The Duke of the At’Lathian Territory was known in the political circles as a fair weather traditionalist. When the political tides of his surrounding territories favored one side or the other, Duke Liam Horvath could be seen waving its standard high and proud in public. His personal opinions, spoken passionately at length behind tightly shut doors, stayed in stride with Astorios and more than one of his close friends thought his ideas for reverting back to the old ways extreme. The older vampire hailed from before the Treaty, made a vast fortune off the fledgling council selling weapons to the allied forces against the werewolves, and since lived an affluent and lavish lifestyle. Duke Horvath adorned himself in precious gems and opulent clothes, surrounding himself with symbols of his wealth.

As one of the wealthiest dukes outside of a noble family, Duke Horvath drowns himself in the luxuries of life. Food, men, women, entertainment, and other more questionable delights fill hsi halls and most of his territory is dedicated to the earthly pleasures. Since his reign as a weapons supplier, Duke Horvath transformed his territory into a world of distraction: Casinos and bars, arenas and art galleries in every city. Rumors suggest the vampire runs several underground brothels and one of the Astorio’s premier fighting rings. His reputation would definitely suggest this but several Council inquiries have found nothing. Publicly at least.

The meeting with the duke was set for only a few days into the break. The vampire had been positively ecstatic, at least according to his secretary who knew how to use modern day technology, to receive such a well known socialite of the up and coming generations. The correspondence originally included the phrase “Nouveau Riche”, although his secretary made it clear that it wasn’t meant as a derogatory term as many of the older wealth used it but rather only his vampire’s enjoyment of how the phrase rolls off the tongue. The Duke booked his midevening for Eris and extended an offer to tour his largest city that included a wide variety of complementary services after their official business concluded.

Eris himself had dozed off after the first ten minutes on the road, the sound of his mage's voice waking him up. He let out a small groan of protest before making himself more comfortable, though a quick glance at his phone told him they were nearly there. Stretching his arms out in front of him, he slumped back in his seat as he watched the back of Antigone's head. His voice sounded exasperated, mentioning several fees in tow. Either someone was trying to back out of a deal or Harmonia was scrounging around trying to get someone to pay for her driving violations. He lazily fixed any part of his hair that wasn't pointing in the direction he wanted it to before looking out the window. If his mother knew where he was, she'd get an earful for going without inviting her. But today was strictly business, not for pleasure, and after the car came to a stop at a red light, the blond made a last second decision.

"We're nearly there," Antigone announced, looking back at Eris.

"Looks like it," Eris agreed, taking advantage and took out his phone, angling it to take a picture of the area behind him as he winked at the camera. Once satisfied, he uploaded it, putting in some nonsensical babble about the life in luxury or something, tagging the location before putting his phone in his pocket. "How do I look?" He asked, smoothing out his suit.

"Dashing as always," Antigone grinned, turning to focus on the road as the light turned green.

Eris wanted to be annoyed at the uncreative response, but he would let it go for now--if only because he had bigger fish to fry. His hand toyed with one of the lower buttons as his eyes narrowed at the area outside. Ismene had gotten him this far, and while he was confident in his negotiating, he had to wonder why the trail lead here of all places. It wasn't too surprising to see that such a well established Duke was shutting down rumors, but the severity was what really made Eris curious. But a slip up like this was too good to pass, and so there he was. Last he remembered, the territory was under Countess Nintrella Sinnenodel's perview, and he wasn't a stranger to their tactics, though he did admit he rolled his eyes at the Nouveau Riche comment. The clash of new versus old wealth was an eternal struggle, and somewhat ironic considering the sheer number of casinos around here. But all in good fun, he was being welcomed, after all.

The Horvath estate, covered in more pillars and columns that necessary, sprawled across several acres of well kept gardens, clearly shaped for hosting magnificent parties of all sizes. A few pagoda’s broke the colorful foliage. Vines artfully covered each one and curtains on each entrance could be pulled to provide privacy for whatever meetings its occupants held. The drive was lit with soft golden light and ended in a multi tiered fountain that depicted various vampires and wolves fighting across its basins. A mage wearing a simple black suit bowed to Eris upon his arrival and a quiet “This way please, sir” had them moving into the entry.

The inside, much like the outside, was primarily constructed of marble, though far more black marble made an appearance to accent the white. The entry opened immediately into a massive foyer, six pillars supporting the room and various scenes throughout history painted onto the floors and walls. Two staircases mirrored each other as they rose up from opposite sides of the room and met on the back wall, framing a series of stained glass doors that seemed to open back outside. Paintings hung in jewel encrusted frames adorned the walls where the floor to ceiling mirrors left space.

“Eris Samael! In my halls!” Duke Horvath boomed from the top of the stairs. The heavy set vampire grinned, all fangs, as he made his way down excitedly, hands thrown up in the air in apparent surprise. He wore a simple tunic and breeches, though clearly made from incredibly expensive fabric, with a long trailing fur robe. His fingers were covered in jeweled rings and no less than three necklaces adorned his neck. Two piercings in each ear glinted with precious metals as he approached, clapping Eris heartily on the back with a laugh. “Never would I thought I’d see the day! Your trip wasn’t too taxing, no? Can I offer you a bit of blood before business? We can’t have the Eris Samael suffering the slightest bit of discomfort. Come on, the vampire is hungry!” As he spoke, a line of men and women appeared in various states of undress. Each one held a leatherback menu describing the flavor of their blood. “If you prefer it bottled, choose whichever one catches your eye and I’ll have one brought out for you.” The duke added.

Would he ever tire of the attention? Never. Should he probably see a therapist as to why? Probably, but that was neither here nor there, and as much as he would have liked to lap it up while he could, Eris reminded himself that he needed to stay focused. A humble and polite stance would be best until he could be sure what he was dealing with, although the duke's offer for blood did earn him a chuckle. He would give Varis a run for his money on trying to get Eris to choose an actual flavor. It would be rude to decline, however, so instead the star gave the duke an appreciative smile before looking around briefly, at least reading a few menus before making his decision on a lovely young mage that caught his eye. He didn't care much on what she offered, but she had a particularly attractive hourglass figure that he knew even vampires would kill for.

"If it isn't too much trouble, a glass from this one would do nicely," He threw her a wink before turning his attention back to Horvath, doubly ensuring he paid careful attention to the duke. Feeding directly would be quicker, but he didn't want to get too distracted. "The drive in was splendid, seeing the fruits of your labor and just how quickly you expanded has left me in awe. I'm certain I'll have to schedule a get away just to have a chance to experience it all." Not that he was a huge gambler, but he could see himself bringing a date to the museums.

“It is stunning, isn’t it? It warms my dead heart to see all my hardwork and dedication pay off. You schedule that time off and I’ll treat you to the VIP experience!” The duke agreed as he waved off the mages. “Bring his glass to the west drawing room.” The Duke led Eris upstairs and through the mansion, periodically pausing to explain a painting or mosaic on the walls as they made their way. The west drawing room was open already, two mages bowing as the pair entered, and the room boasted several plush couches and sitting chairs, all a rich purple and contrasting the rug on the floor. A fire in the hearth at the end of the room crackled and popped silently as another servant played a piano in the corner.

“Sit wherever you please. We have more than enough space for just the two of us!” The Duke said as he sunk into one of the couches with an appreciative sigh. The woman Eris’ chose from brought two crystal flutes of blood for them and left, the doors shutting behind her quietly. The Duke sipped at his glass, hummed appreciatively, and relaxed, an arm running along the back of the couch. “Now I expect you to know, first names only here! What do I owe the pleasure of a private meeting with one of the industry’s premier actors if he isn’t here for the fun I’ve made?”

Taking a seat, Eris perched his elbow on the armrest, taking a second to stare at the hearth. It was gorgeously made, much like the rest of the room, but fire had always made him just a touch antsy. He took note of the servant playing the piano, pushing away a bitter thought before giving the duke his full attention. He may as well get right to it, as he didn't think dancing around the topic was going to get him anywhere.

