Fable - Ask Tutelage

[Kristen Pirian]

Never let Proctor Magomo find you idling around. Even if it was a free period.

As it happened, Kristen Pirian, along with a couple other initiates, got spotted by Proctor Magomo whilst having a small chat. Even the words "small" and "chat" were generous--they'd barely even said a few words to one another, had literally just started talking. Soon as they were, for what little it amounted to, Proctor Magomo had rounded a corner and spotted them. He marched right over. Said to them, "You, you, and you. Follow me."

And that was how all of them ended up in the woods just outside of the Academy with their weapons. Proctor Magomo marched them all out there, and then he explained tersely what they were to do. Namely, training Kristen. He announced it in that energetic, motivated way in which he always carried himself, and then he separated Kristen from the other initiates, said low to her, "Initiate Pirian, I expect you to have at least a black eye when I return."

Her eyes widened.

And, possibly only because it was the new way in which the Academy was run, he added, "It's not that I'm requiring you to have one. I just know you're going to end up with one. And that builds character. Which you sorely need, Initiate."

Two rough pats on her shoulder, and then Proctor Magomo went over to speak with the other two initiates. Privately, as he had done with Kristen. He said to them that they were alone out in the forest, that he was going to depart and leave them in charge of Initiate Pirian's combat training, and then implied essentially that whatever happened out in the forest, stayed out in the forest. Intimating that no one would know. Less subtle and in closing, he said that he wanted to see some results come sundown.

And with that, Proctor Magomo left them.

At least...well, at least it was a nice day out, right? Just a little after high noon, blue skies, calming bird songs in the trees about them, a light breeze. You really just wanted to lay down on your back and gaze up at the sky and take a nap.

But that probably wasn't going to happen. Ahhhh...their free period! Gone! Sure, the rest of the day was apparently to be spent out here too, but free periods were precious.

Kristen scratched at the back of her neck guiltily, head bowed sheepishly. "I think I should apologize...I feel like it was my fault that Proctor Magomo's attention found us. I am sorry for ruining your free periods!"

 

[Noel]

Humiliating.

That was the only word that could accurately capture the current situation. Kristen had done her usual thing of trying to fit in and Proctor Magomo had rounded up the victims of her foolishness. One moment Noel was trying to work out a regiment with Penelope and now all of them were in this clearing with the Pirian girl. He wanted them to train her?

There was a clear pecking order within the academy. The lowest rung of students sparred with one another and Noel never sullied herself by training with them. In the middle rung you had students with niche magic but who lacked technique or killer instincts. Noel would, on occasion, duel with these students even if they served as a meager challenge. Their unique magical abilities or rare talents could sometimes prove interesting and they'd at least shown some promise by rising above the bare minimum.

In the upper echelon of students, of which both Penelope and Noel prized themselves to be in, you didn't ask others to spar with you. It was planned out. Edric was consistently in her schedule as was Fermin and Talea and even Vance occasionally worked in as an alternate.

Kristen hadn't even managed to stand out in the lowest rung of students. So the intentions that Magomo was making only served to weaken Noel in order to strengthen Kristen. It was humiliating.

Proctor Magomo was part of the old school. Noel knew this wasn't about anything more than the outdated practices of senselessly beating a student. It was the one advantage that the revolution brought. Mindlessly wailing on someone weaker than you didn't prove your strength. It cheapened everything you had trained your entire life for. And, in this specific case, Magomo was being short-sighted or playing some political game that Noel had no interest in.

If they permanently maimed or killed the Pirian girl there'd certainly be consequences for the academy.

"Kristen. Shut up." The obsidian-haired girl walked closer towards the incredibly tall noble and stopped when she was but a few feet away. She stared upwards at her, taking in her glossy gray eyes. "Look at me," Noel's own eyes of chestnut went wide, "I need you to be honest, what did Magomo whisper to you?"

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen had been barely able to apologize when Noel, in a most straightforward manner, told her to be quiet. On a level thoroughly unconscious, Kristen felt as though their heights were reversed, exaggerated even, that she was made tiny before Noel's presence and force of will. When she said, Look at me, Kristen found that her eyes were captured, locked in Noel's own as though twin prisoners in a cell.

Honest. Honest. Okay. She could be honest. Of course she could be honest. It was dreadful to lie. Even little white lies. Honest. Honest.

"Um, well...he--Proctor Magomo said to me, 'Initiate Pirian, I expect you to have at least a black eye when I return.' And at this I do believe I balked a little, and he responded thusly: 'It's not that I'm requiring you to have one. I just know you're going to end up with one. And that builds character. Which you sorely need, Initiate.'"

Kristen's shoulders rose up slightly, a bewildered expression found its way onto her countenance. And she just had to keep talking. "I-I do not believe blackened eyes, or similar wounds, have much to do with building character. Not, oh, n-not that I am questioning Proctor Magomo! I just, well, at the risk of sounding rather forthright, in my own experience there are a number of other ways much more suited..."

And she'd keep going and going, if allowed.

