A/N: to those of you reading this that haven't read the third (or second) book of the series, I'll give you a few quick, spoiler-free vocab words that'll help you understand this fic! (This fic is also spoiler-free for the second and third books btw, though it does take place in the setting of the third book I have worked HARD to omit spoilers! :D)

University of Al Faradh: the University that Barclay and his friends are staying at.

Symposium: The reason why Barclay and his friends are staying at the University; basically a year of school and tests

Tourney: basically a huge prank war

Beasts: large, magical animals

Lore: this universe's version of magic

Lore Keepers: people who bond with Beasts, share their magical powers, and keep them as companions (Beasts can be stored in Marks, which are moving tattoos the shape of the Beast, keeping them in stasis)

Guardians/Scholars/Surveyors/Apothecaries: Subsets of Lore Keepers licensed by the Guild. 

---

Although most of Barclay's time at the Symposium was taken up by studying, or listening to lectures, or going on field trips, or a dozen other things, he somehow still found time to be bored.

Oftentimes he would find himself sitting on his bed, staring at the ceiling, a book spread open to a particular page on the ten different types of Lore cacti or identifying the differences between Agmor toxin and Nagira venom. Root, his huge Lufthund (a gigantic, wolf-like Beast), would either lie beside him, taking up most of the space in the tiny bed in the process, or he would be stuck in his Mark, pacing in a bored sort of way around Barclay's shoulder. 

Root had grown a lot in the past couple of weeks. He'd previously been the size of a huge wolf, but now he'd grown so much bigger that he took up all of the room on their shared bed. Barclay barely had any chances to sleep anymore since there was always a huge black dog sitting where he was supposed to sleep. 

Normally, when he was bored, he'd sit and talk with Runa, the Guardian Keeper he was apprenticed to, but she was out on a 'special mission' directly from the Grand Keeper, who was basically the president, so she couldn't even decline. All this was supposed to be strictly confidential, of course, but Barclay had heard the whole story directly from Runa as she was shoving supplies into a knapsack, cussing out Leopold-- the Grand Keeper-- using words that Barclay hadn't even known existed.

The mission was, supposedly, highly dangerous, but he wasn't so much worried about Runa as he was bored without her. Runa could take care of herself, and as he'd seen many times before, she could face a natural disaster head-on and win.

It didn't matter any which way, though: with nothing else to do, nothing truly useful to do except sit there and complete school, Barclay felt a strange mixture of hopelessness, guilt, and boredom. His dorm room was interesting, at least at first, but it didn't have that much to explore. The feeling tugged at his chest in an unfamiliar, unpleasant way, always managing to wriggle its way into his mind when he had too much time on his hands. 

And these days, Barclay had way too much time on his hands.

On one of these forlorn days, early in the morning on yet another day in which he had nothing to do, he lay on his bed, as he usually did in the morning. The sun shone through the small window, cracks of golden light peeking through the curtain to shine onto the floor. Bleary-eyed, still newly awake, Barclay watched a few dust mites scurry across the ceiling. They look like. . . moving raisins. 

With a huge effort, he sat up and glanced at the open book on his lap. He had a test the next day in Geography, and he was supposed to be studying, so he had a map of the Desert spread out before him. Unfortunately for future-Barclay, present-Barclay was so incredibly bored he couldn't bring himself to study it closer. Another wave of the awful feeling washed over him, pulling at his chest, and he groaned in dismay, flopping back onto his pillow. The dust mites scuttled into a corner, Barclay's eyes trailing after them. 

Deciding that perhaps he should actually do something, he flipped onto his side and glanced over at where Tadg Murdock, a fellow apprentice to Runa (and a tentative friend . . . maybe? It was hard to tell since Tadg was so grumpy all the time) sat on his bed. Copper-brown hair sprawled out across his pillow, a crisp contrast to his incredibly pale skin-- almost as pale as Barclay's, in fact (and that was saying something, as sometimes Barclay wondered if he even had any blood in his body at all). Thanks to the window being closed, there wasn't much light in the room, but he still managed to scan the book in his hands without much difficulty. 

He's going to ruin his eyes, Barclay thought. He should know: he'd stayed up many nights reading books, and his eyes were all the worse for it. 

Barclay waited for a few moments. The silence drew out, long and awkward, though he supposed that he was probably the only one feeling awkward. Tadg was buried in his book, most definitely unaware of how closely he was being watched. 

". . . what're you reading?" Barclay finally asked, desperate for conversation. It came out a bit more muffled than he would've liked since his cheek was pressed against his pillow, but he got the message across.

Tadg looked up, the interruption catching him off guard. "Reading?" he echoed, sounding confused. 

Barclay nodded in the direction of Tadg's book, open on his lap. "That book over there. What's up with it, anyway? You've been reading it for the past hour."

"Oh. Why do you sound so shocked? I can read, you know." Tadg rolled his eyes, picking the book up again in his hands. Despite his casual words, his touch was gentle, and Barclay could definitely see why. The book was so old and threadbare that Barclay worried that it might crumble into pieces of dust just from being flicked too hard. Even the title was so aged it faded into illegibility.

Tadg sat heavily back down on the bed, flipping through the pages with a sour expression. "It's just some old maps of the University-- old rooms, secret passages, the like. I first thought I could explore them, but then I went inside one and found a lot of rusty sharp stuff, so I'm going to give it to Runa instead. I'd rather not have someone contract some horrible disease while I'm staying here." 

He stared at the book for another second, then shrugged and tossed the book aside carelessly, the ensuing pouf of old, valuable paper against the pillow making Barclay wince. "Anyway, the maps are all different and contradicting," Tadg continued, looking almost annoyed. "One says there were three different cafeterias, but another one replaces one of the cafeterias with a library and says that it was just where people liked to hang out during lunch. A third one says the room didn't exist at all." 