"I think my mother's pianist has played this song," He said before leaning back slightly, watching the blood in the flute move. "Her parties are always a beehive of buzzing, I'm sure you know how it is. Catching up on other businesses, off-the-table negotiating, and of course, the gossipmongers."

Eris held the flute with both hands as he paused for a moment. "I heard one of the more unique ones from...was it Fernidad or was it Gretchen?" He tried to think, but seemed to decide it wasn't entirely relevant. Yet. "A prophet is due to appear before long. Isn't that something?" He asked, deciding to see what sort of reaction he would get.

The duke’s smile didn’t waver but there was a tension around his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Prophet? You mean the rumors about Tribelt’s insane ramblings? At the end of his days, the vampire could barely read a sentence much less pronounce the coming of the mouth of the sisters, whatever that is.” The duke dismissed the rumors with a wave of his hand. “The damn idiot lost his marbles to the inexorable march of time and ended it in a vainglorious suicide in front of some impressionable mages. Nothing more. He’s already created enough of a headache for me.”

Well, that was disappointing to hear. A crazy guy saying crazy things wasn't the crazy story Eris had hoped for, the thought disappointing. At least, until he noticed the tension. Okay, so maybe there was something missing from the investigation. If it really was just a rumor, Horvath likely would have laughed it off, or at least have dismissed it a little more convincingly. At minimum, the rumor was a sore spot for the duke.

Eris let out a chuckle, his shoulders relaxed as he held out his flute to the duke. "The things people come up with...worse still, the audacity they have, making you out as some sort of villain shipping people away at the mere mention of it," He brought the blood to his lips, eyes flickering to Horvath for a second. "You must have caught someone's attention if they're so willing to point the finger at you."

"The list of those who won't point their grubby claws would be shorter." The vampire groused. He shook his head and sighed. "I've only shipped off one person. Wouldn't stop making a fuss about it since it happened in his establishment. Countess Nintrella thought it might attract more rebellious humans, act as a rallying standard of sorts, so I cut that off at the head. Two birds with one stone really. Nelson may have been the proprietor of one of my favorite bath houses but his accountant tipped us off to his modernist sympathies. Favoritism can only go so far." The duke sighed but waved off the subject.

“Speaking of rumors, I heard you’ve decided to take some time out of the spotlight.” The Duke asked. “You turned the entertainment world on its head with that decision! Attending the Princess’ pet project too no less. People are speculating you have your eye on the Princess, with the Sinnenodel heir otherwise occupied at the moment and all that. Prime opportunity to woo the woman. I know a few others have their eyes on her as it is but you’ve got a direct line.”

So Nintrella sought to act anyway? Eris didn't know what to think about that. His disappointment seemed to grow more as Horvath spoke, and he suppressed a sigh, occupying himself with drinking out of his flute. So much for itching his curiosity, this was a complete let down. Before he would linger on it for too long, however, Horvath turned the subject onto him, informing him of one of the funnier rumors circulating. Sure, he liked to play with fire, but he only played when he was absolutely certain that he had a chance at winning--trying to win over the princess was as good as deciding to go out into the sunlight with a clear, plastic umbrella.

That said, he was happy to play the fool. “The spotlight is my favorite place to be, but there are other avenues of revenue that needed my attention. Truth be told, I had been neglecting my businesses for some time, taking a few years off acting and using getting an education as an excuse was as good an out as any,” He leaned back slightly, a fond look in his eyes.

“Photos don’t do the princess justice, her presence alone lights up the room like no other,” Eris mused, laughing quietly as he recalled his slightly flirty line. She was beautiful, sure, but he hadn't cemented his opinion of her just yet. “We’ll just have to see what happens.”

That said, that wasn’t exactly what he was here for. Was there a way to salvage the conversation? He may as well get a little satisfaction out of stirring something up--if he couldn’t gain anything, then at least seeing others lose would even things out in his head. “Was Nelson really so impressionable to believe Tribelt’s ramblings?” He decided to ask. “He had to have said something that would convince him.”

"Believed that fool ramblings about Morgan le Fey's progeny? Yes, he did." Horvath laughed. "Ser Bordeleaux confirmed that in interrogation. The look on his face when we told him that the bitch lost it and killed herself without so much as a friend to her name. Priceless." He put the empty glass on a side table and waved at the pianist, the relaxed music switching to something more energetic. "The one time she had a suitor and he picked the vampires over her. Became a bitter old hag right after."

Of all the names Eris hadn't been expecting, Morgan le Fey was one he never even considered popping up. Historically, her part in founding the Treaty was probably the only reason her name stood out, but as far as he was aware, she didn't have descendants. The Starag was another story, of course, but what tugged at Eris was the supposed prophet being connected to her--suddenly, he felt like there was some actual credibility to the rumor. If Morgan le Fey was connected, then it explained why Nelson was taken out when he was, at least. Landar was hailed as a hero, but his descendants were wrapped around the royal family. No doubt mortals would rally around an actual descendant of one of the strongest mages in the last few centuries. And the thought of that happening on Sinnenodel territory was heresy at best. It was all clicking together, at least, and suddenly the blonde felt invigorated. Now he needed to see how much more he could get out of Horvath.

"C'est l'amour," Eris sighed, punctuating his statement with a laugh. "The one thing every being with two legs has in common is the glorious rise and fall of the heart. The differences come in how it's handled, and mortals are obsessed with the idea of 'true love' and all that other nonsense."

He waved his hand dismissively as he sipped at his glass. "I know you remember Duchess Fernidad's massive meltdown after she found her husband in bed with that lesser family's son, instead of hiding it, she somehow thought exposing him would help, and what happened? He seized her assets, turned the narrative in his favor, married the other man and left her with nothing. She made a complete fool of herself! And all because she couldn't keep her head straight." The fallout from that particular show had been spectacular for him. And the duke was lucky he had no heirs at the time.

As soon as that thought crossed his mind, however, something clicked in his head. Despite not knowing if it was the right direction, Eris continued, "I'm sure Morgan le Fey became bitter because she ended up carrying his child. You hear it happen all the time with maids gallivanting with the higher positioned servants." At the very least it would explain where the line started. His head whirred with possibilities, almost possessing him as he stared at the ceiling for a moment.

The Duke's smile fell as Eris continued to contemplate the idea; though it returned shortly after, harder, colder. Horvath leaned forward, hands pressed together as he leveled him with a serious look. "Mr. Samuel, I'm not quite sure your interest in my humble territory's affair but I believe we've spoken enough on the subject. The issue was closed and I've moved past it. Any lingering whispers are nothing but hearsay and I recommend you remember that. The royal hounds aren't nearly as lenient as me." Horvath sat back and the warmth and cheer returned.

"Now, let's put the unpleasantness away! What's done is done and nothing we can do about it!" The Duke exclaimed jovially. "Perhaps you'd care for a tour of one of the local bathhouses? It isn't as grand as some but the natural hot springs it is built on are top notch."

If that was a threat, it was a poor one.

Eris had to hold in a laugh, positively delighted as he reached out into his jacket. The insistence was enough to convince him that looking into the rumor was worth it after all, and it was anything but that. If there was some way for him to actually find this so-called progeny, it would open up a world of possibilities in his favor. But for now, he would play nice as he removed a business card and tapped it twice.

"In case you hear it from anyone else, this one was the culprit mouthing off at Mother's party," He winked at Horvath, brightening up alongside his enthusiasm and holding back a muffled chuckle of delight. "A tour sounds lovely, I haven't been to a proper bathhouse in decades!"

Horvath took the business card as he stood, waving Eris to follow. "Thank you, I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Now, I'll have the car pulled around and we'll be off to the Crescent!" The Duke pushed out the room and took them back through the mansion. "Now the Crescent only has three proper springs and six rooms. All private with access to the springs and a beautiful view of the Selph Valley. Sadly, it's a little early in the year for viel moths but you can see them migrate in droves some nights." He snapped at a mage in the main hall who scampered away.

