Fable - Ask Tutelage

[Noel]

Nostrils flared and air huffed in-and-out as wrath continued to build. Not even the successful strike at Kristen's legs broke her fury. It didn't bring her a modicum of joy or satisfaction.

This entire endeavor was already a loss for her. The fact that, for even a second, the Pirian girl got the best of her was a sign of her weakness. Her broken arm serving as the scarlet letter that confirmed her humiliation. Nothing, not even killing the pampered mouse, would erase the stain of this day.

And to make matters worse the freak was shouting nonsense as her magics faded.

Wild and desperate she chucked her mace through the air. Noel directed on of her floating metallic pieces to deflect it mid-flight and a loud clank assured them both that the attempt had failed. Noel stepped forward, left arm limp and bouncing off her hip, floating pieces of platinum coalescing around her body. Suddenly every piece of metal that wasn't embedded in Kristen Pirian's legs snapped back to the black-haired initiate's torso.

"In the old way," she started with a venomous tone, "I would have killed you already."

Her staff reformed itself, shaping into a cudgel as her boot rested atop Kristen's flung mace. "You don't get the embrace of death. And you will never get an ounce of kindness from me ever again."

Noel wanted to remind her of the metal poking from her legs. Inform her that, had she wanted to, she could've simply ended Kristen Pirian's life before the first of her little crosses took root. However, she wouldn't give the girl even the illusion that Noel's pride had been injured.

In a rapid motion she kicked the mace behind her and continued her slow walk towards Kristen. Her brows forming a V-shape, eyes ablaze with anger, and the blunt wad of metal raised towards the sky. Once close enough she took a swing towards Kristen's tome-holding elbow.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

And you will never get an ounce of kindness from me ever again.

Kindness.

It was what made Sable the bulwark of the entire class, the shoulder upon which anyone could dependably lean. It was what made Henk the considerate and good soul that he was, who carried himself with such gentle grace that all a bad day's troubles dissipated in speaking with him. It was what made Dorian a mature man, unlike the hothead Vance and singularly-minded Edric; Dorian could do his duty as a Dreadlord and still retain that empathy which made him human.

But none of them were Noel.

Noel. Who by Kristen's lights, and quite likely in actual truth, was the top of their class. And look what an ounce of kindness had earned her: a broken bone.

By Aionus...was this the true lesson of the old ways? By the mercy of His Watchful Vigilance...what...what did Evangeline have to do to graduate from those times?

Kristen's mace throw had failed. Noel was stalking toward her. Kristen's resolution to continue was failing her. That murderous gaze in Noel's eyes, burrowing into her, the malice palpable. The war within Kristen flared almighty: to continue, to press on, to persevere, to endure what she must to improve, to "build character" as Proctor Magomo had put it in the crucible of necessary suffering; to quit, to yield, to beg mercy, to crumble before and Noel and acquiesce to her will, to do anything and everything necessary to make the pain stop and the comfort she had once known return to swaddle her.

And fear was winning.

The remaining four Crucifixes collapsed, their smoldering ashes and splinters of wood dissipating before reaching the ground. Kristen couldn't maintain them any longer.

The swipe of the rod. Kristen dodged it purely on accident, her wounded legs giving out as she tried to backpedal and spilling her to the ground. She landed on her rear, the tome slipping from her grasp anyway.

I would have killed you already. Noel's words. Repeating themselves in her head. She had poked the sleeping dragon and thought it a victory. She had made a mistake most grievous! No she hadn't, and this was a victory! Look at what she accomplished! Accomplished!? What good was accomplishment in pitiful death? What, then? Cower? Cower as if Duresh had come again, as if in Dominic's captivity again? Yes! She lived because of it! Is it not better to be the one dispensing mercy, rather than the one praying for it!?

Kristen, thoughts raging in their panic, had one defense. She frantically uttered the verse, and could only summon a mere singular Withering Chain. It burst up from the ground by her feet, writhing like a snake, then whipped toward Noel, seeking to ensnare her about the leg and inflict its debilitating touch upon her. Easy to see coming, easy to deflect.

Noel

 

[Noel]

All of Kristen's little parlor tricks had returned to dust. It didn't matter that she'd avoided Noel's swing, she was unarmed and seemingly unable to summon her magic now. Noel had won the fight even if it wasn't possible for her to celebrate any sort of victory. Now all that remained was to break enough of this girl's body that she understood, to her very core, that she was a gnat compared to the coal-haired initiate.

