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And I don't give a damn ('bout my reputation)
Julian makes decisions, and also choices.
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It's been a good first day in the Scholomance, insofar as that's possible. He likes his classes. He's impressed a major enclave. And he's got a Group!!

All things considered, Julian is feeling pretty pleased with himself when he walks up to the Shanghai library table at 10 pm sharp to walk Wen Ning back to his room. 

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Oh he should make conversation probably. You're supposed to make conversation with people you're walking to your room with.

What should they talk about.

"...Are your classes good, sir?"

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"Yes! They all seem fun so far – I'm a little worried about Mystical German Verse, since it's got some pretty old material, but I'm not the most clueless person in my section so it'll probably be fine. How about you? Anything exciting?" 

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He's sharing a class with Jiang Cheng who's mad at Nie Huaisang for no obvious reason and it's very stressful. He yells.

"My classes are very good, sir!"

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"Oh, I'm glad to hear that. You seemed pretty stressed, earlier." Really more like catatonically terrified, but the poor kid doesn't need to hear that. 

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"It's okay, sir. I'm very grateful to be at the Scholomance."

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"You know, you really don't need to call me sir." Because you're an enclaver. Who should have gotten into the Scholomance practically by default. "Hei-lei is fine. Qi Li if the Mandarin pronunciation is easier for you." 

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"OK," Wen Ning says, and with a painful effort doesn't finish the sentence with 'sir.' He gropes for another neutral topic. "I think Shanghai is deciding which freshmen to ally with very early this year."

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....what. Is this a Hint. Is he being told he needs to shape up and make an impression right now? Is he being dropped? Is he being inducted? Is Wen Ning capable of that level of subtlety?? Besides, the whole thing's bizarre strategically, since surely no one's done anything to prove their suitability for a graduation alliance on day two, unless maybe someone caught the Freshman Killer, or is a once-in-a-generation magical prodigy – or, much more likely, the whole thing was already worked out by their parents on the outside and the new inductees just aren't familiar with all the details – 

At this point Julian realizes he's been silent for an uncomfortably long time and manages a noncommittal "Oh?"

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Oh no Wen Ning did something wrong and now Julian hates him.

He bravely continues, "Yeah. It's not an alliance alliance yet but we're getting Masozi clothes so he stops smelling so bad? And not giving him one article of clothing per mail watching shift? Which seems like an investment that means we mean to keep him. I think. I don't know anything."

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Oh. Masozi the maleficer boy. 

 

 

 

When Julian was a child, he'd had a photograph of the Shanghai Dominus pasted on his bedroom wall. The man who fought a maw-mouth and lived, and, much more importantly, who built his enclave up from nothing into the crown jewel of Asian wizardry. Shanghai, which oversees the construction of new enclaves practically every decade. Which might, in forty or fifty years, even build a second Scholomance. (The kind of project Julian would be brilliant at, if only he lives). Shanghai, the great power, the rising star. Julian feels sick to his stomach. He wants to scream. He wants to vomit, except that would be disgusting and also he can't spare the calories. He wants to tell Wen Ning to go fuck himself, and fuck every last one of his enclavemates for cheating at a game they've already won. 

Instead, he says – "Wen Ning, do you think your sister is still in the library? Something important has come up, and I need to speak with her." 

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"Yes?" he says. "I can get back to my room alone."

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"It's alright. I'll drop you off. It's not far." This poor idiot child doesn't deserve to get eaten just because his seniors are sociopaths. Besides, some of us can honor our commitments. 

He's going to be very quiet the rest of the way to their hall. 

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Oh no he did do something wrong and now Julian hates him.

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"Goodnight." 

It takes about ten minutes to walk from Wen Ning's room to the library, and Julian spends most of it thinking about the day his parents took him to the diviner to learn his affinity. The room smelled like incense, and had an honest-to-god neon sign shaped like a crystal ball because she did a double business as a fortune-teller for mundanes. He remembers that they couldn’t look at him for days. It was easy enough to tell what they were doing – refocusing their energy on his sisters. He didn’t blame them. If Julian was an ordinary child, it would just be plain good sense to spend their resources on the ones who weren’t doomed. 