Outside, a car idled. Lucan Bordeleaux stood outside, reading a piece of parchment, as a Noila servant opened the door for him. As he made to get in, another one of Horvath's servants bolted out the front door, out of breath. She held an envelope as she made her way across the drive and bowed. "Ser Bordeleaux, one moment please! I'm so glad I managed to find you. A letter arrived this evening addressed to you and we were concerned that you'd left for town already!" The servant held it out for the vampire who accepted it. He examined it for a moment, a sigh escaping with a brief flash of weariness, and he tucked it into his jacket before letting himself be herded into the vehicle and driving away.

Horvath stopped the servant as she passed. "Who did that letter come from and why wasn't I informed?" He demanded.

"My apologies, Duke Horvath. We prioritized finding Ser Bordeleaux before his departure. It was sealed with a Starag crest so we assumed it to be relevant to his assignment." The woman responded with a curtsey. The duke considered that for a moment and then waved her off with a grunt as the car came around.

"What a waste of opportunity." The vampire grumbled as he stepped aside for Eris to enter the open door. "However, neither here nor there. Tonight is about showing the great Eris Samael a pleasant and relaxing evening!"

Must be nice to go to a bathhouse and skip all classes, though Eris assumed that was a guard dog's privilege. He knew for certain that Bordeleaux hadn't been to the Academy in some time, having all but abandoned it. It made certain things easier, at least not having to worry about any more authoritative eyes looking where they shouldn't be. But the timing was a little odd. A Noilan lapdog hovering around long after an arrest had been made. He'd have to see if Horvath would take the bait before getting solid evidence that the two were linked.

"Housing Ser Bordeleaux must have been fun. I didn't know he knew what it meant to relax," Eris joked as he turned his attention back to the duke. "Coming in with a pretty escort, perhaps?"

"Ha! Escort! The only thing he bought was a loud mouthed new mage that he had promptly sent away. Damn thing was practically a puppy, yapping away when it was supposed to be quiet. Rented a room for it in Nalcha with orders for it to stay in the park." The Duke shook his head in disappointment. "No, he has his nose to the ground the entire time. Men, women, money- name a luxury and I tossed it his way. He came in on a favor Princess Nox owned the Countess a week or two ago and now he's doing who knows what. The arrest was made and the rumors discouraged. I have no idea why he's here. Just told to keep him alive and stay out of his way." Horvath shrugged.

That sounded incredibly cumbersome--no wonder Horvath seemed relieved that he finally left. It was too bad, at least if the Bordeleaux had brought something hanging off his arm, that would have made for something interesting to spread. "The Noilan thoroughness always leaves something to be desired…" The blonde emphasized, running a hand through his hair as he laughed. "It must have been an eventful week, but…"

But the arrest Ismene had informed him of had taken place two weeks ago. The realization slammed him for all of two seconds before he noticed, feeling as if he was suddenly very close to something. There was a slight touch of tension as well, looking around. Well, he wasn't going to get hauled away by the [lucan title] at the very least, but getting arrested would probably put a damper in his plans. He did update his location before he arrived here, but Antigone wouldn't be able to bail him out if things took a turn for the worst. It looked like he was going to have to make a decision: either try to play it safe and get out, or take the plunge and see what else he could dig up.

"...at least he's gone. Can't say I'm a fan, much too serious," Eris concluded, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "We shared a few classes and you could feel the 'holier than thou' attitude. He accused me of disrupting the peace just because a few fans wanted some autographs. I'm not going to say 'no' to them just because he doesn't like it!"

He kept himself jovial, toning it back slightly as he rubbed his neck. "The size of this place is massive, how many amenities are there?" He asked.

"He's far too solemn for my tastes. I thought taking the stick out of his rear and putting something else there would help but clearly he enjoys what he has." The Duke gripped along side Eris, clearly less reserved on the matter now that he left. "Oh, the mansion? It has basically anything you may need. Did you want a tour of everything before we go out? I'd be more than happy to show off some more! Maybe even interest you in an invitation to a private event hm?" The Duke wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Very well, you twisted my arm! Take it to the lot, Mr. Samael is interested in exploring!" His cheery disposition changed as a mage appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Sir, you still need to approve the alterations to the Diamond Top. They've requested your immediate attention since it's been so long." The man spoke evenly despite the scowl leveled his way. He remained completely unperturbed, clearly used to the job. The man seemed a little over thirty and cut a lean figure like most of the Duke's mages. Unlike the others, this man was dressed in traditional finery rather than the typical revealing outfits if the others.

"I'll be right there, you wretched taskmaster. You'd think he fancied himself a vampire with how he pushes me around. Please accept my apologies. I just have to sign this and I'll be right back." The Duke told Eris and then snapped his fingers at the mage. "Adam, keep Mr. Samael company until I'm finished. Anything he needs, you provide." Adam bowed and held the door open as the Duke stormed upstairs.

"If you would Mr. Samael, please allow me to provide you something to keep you occupied while the Duke handles his business. I'm sure it won't take more than a moment." Adam requested. "What would you like in the meantime?”

The Head Butler? Maybe, it seemed like a safe bet judging by how he was dressed. Eris feigned slight disappointment as Horvath informed him that his attention was needed elsewhere. The fates were smiling down on him, at least. Now to see if the opportunity would actually get him anywhere.

Eris openly let his eyes rove over the composed mage, the tiniest smile on his lips. “If I had a little more time, I’d be more than happy to ask you to take care of me,” He winked, pausing for a moment before continuing, “But tell me something if you don’t mind. I’d like to take him up on his offer, but I prefer as much privacy for as long as I can afford, if you catch my drift. How long did the Duke’s previous guest stay with him?”

“If that is something you desire, Mr. Samael, then I will oblige you as soon as I arrange someone to handle my duties in the meantime. The Duke certainly won’t protest your choice.” Adam spoke without missing a beat. “However, the recently departed Ser Bordeleux stayed with us for 13 nights and 12 days, technically. We primarily served to host his belongings rather than the vampire himself. Though it is erroneous to consider him a previous guest. Ser Bordeleux requested a room in the capital for another week and so long as SerBordeleux is in the territory, the Duke considers him a personal guest.”

Tempting, but Eris couldn’t afford distractions. Maybe after. No, he needed to focus. Only if he got what he wanted and was sure that everything was alright, then he would think about it. That was a compromise he was willing to work with. With that out of the way, at the very least the timelines were matching up. And he was going to stick around for another week--was he going to make another arrest? There was the possibility that he was next, but he wasn’t planning on getting arrested, so the only way Lucan Bordelaux was getting near him with a pair of handcuffs was in the bedroom.

Fuck, okay, maybe that was too far, he needed to get back on track.

Snapping himself out of his thoughts, he raised his shoulders for a moment before dropping them. “Think he’ll be coming back? He makes me...uncomfortable,” He lied, although he shuddered slightly to add to it.

“Not to my knowledge, sir. He instructed us to return part of his belongings to Her Majesty’s castle and the rest to his current accommodations. You’re safe from him for the duration of your stay.” Adam said. The Duke came bounding back, a sealed letter clutched in his hand and he shoved it off onto the mage as soon as he could.

“There! I’m done with the whole thing so take it away.” The Duke waved his hand and turned his attention back to Eris. “I hope he didn’t bore you. He can drone on for days. Did you still want a tour of the grounds?”

Eris shook his head, chuckling slightly. The royal dog was lingering for some reason. There were too many coincidences, and with Adam's confirmation, he felt like he had taken a step in the right direction. “He reminds me of my Ismene--serious mages are always so adorable,” He said, dismissing the duke’s concerns. “A tour sounds lovely.”