Noel

 

[Noel]

Noel raised a finger in an effort to silence the rambling girl before her. If she used an ounce of her stamina training instead of speaking she’d be nearly the top of their class. It was now obvious that Magomo had, in his frustration with his pupil’s progress (or perhaps just simple disdain for her), intended for Noel and Penelope to ‘beat’ some sense into her.

A ridiculous notion. Even Kristen realized that. Still…

”Alright, so, he’s going to expect this,” was the only warning Noel provided until her fist struck like a viper. In a flash she put all of her strength into one punch that would collide directly into Kristen’s right eye. ”That takes care of the black eye. Now, I’m going to need you to rub some dirt on your clothes.”

It had to at least be believable and a single black eye wasn’t going to cut it. Not for the Proctor’s bloodlust, at least.

When the Pirian girl was ready she’d fix her combat stance. It needed work and while she certainly wasn’t going to actually spar with the other initiate she’d at least make it look like she’d made some progress before the teacher that dragged them all out here returned.

Penelope raised her voice, “I don’t get it. Why can’t we just break her ribs and then relax?”

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"Ah!"

Kristen recoiled back, both hands snapping up to cover her eye. She bent over at the waist and winced a few more times. At the end of it she drew in a stiff take of air through her teeth and righted herself. Was that...was that truly necessary? Aionus above, it stung, it stung! Even in sparring, so far as Kristen's experience went, no one quite went directly for the face. She'd thought it was some kind of unspoken rule, good manners of the Academy or some such.

"Noel! I didn't...I did not think that we had properly begun!" she complained, still holding her right hand over her eye.

Dirt? What? Why dirt? And Penelope! Why, if a black eye did nothing for one's character and brought only misery, what good would a broken rib do for it? She seemed to share a mind with Proctor Magomo, a mind inscrutable to Kristen. Such a suggestion was even more ghastly!

Noel though had her attention pertinently on Kristen, so she disregarded Penelope. She mustered up the courage to mildly protest, "Dirt? Noel, I have only just laundered my Academy fatigues yesterday, it would be a shame if--"

Noel

 

[Noel]

This was going to be far more difficult than Noel had initially expected. The Pirian girl was, unsurprisingly, a glassjaw. Her clinching at her face was one thing but then she went on about how she wasn't ready. Kristen didn't know that they had, 'properly begun,' whatever that meant.

"Kristen. I'm going to be brutally honest with you," there wasn't any disdain in the onyx-haired girl's face. Just an earnest gesture carved into stone, "I don't like you. At all." The metalmancer craned her neck and stared down at the now bent over girl. "But I'm doing you a favor right now."

Noel bent over, hands grasping at a clump of weeds and pulling harshly enough to acquire the soiled roots of the plant. She smeared the mixture against Kristen's stomach, imbuing her fatigues with green and brown stains that would've come close to mirroring what would've happened had they actually fought. Had Noel and Penelope actually knocked the spoiled girl down multiple times.

"You should spread some on your trousers too. It'll sell the lie a bit better." The deserving Dreadlord smirked at the girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth, "or if you'd prefer we can take Penelope's suggestion and do this for real."

Why was this child even here? It was obvious to everyone but her that she wasn't cut out for the academy. Sure, she'd probably be given the honorific of "dreadlord" at some point but she'd never truly be one of them.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen flinched when Noel simply spoke her name, nearly stiffening with that same rigidity to the position of attention as when Proctors would sternly address her. It was just something about her voice. Some manner of internal authority by the way she carried herself. In a way, it was fascinating, her demeanor. Truly fascinating. That power--

I'm going to be brutally honest with you.

And then Noel said it, and Kristen's brows contorted as if she'd suffered some new agony. I don't like you. At all. The forwardness of it, blunt and brutal, was shocking. All Kristen could think: Why? What have I done?

She watched in a distant sort of way, eyes wide and gaze somewhat hollow, as Noel stained her fresh fatigues with dirt and weeds. She didn't resist, despite her earlier protest. And at the choice to go with Penelope's suggestion, Kristen gave quick, tight little shakes of her head. She squatted down, hands feebly grasping for dirt and mulch and gingerly patting their grime onto her trousers, doing as she was told.

Delayed realization. A favor? What did she mean by a favor?

And a morbid curiosity sparked.

Kristen, with a quiet and genuine interest behind it, asked of Noel, "M...May I ask of you a question?"

Noel

 

[Noel]

Watching the other student before her felt more like standing over an ensnared rabbit than facing another member of her class. Anyone else with Kristen's demeanor likely would've died in the pit when they were twelve. Or been murdered in the wargame they all played at the age of fourteen. Hell, Kristen simply would've gotten jumped and stabbed on any especially dark evening considering how she handled herself when Bull greeted her.

Noel wasn't in a place to recommend anything to the Proctors but if she were the first thing they'd want to do is teach the noble Pirian child to stop shaking like a leaf when the initiates looked at her with a sneer. Actually, no, the first suggestion she'd make would be to pull Kristen out of the academy before someone tried what Magomo did but with a student like Charon or Ignatius.

Hell, even if they paired her with someone relatively responsible, as Penelope was, the girl would still have to be carted back to the academy and spend a day in the infirmary.