That was all she could hope to gain from this now. To instill in Kristen an ever-present fear that, at any time she willed it, Noel could end her life. That was the only way to receive even a modicum of respect back from the Proctors once they learned she'd allowed the Pirian Princess to not only land a blow but cause her actual harm. The only way for her to avoid negative marks for allowing an opening that this child was able to take advantage of.

But, to her surprise, the noble brat kept up her defense. Throwing a conjured chain forward. With hardly any effort at all Noel batted it aside. Instead of continuing to inch closer to Kristen she stood still. Instead of rearing her weapon back for another strike she let it rest motionless by her side.

"Your hand looks like it stings," she said in a flat tone. "You should've just let me punch you."

An awkward moment passed. The predator simply staring at her frightened prey. Weighing her options in her head.

She wasn't sure what it was that cemented her ultimate decision. The fear in Kristen's face? The fact that, despite her wounded pride, for a brief moment the other girl had gotten the better of her? Whatever it was Noel wasn't going to wail on the auburn haired girl more than she already had. As if a black eye, bloodied legs, and a broken pinky weren't already enough.

After a long while Noel spoke, "I'm not going to beat you senseless." Unlike Charon or Jaxan or those other freaks there wasn't any joy she got from it. There weren't any Proctors here now and it was possible that Penelope would be back with the healer before Magomo came.

Besides, if she lost marks for this... she lost marks for it.

Noel gulped and the metal of her rod reformed itself as a piece of her armor. She sat her down on the grass, being careful with her broken limb, and then just stared at Kristen. "You're more ruthless than people gave you credit for."

 

[Kristen Pirian]

A lie, if Kristen were to say that she was not immensely relieved when Noel relented. She wanted to improve, she had asked for this herself, but the veto on these efforts put forth by the agonizing pain in her legs and elsewhere was final. This had been the most harrowing spar she'd entered into yet. And, if she truly did wish to improve, she'd have to keep at it. A prospect that, in the present moment, she dreaded.

Kristen flopped onto her back on the ground, little hisses and moans of pain quietly escaping with each and every tiny movement of her legs.

You should've just let me punch you. What good would that have done for her, ultimately? Noel didn't get to where she was at by appeasing her opponents so and cowering away. Kristen couldn't say where her fluke of courage had come from, but, tomorrow perhaps, she would be glad about what happened out here today.

Ruthless.

Despite herself, Kristen let out a singular grim laugh. "Quite the charming attribute you've ascribed to me."

She lay on the ground. Face a varying grimace. She gently let her legs teeter over to one side so she could see Noel, peering over the bridge of her nose at the other girl.

"I thought you would," she said. "Beat me senseless. That's what happened to you in the old way, is it not?"

Noel

 

[Noel]

Noel let out a long exhale. Seeing Kristen lie down was the final thing she needed to relax. There was a small part of her that worried the other trainee might try to strike when Noel first sat down. The auburn haired girl's demeanor deflated any chance of that happening.

Curious. The Pirian girl seemed more upbeat than Noel would've imagined.

"In the old way, yes. I was beaten," she gestured around them, "and had a Proctor been present they would've expected me to break more of your bones. Inflict more wounds. Hit you until you were no longer conscious." She'd done that before too, plenty of times. And even taken it further when commanded to do so.

Her honey-brown eyes focused on the other student in the grass. "I never enjoyed that part of it. Sure, I wanted to win and be the best. I still do." Another long, shaky, exhale flowed out of her lungs, "but I didn't enjoy wailing on people after I'd already won. Some of the others," like Bull or Charon, "they loved it. Still do I think."

A clump of grass served as Noel's handhold as they sat there under the sun. "If we spar again that trick of yours won't work. It was smart though. You should try it on someone else." Had she done that little maneuver on one of the lesser students she might've even won the brawl. That would've been a sight to see. "Still, you need to improve your fundamentals. Get faster, less predictable."

There wasn't really any other advice she could offer. Not that Noel wanted to give her much more advice.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

That was why Noel was so tough. Noel and all the rest of the initiates in her class. Had Noel suffered the injuries Kristen had suffered, the perforation of her legs, Kristen imagined this would have hardly slowed her down. That Noel would not have allowed for it until the battle was won. And it was this that Kristen found so astonishing, that such a fearsome resilience could be acquired.