“Excellent! Since we’re here, we’ll start in the garden.” The Duke exclaimed, wasting little time as he set off. “My groundskeepers collect plants from all over the world and bring them back here to flourish at my home. They’re segmented based on the colors of the entertainment space. Out front, we have two sections. The far pavillion is the Nightingale Gaze. We’ve surrounded it with high shrubs that conceal trellises for a variety of flowering vines. The roof opens up and with a little light magic, it’s difficult to find a better view of the stars. For the romantic types if you will.”

As the duke spoke, he guided Eris to the pagoda closets to them. The flowers around them faintly glowed red and pink. A small pool of water surrounded it and lily pads dotted it’s surface. Two stepping stones led them across the water and to the steps of the pagoda. Inside, a large basin sat in the middle of the room and several heavy drapes were rolled up. “This is one of my favorite entertaining spaces. This little place turns into a gorgeous sauna just hot enough to make it interesting for a vampire. I had it made to figure out why mortals enjoy those saunas so much. I still don’t quite understand but it gets the blood pumping! Metaphorically of course.”

Eris thought he would be more interested in this, but he couldn't quite understand why anyone thought boiling themselves was a good idea. He supposed it was one of those things you had to experience to understand, but it didn't quite grab him. At least the area was gorgeous to look at, and he had to admit the idea of a romantic night was much more appealing.

"If only being a bachelor didn't work so well for me, I could see myself bringing someone here on a date," He joked, running a hand through his hair.

“Haha! The night you settle down is the night I greet the sunrise. Though with your success, I doubt anyone in the realm would turn you down.” Horvath chuckled as he continued through the mansion. He pointed out various other establishments in the garden: a section for art, a specialty greenhouse with a table setting in the middle, and various other places to mingle. The tour of the gardens ended in the central courtyard, where a three tiered fountain bubbled and pieces of shaped glass caught the moonlight in the trees. Most of the illumination was from the windows surrounding the yard but a corner held a group of lit lanterns where three mages worked diligently at their students under the eye of a tutor. All three stood and bowed as Horvath and Eris entered but returned to their duties quickly enough. One of them kept stealing a few glances at Eris from the corner of her eye.

“The outside is spectacular, no?” Horvath boasted, unaware of the attention Eris was getting. “Is there anything you’re interested in indulging in your first night here? I’ll make it the first part of the indoor tour.”

Eris bit back a wistful laugh--he would like nothing more than to settle down, but that wasn't happening anytime soon. Instead he grinned, joining in what he assumed was the camaraderie as he continued to enjoy himself. Hm, maybe he was enjoying himself too much, he was starting to get distracted from his main goal. Horvath was doing a good job shooing him away from any suspicions, but he just needed one solid lead to go off of. He should have grilled Adam more when he had the chance, but he seemed a little too obedient--no doubt Eris could get what he wanted and more, but he would probably find himself in cuffs after the ordeal was said and done.

As the thought crossed his mind, he noticed the three mages bowing. Giving them a small smile, it hit him: he was aiming too high, he needed to swing a little lower. His smile grew, and he shuffled over to Horvath. "And who might these lovely ladies be?" He asked, quiet enough to be mistaken as genuine interest.

“Oh, these three? They’re newly Awakened. Still getting a handle on their magic.” Horvath snapped in their direction repeatedly. “Come here, all of you. Our guest is interested in you.” The girls looked at each other for a moment but hurried to follow the Duke’s instructions, coming around the fountain and offering the pair a curtsey.

“My name is Annabell, sir.” The blonde one spoke as they curtsied. “These two are Farla and Carla, sir. It’s our honor to meet you.” All their eyes stayed firmly fixed on the ground except Farla who couldn’t resist flicking up to look at Eris. The three of them wore a similar style dress, black with gold accents and the twins wore a few pieces of gold jewelry: earrings, rings, and bracelets. Annabell went without, only a small set of silver studs on her ears.

“Have I finally found something that piques your interest?” Horvath chuckled excitedly. “If so, I’ll have to keep that in mind for future visits.”

Mages weren't usually something that caught Eris' interest, but he wouldn't be the first or last vampire to say otherwise. It came off as a little strange to him whenever vampires had a little too much interest in them, but that was neither here nor there right now. They were newly Awakened, huh? Just beginning to get training--no wonder the one was doing a poor job in hiding her excitement. Perfect.

"How exciting. Congratulations, ladies," Eris told them politely, chuckling to himself as he looked at Horvath. "I have a new mage myself--it'll be just a few weeks since my darling Maxwell Awakened." He could practically feel every metallic surface buzzing--if the kid ever heard Eris utter those words, he was sure he would be skewered--but he would have to play it up while he could. He hesitated for a moment, gesturing to the mages. "May I have a look?"

"Be my guest! I've only encouraged it since you came here." Horvath laughed as he slapped Eris on the back. "It seems at least one of them has taken an interest in you already." Farla flushed and her eyes shot down while her sister's shoulders shook with poorly contained laughter.

Good grief, the man was desperate to have something catch Eris' attention, wasn't he? He shook the thought off as he flashed a smile, using every ounce of his being to keep it as genuine as possible. Maybe he should request a massage as penance. It was an idea, at least, but if he went about it the wrong way, he'd come out looking bad. He needed to make it seem as if he had genuine interest in the little ones. There was a detail that caught his attention, and while going to the most eager was the obvious choice, he needed to play it off.

He took a few steps towards Annabel, lifting her chin gently. He eyed the silver studs, his eyes darting to the twin next to her, and as he moved down to the next, he looked back at Horvath. "Are you allowing them personal taste?" He asked, lightly touching Carla's earring.

“To some degree. They are permitted more flexibility than others since they haven’t been fully trained for their roles yet.” The Duke explained, gesturing at the twins. “However, the amount of gifts I bestow on them vary by their usefulness. These two earned their gifts after they pleased the Dutchess with a demonstration of their dancing. As you can see, she is still lacking. A decent mind but we don’t keep most mages for their intelligence. She’ll likely be given away in the next few years. Healthy genes, excellent bone structure, blonde hair and blue eyes. Almost makes you think of a certain breed of mages, eh? Perfect for breeding but little else honestly.”

Aww, just like Sunny, except he was sure the kid’s genes were much more in demand. Tucking in the possibility for Varis later, Eris looked between the three mages, eyes landing on Farla. “Beautiful,” He made sure she was aware when he said it before looking back at Horvath. “We’ll have to keep in touch when the time comes, I’ll be looking to continue my mages’ lineage in that same timeframe.” He’d have to get Antigone a bride soon, so it wasn’t a complete lie.

Now that he knew what he wanted, he’d have to carefully lay things out. Eris did look back at Farla, reaching out to tenderly raise her face to his, giving her a gentle expression. His look lingered for a few seconds longer than it should have, and when he released her, he made sure his touch was remembered, fingers lightly brushing her skin as he let her go.

He made a noise in his throat as he turned back to Horvath, arms open. “Honestly, the more I hear about this place, the more I’m thinking that getting an education was a mistake. I need to book a getaway here the first chance I have instead of dropping everything like I usually want to,” He said, though he flashed another brilliant smile. “Then the next time I get dragged to my mother’s parties I’ll have something to talk about."

The Duke watched the little exchange with poorly concealed interest as Farla watched Eris openly, stunned at the attention. Annabel flushed with embarrassment and she unconsciously leaned away from the other two. “Well, well! Flattery will get you everywhere here.” Horvath chuckled, bringing Eris in close. “Why not try our facilities first. Maybe a beauty or two on your arm rather than an old vampire will make the evening more enjoyable, hm? And once you know what there is, maybe you could bring someone to share it with.”

Good grief, this man was so touchy! Eris was probably hanging around the nobility too much, he wasn't used to getting so close and personal just from talking. Unfortunately, he needed to play along, though if Horvath was offering his facilities, he could take advantage and scrub himself clean.

"What can I say? You've won me over, and I'd be lying if I said the idea of a little relaxation wasn't tempting," Eris lied, taking a peek over his shoulder at Farla once again. "Maybe trying out one of the more...private facilities. Just to have a little fun."