Barclay squinted at the book, befuddled. Why would someone put all those different facts into a single book? Where did Tadg even get the book from? Why was he reading it if he was so annoyed by what it said?

Then again, Barclay couldn't begin to explain most of Tadg's actions. ". . . are they from different times, maybe?"

"I don't know," Tadg muttered, "but it pisses me off. I'd like to explore more of them, so I could get a better understanding of what the stupid thing is about--" here he poked the book with one finger, lips curved downward in a scowl, "--but they're so old I think I'd immediately swallow a lungful of disease and die." 

He paused for a moment, chest slowly rising and falling as he sighed. ". . .I feel like I can't do anything useful these days, just . . . study . . . and hope it pays off."

Barclay didn't agree with Tadg about many things, but he could agree about this. He swallowed down the urge to say this out loud, and instead said, with some amount of interest, "You mentioned secret passageways, right? Did you find any that we don't know about? Maybe we could invite Cecily or Shazi to come and investigate--"

"The passages aren't a game, despite what you seem to think," Tadg snapped, much more sharply than Barclay expected. His eyes flashed. "I went into one and nearly fell into a pit and died. I don't want you getting--" he hesitated, suddenly fumbling over his words. "I-I mean-- nobody should explore them. They're dangerous."

Barclay blinked, startled by the outburst. "Sorry . . . I wasn't trying to take it lightly, you know. I was just going to invite you to--"

"To what? A cute little romp around in the dangerous secret passages? I wouldn't be surprised if a few other students thought they'd take a stroll in these and never made the journey back." Now he turned his gaze to the books, glowering at the threadbare cover instead of Barclay. "Still want to explore?"

It was Barclay's turn to not say anything. He tossed this thought back and forth for a little while, biting at his bottom lip. "You are talking about the regular secret passageways, right?" he asked finally. "You found more of those harmless ones, like, um, like the one leading from the cafeteria to the library. The ones that everyone knows about, that everyone's tromped through about a million times?"

Tadg let out a dry, dismissive bark of laughter. "Those ones? Yeah, as if. They were probably added by some teacher with a sense of humour. No, as far as I can tell, these are the original secret passageways-- they're dangerous and long and really, really old. The book mentions something about someone named Faradh making them, but I don't know if that could be true. Nobody I know of could make secret passages in a snap, no matter how powerful their Lore is."

Barclay flushed a little at the correction. "Oh. Oh, but the first Grand Keeper could've!" He still remembered the story-- perhaps it was a myth-- Viola had told him of how the first Grand Keeper had bonded with all five of the Legendary Beasts, the most powerful Beasts in all the world. He hesitated. ". . . probably." 

Tadg shrugged, still managing to keep the dismissive expression gracefully on his face. He was really good at that expression, Barclay thought to himself. "This book is talking about ages ago, though. As in, before the first Grand Keeper even existed. The whole university looks different now, too. But I'm not sure if all the passageways have been blocked up. Some of them were hidden way down below here, with entrances in the basement and sewers and stuff, and others were only accessible through levers or buttons that nobody else knew about."

"Are there traps in them?" Barclay asked, perking up. In some of the adventure stories he'd read back in his hometown of Dullshire, heroes ran from huge, spiked balls that shook the corridors they were rolling down, fought with pits of serpents with paralysing venom, and avoided spears launched from unseen attackers.

Tadg shot him a look that very clearly said he thought Barclay was being stupid. Most people wouldn't have been able to decipher the glare from Tadg's fifteen other types of glares, but Barclay was fairly used to the look by then, so he knew exactly what it meant.

"What do you think?" Tadg asked dryly. 

Barclay stared back at Tadg, not sure what he was supposed to say. ". . . probably . . . yes?"

"Of course not, idiot." Rolling his eyes, Tadg sighed and stood up. His back arched as he stretched his arms above his head, nose scrunching up as he yawned widely. "Back then, secret passages were made as escape routes. Sure, I found a pit, but that was probably just a one-off. After all, why would people who are trying to escape lay traps for themselves?"

Barclay took a moment to stew on that, feeling rather sheepish. Then he glanced at the clock and nearly fell off the bed in surprise: it was almost time for them to go to one of Mandeep's lectures. Mandeep, a Scholar, was a tall, brown-skinned man who was, while friendly, still very strict about being late. And besides, Barclay didn't like being late for any sort of lesson, so he jumped up from the bed and pulled on a pair of shoes. 

"What're we going to hear about today?" he asked Tadg, glancing over his shoulder to see the other boy tugging on his own boots. Since Tadg had pulled his shirt sleeves down to his wrists (he claimed it stopped sand from getting stuck in his sleeves), and since Mar-Mar, Tadg's Beast, liked to show off, the golden Mark of the Nathermara coiled over Tadg's hand instead of his arm. His palm and fingers swam with a mass of overlapping golden scales. 

"The Nocturnal Waste," Tadg replied, crookedly propping a hat on his head and shooting a rakish smile in the mirror. Barclay took a moment to notice that Tadg looked . . . no, handsome wasn't the word. Barclay scrolled through his list of synonyms for a moment before settling on fetching.

Then Tadg's words settled in on Barclay, and he frowned at Tadg, trying to remember if he'd ever heard of that place in any of their previous lessons. "The Nocturnal Waste? I've . . . never even heard of that before."

"I guess nobody bothered to mention it in our classes before now," Tadg replied matter-of-factly. He pushed the door to their room open and flashed a toothy grin in Barclay's direction, much like the one he'd given the mirror. "Let's go." 

(A/N: Tadg is so silly and angry all the time. I love him so much. Although maybe I just get weirdly happy over small angry redheads with extensive trauma idk)