5th of Vhalar 720
Demda reclined in her nice flat that Point had helped her locate in the Southern Districts. It turned out he had a lot of contacts within the Tower of Arms. It was almost alarming how helpful he’d been after their first meeting, but then she supposed he meant what he said about putting her to good use. Those brought up as slaves knew as well as any the economics of lacking what one needed. And waste was a terrible sin in Nashaki. Perhaps she’d overvalued her scalp, or else had been living too pampered a life before last cycle to realize that there were more important considerations than some puerile sense of misplaced justice or vengeance.
Point had been close to Qais, as far as she could’ve told, but in the end such connections were mostly transactional for the ex-slave. Demda was beginning to come around to that thinking as well. And she found it helpful to come to grips with her paranoia, that behind every corner and shadow was an assassin lying in wait to sack her.
At any rate, she had schooling to do. Particularly a problem that they’d assigned to her in the form of a written piece of parchment. She’d already worked out all the arithmatic, now she needed to determine how to minimize the costs of camels and the drams needed to keep them hydrated for a journey to Hotlands’ Northern border.
Fortunately, Demda was well familiar with the time needed to pass through that territory. There were dangers, to be sure. Not limited to the desert wolves that had nearly torn half of the caravansary she’d traveled with apart. There were rock slides and quagmires, sandstorms and bandits. Those were only a few of the problems one could anticipate traveling the northern reaches of the Hotlands.
It was the problem itself that was an issue for Demda. But having thought out all contingencies she was able to consider, and more besides, she was satisfied with an estimate of time to arrival and the resources needed to make such a route. So, she headed out of her flat in the Southern District, and moved on toward the Academy, which was only half a break's walk away.
She made her way on foot, and gave deeper thought to the problem. Even though she had an answer, she didn't think it thoroughly satisfied all the possible contingencies. How the professor expected them, mere novice learners to puzzle through an extraordinarily complex problem was beyond her.
Yet there they were. And she arrived at the grandly built academy building in good time, hastened by her frenetic thoughts. She pushed through the throngs of students and other faculty, holding fast to her domain bag, which contained the bulk of her school materials.
Winding her way through the hallways of the Academy, it didn't take two bits before she found where she was headed. The Logistics 'lab'. There, she entered, took a seat at a nearby table, and began unloading her materials onto the surface.
Several other classmates and faculty were also there, on their own assignments. They only gave her a brief look before returning to their own business. One thing that never ceased to impress Demda was how stuck in their own business everyone in Nashaki seemed to be. At least the people closer to the center. People in the Outskirts were naturally more curious. It was an interesting juxtaposition of attitudes between the inner and outer worlds.
She began sorting through the problems that they'd assigned to her. The various kinds of trips that were involved, and their perfect conditions that were more or less assumed. Having been on a Caravan trip, Demda could tell anyone that things rarely went to plan all the way through. There were detours, disease struck, bandits attacked, and wild animals to contend with. Not to mention the land itself, which spit up obstacles at every scene change in the trip. Land falls in the Mountains, flash floods in the plains, wild predators in the woodlands, and of course sandstorms and more besides in the burning dunes of the Hotlands. Yet all that the problem wished for her to solve, was how many miles and drams and how many camels. A problem of efficiency, with no room for risk management. It was downright irresponsible.
A break or so later, and class was ready to commence. Demda was prepared with her answers. Prepared being a loosely defined proposition. Nevertheless, she was ready to render her best answer to the professor and class, and hopefully not get laughed out of the room. The people attending this class were by Demda's estimation, pampered middle-class merchants sons and daughters. People who rarely knew hardship, strife, or pain, beyond their controlled domestic situation. Demda didn't disdain them. She envied them. This was part of why she wanted to come to the Academy, to better her life and take control of her own destiny, so that she would run the board and know exactly what to expect at any given moment.
Without Demda realizing it, the professor had begun taking answers from the students, delivered orally. It was only when her name was called after the latest answer was given, that she froze. She stammered, "I... I am... uhm..."
"The answer girl, give me the solution to the problem rendered to you?"
"Well," She began, looking at her notes, and then back up at the professor with her emerald, avian eyes. "The problem requires no less than eight camels, with half as much water spread out through several wagons, so the loss of one won't mean a total loss... The journey should take a short season, or perhaps a little more. But..."
"But?" The professor said, smirking as bemusement shone from his eyes, "Don't keep us in suspense, Ms. Demda."
"The problem itself supposes that no hardship visits the caravan. It doesn't account for rations needed for the men running it, or the guards that will have to defend it. Further, it leaves no expectations for natural disaster, or attacks by external forces."
The professor regarded Demda thoughtfully, as she continued, "And given that... I think we can expect the caravan to pose a loss, at the lack of capital invested into her journey. There's no way such a small contingent, laden with so many goods would survive a ten trial out of the desert. It's a trick problem."
"You think so?" The professor challenged her with that question, and after a moment's reluctance, she nodded her head. Then, the professor began to slow clap.
Demda was almost startled. She had presumed this meant failure on her part.
"You see class?" The professor began, wildly gesturing toward the others, and then pointing back to Demda, singling her out, "While all of you are preoccupied with your calculus and your physics, and all of your learning through physics, there was only one of you who thought to consider the real problem might be that the situation was a no-win scenario under anything other than miraculous conditions."
"While all of you were trying to fit a camel through the eye of a needle, one dared to stand up and say that a situation was impossible. As such, I've decided on a second portion of our course will involve some hands on experience. I'm appointing Miss Demda as our quartermaster for a treasure hunting trip that will be occurring through the Eastern Hotlands, sponsored by the Museum of Idalos."
One of the other students piped up at that, "Will we be getting paid for this 'exercise'?" Several voices chimed in agreement, but the professor looked at them with a dismissive smile.
"No, you won't get paid, unless you make it back. Should you fail to, we'll of course award a letter posthumously, but you will not get paid and your families will not be compensated for your loss."
Several murmurs spread throughout the classroom. Was he serious? Demda thought perhaps it was a bit of theatrics, a classroom performance put on by a dramatic professor. But she wasn't going to settle on that judgment in any case. She didn't want to fail in any event, anymore than she wanted to die or cause the deaths of other classmates.
"So, Miss Demda, do you accept the appointment? You will of course be given a fieldcraft instructor to go along with you, as I know you've only so much time before the term ends. The rest of you may arrange for classroom materials for other courses, should you have them, to be brougth with you." That said, his attention turned fully back toward Demda, putting her on the spot again, as it was.
She bit her lip, and perhaps too hastily, nodded her head, "Yes, I will organize the trip. I will do my best to ensure its success."
The professor clapped once, and then bowed. "Thank you. The expedition will depart in ten trials. Until then, I expect you all to do the hard work of preparing for the journey, through which Demda will delegate such tasks as she deems worthy of any of you." That said by the professor, class was dismissed.