“Fun is the name of my business, Eris!” Horvath chortled, snapping his fingers at Farla. “Since little Farla caught your eye, we’ll have her accompany you. Come, come!” Farla curtsied at the command, stepping in to take the Duke’s place as he stepped away. “Don’t hesitate to correct her if she falls out of line. Anything that doesn’t leave a mark is acceptable. And I’ll expect a full review of her performance since this will only be her second time entertaining alone.” Horvath waved the other two away and they scurried back to their corner. Carla watched her twin with worried eyes and Annabel turned all of her attention back to her studies.

“What should I call you, Sir?” Farla spoke softly, tentatively placing a hand on Eris’ arm. The girl was clearly enamoured and thrilled he chose her. “If you follow me, I’ll happily show you a few of our private rooms to choose from. Unless you have something specific in mind, Sir?”

Did he look like a test dummy?! Well, it couldn't be helped, Horvath did say all three had recently awakened. He needed to count himself lucky that he didn't get both twins, working one on one was likely to be easier. All he had to do was turn up the charm some more, quietly get in her good graces, get what he needed, then ask for that massage since his back still felt weird after that slap.

Eris snapped out of his thoughts as Farla touched his arm, holding back a laugh. She was eager. He put his hand over hers, leaning in close. "Just remember not to touch until you're given the okay. I'm alright with it, but others won't like that," He gently reminded her. pulling back slightly as he put a finger to his lips "I won't say a word. It'll be our little secret."

He straightened up and offered her his arm, making good on his words. "Do you have any recommendations? I've been in meetings nearly all week, I could do with something quiet, tucked away somewhere we can be alone--to relax, of course," He said, correcting himself.

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll remember that, thank you.” She replied meekly to the reprimand as she took the offered arm. “If it pleases you, I think I know something that you’ll like.” She smiled shyly at Eris before leading him into the mansion, passing several other servants who stepped out of the way and bowed although eyes lingered curiously in their wake. The building got quieter as they moved further in and the air cooled. Bright lights switched to dimmed crystal sconces and the art on the all took a surreal quality. Farla detached herself from Eris’ side with a curtsey and opened a plain wooden door.

“Would you find this pleasing, Sir?” Farla asked quietly. The room beyond was quiet except for the murmurs of water flowing down the back wall. Bonsai trees of various shapes and sizes sat on shelves on another wall with one large one boasting cascading branches that followed the circular cubby in a half moon pattern. Two crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, styled like vines and the lights leaves, that shimmered with soft silver and blue light. Two chairs sat in the center of the room facing the wall of water.

“The waterfall can be opened to a view of the stars. This room faces over days of undeveloped forest so the light pollution is minimized. I can adjust the lighting, colors and brightness both, to your liking.” Farla explained. “I thought a massage would give you the peace and quiet you wanted, if you please.”

Eris let out a low whistle, looking around as Farla spoke. He knew someone who night actually enjoy this, but trying to wrangle some free time out of him for a glorified date would probably be tricky. But that was neither here nor there. This place was probably a little too quiet, but it would do nicely for now. The hard part would probably be not letting his guard down for too long or he'd end up falling asleep.

"This is a good suggestion," He told Farla, loosening his tie slightly. "I'll take you up on that offer, if it pleases you."

“Your pleasure is my pleasure, sir.” She followed him into the room. Her voice was low and calm but she couldn’t keep the excitement out of her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, please feel free to use the changing room to put on a robe. If you leave your clothes on hooks, we’ll have them ironed and hung. If you prefer to stay in your clothes, you can take a seat and we’ll begin with your feet.”

"I'll be just a moment," Eris said, freeing himself of his tie as he took her advice. Once he was sure he was out of sight, he began to undress, only pausing for a moment to send a text to Ismene. Even if she was busy, he was certain she would see it. After a few seconds of deliberation, he decided having a backup plan would probably benefit him, sending her some instructions. Once he finished, he put his phone on a shelf as far back as possible, snatching up the robe and sliding into it. It was soft to the touch, and he had to remind himself not to get too carried away.

As he returned, he slicked his hair back and off his face, stopping to look at the waterfall. "Your duke has good taste and an eye for design, I'm not sure if anyone else could have thought of any of this. Though, with such a beautiful mage like yourself, I couldn't imagine it being any other way," He said, taking a seat. "He mentioned you have little experience entertaining others, right? Who are the lucky ones that got to see you before me?"

While he was gone, Farla set a foot rest out in front of the chair and a towel and silver bowl full of a viscous liquid next to it. She had taken one look at him in the robe and her eyes snapped down to the floor, her flush only growing stronger at his compliments. She placed a remote on the arm of the chair and guided his foot onto the stool, dipping her fingertips into the gel and then working it over her hands. “Before we Awaken, we’re only allowed to entertain as a part of a group. Dancing, serving, and other activities but nothing hands on like this. I’ve been dancing since I was thirteen but I’ve only done this for a business partner of the Duke’s a few months ago. He’s interested in harnessing solar power.” She started rubbing the bottom of his feet, using her thumbs to press into the muscles and the rest to press into the sides.. She kept glancing up at him shly, admiring him as he relaxed. “If you wish to recline or open the waterfall, that remote will allow you that sir.”

Harnessing solar power, that could be anyone. Eris briefly tried to think if it could be someone he knew, but there weren’t too many vampires who would talk freely about anything up and coming like that, usually preferring to keep things to their chest unless they were pitching the idea to future partners. He briefly wondered if the Ghanie family was involved, but another name popped into his head.

Eris briefly fiddled with the controls, opening the waterfalls. As the mechanisms out themselves to work, he focused back on Farla. “That wouldn’t have been Nelson, would it?” He asked.

“Nelson? Oh no, sir. He barely commanded enough social standing to call the Duke, much less be considered a business partner. He owns, well owned now I guess, a few high end businesses in the territory. Now, the Duke controls it.” Farla said as she worked, still stealing glances up at Eris to gauge his reaction. “It was an Astorio. He talked a lot on the phone while I served him. He seemed pleased he’d gotten an audience with the Duke. He was grumbling about overly demanding board members and his business card was for Green Vision, Inc.”

Eris nearly blurted out a 'what?' of surprise, not having expected to hear a company he actually knew of. He wasn't sure if that helped or hindered him, but subjectively he didn't like it. Especially since he would bet his entire estate that he knew exactly who one of those overly demanding board members were. But he would much rather keep things going at his own pace and avoid dredging down that path if he could help it.

More importantly, Miss Farla was loose with information. Either she didn't realize it or it meant she was comfortable enough to talk freely with him. Whichever way it was worked for him, but if he was going to ask more, he needed to keep her attention on him and not on what he was saying.

Eris wringed out his hand, pressing a thumb to his wrist as he looked down at Farla. "I hate to be a bother, but do you think you could do something about this annoying prickle I have here?" He asked before looking down at his hand. "I must have flicked it one too many times tonight. But come sit next to me, it feels wrong to look down while we're talking to one another." He patted the seat next to his.

Farla flushed at the comment and froze like a deer in headlights at Eris’ suggestion. “I’m not sure the Duke would approve of that, sir.” She looked around, clearly nervous at the idea of raising herself to Eris’ height. “But I was also told to serve you and if it pleases you, sir, then perhaps it’s worse to tell you no?” Farla worried but slowly crept up to sit on the very edge of the chair, taking Eris’ hand and massaging circles into his hand.

"Smart girl," Eris winked, letting her remain where she was and shuffling a little closer. "That sort of thinking is exactly what you need to get by. Anticipate your master's needs, know your place, and you will be rewarded. Your duke may say there is no place for intelligence here, but clearly, you're already steps ahead of the other two."

He placed his free hand over hers, pausing her movements briefly. "This is why you caught my attention, after all," he lowered his voice as he spoke.