"You may," Noel responding, her stance not softening or wavering, but her eyes did fill with a questioning haze. At least the girl was getting bold enough to ask questions.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen kept patting and smearing dirt on her fatigues, even went the extra step to scuff up her boots in the now loose soil of the ground before her.

Somehow she was still surprised. She'd been expecting a rebuke as soon as the words had tread cautiously off of her tongue, some further bizarre instruction to help sell the lie. Sell the lie? That just registered. They were...they were going to lie to a Proctor? Oh goodness. Oh she wasn't a good liar. Every time she'd gotten into some mishap in childhood and had been questioned about it by her mother or father, they had seen right through her. But she couldn't, just couldn't, let that happen here, despite how sour it made her feel that they weren't following Proctor Magomo's instructions. Kristen had to uphold her end of "selling the lie," or else Noel and Penelope would get into trouble as well.

The question. The question.

The one she had been wondering about with frightful curiosity for over a year.

"Noel...what was the Academy like before the Revolution? What did they--"

(do to you)

"--do to the students then? I...truly wish to know."

Implications. Allusions. Vagaries and hearsay. Kristen had never gotten a satisfactory answer, a lucid answer. She merely saw the likes of Bull, of Charon, of Ignatius, of Jaxan, of Edric, of Delaney, and a whole host of others. Products of the past. Yet it wasn't the whole story. There were the likes of Sable, of Dorian, of Ella, of Chasmine, of Henk, of Meredith. How could it be that both of these two clear divides existed?

What exactly was the Academy, before the Republic had gained power?

Noel

 

[Noel]

Noel gave an approving nod as Kristen dirtied herself up.

”Before the revolution,” she repeated slowly, savoring each syllable. There were a few ways to answer that question.

The simplest one was to just say that it was different. But the auburn haired noble already knew that.

Was it worth it to go into every detail? Chronicle the exact details of what the pit had entailed? Explain to her that ‘problematic behavior’ could consist of simple gestures of kindness? Go through the defunct punishment known as the box?

Perhaps it would be best to start with something she could relate to. ”Proctor Magomo was one of the nicer ones,” that should sink in. All of the crueler tutors they had were dismissed or had actually left the academy to fight against the revolutionaries (and Noel presumed they were dead). While she was certain that the idea of Magomo being considered a ‘nice’ Proctor got Kristen’s imagination rumbling it still didn’t explain anything about their time before.

It didn’t help her understand.

Noel lowered her voice so that Penelope couldn’t overhear, ”I came here when I was four. Combat training starts at eight. Most of the other children I grew up with aren’t alive anymore.”

A statement of fact. It wasn’t meant to frighten her, wasn’t meant to be taken as a political stance. Simply said so that the child before her would understand why, in a year’s time, they’d all be Dreadlords and Kristen would still be Kristen.

”It was more competitive. Back then,” her eyes zeroed in, unblinking. ”A lot harder too. No free periods. This little exercise,” she gestured to the forest clearing they resided in, ”it was rather common back then. I killed another classmate in a situation very similar to this one.”

Of course, that had been forced by their Proctor. And neither she nor or friend had wanted to kill the other. Noel simply wanted to live a bit more. At least on that day.

”Bull? You know him, has a thing for ears. He used to bother me, said he likes mine.” Noel shuddered at some of the repressed, more colorful memories and continued, ”when I was fourteen Bull finally acted on his more… sinister urges and jumped me in the courtyard. The Proctors didnt intervene,” as they had with you went unspoken, ”because if I was too weak to defend myself then it didn’t matter what happened to me, I clearly wasn’t Dreadlord material.”

She didn’t need to finish the tale. The fact that Bull avoided her today was answer enough. And hopefully the anecdotes provided were enough to sate Kristen’s curiosity for now.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen paused as a chill overcame her at Noel's first words. Proctor Magomo was one of the nicer ones. He was rather intense, even among the other Proctors, tireless and results-minded, with a frightful willingness to do whatever it took to achieve those results. If he was "nicer," who was worse? Proctor Pallatrix? No. Well, perhaps, but "worse" was something that Kristen had never witnessed nor experienced.

Noel had. And she proceeded to give her a small glimpse into the bygone Academy.

Kristen paled at the mention of her initial age. Four? Four?? What little she knew of the Academy, how much she had been sheltered from during her life in House Pirian. Even Evangeline had the mercy not to share with her the details of what she endured. When Kristen was first learning proper etiquette, Noel was brought here. When Kristen was comfortably learning the histories of Arethil at age eight, Noel was bleeding and suffering in combat training.

And by Aionus, it only got worse.

Noel had killed someone. Killed another initiate. The very thought of it made Kristen sick to her stomach. Not even the Guard endured such a tribulation. And she spoke of Bull, the very mention of his name provoking from Kristen a grimace. He'd done the same thing he had done to Kristen to Noel...and yet the Proctors then did nothing. For the love of the Holy Sentinel, they would have let Bull kill Noel, and they would have justified it!

