He settled into a comfortable rhythm for his remaining time in the seminary: He waited on Vindenca, she helped him with his studies. He ingratiated himself with the faculty and they gave him tidbits of useful advice. He wasn’t one of the most feared students, but he made contacts at various levels, who knew him to be useful, found others who were useful to him and had a couple he exchanged favors with regularly who weren’t horrendous company. And visited with Joana in the kitchens every week or so. 

But all things in the miserable world of mortals are impermanent, and he needed to prepare for the next stage, his first position as a true Priest of Asmodeus. 

You didn’t choose your placement, and there was no simple relationship between your performance in your studies and what you got. The Church would put you where you would be most useful and that was that.

(And if you believed that, and didn’t have the skill to manipulate it, or the name to be worth a favor, that was your own fault.) 

But towards the end of their time in seminary they would be assessed formally, ranked, and those ranks displayed on lists at the front of the refectory hall for all to see.

He had gathered from the well connected children that, unless you had truly extraordinary connections, you weren’t getting a decent post anywhere if you were at the bottom of those lists.

(And even if you did, your relatives might kill you to save themselves the embarrassment.) 

The true dross were sent out to be village priests in the middle of nowhere, that was the fate he wanted to avoid above all else. Belde’s status as a backwater town had been bad enough, but surround him with miserable peasants and sheep and he might as well walk into the forest and be eaten by monsters. 

(Orgull had never left Belde before coming to the seminary. And all he knew about the country was from books and rumor. But it sounded dreadful.)

It would have been hard to cheat the tests themselves. You couldn’t even cajole and bribe the teachers, as they teleported in priests with no connection to the seminary to perform them. There wouldn’t be time to establish a connection with any of them beforehand, surprisingly even the best connected of the noble brats didn’t have an in with them.  

According to the (very quiet) complaints of the faculty, this system was the direct command of Aspexia Rugatonn She-Who-Is-Elevated-Most-Highly-Amongst-Us-Miserable-Mortals and the examiners reported directly to her third undersecretary. Supposedly to ensure some minimal level of competence among those assigned to important roles (she had apparently tortured to death a few highly recommended, but deeply pathetic, candidates who’d been assigned to her private office, before instituting the system) but more likely to make sure that the patronage networks of the High Priests and Ministers weren’t upset by the petty ones of the teachers at the seminary.

As is Right and Lawful. The will of the Most High is the will of Asmodeus on Golarion, and those she sees fit to elevate are those most worthy. 

The night before their assessments, he went down to the kitchen. The place was even more chaotic than normal, preparing a meal suitable for the esteemed visitors had put the cooks in a frantic mood. So it was easy enough for him to stay out of sight. 

This would be a little harder, Joana wore different clothes of course, and was shorter than him, but he knew her face well. And her mannerisms. How she laughed when he told a joke. How she tied and retied her braid when she was thinking. 

He waited until she’d gone down to the cold rooms in the basement, a trip he’d timed as 3 minutes each way, cast the spell at a whisper.

....and took her place stirring the big pot of stew that would be served to the students.

Amid the brown mass of vegetables and meat (casually tossed in the pot for everyone, it still shocked him slightly) a little more organic matter wouldn’t be noticeable. The salt and spices would be enough to disguise the taste. 

None of the staff paid him much heed, focused on the meals for the important guests. So after stirring the pot well, and putting the ladle back where it had been exactly, he walked back out again. 

He met Vindenca before dinner as normal, and walked with her to the refectory hall.

By unspoken convention  the noble born, or otherwise influential, students took the tables at the front, nearest the High Table where the faculty and their guests ate. (They were having quail tonight, Orgull noted in passing).  

They wanted their status to be as visible as possible to the visitors. So by the time he had carried Vindenca’s bags to her table, fetched her drink, and stood around long enough to be visible, the only spaces remaining for him and the other minions were the farthest end of the hall. 

As always, by the time the stew came to them it was little more than a half bowl of liquid to be mopped up with bread.

It pleases Asmodeus that hierarchy is enforced in all things. And His servants enjoy the fruits of their labors.   

He began dipping his bread, but was distracted by conversation. Everyone was cramming for the next day in low grade panic, and he got caught up in an argument about some inane point of catechism. "Clearly we are supposed to repeat the phrasing Reverend Sergi used, the book is years out of date at this point and...."

He realize with a start that Vindenca had already finished, and was looking over at him expectantly. He visibly jumped, to the amusement of his companions, and ran off to attend her again. 

He’d fantasized, a little, about poisoning them properly. But overly blatant sabotage would force the faculty to investigate, and they might even reschedule the testing.

But no Chosen of Asmodeus would betray their dignity so much as to complain to their superiors about their sleep being disrupted by having to spend the night in the privies. Or say their catechism was poor because, instead of reciting the disciplines, they’d been saying rather more practical prayers as they emptied their guts into their chamberpot. Even if they were so nauseous they could barely stand they would rather die than admit it. 