Farla bit her lip to keep from smiling as Eris complimented her but let out a startled squeak when he covered her hand and she couldn’t stop herself from looking up at him, staring openly. “Thank you, sir.” Her nervousness was clear in her voice but she couldn’t stop the proud little gleam in her eye or in the way she sat up a little straighter. Her mouth quirked up on one side in a shy smile. “I’m thankful to have the opportunity to please you, sir. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy. That’s why I’m here after all.” She swept her eyes down him and then kept her eyes firmly on where his hand covered hers.

He lifted his hand from hers, raising a finger to her lips for just a second. "And I'm very glad you are," He said cheerfully, resting his hand on his knee.

Eris let her work for a little while longer, thinking of how to carefully broach the topic. Fuck if he knew how much a just-awakened mage knew, but he wouldn't squander the opportunity just yet. The Noilan dog's arrest, Green Vision Inc, Tribelt...he couldn't quite connect the dots on what any of this had to do with some prophet, but he had to admit he was having more fun digging than he anticipated. Farla was cute, too, so he could say he was enjoying himself. He supposed he may as well get his fill so he could actually relax.

"Whatever happened to Nelson, anyway?" He went for the casual route of asking. "He was supposed to meet with my father for a potential trade, but then we heard that he had gotten wind of a scorned mistress or something or other. I don't suppose you've seen him, have you?"

"No one's seen Nelson since Ser Bordeleaux arrested him. He was saying the craziest things about the crown and some long dead mage, sir." Farla shook her head, her scorn for the vampire clearly apparent as she relaxed more into Eris' friendly attitude . "But Nelson was the desperate sort, Sir. Forgive me but I'm glad you didn't sully yourself with him. Now you can do business with someone worthy of your status, Sir. Nelson was a rogue mage apologist so the rumors say. Most people think he made this whole business with the prophet up and killed the poor vampire. Mr. Tribelt lost everything about ten years back, left, and came back changed for the worse."

Eris had no reaction to that, although it matched what Horvath said. He watched Farla work as the clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Lucky me that the problem resolved itself, then," He mused, deciding to get into a little repetition. "Don't tell anyone, but in old age, vampires do tend to go off the rails, their interests becoming bizarre. Even one of my professors at the Academy has a weird obsession with pineapples. Now I'm wondering what was it that he said…" He shook his head. "He had to have said something completely outrageous, right?”

"Well, yes. He told anyone and everyone about the lineage of Morgan le Fey, about how her brood would consume the world, and how some child or another would usher her in with dire warnings." Farla spoke softly as she worked, eyes glancing around. "But most people just assumed it was the inevitable path for him. He was always a little loose in the head and wherever he went, bad luck always followed it seemed. Plus, more than one suggested there was some sort of shadow always lingering around him. People said it was a curse but the Duke doesn't like people talking about that."

Of course not, because a curse means someone was responsible, which in turn meant that not only was it done to silence the duke, it was done because he was on to something. And if Eris chose to continue to investigate, he may very well be traversing the same path. It was a great risk that to most simply wasn't worth it; Duke Horvath was intent on silencing any murmurs of it, and if Eris' hunch was correct, then Duke Fernidad would either receive a threat or would vanish altogether from talking about it. And of course, Eris speaking of it right now was very well painting a path of doom.

But he'd be damned if he were to stop now.

Eris almost relaxed, but there was one more question he couldn't quite stop himself from asking. "And this so called child...what makes them different from the rest?" He made sure his tone gave Farla the impression that he took none of this seriously. "A mage is a mage. Magic is magic...even if there was such a thing as a prophet, there's nothing that they could do that can't be done now, right?"

“I’m not sure, Sir. I don’t know much about her but I think so. I only ever heard that he said they’d usher her in, whatever that may mean. Unless he means necromancy.” Farla’s hands tensed and stopped for a moment before resuming. “What if he did mean necromancy? How else could you usher in a 500 year old mage? That’s a horrifying thought.”

Necromancy was one way to go about it, but if that were the case then no one would be talking about it seeing as every necro mage was seized. Besides, that was too easy of an answer. “Oh, no no no, don’t you get those nasty thoughts in your head,” Eris hurriedly assured her, patting her hand. “I was simply thinking out loud, please, trouble yourself no further with any of those silly thoughts.”

At this point he felt that there was nothing more to be gained from the mage without putting her in a tizzy, or at least without making it obvious. But he learned a lot, and had a few ideas on where to head next. He’d have to make sure to step carefully, otherwise he was sure he would end up like poor Nelson.

But he couldn’t relax just yet. Now that he got what he wanted, he needed to make sure that their conversation was never repeated. Aside from some sort of memory-altering magic, the only real way to ensure that nothing would get repeated was to make the night memorable in other ways; after all, all anyone cared about were the highlights.

He gently took a hold of both her hands with his, lightly pulling her towards him. Gazing into her eyes deeply, he put on something resembling a shy smile. “Honestly, every time you touch me makes me wish you’d do it in other places,” He told her, placing her hands on his shoulders. “Excuse my poor topics before...but if you’d let me, I’d very much like to make it up to you somehow, Farla.”

Farla’s confused look at the sudden closeness melted away at his words, want and embarrassment playing across her face in equal measure. She worried at her bottom lip as she searched his face, looking for anything that might suggest a setup, but the tension eased out of her when she found no trace of deception. “I’m just a mage, sir. A vampire as prestigious as yourself couldn’t ever do anything that needs making up for. I’m only here to ensure you enjoy your evening, Sir.” Her eyes darted down to his lips and up again. “However that might be.”

Eris shook his head as he released her hands, wrapping one around her waist as the other one stroked her cheek. “I insist,” His voice was quiet, words only for her to hear as he closed the gap between them. He didn’t mind indulging her, the experience one she would likely gossip about for days with pink cheeks, and just for that little while he would make sure to focus entirely on her. It was the least he could do as thanks, after all.

On the morning before the student body was scheduled to leave for the first break of the year, Max strutted confidently up to Eris’ door and knocked a few times. All of the vampire’s stuff was already loaded into the car, so this was likely his last chance to talk to the leech before Max got to wipe his hands of him for the next few weeks.

“Whenever you’re done with your eyeliner or whatever, I need to talk to you.” Max called in his best sing-song voice, which was admittedly not very enthusiastic. Either way, he was intent on blocking Eris from getting out of his room until he acquiesced.

Maxie barked at Max’s knock, lightly scratching the door as Eris swung it open. Eyeliner, this was a weekday, he only wore it on the weekends. The vampire had been practically glued to his phone since the moment he got up, barely registering Max’s words. At Maxie’s continued barking he shushed her, taking a few seconds to look at Max.

“What?” He asked, taking a second to remember what he said. He wanted to talk now? He figured the kid would’ve made a run for the hills the moment everything was packed up. He glanced at his phone time, grimacing slightly before looking back at the kid. “If you actually need to contact me during the break, just text, it’s easier that way.” He took a stab at what he thought could have been a question he had.

“I’d really rather not think of you at all for the next two weeks. No offense.” Okay, offense. “I need something ordered and I figured I’d give you plenty of time to work it out over the break instead of waiting.” That, and holding Eris hostage here was Max’s best bet at getting what he wanted. An Eris in a hurry was an Eris willing to agree to just about anything.

The blonde narrowed his eyes, mouth slightly hanging open as if he had something on the tip of his tongue. He was used to the little quirps, but if he was honest, that second part was shocking. Well, he was a lot more lax with the kid than his other mages, so it wasn’t entirely shocking. But he was pretty sure that he would rather eat his own foot than owe Eris anything.

He managed to close his mouth as he held in a laugh, bringing his phone up to his mouth. “Are you asking me for something?”

Max’s barest attempt at a playful act dropped at the question, returning to his usual scowl. When Eris put it like that, he was almost tempted to walk away. It wasn’t like he had any other choice, though; large amounts of metal were surprisingly expensive, especially when they were actually shaped into something.