By the end of Noel's recounting, all Kristen wanted to do was step forth and hug her. Just let her know how awful she felt in merely hearing of what she was forced to endure. But Kristen didn't, even if the urge was powerful. Likely she would be slapped, or pushed away, or similarly rebuked.

The tale was ghastly. Utterly. Of that there was no denying. And yet...

It made Noel who she was. It made Evangeline who she was. It made Zana and Talus and all of the Dreadlords who had the will and the strength to foment and execute the Revolution who they were. For the newest classes who would be entering into the Academy, yes, Kristen would agree that it was ultimately for the better that the Revolution had brought change, that tradition in this case was abominable. But Kristen was not of the new class. Perhaps she should be, but she was not. She was of Noel's class. And things were not as they should be for Kristen.

She stood up straight. Though in trepidation's grip, she steeled herself for what she was about to ask.

"I..."

Kristen swallowed a mouthful of nervousness. Don't do it. Don't ask. Just go along with it. Kristen, you imbecile, this is foolish.

"Noel..."

DON'T DO IT.

"I no longer wish to lie to Proctor Magomo. I want to spar with you. In the fashion of the old way."

You utter imbecile, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?

She drew in a sharp breath through her nose and banished her petulant inner protests. And she spoke more loudly, in the way of a declaration, "It is not fair that you have been made to endure the terrible hardships of the past and that I have been spared them, yet we are of the same class! I can never experience all that you have gone through, but I ask of you, if by foul chance there comes no further opportunity for this in the future, to at least allow me this brief window into what you have suffered, that I may know some small taste of it."

And, after a tiny moment.

"Please..."

Noel

 

[Noel]

An eyebrow rose in confusion at the girl before her. Those stories weren’t meant to elicit pity or fear but to show Kristen the truth. That she was sent here by her family as a political gesture. That the guard and republic only allowed it because it cheapened the title of Dreadlord.

Kristen seemingly understood all of that and yet she still wanted a taste of the old world. Of Noel’s world. It would’ve garnered some respect if the Pirian wasn’t entirely out of her element.

Noel rolled her eyes, ”you understand Magomo brought us here so that we would mercilessly beat you, right?”

Well, he brought them to spar but Magomo surely knew that the noble offspring wasn’t going to put up any sort of fight. And he may have even known that Noel normally didn’t dignify challengers so far below her with a spar.

But, well… the child was showing spunk. It could be fun.

”Fine. But with three conditions.” Noel held up three fingers and waggled them in the noble girl’s face. ”First,” she turned to look at Penelope, ”Penny, head back to the academy and fetch a healer. Perhaps Gemma.” Gemma was an initiate one year beneath them but she was undoubtedly the best healer available.

The raven-haired student turned back to the trainee with her, ”second, no crying. It’s grating.” Her brown eyes were intense as she stated into the other initiate.

”And finally, I want you to tell me why you are here. At the academy. What do you think will happen if you graduate?” Noel smiled at that, genuinely curious for what her answer might be.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

A small relapse into fright. No, Kristen hadn't understood that Proctor Magomo meant for...goodness, meant for Noel and Penelope to beat her. She thought that it was simply more training. Intensely focused, perhaps, wherein Kristen's opponents didn't pull their punches, but training. She had merely assumed that what Proctor Magomo meant by expecting her to have a black eye was that he foresaw the sparring to go exactly as it always did for Kristen: ending swiftly, with her on the ground, yielding by choice or not.

Yet, she cast off the outward fright and answered, "So be it."

Inwardly, the razor of uncertainty cut deep. What had gotten into her? Noel had been trying to spare her this, this barbarism. And yet on some whim she was willing to volunteer herself into a proper savaging. Why?

Despite her trepidation, the comparative loudness and pervasiveness of it, a quieter, smaller feeling. One that had gone neglected ever since she had first discovered her magic, first shared with her mother and father that she'd the capacity for it, and when they had forced her to bury all mention of it and never to bring it up again. One whose fledgling ember had been burning anew since her admittance into the Academy.

Fine. But with three conditions.

Kristen nodded eagerly, thrilled and terrified that Noel had assented. The first wasn't so much for her. Oh well, it would be, but at present it was for Penelope, who was likely not to mind, for she was keen (at the cost of Kristen's ribs if need be) on using the afternoon as a reprieve from work and study. Second...oh. She certainly never intended to cry. Had Noel ever cried before at the Academy? Had any of the other initiates? Aionus's grace, she had been but four when she'd been brought here, how could she not have?

And third.

Kristen stood a little straighter, eyes going a bit wider, taken slightly by surprise at the third condition. It made her think back--how so short a time and yet so very long! Mother and father, aunts and uncles, cousins, all of them encouraging her to do as they bid, to allow them to enroll her in the Academy. (This, of course, years after mother and father had sternly told her never to speak of her magic, and at this Kristen's old smoldering resentment alighted once again). It had been what they wanted. Every "no" Kristen had uttered was rebuked or cast aside or ignored and her family continued to pressure her, pressure her, leaving her with only one answer. And now she was here. Away from them. It was their will that she was here, but it was her will that she was still here. Once again unlike her peers, Kristen knew that she no doubt had the option to give up, that, while they would be supremely disappointed in her, House Pirian would nonetheless have her withdrawn if she so chose.

