard and said, “That was dramatic, sir.” On the upside, he was dry now, somehow.

  “You deserved it. A phrase I’m sure you’re already sick of hearing.” Vanderborn wasn’t the type to laugh, but Ambrose banked on amusement at the very least.

  “No, it’s always good to know what I’ve earned and why. It helps keep our ledgers straight.” He looked around, amazed as always at the view.

  Vanderborn’s office was a tower at the top of the school, but that was hardly notable. The massive floating garden docked to the office, however, stood out. Past the roses and orchids, the Headmaster’s ship sat docked on the far end of the aerial island. It looked almost like a boat, but had great sweeping metal wings, and had room for him and a small crew to take him anywhere on the continent in just a few days instead of months or years.

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  “Not that it’s any of your business,” said the professor, “but I am hard on Jessica because I know she can do better. If I didn’t care, I would not push her the way I do. I demand excellence from everyone in my family. And if you are, as I suspect, going to be family someday, then you should push her too.”

  Ambrose made a face. “We are not romantically entangled, I assure you.”

  Professor Vanderborn cocked his head and made a thoughtful sound. He circled around to his practical, utilitarian chair and sat. “Then that means you risked my ire over someone you owe nothing to. What does that gain you, Adams?”

  “A chance for a one on one, it seems,” he said. Although his tone was flippant, he was honestly nervous. He was on as good terms as anyone was with the headmaster, but that didn’t mean he could disrespect him in public. They both knew that.

  “I suppose so. And maybe I have a challenge for you, if you think so highly of yourself.” Vanderborn steepled his fingers together. “Have you spoken to your parents lately? You’re going to want to check the mail soon.”

  Ambrose stiffened. “What is it you know or think you know that you’re trying to hold over me?” His tone was flat, neither accusing nor resentful.

  “Your tuition for next year is in question. You will likely not be able to return for your final year without some powerful intervention. However, it seems to me that you don’t have many friends to call on, you and your parents. There are a lot of people willing to see the house of Adams finally be put out of its misery.”

  For the first time that day, real anger seized him by the throat, and a few choice curses and insults bubbled up in his throat.

  “Save it,” said Vanderborn, waving dismissively. “Whatever you were going to say. I am willing to offer you a way out, and give you a chance for a real future.”

  “And what’s it going to cost me? I don’t expect the most powerful wizard in the world to operate on goodwill alone,” Ambrose said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

  The professor stroked his long, white beard thoughtfully. “You assume correctly. I do not give out charity, I plant seeds that I intend to grow fruitful and eventually harvest. A favor for a favor, or service down the line. You see, Ambrose, I have a good idea how a young man like you must feel, under all that pressure. With the entire, ungrateful family counting on your future. It must be unbearable.”

  It was like being punched in the stomach. This was not at all what he expected would happen when brought to the office. “Is this what my punishment for disrespecting you in public is? You twist the knife?”

  Vanderborn shook his head with an unpleasant smile. “Not at all. I’m empathizing. You must hate them.”

  Ambrose said nothing.

  “All their hopes and dreams ride on you. It leaves little time for enjoyment. It’s enough to make anyone bitter. It’s understandable, you know. So I want to be clear when I say I make this offer to Ambrose the rotten little shit, not Ambrose Adams, scion to a family in decline. So listen carefully.

  “I will give you a free ride for your last year, and even include a weekly stipend. All you have to do is place in the top three of the class, and then be ready to prove that big mouth correct when you fight for the grand prize: a rare Wildcard.”

  Ambrose inhaled sharply. Wildcards were the product of concentrated mana, be it from chaotic magical clashes or leylines in the land overproducing. They could be anything, but when added to your deck, they took the form of whatever the wild magic decided would suit you best. He’d never heard of anyone complaining about the magic’s choice.

  “This sounds too good to be true,” Ambrose said. “What else is there?”

  The aged wizard leaned back and leveled a pointed stare at him. “This Wildcard isn't meant for just high academic achievers. It’s for people who are ready to work for me specifically. People who understand the value of getting their hands dirty, and know what loyalty means.”

  “Done,” Ambrose said without hesitation. “I’ll join.”

  “Earn it first,” said Vanderborn. “Prove that you’re not just a big mouth. You have a week before the written exam and then the Faire and the tournament. Make good use of it.”

  “If what you say is true, and I have bad news waiting for me in the mail, then I am at a disadvantage compared to my fellow students. I still have a couple of slots open in both decks, and -- “

  Vanderborn rolled his eyes. “Ask your teachers and tell them you have my blessing. You can get one card of your choice from any of us at my expense, out of what we have here. And if you put in the time in one of the workshops, you can have one artifact made to suit you.”

  “Just to be clear,” said Ambrose, mind racing, “I can get one card and one artifact, courtesy of the school? Does it matter how I get it?”

  For the first time that he could ever remember, Vanderborn laughed. “By the stars, I offered an inch, and you’re trying for a mile. You know what, Adams? No, I don’t care how you obtain it. But if you get caught during whatever clever act you think you can get away with, you’re out. Are we clear?”

  Ambrose bowed his head graciously, “We are. And may I say, I appreciate your generosity sir. I will earn that job and that Wildcard.” He turned to leave, but Vanderborn cleared his throat.

  “One more thing. If you ever disrespect me in public again, we will not be having a pleasant chat like we are now. Understood?”

  It would’ve been easy to be afraid, but Ambrose was too excited about the possibilities to let the threat bother him. “Yes, of course sir.”

  He didn’t have a plan. Not yet. But there were always things in motion. As he left the headmaster’s office, one thing remained clear.

  Ambrose needed to be bold. He needed to win at all costs, and show Vanderborn that he was resourceful as well as dangerous in a fight. That yes, he was greedy and ambitious, but he also longed to prove, more than anything, that he warranted his dangerous reputation.

  So the answer was clear. Vanderborn had offered him a rare card if he won, and a card the school would provide from their extras. Why not double dip? If the cards were somewhere in the office or in his quarters, and it only mattered if he got caught…

  Ambrose Adams was going to steal the Wildcard.