“You’re the only person I know with money, Eric, don’t get too smug. I just don’t want another repeat of the other night where I’m entrusting my safety to a salad fork,” Max snarked back with narrowed eyes, “So I need a way to viably carry a lot of metallic objects around with me at once without looking like an idiot. A weapon’s a nice touch, but it’s too obvious, unwieldy, and that damn Retriever might have the audacity to accuse me of copying him.”

He’d toyed with a few ideas in his head; weird places to tuck knives, excessive jewelry, outright toting an axe around all day like Her Royal And Totally-Not-Batshit-Crazy Highness Princess Nox. In the end, the only mix of subtlety and function he could think of was to outright walk around in metal plating.

“Do you know an armor guy? I figured you’d know somebody that can make functional look good better than I would.”

Eris lowered his phone down to his chin, his own expression vanishing. Armor was the last thing Eris expected Max to ask for. He did have a smith he used for his own swords that would probably have a good reference, but talk about last minute. Maybe the kid had been more shaken up than he thought. But he wasn’t a therapist and he wasn’t about to ask him to open up just to get insulted some more. Not to mention he literally didn’t have the time for this.

His eyes flickered down at Max’s clothes, the urge to roll his eyes strong. He wanted to say no, but if he had to ask then he was pretty sure he wouldn’t hear the end of it. It wasn’t exactly a bad idea, either, and if he didn’t want to carry a weapon, then it really was the next best thing.

Of course, the question was now what he could get out of this.

“I do,” Eris started off as he looked back at his phone, the time seemingly mocking him at this point. “But this is kind of last minute. I’m going to need one or two things from you in return.”

Son of a bitch.

“Go on.” Max eyed him warily. He hadn’t agreed to anything yet, and he still had time on his side. Max was fully prepared to haggle all day, and judging by the way Eris kept looking at his phone, he couldn’t say the same.

Now Eris really did roll his eyes, waving away Max’s look. “Stop looking at me like I’m weird or something,” He huffed, taking a second to compose himself. “The first thing is something I’m sure you realize I’d need: your measurements. That said, that kind of thing usually turns out better when it’s done professionally. And that leads to the second thing…”

His free hand lightly plucked at Max’s collar, his disdain imminent. “Not only am I getting you armor, I’m getting you a new wardrobe. I need you to at least pretend to look presentable if you’re going to be my mage,” He said, looking Max up and down. “I have a last-minute appointment with my tailor, but I’m willing to give it up so he can measure you. You get armor and threads even the princess would find fine. It’s actually a win-win for you, really.”

That was… reasonable. Truth be told, Max was surprised Eris hadn’t raided his wardrobe while he was sleeping yet anyway. There had to be a catch in there somewhere, but he couldn’t fathom where.

“Doesn’t Feline Vaseline or whatever the fuck his name is still have my measurements from the Revel?” Max honestly had no idea if suits fit like armor did, or if tailors even trusted each others’ measurements. Eris’ outfits usually weren’t too outlandish, so Max figured at least some of what he’d be forced into had to be wearable. Hopefully he took comfort into the equation, because Max would sooner go naked than be forced into a rigid suit more than one night a month, tops. Though, he didn’t think that even the leech’s most eccentric fashion show fantasies could make articulated steel plates too garish or uncomfortable beyond the norm.

“Either way, I’d like as much flexibility and comfort as your guy can give me, even if he has to compromise defense to do it. The main draw is giving me access to usable metal, not looking like I’m about to slay dragons and kiss princesses.”

Eris knit his eyebrows together for a second before shaking his head. “Feliks Vasiliev would rather take your measurements himself, I’m sure,” He said, neglecting to mention the absolute roast he suffered from the guy for sending him sub-par measurements Eris had given him at the last minute. “If you want an ergonomic design, then I’m more than sure he would be up for the challenge.”

He’d have to ask, of course, but convincing Kayta to help sway Feliks would make things easier. Or the designer would stick his walking cane up where the sun didn’t shine, either way. This would be a new challenge, so the angle should be in his favor. Probably.

“As someone that is constantly looking for something to further his skills, he can do it. All you need to do is show up--and I guess that’s the slightest snag in this whole shebang,” Eris batted his eyelashes at Max. “Because someone decided to make this last minute, your break won’t be free from my beautiful face just yet. The appointment is two days from now at my flat. You’ll probably need a ride, so I guess I’ll send Angelique to get you…” He muttered the last sentence to himself as he turned his attention back to his phone.

As he spent a few seconds tapping away, however, his chartreuse eyes snapped back at Max, giving him a grin. “I’m really going out of my way for you, aren’t I?” He mused out loud. “But I know you don’t exactly have much to offer, so in exchange for all this, all I want is one favor, no questions asked. That means no half-asked remarks, no observations, no insults...I ask, you obey and carry it out. Easy, right?”

Ah, and here was the catch. Max knew Eris was sounding too reasonable here for a second. The appointment was an annoyance but not anything he couldn’t handle - it wasn’t like he considered his parents good company in the first place - and being able to actually talk to the guy was better than just trusting Eris to know what he wanted. But a favor with no questions asked was dangerous.

“Ugh, fine,” He grumbled before raising a finger, “But I have some stipulations. You give me full context on whatever favor you’re asking me to do before I do it - I wanna know the who, why, what, and how before I play your game. I don’t like walking into things blind.”

Huh, Eris probably should have clarified. He was so used to calling them favors that he really should have chosen his words more carefully. It was more of a no questions asked sort of deal, but then again, the kid was a little too smart to go with that. Fortunately, he didn’t have anything in mind for him yet, but he’d safely tuck it away.

“Who, what, and how, sure. As for why, that’s for me to know and for you to never find out in case you get caught. That way they won’t execute you as it’ll be obvious you were just a poor mage following orders,” Eris replied cheerfully. “It’s for your own protection, you know.”

Oh great, Eris was really intending to milk this. Though this did raise the question of what kind of illegal activities the leech wanted to throw Max into that would involve him potentially being interrogated. Probably just a way to dodge the argument.

“I think that’s an excuse, but whatever. I’ll bite,” The mage muttered with an exasperated sigh. He’d probably regret this, but he wasn’t really losing anything. It was too valuable of a bargaining chip for Eris to toss it aside for something trivial like getting Max to embarrass himself, and if it was that important he’d be ordered to do it anyway. The only difference is he could only whine in his head instead of out loud. And Eris didn’t say anything about complaining after the fact.

Shoot and score, and with any luck the kid would get good enough to complete the favor without getting caught by the time Eris pulled it back out. For now he would bask in his victory, and now that they both got what they wanted, Eris really needed to get going. He knelt down to scoop up Maxie, his phone pinging.

“Then we have an agreement. Angelique will be waiting outside your residence at one o’clock, the sooner you get to my place, the sooner you can leave and go back to pretending I don’t exist,” He said as Maxie barked happily. “And wear something decent, I’ll introduce you to Ismene and maybe Feliks won’t rip into you too hard--who am I kidding, he’s going to be too busy ripping into me.” He rolled his eyes, pushing past Max as his phone pinged again.

Max let the vampire shove past with little resistance, making a stupid face toward the back of Eris’ head as he mockingly mouthed out ‘And wear something decent’.

“We both know I don’t own anything you think is decent, just skip to telling Fellatio to expect the worst,” He called after Eris as he made his way out the door. He didn’t really care what some pretentious tailor thought of his outfit, but watching Eris get shit on for a bit might make the whole ordeal entertaining.

Blowing his bangs off his forehead, Eris muttered a string of curses under his breath as he tried to tame his hair. He hated the rainy weather as it is, did it really have to go messing with his hair, too? As if he didn’t have enough to stress about. Angelique was on schedule, fortunately, but what he hadn’t expected was Katya’s sudden update--apparently, Feliks was going to be a little early. Perfect, because he really missed getting reamed by the guy.