So why was she still here? She closed her eyes, thought on the question, searching deeply, yet the answer came calling out from the secretive and unspoken depths of mind so brilliantly that it was as if it had waited long, patiently, for its present summons.

"Evangeline," Kristen said, opening her eyes, not even aware that she had failed to call her Proctor D'amour. "I want to be like Evangeline. Ever since I was a child, I have always looked up to her. I cannot imagine a more perfect picture of grace and skill. She wields incredible power, as all Dreadlords do, but she is perhaps the kindest person I know. To retain one's humanity through all that she has endured, to remain responsible with great power...I do not believe there is a better measure of true strength than that. And if I am not tested, I shall never know if I, too, have within me that same strength, or if the goodness I esteem of myself is merely predicated on the comfort of my surroundings."

Kristen glanced about in mild realization.

"Please do not tell Proctor D'amour that I have spoken so! It might be considered...improper."

Noel

 

[Noel]

Noel waited until Penelope’s footsteps had faded out entirely, it allowed a silence to hang between them once Kristen had finished speaking. But, it was necessary, as the black-haired girl couldn’t risk Penelope overhearing and misconstruing what Noel did next.

She burst into a laughter.

A hearty roar that bellowed out of her chest and up into the air. ”You remain here because of some vague sense of righteousness and,” a snicker interrupted her speech, ”and some strange crush on Proctor D’Amour?”

There were plenty of reasons why students this late in the program justified their being here. For most it was dimly the only life they’d ever known, there wasn’t any thought behind it, it was just instincts now.

For some they’d come to develop a sickness. A desire to bathe in the misery of others. They’d indulged their sadistic urges and become weaker for it.

Then there were a few, like Noel, who sought to become stronger so that their martial power could be converted into political power further down the road.

”I’m sorry,” she finally said as she wiped a tear from her eye, ”just wasn’t expecting that sort of answer.” A rod of platinum appeared and Noel took several steps away from the Pirian girl. "I'm not a gossip. In fact, I think it's best we both agree that no one knows exactly what happens here today."

A slender hand came up pressed a tuft of onyx-colored hair behind one ear. A smirk formed on Noel's lips as the metal staff in her hand twirled lazily. "Whenever you're ready, I want you to attack me with everything you have."

She wasn't going to beat the girl too harshly but she also wasn't about to let Kristen believe they were even remotely on the same level.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

It felt like Noel had just stabbed her through the chest when she burst into laughter. Her brow narrowed in hurt bewilderment. Why? Why would she laugh? What could possibly have been so funny? What? A vague sense of righteousness? She thought that she had explained it rather well. WHAT? What now? A crush on...n-no! It wasn't like that at all!

Her apology after the fit of laughter did little to ameliorate anything. However terribly for Kristen's physical health their sparring would end, no amount of black eyes or broken bones would compare to that biting laughter. The deepest wound had already been done.

Was Kristen wrong? To be so sincere? To make herself vulnerable so? Certainly this would be true if she and Noel were still in the Academy of old. Yet it seemed true enough now as well. How did it further her toward graduation to say the things she had said, even to initiates like Sable or Henk or Ella? Noel, Edric, Vance...what if all of them, in how they accorded themselves, had the right of it?

What did Evangeline herself have to do in order to graduate?

Whenever you're ready...

Kristen refocused. Gave her head a small shake. "Right."

She drew her mace off of her belt, and unlatched her book of verses from the same, the book hovering just slightly above her upturned left palm. A useful little bit of magic, that, and something she had learned quickly enough.

Now came the problem of approach. Noel's platinum rod had the advantage of reach. Though the mace had ease of use on its side, making it suitable for someone of limited martial experience like Kristen, reach was not its strong point. And she always found parrying to be quite difficult--she was rather twitchy about it, reacting too soon, leaving her defense lacking. But she wasn't going to open with her Withering Chains or Ashen Crucifixes. In a dueling situation, those most often worked best when her opponent was preoccupied.

So...she just had to preoccupy Noel.

Kristen approached Noel cautiously, trying to stay loose on her feet. She raised her mace. Feinted to the right, and swung it around truly on the left.

Noel

 

[Noel]

Kristen Pirian truly was a naïve little girl that had been thrown into a den of lions.

Noel could notice the sense of hurt on the other initiate's face. The furrowing brow, the deflated ego, the noble wore her emotions on her sleeve. In some circles it would have been endearing but at the academy it was a weakness that her fellow students would exploit.

Besides, she had no reason for feeling so downtrodden at Noel's outburst. Someone needed to let her know just how foolish she was being. This was a school in which everyone was being taught the most efficient way to violently murder other people. Instead of worrying about proving oneself against a litmus test of chivalry she should've been more focused on the angle you struck a leg to break a foe's femur without severing an artery (or, if needed, the correct angle to ensure you severed that artery).

Where ever Evangeline had picked up her odd sense of morality from Noel was confident it hadn't been at the academy. Perhaps it was on some mission, or more likely from the tall tales that came out of House Pirian. Which would've been truly funny, that Kristen might have left the very place from which such ideals came in an effort to seek them in the one place on all of Arethil where those ideals died.