Because he wasn’t an ordinary child, he sat them down and gave them both a talk. Even at age 10, he knew it was important to be very clear with Mama and Baba, because they didn’t always understand things as quickly as he did. He explained that everything was fine, and he was going to survive the Scholomance, because he was going to be valedictorian or close enough to it. After that, they wouldn’t need to worry about finding slots for the others. If Julian lived, every enclave in the world would want him – and his affinity meant he’d be valuable enough that at least one of them would take his siblings, too. They would go to school as enclavers. He had a plan, and Baba didn’t need to cry like that. 


He didn’t tell them about the sick-making hope that opened up inside him when the diviner told him he was going to build enclaves. He could rederive the enclave-building spells, and share them with everyone. No more secrets. No more mortgaging your children’s children to one of the powers that be to give them slightly better odds. This isn’t the kind of thing one thinks about if one wants to survive, and Julian does, but he’s no good at ignoring the truth when it’s staring him right in the face. It’s just there, rooted in his gut like an awful parasitic flower. 


So Julian’s always known what’s probably going to kill him in here, and it’s not his useless goddamn affinity. He has a bigger problem, which is that he’s basically an idiot.  There are some things he cares about more than staying alive. 

 

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Wen Qing sits in the library reading Gray's Anatomy surrounded by Shanghai enclavers.

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"Wen Qing? I need to speak with you. It's very important. Can we go somewhere more private?" 

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Already????

"Yes, of course." She walks with him to the deserted Sanskrit section.

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Deep breaths. Deep deep deep breaths. 

"Now that your enclave has found an – another solution, should I assume that my services aren't required?" 

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"I have literally no idea what you're talking about."

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Okay, trying the direct approach. 

"Is it true that Shanghai has adopted a maleficer? Obviously I'd normally assume it's a lie, but I heard it from your brother, and he doesn't seem the type." 

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"We are considering allying with someone who survived fourteen years with no knowledge of magic other than what he figured out through trial and error, who used malia without killing humans in ignorance of the effects, and who was horrified to discover them and won't use it going forward. Of course, if he uses malia we will no longer continue the alliance and if he kills someone we'll kill him."

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Julian tries to say something. What actually happens is he starts laughing in this deeply embarrasing high-pitched hysterical way, until he’s struggling to breathe and Wen Qing obviously thinks he’s lost his goddamn mind. Not that she’s wrong. “I’m a freshman, not an idiot,” he says when he’s got his voice under control. “And you – you were here last year. You know what happens when enclaves foster maleficers. You can't expect me to believe this. Nobody would! Except Masozi, maybe – I really do think he’s being honest. We all heard what he said – he’s not going to malefice in the scholomance because he doesn’t have to. Because it’s safer in here. Because he doesn’t have the first fraction of a clue about how this school works! Personally, my money is on him relapsing right after field day, but who knows, maybe he’ll make it until graduation is staring him in the face and you and the other Shanghai upperclassmen are gone and it’s our problem to deal with. Not longer than that. No way. Nobody lives to the age of 14 all on their own on the outside by having strongly held moral convictions against doing whatever it takes to survive.” 

At this point a voice that sounds awfully like his father is telling Julian to shut up, now, before he makes an enemy he can’t afford, but baba never could make him stop talking when he built up a good head of steam. 

“I know that the head of Shanghai enclave inside the Scholomance isn’t stupid. He's worked all this out on his own, and well before I did. Anyone could, if they’ve got two brain cells to rub together. So –  I have to believe that he’s doing it on purpose. He knows what this looks like.  It’s not enough for him to be Shanghai and have mana stores and power sharers and lackeys and every brilliant bit of artifice ever designed, to stick to just actuarial murder, he has to make sure everyone knows we can’t stop him from doing the real thing. He wants a pet maleficer, fine. He wants us all to know that if he sucks the life out of a few freshmen, a few nobodies, probably doomed anyway, nobody would dare to get in his way. It’s parasitic. It’s vile. It’s – “ not her fault – and the air goes out of him –

“I know you didn’t plan this. I sincerely hope that you and your brother live. But I’ve always known I was more likely than not to die in here, and I don’t want the last thing I ever do to be countenancing this. I'm sorry. I wish you all the luck in the world, but I just can’t afford to be associated with you.” 

