"Likewise! You probably want to stake out a bunk before dinner, have you seen the dorms yet?" 

"I haven't, I just arrived and came here first thing."

"Right then, let me show you around. Don't worry, you all can pester the poor guy later," he adds to the crowd.

"Thank you. I appreciate it." He'll follow where he's led. Is this person taking him via the Atrium or does he know a shortcut?

Actually the dorms in question are just down the hall! It's normally apprentices who are housed by a particular Order, but Alex has permission from Pellia to use the Order of Dreams dorms because he's older than most students and already committed as a future Dreams apprentice. They are shared rooms with a dozen beds each, clean but a little cramped. Shadwick also shows Alex where to find the toilet and washroom on this floor.

"...and that spot where the floor transitions to smooth stone marks the Order of Device side of the wing," he adds. "They're a little jealous of how awesome we are, of course, and nobody pranks quite like a roomful of adolescent gnomes with artifacts, so watch yourself if you decide to pay them a visit."

"Oh, I should have guessed there were a lot of gnomes in that order. I was actually travelling with one in the same caravan on my way here. Thanks for showing me around."

"Yeah, even without the Gift they're weirdly talented at crafting magic, practically reinvented the whole field after the Forgetting. Don't tell 'em I said that, they'll be all smug."

"Well there has to be a reason they developed everything they did in the first place while the other civilizations didn't. I'm not going to assume it's an in-built affinity but if the evidence points that way..."

"I asked Alidade once and she said gnomes were just 'a proper amount of curious'. I told her I wasn't sure how that makes them good at making stuff and she only laughed." 

"I think I see a little of why that makes sense. If you refuse to accept it when you don't understand something you'll end up understanding things more thoroughly and I think a lot of making things involves understanding those things really thoroughly."

"Huh, that makes sense." 

Shadwick can give him directions to the Amanuensis Office for enrollment, which is usually near the library on the third floor. (The route from the fourth-floor Picus Wing is not quite a retracing of his earlier route, but close enough.)

Alex says his goodbyes.

Maybe one day he will understand how to navigate successfully. Perhaps there's books on higher dimensional mathematics in the library.

In the meantime what's the Amanuensis office like?

Fairly quiet! It is mostly occupied by a handful of clerks and scribes working on copies of various books and ledgers. There is more parchment and paper here than Alex has ever seen outside a city library.

On introducing himself, Alex will be swiftly set up with a list of basic courses available to unOpened students, and another list of library books that cover essential topics. There's two full-time courses in Magic Theory that run every season, currently taught by Magister Alidade and Praeceptor Seleucus. Imperial Law and Petronian Law alternate seasons; this summer it's Petronian Law taught by Sub-Quaesitor Aeolus Flamen. There's a wider selection of courses in the Trivium and Quadrivium (math, logic, rhetoric, astronomy, etc.) and philosophy (Ritual Concordance, Omens and Auspices, Applied Theurgy, Philosophy of Governance, Gnarly Thought Experiments). 

For the moment he will either take both magic theory classes or just the one by Alidade if he needs to pick. The law class and a math class that seems likely to lead towards higher order geometry. He'll also enquire about what a normal course load is and consider adding more if he's low.

There are two kinds of basic courses available at Grawtosh. Primary courses run more or less full-time for a season. They cover a handful of basic and advanced sub-topics any given week, not all of which will be attended by every student. In general it is assumed a student will spend about four hours of classroom time and four hours of personal study time six days a week on a primary course. It's not recommended to take two of those at once, though in theory one could frantically juggle their classroom times; instead students who want to dabble are encouraged to switch at particular mid-season breakpoints. Auxiliary courses are mostly self-paced with a few hours of class time a week. 

It's possible to assemble an entire primary courseload out of auxiliary courses, and in fact this is fairly standard for liberal arts and philosophy, but most students are taking a single primary course and zero or one auxiliary. Ambitious students sometimes add multiple auxiliaries (and, Alex is warned, often regret it). 

Magic Theory is a primary course, and there are packages of auxiliaries for "Artes Liberales" and "Philosophiae" that are each primaries in their own right. Petronian Law can be taken as a primary or an auxiliary, with the more widely attended lectures being part of the auxiliary track. For math, there's an auxiliary geometry course that seems promising. Miezan tutoring is also available in either type, though the primary course is typically reserved for young Gifted children from the provinces. 

Well seems like just taking one magical theory class is the correct choice then. Maybe he can get the alternative perspective another time. He will take the law class as an auxiliary and the math class and do more self study on law and oh right he should try to find an auxiliary class on Meizan.

He can sign up for all of those things! A primary and three auxiliaries is a heavy load that doesn't leave time for much else, though. 

What are the rules for dropping classes if he needs to?

He can let the Amanuensis Office know if he'd like to drop a course. The institution of Grawtosh does not particularly care how students learn, so long as they attain the requisite skills to pass their Opening exams. They'll have a set of tests available for whatever he declares himself to be studying in a given season; they will drop him automatically if he doesn't show up for the tests and they'll ask some pointed questions and potentially escalate as far as expulsion if he doesn't make legible progress, but as long as he does he can pretty much do as he pleases. 

(They micromanage children more than this, but Alex is not six years old.) 

That sounds like a very sensible policy. Are they actually giving him copies of the books or just a list he needs to find in the library. Are there procedures he needs to follow for returning the books if he is being handed them?

Just a list; they don't keep the books here. 

He will thank them for the help and finalize his choices. His next destination is obvious. To the Library! Unless it's already dinner time then he supposes he should get dinner.

Alex may be getting somewhat peckish but it's not quite dinnertime and the Library is just nearby. It looks delightfully inviting, too. Its immense double doors are carved into the shape of an open book, so artfully that he can make out individual pages on the sides and an Obviously Correct amount of crinkled yellowing. It even smells like an old book. 

The Atrium was enormous. The Library is something else entirely. The entryway is built into the middle of a bookcase. Stacks stretch in all directions, appearing to twist strangely as they rise into darkness above. Alex can't see the end of any of them. He can't see the ceiling. He can't see walls. 

The floor is the same unfamiliar wood as the bookcases, worn smooth by age and use. In the cracks between the floorboards, one may occasionally glimpse the top of a shelved book or yellowing scroll.

Illuminated by glowing blocks on wooden poles, a few clusters of desks, tables, and chairs stand like islands in a sea of books. The largest is occupied by a massive wooden desk that seems entirely of a piece with the floor. On the desk rest several neat piles of books and scrolls, a wooden-framed pane of glass, a quill and inkwell, some loose parchment, and a tome the size of four normal books put together. An oddly translucent and positively ancient-looking Miezan man sits behind it, peering intently at the tome.

Is that a librarian? Or perhaps The Librarian? He will walk over that way and see if the man acknowledges him.

There's no acknowledgement until he's standing right in front of the desk, at which point the man looks up from his reading.

"Title, or topic?" asks the Late Librarian in a hoarse, strangely echoing whisper.