The girl's tome floated, which was adorable in itself that she appeared to need some sort of spellbook because of how far behind the others she was, and she charged forward with her mace in the opposite hand. She feinted to one side, it was an obvious fake out based purely on the way she held her shoulders. The way her feet shuffled. However, to her credit, the actual swing came much faster and with more ferocity than Noel had anticipated.

Perhaps her laughter had set off a rage inside of the girl?

There was still enough time for her to pull her staff upwards and deflect the strike of her foe's mace though it caused her to pay more attention to it than she had planned. As a result, her counterattack was aimed at the girl's shoulder that connected the arm which held her mace. It was fast but not as fast as she could have normally struck due to Noel's own miscalculation of Kristen's swing.

Whether the blow landed or not Noel took a step backwards and sized her opponent up again. She wouldn't underestimate the girl a second time.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen let out a curt yelp as the rod smacked her on the shoulder, the blunt force pain of it burrowing deep into the bone. If she had her pauldrons she would have been able to weather it, but alas!

Noel took a step back immediately following the hit. And if there was one thing Kristen couldn't do, if she were to have any hope of accomplishing anything (a glancing hit maybe the best she could hope for, let alone winning), it was relenting. For many of her early spars she had been overly cautious, overly timidly, and reacted extremely poorly to the slightest thing going wrong. Now a year later, much of that had been drilled out of her, but she still had quite the long way to go. By comparison she had likely just reached the level Noel was when she was perhaps nine years old.

Noel gave her some space. Might as well use it.

The book floating in Kristen's offhand flew open, Kristen spoke the words under her breath, and an Ashen Crucifix, some nine feet tall and comprised of smoldering, blackened wood, materialized and slammed down into the ground behind Noel. It wouldn't do anything unless Noel looked at it, and, despite the noise of its crashing into the dirt, she likely wouldn't. But that was alright. Ideal, even. Kristen was hoping she ignored it. If this plan worked, maybe she'd have a chance to land that one glancing hit before she collapsed from her own blows sustained.

Kristen charged forward again right after the Crucifix landed. And she underhand swung the mace, swinging low and up toward Noel's gut.

Noel

 

[Noel]

Did Kristen think that Noel was so ill-prepared she'd fall for some conjured diversion? The metalmancer did not turn to uncover the source of the racket though she could tell there was something solid behind her now. Truthfully she'd only seen Kristen Pirian's magic in action a few times and hardly paid it much attention.

Regardless, whatever had sprung to life behind her wasn't something to distract her. Not yet at least.

Instead she gritted her teeth and prepared herself for the next impending strike. This was an attack that started lower, aimed at Noel's mid-section, more annoying to deflect but certainly not much of a challenge. Was this the best that the gnat had to offer? Noel took a step back, swung her staff downwards to deflect, then attempted to thrust her weapon forwards to force a blow into the Pirian girl's stomach.

Of course, this sent her further back and the heel of her boot touched the fallen crucifix. Might have been a coincidence or perhaps the noble runt was wiser than the onyx-haired girl had given her credit for. Noel had no more room to back up and the collision with her boot caused the slightest lapse of attention, the slimmest opening for a counter for Kristen.

If the child dared to take it, of course.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"OOF!"

Her strike didn't get through Noel's defenses, and again that platinum rod struck home, this time in her gut. Kristen staggered back a couple steps from the force of the blow, trying to resist fully doubling over. Halfway successful. Her shoulder was killing her, and now it felt like her stomach had knotted itself tightly and was pulling everything else nearby in her abdomen into that core of rigid pain.

She tried to straighten up her stance. Managed to succeed with pursed lips and a narrowed brow. That slim opening, even if Kristen had noticed it, came and went. The strike to her stomach was too much for her to rebound from quickly enough to take advantage.

Kristen strained and spoke the words of the spell again as she stepped forward. Two more Ashen Crucifixes were summoned and each slammed down to the ground, landing at diagonals to the first. She spoke another verse, and sets of Withering Chains snapped into being, connecting the bases of the three Crucifixes, forming a makeshift fence of smoldering wood and ghostly chains.

Half of the hexagon Kristen was trying to make was complete, and, if she were able to finish it, it'd make an arena. One in which the fear-inducing sight of the Crucifixes would be difficult to avoid, and escape would mean passing through the debilitating Chains. If she were able to finish it. She'd never tried summoning three Crucifixes at once, let alone Chains immediately after and in a specific pattern.

She just had to keep Noel busy. So she didn't catch on.

Kristen came at her again, this time with a thrust of the mace as if it were a rapier, trying to slam the head of it into Noel's chest. Not the most effective move, certainly, ill-suited to the weapon, but unorthodox. Unorthodox could be good, right?

Noel

 

[Noel]

The bout was starting to get boring. Kristen fought so sloppily. She might have put up a good fight for Noel back when the raven-haired girl was twelve or thirteen but at this point there wasn't any chance the spoiled brat would ever catch up to her.

"Give it up."

