Chapter 2-1
1252 Words
2
After Grandpa refused to help me sorting my relationship with the Floyd fund, I went to see a lawyer.
The contract by which I had to go to the middle of nowhere to be a rural alchemist for six years, in order to repay my debt to the Floyd Fund, was irontight.
Now that Grandpa and the Major were engaged on some intrigue of their own, I had to verify everything myself. I couldn't afford to trust them. I was sure they thought their schemes would work to my advantage (especially Grandpa), but Grandpa did not always make the right decisions for the family.
That's how uncle Billie ended with the mind of a child, after all.
So I took the paperwork to a lawyer, a real lawyer, one that wasn't, to my knowledge, connected to my family. I asked, and he said the same thing Grandpa did.
Mr. Collins, his name was, an elderly, bald, but firm guy, with an eagle-eye stare.
"So," I asked, after he paged through the contract, carefully. "Is there any way to avoid the work obligation? Or at least choose my destination?"
"No," Mr. Collins said. "These work obligations are very similar to the draft, except you go into it voluntarily. You can't quit, you can't repay unless they take your money. You have to go where you're sent for the time period indicated, and work in the capacity indicated."
"Which capacity?" I asked.
"I gather, Mrs. Bedwen, that your degree includes a double Major in Alchemy and Practical Magic?" Mr. Collins asked, looking up from the documents.
I nodded.
"Yes," I said. "But I earned the scholarship to study Alchemy. Practical Magic was an addition I chose after I went through with my Initiation. And I still don't have my mages' seal."
Which wasn't much of a choice, really, since I went through a spontaneous, and unauthorized, Initiation. Jack and Grandpa covered it up, and there was no proof, although I think the Major had his suspicions. Major Craen used the incident that caused my illegal Initiation to appoint himself my second Master, arguing that Grandpa, who was on paper my Master of Magic, the one responsible for me, was unable to take care of his apprentice because he was a light mage, and I was a dark one.
"I see," Mr. Collins said. "Well, I have good news for you, Mrs. Bedwen. Since the contract was signed when you received the scholarship to study Alchemy, they can only ask you to work as an alchemist. Any work you do as a practical mage will be on a voluntary contractual basis. Besides, without a mages' seal, you're not authorized to do any practical magic work."
"That's good," I said, glad I at least avoided that hurdle.
I didn't want to be a mage. It wasn't a choice, I made the best of it I could, using magic for alchemy, and even publishing a book on innovative uses of magic in alchemy. It was en route to become a bestseller.
Still.
"But can't I somehow avoid the work obligations?" I asked Mr. Collins. "When I signed it, there was a common understanding that usually grant receivers are allowed to repay the debt in money, with interest."
"Unfortunately," Mr. Collins said, his tone sympathetic. "The common understanding isn't binding. The contract says, explicitly, that the government gets to choose whether scholarship recipients should pay back in money or service. And there's been a policy change this year. The government wants everybody to repay in service, since the need for alchemists, healers and other specialists in underserved areas is so dire."
Of course. Nobody wants to work in places without gas or running water. There's nothing good in the boonies.
Ashford, though, is at the forefront of innovation. Some houses in Ashford are starting to get electricity now!
If I stayed here, I would get electrical lighting in my house.
In the boonies, I'd be lucky if I don't need to use an outhouse.
"What about my right to make a living?" I asked Mr. Collins. "There might not be enough work where I'm send. What happens if there is too little work to make a living? Can't I sue them if I go below the federal minimum?"
I don't expect there to be much regular work for an alchemist in rural areas.
"That has been taken into account," Mr. Collins said. "It says here that, if the volume of work is insufficient to provide the federal annual minimum, plus the local adjustment rate, the government will top up your salary at the end of year."
"Which means I need to finance my first year of life there, even if I don't get a penny from work," I said.
"Unfortunately, yes," Mr. Collins nodded. "It's unlikely the government will send you to an area with such little work, though, since in that case they'll have to pay you to do nothing."
"What about the freedom of contract angle?" I asked Mr. Collins. "I thought such contracts are illegal. Isn't work at-will in Kalmar?"
"The work repayment obligation for scholarships falls under the same category as the draft," Mr. Collins said. "Which is quite legal, despite its non-voluntariness. There is no way to get out of your obligation, Mrs. Bedwen. You're not the first client to come to me with this. The sudden change in government policy caught many unaware."
"And what about marriage protections?" I asked. "My husband has a job in Ashford. Can they separate me from him by sending me away?"
"What is your husband's job?" Mr. Collins asked, perking up.
"He's a police detective," I said, and saw Mr. Collins' enthusiasm deflate.
"They'll accommodate you by sending your husband with you. You say he's a detective, right?" When I nodded, he continued, "then they'll give him an equivalent job, or maybe even a promotion. He'll be no worse off, they'll make sure of that. Besides, rural areas are also in need of trained, experienced police officers."
"It seems like rural areas are in need of everything," I grumbled.
Mr. Collins gave me a sympathetic smile.
"Few educated people are willing to stay in rural areas," he said. "And they are necessary for rural development. Unfortunately, rural areas cannot afford to offer the amenities and salaries cities can offer, so the government has resorted to more forceful measures. It's unfortunate, but that is the price you'll have to pay for your education, Mrs. Bedwen."
I made a face.
I went to receive an education to get away from the small mining town I was from, Crow Hill, and my father's small repair and machining shop. It's not like there wasn't enough business for both my father and me to make a living in Crow Hill, fixing the equipment for the mine (my father frequently had to machine the parts himself, since most of the mine's equipment was custom made). In fact, there was too much work; my father was immediately hired upon his arrival to Crow Hill, twenty-three years ago, even without any papers or diploma. They just took him to the machine shop, he fixed a broken valve, and was hired.
I guess the situation is the same in other towns similar to Crow Hill, and I understand why. It's not like the pay is that good.
And I wanted more. I wanted excitement, the latest alchemy techniques, the thrill of discovery, money and glory. That's why I came to Ashford University, to study a degree in Alchemy.
It seemed like I was back at square one, albeit with a degree, an unfinished apprenticeship in dark magic (of which I had two years left), and a husband.
But still in the boonies.
With a six-year long unbreakable contract.
- Writer