Vindenca arrived late, as they were closing the doors of the refectory. It was only a frantic whispered mixture of begging, promises, and threats, that allowed her to get in. 

Orgull hadn't bothered to attend on her that morning. Instead he'd woken and said his prayers as normal, broke his fast on food he'd stored in advance and water he created, before reading over his notes a final time. Then, after wetting and only part drying his face and hair, he had gone down to the hall, being one of the first to arrive. 

The head invigilator castigated them for being such a sorry sight, pathetic and unworthy disgraces to Their Lord's name (though from the cadence of it, Orgull thought she probably said something like this to every seminary class).

Reverend Sergi, standing behind her with the other faculty caught Orgull's eye briefly, but his expression was unreadable. 

He'd never been sure how much the teachers knew about what he was doing, he was pretty sure certain he hadn't violated the letter of the rules. Though that was little defence if they took issue. There were no explicit prohibitions against assaulting, humiliating other students, or interfering in their ability to study, he knew that first hand. If the Reverend didn't see it fit to interfere then it was surely the will of Asmodeus. 

The servants would be punished of course, especially the stupid girl responsible for the stew who had somehow messed up something so simple. But that was the way of things. They always had Novices who needed the practice. He didn’t care about servants. He didn’t care about her. That would be weak and pathetic. He wasn’t weak and pathetic, so he didn’t. His mind was entirely focused on the day's testing. 

The tests themselves are gruelling, but straightforward. Among other things:

One of the visiting clerics quizzes each of them individually on their lessons, trying to catch them in heresy or ignorance. Then the same but while speaking infernal the whole time. 

They were tested in casting their cantrips at speed and at targets, while a wizard brought in for the occasion cheerfully tossed acid splashes at them. 

Then they were split into groups of 4 and made to fight 3 dire rats for some reason. 

That evening there was a mood of muted celebration among the novices. They didn't dance on the tables like mad Caydenites, but they relaxed a little more than usual, now many felt the most difficult part had passed. Over dinner (a carefully bland mix of heavily boiled meat and vegetables) they boasted of how well they had done in the tests, and speculated wildly on who would be sent where. 

Their ambitions were all tiresomely predictable. They all wanted the same prestigious posts in Egorian, or an army command, because that was what everyone told them was impressive and high status. Most didn't have a true Asmodean bone in their bodies, they were just playacting what they thought ambition should look like. 

As he nodded politely and zoned out his tired mind drifted to daydreams of Hell, where when they all became devils this kind of silliness would be burned out of them. The Arch Devils didn't aspire to Rule because they felt like they were supposed to, they did it because their nature was like that of Asmodeus, to know what they wanted and take it. And unlike mortal rulers Asmodeus was so strong, and so Lawful, you knew the best and most certain way to get the things you wanted was by serving Him. 

The next morning Orgull was summoned to Reverend Sergi’s office. 

“I’m told that Novice Fernando will live.” He said without preamble.

“Such a hearty appetite on that boy, you’d think it would give him a better constitution. His uncle is furious of course.”

Shit. Well, he wasn't accusing him directly at least. And Orgull could take a prompt when it was given.

“His uncle sir?”

“Oh you didn’t know? He’s the Duke of Belde’s nephew.

The Duke is very upset about it. Not only can he not put him in the post he had planned, the cost of third circle spells from the priesthood at such short notice is considerable. He is looking for someone to blame."

“Yes. I dare to say we’ll have to replace almost all the kitchen staff. Quite costly. A lot of people’s plans have been disrupted.”

He flicked through some papers absently, bringing up a list of names.

“Your friend Vindenca barely escaped the bottom quarter of the list, despite the benefits of her birth and her impressive class performance. So the post she had been angling for in Egorian will have to go to someone else. A pity. She had asked for you to be given a post alongside her as well, if a more junior role.”

what. why had she. she didn't

This was not important. 

"Reverend, I didn't...."

"Silence. 

I did not give you leave to speak boy. Break your smallest finger on your right hand."

He wasn't going to cry out or flinch if he could help it. If anything this was probably a good sign right, Reverend Sergi wouldn't be making it into a lesson unless he might survive this. Unless he just thinks its funny.  

He had broken the fingers of slips in his practical classes a dozen times, and taken and given such injuries a thousand times as a child. It was really not that big a deal. It would be unbearably pathetic to die because he let a little pain get in the way of keeping himself alive. And in hell there would be even more pain if he hadn't shown his value before getting there. 

He followed orders. 

_{It really did hurt quite a lot though}

When he was finished Sergi continued:

"We spoke before on the nature of power. You were right that it does not serve Asmodeus to have weak servants. But neither does it serve him to have his property recklessly damaged."

"You are lucky that the Duke of Belde has many enemies, as do others in your cohort, so suspicion does not go to you immediately. And there are those within the church who are of the opinion that it does our highborn recruits good to be humbled occasionally, the resentment it breeds tends to make them work harder, and they appreciate better what they are given when they see it can all be taken away." 

"Suffering leads to learning, and we have no use for those who cannot learn. Can you learn boy?"