Her gaze was unflinching and stern. "You can't beat me. I'm not even using my magic and you can't even seem to land yours." The idea had crossed her mind once or twice already. Throw out a few pieces of sharpened platinum, aimed at the Pirian's thigh or shoulder. Somewhere non-lethal to just end the fight swiftly.

In truth, the girl had impressed Noel simply by wishing to better herself. It was the only reason she'd granted the request for a spar and the only reason she let it drag on like this. But every strike was less and less impressive, screaming of desperation or some blind hope.

The third attempt was the worst by far. Aimed directly at Noel's chest.

She rolled her eyes, not even needing to back up anymore, she flung her staff outwards and attempted to have it collide with Kristen's fingers that gripped the mace. "You can't just charge like that, especially against an opponent with reach," she chided the young, naive, girl.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Crack.

Kristen hissed sharply, rebounding backward yet again, stifling a cry of pain by biting her bottom lip. Her mace-wielding arm spun wildly with along the momentum of the strike, and Kristen just barely held on to the mace, keeping it from flying like a thrown discus across the span of the forest.

She glanced at her hand. Big mistake. That's when, as if summoned by her gaze alone, the real lightning bolt of pain shot up her arm. Her pinky finger on her right hand was broken, twisted and dangling limply at an awkward angle, a jagged chip of bone protruding. Horrified, her grasp on her mace slipped then, and the weapon fell to the ground.

Oh no.

Just stay committed to the strategy. It was all or nothing now. Noel, apparently, had the wrong idea about what she was doing with her conjurations--as she had hoped. This might buy her that one chance, that slim chance, to penetrate through Noel's vastly superior defense. Three Crucifixes, while maintaining her conjurations already on the field. She could do this. She could do this. All right.

The book of verses waivered in its floating as Kristen quietly spoke the words. One, two...and a delayed third Crucifix, each slamming down in their turn, finishing the hexagonal arena. And now to make it a cage. The book teetered and look ready to fall as Kristen quickly recited more verses. A legion of Withering Chains burst from the smoldering wood of the Crucifixes and latched onto adjacent Crucifixes, binding all of them together, the proverbial bars of the prison set and taut.

Kristen was sweating. Trembling. From the white-hot pains of her body and from the stress of maintaining all of her consecutive conjurations. But she did it! Even if she didn't have much time, she did it! Now, wherever Noel looked, a Crucifix would be there, its baleful magic inducing the fear of mortality, of the inevitable, of existence's end. Kristen could only hope now that Noel didn't resist it, in whole or in part, to make this entire effort worthless.

"Aionus the Holy Sentinel is watching," Kristen strained to say. "Do you feel his gaze?"

If Noel was affected, Kristen could have an opening to safely retrieve her mace.

If not...this spar would end much like the others.

Noel

 

[Noel]

Noel didn't delight in causing pain and while there was a lot wrong with the old ways it was true that to strengthen oneself you had to become accustomed to it. Know what it felt like and know how to deal with it. Noel had learned those lessons when she was a girl. By the age of seven she'd already experienced broken fingers, at nine she'd been burnt, she'd had hair forcibly ripped from the root by another student.

It was obvious Kristen hadn't learned how to tolerate it. Fight through it. Though she was giving it an admirable try.

Until, of course, the girl's hand failed her and she dropped her mace.

So. Fucking. Typical. The Pirian princess shows the slightest hint at progress, the slimmest amount of talent, and then she immediately bungles it. Succumbs to a broken pinky and drops her weapon. The fight was over now! If this were an actual battle Kristen would be choking on her own blood. Hell, if half a dozen other students were in this clearing they'd have already ended the brat's life.

Then the freak started talking about Aionus? Was she trying to pray for a victo-

All at once it hit her. Rushing over her until her stomach twisted, her knees felt woozy, and her mind raced itself in an endless loop.

You. Will. Die.

Soon, too! Any day now the reaper will come calling, hop off his black steed and end your pretty little life. Noel Schwarz would be left to rot in some clearing in the Falwood or some field out in the Allir Reach. She'd never make Archon. She'd never become known for anything remarkable. She'd just die. Wouldn't even get to grow old and retire somewhere. Just die.

Her chin quivered, the grip on her staff loosened, she tried to avert her gaze but in every direction there was another of those fucking crosses. The noble bitch had set this all up, she knew she wasn't as good as Noel so she had to use this dirty trick and now... now all she could do was think about it. Dying. Her dying. Death.

Lid shut tightly so she wouldn't have to see it. See them. The crosses. Her breathing became harder as the panic attack took control.

No, no, no. That little wench is not going to see me like this... no, but Kristen had already seen Noel fraying at the edges. She'd already seen the mental episode that the slender initiate was dealing with. And none of it really mattered. Because she was going to die.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

This was it.

Now or never.