There was one way to acquire it, of course. One dreadful, dreadful way. To endure it. The destination Kristen desired, but the journey she feared.

Some of the others loved it. Noel didn't even need to mention who. The look on Kristen's face--the clenched teeth, perk of the eyebrows, glance to one side--suggested she could list most or all of the names Noel had in mind.

Still, you need to improve your fundamentals. Get faster, less predictable.

Kristen gave a weary nod, her breathing still labored and face still strained holding in all over the soft whimpers and groans that wanted to parade out. "I know."

She shut her eyes for a moment, quelling a particularly nasty crackling of pain from the shards in her legs. Then opened them and looked back to Noel.

"If you wanted to...you could have ended the spar before it had even truly begun," Kristen said. She swallowed. "But you held back."

A wince, then, that she couldn't keep contained. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, just above her ripening black eye.

"I don't...I do not know if I will ever have such a luxury. Holding back. I just cannot see myself affording to do so."

Noel

 

[Noel]

"You shouldn't hold back." If a Proctor ever saw someone hold back for a reason other than to torment someone they'd be scolded. Or worse. It was expected that the initiates wouldn't educate one another in any way other than by breaking them (or taking some of the torture workload off the Proctor's shoulders).

Noel cast a sympathetic eye onto Kristen before continuing. "I normally don't. You seemed like you actually wanted to improve." There wouldn't have been anything for Kristen to learn if Noel had just ended the fight.

Maybe the noble trainee did belong here. Or at least, would have belonged here if she would've come a few years earlier. Despite her far exceeding expectations today it was hard to envision a future in which Kristen wouldn't graduate as the weakest Dreadlord in the order's history. Although, with the new changes pushed through by the Republic it seemed likely the next few classes would rival that statistic.

"Don't tell anyone about this," her gaze became stern. "I mean it."

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Kristen's face betrayed an immediate sense of guilt--the averting of her eyes, the stilling of her breath, the curling of her brows. She felt awful for indulging in the sense of power in breaking Noel's arm, despite how good it had felt at the time. It was her own instruction, you shouldn't hold back, and yet Noel had, for Kristen's sake, made an exception. Where others were quite happy to leave her battered and broken in the sparring arena, happy to put her down quickly and efficiently so that they could get their marks and move on, that's not what happened here.

A kindness. The like of which she would not see again from Noel. And mayhap it was fitting that it could only have occurred outside of the Academy, in the lonesomeness of the forest, beyond the hawkish eyes of the Proctors.

And so what was Kristen to do? Once she inevitably returned at sunset? Perhaps there was nothing else to do other than take with her the lessons she'd learned here today.

Noel addressed her. Sternly. And Kristen returned her gaze again, feeling that old nervousness she was so accustomed to feeling in Noel's presence emerge once more. "I will not." Knowing she was a horrible liar, Kristen touched her blackened eye with a finger and added, "Should anyone inquire, I'll merely point to this."

Kristen winced again, and she covered her mouth with her good hand when said wince started to graduate into a embattled groan.

Then she said, "I think...when Penelope returns...and I am in better shape...that I shall ask her to spar as well."

Was she afraid? Absolutely. But did she need to keep at it? The answer, of course, was yes.

A gigantic, dreadful, ghastly yes.

Noel

 

[Noel]

She nodded in contentment. It wouldn't do to have some of the other students, much less one of the Proctors, know that Noel hadn't pummeled Kristen to a pulp. Some would view her generosity as a weakness. It'd inspire cretins like Jaxan or Beatrix to try messing with her and emboldening the students she despised the most wasn't something the raven-haired student was ready to do.

To what extent Kristen realized all of Noel's motivations for keeping this quiet was a mystery to her but at least the Pirian noble was, if nothing else, honest to a fault.

Noel cocked an eyebrow at Kristen's next statement. "You have a sudden desire to be tormented?"

Had the academy rubbed off on the girl in the worst of ways? Perhaps Kristen had become a masochist. It might make sense, it happened to a few of the other students who couldn't cope with the academy. Years of being abused and injured can drive people to some crazy places in their heads.

"Penelope won't spare you," Noel spoke softly now, "I don't know how much you'll learn from her breaking each of your limbs."

