Assassin's Rise Read Online Free PDF

behind the wooden counter. An
ancient figure dressed in black robes stood behind it. Roland could
scarce believe how he had missed noting the black-robed man
before.
    “Disciple Hellson,
Disciple Sturmel. Academia Amlor was not founded as a place for you
to bicker in.”
    Hellson gave a
perfunctory bow in the black-robed man’s direction, shot Roland a
murderous glare, and turned on his heel, flinging the doors open as
he left.
    “I am sure Lord Helson
regrets this incident, Educator Altmoor,” said Sturmel
faithfully.
    “Indeed, but there is
no need for you to apologise in his name, Disciple Sturmel. But
thank you for the thought.”
    Sturmel nodded in
Roland’s direction before hurrying after his friend. Altmoor waited
until after they had left before beckoning Roland over. Roland
handed him his letter of invitation.
    “Lord indeed,” the old
man remarked as he read.
    Roland blushed.
    He finished reading and
the parchment disappeared inside his robes. “My name is Altmoor
Ochdal. I am one of several instructors here at Academia Amlor. You
are truly fortunate to have received such an invitation, Roland
Belanu. And at such a young age ...”
    “I am very grateful for
the opportunity, Educator Altmoor,” said Roland, making sure to use
the title he had heard Sturmel use.
    “Indeed, yet you cause
trouble even before you are officially accepted?”
    Roland dropped his
gaze. Then he looked back up and locked eyes with the old man.
Altmoor had fierce blue eyes that were still full of life, belying
his age. “I did not think it wise to start at Academia Amlor by
being belittled,” he said, holding Altmoor’s gaze.
    “Indeed,” said Altmoor,
unfazed, stroking his chin. “Although there is no differentiation
between the students here – regardless of their stations – you are
not yet a student. And, you are indeed, a commoner. Therefore,
Disciple Hellson was in his full right expecting you to step out of
the way, and by law, you should address him as Lord.”
    Roland clenched his
hands by his sides. “You are right, Educator Altmoor. It takes
nothing from me to address a man according to his station, even if
said station might not be one fully deserved.”
    “Does this frustrate
you?”
    “It frustrates me that
after only a few hours in Darma, it seems as though those with
wealth abuse their power, yet appear incompetent. If this were my
village, these people would not survive for a month on their own
and would have to be fed like babes – yet here they rule.”
    “That is a very strong
and, might I add, a very dangerous statement to make, although I do
enjoy fresh outlooks on life.” Altmoor tapped one finger on the
countertop. “Your entrance exam will be on the third day of the
coming week at noon – not one moment later. That gives you nine
days to prepare, including today. If you take the hallway to my
right, you will find the library. As a potential Disciple of
Healing, you should at least know all human organs and their
functions, including muscles and bones. Having knowledge of types
of wounds and common diseases may also prove beneficial.
    “Since you have
apprenticed as an Apothecary from the age of twelve, I expect that
your knowledge of herbs will be sufficient – unless of course your
village is not as proficient as you would like to believe.” He
smiled as Roland’s eyes narrowed. “You have fire in your belly,
Roland Belanu,” he said. “It is a term that my father used to
describe a certain kind of man. It is also something that is sadly
lacking in today’s time, I might add.”
    Roland shifted his
feet. The sudden praise had caught him off guard. All the
information made his head swam. The old man was clever, he realised
that. He should not lower his guard until he had time to think it
over.
    Altmoor watched him
with an amused smile. “You are tired, as expected after a long
trip. May I enquire if you have lodgings?”
    “I thought the academia
provided lodgings?”
    “Not until