Even though Kristen could hardly believe that her plan worked. She was arrested in that moment, that initial moment of seeing what she thought she would never see: a look of fear, however faint, on Noel's face. Never had things been this way round. Always it was her, Kristen, looking--

(up to Duresh, her kidnapper, with terror)

(up to Dominic, the warlord, with fear)

--to her fellow initiates with that trepidation, knowing that she could not best them. That, try as she might, there ultimately was nothing that she could do. But now, in this little moment, she felt powerful. She felt alive. She was looking--

(down on Duresh, the orc at her mercy)

(down on Dominic, the man's life in her hands)

--to Noel from a vantage so foreign that it was exquisitely thrilling in its novelty. She was here at the Academy for a reason. A reason she had said--

(and one she didn't say)

--aloud and firmly believed in. It was a goal within her grasp. And she could grasp it! If only she kept working toward it, as hard as she could. Sunshine is never more than a day away. As mother said.

Kristen had her chance to stoop over and collect her mace and she did. The strain of maintenance for the Crucifixes and Chains was bearing down upon her, a weight that was felt more upon the soul and than the body--arcane fatigue was mounting. A costly gamble, yet it had been her fortune. All that was left was to capitalize upon it.

Kristen stumbled forward, toward Noel, and took a big, wild swing at her.

Noel

 

[Noel]

This wasn't happening, couldn't be happening, she was young and healthy and this had to be some sort of trick but it didn't change the fact that she was mortal. She could have a brain aneurysm right now. Or yesterday. In the next five minutes.

No, no, focus. Noel Schwarz you can do this. You're better than this. You're better than her.

Eyelids cracked open, her breathing steadied, and she was pretty sure she was ready to deal with the magical shenanigans that Kristen Pirian had hoisted upon her in an act of cowardice. Now she just need to collect her thoughts, ready her weapon, and end this.

But... it wasn't to be. As soon as her brown eyes took in the light, as soon as they had fully opened, she saw a charging auburn menace taking a wild swing towards her. Far too late for Noel to react.

A loud smash into the shorter girl's arm was immediately followed by an audible crack. "Aggh!" she screamed as much from the shock of it as she did from the pain. Noel could feel something wet in her left arm now and was nearly certain the noble bitch had broken her radius.

Spinning on her heel the dark-haired girl wheezed in a few labored breaths and got as much distance as she could between herself and the mace-wielding terror that had deceived her. Noel's eyes were fully open and they glared into Kristen's being. The delusions from her crucifixes were still present but wavering as the fear of death found itself replaced by a stronger emotion. A baser emotion.

Rage.

"You fucking bitch!" Noel had been nice to this girl for once. She'd actually tried to help the girl work on her form instead of beating her senseless as Magomo wanted. And in exchange the Pirian had made a fool out of Noel. She'd tormented her with this stupid parlor tricks of hers in the way a proctor might have. She'd landed a blow and broken her arm.

Teeth barred themselves as Noel's armor exploded off of her into a dozen pieces. The tips sharpened, in some cases even creating hooks, and floated in front of her. "I'm going to make you beg me to stop." She let the silence linger for a second, let the fear take over Kristen for a change of pace.

Then, once she was ready, five of the floating pieces of platinum soared through the air towards the noble brat's legs.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

The mace struck home.

And in that moment Kristen was uniquely and distinctly of two minds. The first was gut-wrenching revulsion, accompanied by the skeletal touch of exquisite horror at what she had done. She had heard the sound of it. Felt it, radiating up from the metal of the weapon and into her shattered hand up and her own arm. All her previous spars had of course been violent, and while at first the violence itself was enough to churn her stomach, in time she had overcome it. But this. That hit. It was a blow unlike any she had delivered to another living human being. This was a new height of raw violence, with an overpowering sickness to it as potent as the previous height. The act had an undeniable coldness in the very moment of its happening, a void of empathy and emotion. Mere action, absent of humanity. Primal. Bestial.

Yet.

She was also exhilarated by it. Thrilled by the sound of Noel's bone breaking. In reverent awe of the feel of its snapping that so traveled up her arm. Her hands had done this. Her very own hands. No. Her will. It was so terribly and wonderfully different from the picturesque noblewoman she had been raised to become.

(is this what Selene felt? all the time?)

Noel recovered from the fear. Created space between them. Her rage was truly a sight to behold.

There wasn't any fear from Kristen. Not yet.

Not until the platinum shards all pierced her legs, small splatters of blood dashing the ground red. Then her nausea and her exhilaration were both suddenly interrupted. Sharp cuts through the veil of temporary success, obscuring reality. Pain flared and Kristen let out a shrill holler, stumbling, her concentration wavering and one of the Ashen Crucifixes disintegrating to nothing.

That inner voice of doubt, returning. Just yield! Beg! Beg if you must! What shame is there in it, so overmatched as you are? It is senseless pride to continue on!

Only by the grace of some tiny wellspring of courage and perseverance, whose existence Kristen never would have known of if not for the hardships of the Academy, did she keep from quitting right there. She could barely stand. Her body was failing her. Her mind was sinking further into the haze of arcane fatigue. Another Crucifix collapsed and disintegrated.

Hopeful desperation colored Kristen's face. "In the fashion...of the old way!"

She didn't dare try to run at Noel now. So she went unorthodox again. And flung her mace with what strength her arm could muster, aiming vaguely for Noel's head.

Noel