Ultimately it was Kristen's life though. If being beaten within an inch of her life was something she derived joy from that was her business.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

"No! No, no, most certainly not! I've no more a desire for such a ghastly ordeal than you."

Tormented. The very word itself was an encapsulation of the side of her which remained terribly afraid. As surprising a revelation as it was, Noel was not the more ruthless of the two. She maintained an impenetrable wall of ice about her person, she had a rage which stood ready to be summoned at a moment's notice with the right prompting, yet she was not without mercy. A duel with Penelope, on the other hand, would end much differently.

"It's not that I want to."

And that was the truth. Gosh, how could two seemingly opposite propositions be true at once? She did not want to duel Penelope, and yet she wanted to duel Penelope. Fear and determination. That war within.

"I feel as though I must."

Noel was almost certain to be right. What would she learn from Penelope leaving her a shattered heap? And yet, what would she learn from hiding away, letting the fullness of the day slip away to sunset, waiting in comfortable boredom until Proctor Magomo returned? How could she ever become better by cowering? Cowering as she did at Vel Acan? And if she were reduced to a shattered heap, was there not something to be gained even in this miserable state, a triumph to be had over her fear? Hardship, trauma, suffering...building a robust constitution able to withstand these awful rigors of life required enduring them--as grisly a thought as that was.

Her legs protested. Her broken pinky finger. Her eye and her shoulder and her soft abdomen.

Aionus. Holy Sentinel. Was she going to regret this?

Noel

 

[Noel]

"Your funeral," Noel imparted and after a few short minutes of silence Penelope and the healer returned. They were lucky Gemma was easily found, her healing didn't leaving any scars behind but it did leave bruises. Kristen would be recovered but retain that mark around her eye. That was good.

A bit of cajoling was all it took for Penelope to believe that Noel had tripped and broken her arm. Or at least, it was enough for Penelope not to question it any further and Gemma, being behind the upper classmen and a healer to boot, was in no position to question it as her magic overtook Noel's arm.

Noel stood, healed up and ready to simply wait for Proctor Magomo to return.

Instead, though, there was one last piece of business to handle. "She said she wants to fight you next." Penelope shot an eyebrow up. At first her bewilderment was focused purely on Noel but swiftly her gaze went to the Pirian noble.

"I'm serious," Noel added while Penelope just stared.

But then, like a dam at its breaking point, the blonde initiate burst into laughter. Penelope wiped a tear from her eye and then finally relented. "Alright, fine, yeah... let's spar."

There wasn't any question that it'd be a short brawl. No question that Kristen would be harmed far more severely than Noel had hurt her. Although, perhaps, if the girl was lucky Magomo would return in the middle of the beating and be fully satisfied with everyone.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

Hours passed.

And, a mercy. Proctor Magomo came back well before sunset, perhaps two or three hours of daylight left. Maybe he heard of Gemma being summoned out to the forest, maybe he wanted to catch them all off-guard with an unexpected arrival, or maybe circumstances out of his control bid him to end this "lesson" prematurely. Whatever the reason, Noel, Penelope, and Kristen would never know.

His arrival had fortuitous timing, however. He stepped into the small clearing to see Kristen flat on the ground, Gemma making a final pass with her healing magic. Kristen's body was covered in bruises (most hidden beneath ripped and frayed fatigues), the bruises themselves indistinguishable as to whether they were Penelope's handiwork or the side effect of Gemma's particular brand of healing.

Kristen couldn't even speak. Couldn't even stand and come to attention when Proctor Magomo made his presence known. She trembled like a fish on land going through its final throes of futile effort to return to the sea. She could only look up to Proctor Magomo, a torrent of conflicting emotion all barely held behind the dam of her pupils.

Magomo surveyed the pile of agony that was Kristen. Sniffed--the gesture either one of disdain or of satisfaction, difficult to tell.

Then he glanced to Noel and Penelope. "High marks," he said simply. And then to Gemma, "Collect Initiate Pirian and take her to the infirmary. She doesn't have the constitution to be attending the day's remaining classes."

Magomo turned with a sharp and clean motion of his foot and heel, and then started to walk back toward the Academy, expecting to be followed.

Kristen's beleaguered eyes looked up toward Noel. And, as if disconnected from the rest of her body, her hand in a small strained motion briefly was able to flash a gesture.

A thumbs-up.

Noel