intelligentsia
[in-tel-i-jent-see-uh, -gent-]
plural noun
intellectuals considered as a group or class, especially as a cultural, social, or political elite.
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Victor had finally made it. After all the study, all the preparation, he had finally made it to the Halls. All those years of effort had been worth it. Now he would no longer have to deal with the corruption and political games of the outside world. Here, everyone was a scholar. Here, everyone was intelligent, studious, and beyond such petty things.
“You there! Hold on.” Someone called. Victor stopped, making sure he was the one being addressed. A middle aged man wearing large grey robe with silver trim approached. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new entrant, would you?”
“Yes, sir, I am. Victor Nesserin, newly appointed scholar of the first rank.”
“Excellent. In that case it’s perfect timing on both our parts. I am Christoff, scholar of the fifth rank. I’ll be your mentor for your first year here. I’m in charge of showing you around, ensuring your know the rules, and ensuring your time here is spent productively.”
Victor stood a little straighter. A fifth rank scholar was to be his mentor? That was beyond his expectations. He knew he would get one, but he was expecting a second, or maybe a third rank if he was lucky. But a fifth? That was incredible.
“It’s an honor to be in your care, sir.” He said with a slight bow.
“I’m sure.” Christoff replied. “By the way, I was surprised to see someone from the Nesserin family applying to be a scholar. Your family has always been better known for military excellence.”
Victor winced. He was hoping nobody would bring up his family. “Yes, well, I was never the combat type. I always did better in the library than the battlefield. Oh my father wanted to get me to study military tactics, hoping I would serve the national war machine that way, but I hated every minute of it.”
“Ah, I see. So you came here hoping to turn your mind to other, less destructive pursuits. A noble goal, to be sure. Just don’t try and use your family to get anything extra.”
There was something about the man’s choice of words. Something that felt off. It was nothing that Victor could immediately place, but something inside told him to be warry.
“Sir, that’s one of the reasons I came to the Halls.”
“Good. Let’s be off then. This is a large facility, and you have much to learn.”
Victor nodded. Both of them turned to leave the entry hall. As they went, another group approached. Three men, two wearing robes with black trim and another with the same silver that Christoff wore. Victor could guess the trim was a sign of rank, with silver being fifth. Black must be lower, but he not know which. The two fifth ranks spoke for a moment. Victor listened in, but most of the conversation was just small talk.
“By the way, thank you for the…help in the…issues I had.” The other man said.
“Of course. We must always give aide when we can. Although you must understand that the help I rendered did not come easily.”
“Naturally. I would expect nothing less.”
From out of the man’s robes came a small coin pouch. Christoff palmed the coins, slipping it into his own sleeve. Victor’s eyes widened. He knew a bribe when he saw one. But that could not be right. The scholars of the Halls were supposed to be beyond such things. The other group moved along.
“Sir, what was that?”
“That? A conversation between peers. Nothing more.”
“But, sir—”
“Nothing. More. Understand, Victor?”
“Yes, sir. I understand perfectly.”
It seemed like even the most learned men in the world could not escape the same problems that plagued the rest of the world. What that meant for him, he would have to find out on his own.
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Smart people are still people, which means they can still suck. They're just smarter about it.
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