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...Aww, he's great. Wen Qing doesn't have principles personally but she's a great admirer of principles in others. It's why she and Lan Xichen get along so well.

"I believe," she says, "that in this matter Lan Xichen may be relying too heavily on his reputation as a person who keeps his word and wouldn't countenance gratuitous cruelty, a reputation he obviously doesn't have among indie freshmen. Thank you for bringing this matter to my attention, I will consider what we should do about it. I should have handled it proactively but the past two days have been impossibly busy."

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blinkblinkblinkblinkblink

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"Is that all or did you have something else you wanted to address?"

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What is happening here.

"I – I don't expect you to speak ill of your enclavemates with an outsider." Especially not a random indie freshman who just bit your head off. "I still think this is such an obviously terrible idea that Lan Xichen has to be playing some kind of deeper game? And obviously you have to defend him, so – " 

Julian thought this was going to be easier! Normally when you pull aside enclave juniors and insult their judgment, leadership, and basic morality, they fire you and that is the end of it!! He hopes she's not going to drag this out, because he's not sure he has the strength. 

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"I'd suggest that Lan Xichen, who became head of Shanghai enclave when he was barely a sophomore by sheer force of personality, is somewhat better at his job than you are."

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See that sounds like a very strong argument for Lan Xichen having considered that breaking the decades-old taboo about enclaves consorting with maleficers is going to freak everyone the fuck out and calculated that he can win any resulting conflict. Because he has a maleficer. And winning fights against other wizards without spending down irreplaceably scarce resources is the whole thing maleficers do

"Right. Um. I certainly agree he has reason to believe that Shanghai will benefit from his decisions." 

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"If you'd prefer not to work with Shanghai given these circumstances, I understand." She pauses to consider her next statement. She'd like to preserve good working relationships with Julian, particularly given Lab Xichen's desire to give Meng Yao an enclave; she doesn't want to burn a bridge this early. And conspicuously taking no offense at the criticism seems correct; Shanghai knows this looks bad and can hardly fault anyone for being too opposed to enclaves allying with maleficers. They can eat the mana cost this early in the year, especially with Nie Huaisang's perfectionist tendencies with his art.

"You can keep the wards until they wear out, as a gesture of gratitude for you bringing this issue to my attention. If you'd like to work with Shanghai in the future, I would of course be happy to talk about arrangements."

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Okay. That's a good deal. That's a better deal than he was expecting, really. Obviously the offer to keep working with Shanghai is not real – Wen Qing could easily find ten more qualified bodyguards who didn't just insult her enclave leader. But the fact that she's willing to extend the polite fiction means he probably hasn't made an enemy, and that matters. Shanghai still has the power to make his life a lot more difficult. 

"I'll keep that in mind. ...your brother is safe, by the way, I did get him back to his room before I came here. In case you were worried about that." Since it's really the most conscionable part of this situation. He also has siblings he desperately wants to keep alive. "Thank you for your understanding. I'll be going now." 

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"Thank you for making sure he's safe."

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When Julian gets back to his bedroom, he screams into his pillow for a solid five minutes. He's an idiot and he's going to die and those wards could have gotten him from field day to New Years and now he won't have them for no good reason other than that the idea of Shanghai lording it over the school with their pet maleficer makes him sick to his stomach. When he's done with that, he forces himself to picture every last one of his brothers and sisters in his mind and think very hard about how he'll feel when they get eaten alive by monsters because he didn't survive to get them slots. He thinks about his Group, and how he absolutely can never tell them what he's just done, because they'd quite rightly kick him out as a hopeless prospect. 

And when he's done with that, and feels a little calmer, he pulls out his walkman and lets himself listen to three minutes of music and pets it and tells it how good and important it is. He makes a note for himself to ask Malak about her warding spell tomorrow. He does push-ups until his arms are screaming, and crunches until he can barely move, and when he crawls into bed, he promises himself he will never ever ever again do the right thing – at least until he turns nineteen.