After smoothing out his hair, he gave up and went into the living room instead. The slightest tapping of fingers on a keyboard caught his attention, and he rolled his eyes. “Ismene, give it a rest, I told you I needed you today,” He called, foot tapping the ground impatiently.

At first, she seemed to ignore him, but soon after she joined him in the living room. She was a woman of average height, chestnut-colored locks pulled out of her face and held back by a hair pin. Her green eyes observed Eris for a moment before she would stand in front of him, a perfectly plucked eyebrow raised.

“Angelique just arrived,” She informed him as she gestured to the door, and right on cue, the door bell rang. “I still had time.”

“Please cut the sass, Alderman is made of the stuff and I’ll already have my hands full with Feliks,” Eris gestured to the door.

She shrugged, but strode across the room gracefully as Eris rubbed his temples. The woman opened the door, coming face-to-face with Max. Her expression was settled into something that looked more bored than anything, though she didn’t look at him for too long as she stepped to the side.

“Master Eris, Maxwell has arrived,” She announced, closing the door.

Max entered the house with all the confidence of someone who lived there all his life, looking particularly dashing in his lavish combo of a hoodie and sweatpants. He would’ve taped a shittily-made sign that said ‘Fuck Eric Samael’ to his chest, but he didn’t come up with the idea until he was halfway to his destination.

Servant girl was quiet, which he liked; no pointless small talk. He swore the chauffeur girl gave him a Look when she saw his outfit. With any luck, Eris would keel over from the sheer horror on the spot when he got a peek at it.

“Master Eris, huh? Is that what I’m supposed to call him?” He asked half to Ismene and half to Eris, projecting his voice to make sure the vampire heard it too, “Nice place, Eric.”

Ismene gave what could have been interpreted as either half a shrug or a slight stretch to the shoulder, her gaze set ahead as she guided Max to the living room. Eris let out an audible groan as he watched the pair walk in, one hand to his forehead. The kid lived off spite, he was sure of it at this point. What part of ‘decent’ did he not understand?! As if Feliks needed more ammo against him.

Eris refocused his irritation, running his hand through his hair. “You should, but you can barely get my name right as it is,” He replied bitterly, motioning for Ismene to stand next to him. “This is Ismene Avalon, and likely who you’ll be working under after you graduate.” He introduced her, and she gave Max a small nod of acknowledgement, taking a step away from the vampire as he leaned towards her. “My most trusted mage and beautiful to boot, she does the work of ten people and keeps it all in that gorgeous head.”

Ismene gave Eris a wary look before looking at Max again. “Nice to meet you,” The lack of enthusiasm was obvious, although it turned into pure disdain as Eris pulled her into a hug. “Please, sir, Mr. Vasiliev will be here any moment now.” She protested.

Max gave Ismene a small wave as she was introduced, then outright laughed - yes, laughed, not snickered or snorted - as she got pulled into the hug. It was uncharacteristic and frankly, unsettling, but Max composed himself into the barest hint of a sly grin rather quickly. She seemed tolerable, unless she turned into a real slavedriver behind closed doors.

“That’s great, I do the work of half a person so you can cover my slack,” Max replied to Ismene, then focused back on Eris, “Speaking of names, what’s this guy’s name again? Calling him Fecal Vassalship might make him mad.” Oh yes, he was going to have fun with this. Served Eris right for throwing that ‘favor’ at him.

Eris gasped at Max’s misnaming, nearly dropping Ismene but managing to put her down and wrap an arm around her shoulders, much to her displeasure. Great Anastasia, he thought that the kid had misnamed him just to piss him off, he didn’t think that he actually forgot Feliks’ name.

“Feliks Vasiliev,” He repeated the name slowly, though he changed his mind as he shook his head. “Feliks. Just Feliks, or don’t even call him by his name. Do not insult the man, he’s liable to turn around and leave at that level of disrespect and you need him just as much as I do.” He threw out the warning sooner than later, knowing very well Feliks would happily walk right out of the flat flipping Eris off if he felt it was justified.

Although now that he mentioned it, he needed to give Max another heads up as well. “Speaking of which, it’s likely he will be arriving with the Viscountess. She will be treated with respect, we’ve been business partners for decades--and if she is mistreated, Feliks won’t hesitate to take it out on both of us if you insult her,” He was more serious as he spoke this time, his tone urgent.

Max had no intention of insulting either of them, but it was nice to see Eris was afraid of this guy. It made his real plan sound even sweeter. Anyone could be assigned a disobedient pet; Max acting out wouldn’t garner much more than a passing snide remark. He needed to make Eris look stupid.

“Yeah, yeah, be polite to the missus, I get it. Feliks, though. I can’t believe I’m on a first name basis with Mister Vascular already. I’m touched.” Max flashed a shit-eating grin briefly toward Eris.

Outside, a dark-haired young man scowled at the sky, jabbing a bronze-tipped ebony cane into the ground. He struggled a bit to emerge from his limousine, but refused the driver’s help nonetheless, warning the man off with little more than a sharp, grey-eyed glare. When he finally made it out, he made his way around the car to the opposite side, clearly favouring his left leg and leaning a little heavier on his cane than usual. When he arrived, though, he opened the door with practiced poise, expression softening to something resembling fondness as he offered his free hand to the other occupant.

A delicate hand gladly took his, followed by the rest of the vampire as she emerged from the car. Despite the look on the man’s face, it was met with a rather gentle, loving expression of gratitude. She wasn’t bothered by the rain, more focused on the young man, but she dared not speak a word of protest, instead dutifully following along and playing the role of his lady.

Her eyes did, however, briefly wander the area, landing on the man as she would smile at him. “Thank you,” She said rather cheerfully.

It looked like the man wanted to keep scowling, but for a moment the irritation broke and he looked to the blonde woman, an inch or so taller than him in her modest heels, almost bashfully, dipping his head. “Of course,” he assured her, though his former irritation came back near-immediately when he had to manoeuvre around a puddle, eyes flashing back up to the black sky. “I’m instating a ‘rain’ fee,” he informed the woman bitterly.

“I will make sure to update the invoice,” She replied, unfazed by his tone as the pair walked. “Pandora’s son can fit any bill, add as much as you please.”

The man laughed, a mocking sound. “Oh I know,” he replied, “he’s already getting a fortune in house call and rush order fees.”

The woman patting his arm gently, the pair navigated themselves through the building to Eris’ door. The woman adjusted her blouse, exhaling a breath as she listened in to some minor movement within. One voice she did recognize, though she raised her eyebrows as a small bark was also heard. She pursed her lips as she chose not to comment, instead waiting patiently as the man rapped the ball of his cane on the door.

Eris gave Max an odd look at his comment, though at the knock, he released Ismene. The woman fixed her hair as she walked past the pair, smoothing out her blouse before opening the door. She bowed respectfully to the couple, stepping back to let them in. She took their coats wordlessly, hanging them up before gesturing to the living room.

“Master Eris, our guests have arrived,” She announced, leading the pair and offering them the couch.

As Max turned toward the arriving couple, his composure broke momentarily. This guy was young; not vampiric young, but young-young. That was surprising, if the guy was a mortal, Max would’ve assumed he’d at least be some doddering old eccentric. He certainly walked like an old fuck, at least. But the real shocker was the fact that he had some vampiress hanging off his arm; and a viscountess, apparently. He hoped the guy was at least milking her for all she was worth, because otherwise, that was just gross. It was like watching a sheep lock lips with a wolf; completely unnatural.

As Max schooled his face back into a neutral nonchalance, he bowed to the couple wordlessly. He still had cards to play, and unlike with Cinnamon, he knew exactly when to play them this time.

Eris straightened up immediately, putting on an award-winning smile. He waved at Ismene, who got the signal and walked to the kitchen for a moment. “Welcome to my humble abode, so glad you could make it,” He stated cheerfully, gesturing to Max. “This is my newest mage, Maxwell Alderman. Maxwell, this is Feliks Vasiliev, and his wife, Viscountess Katerina Vasiliev.”

Feliks glanced around as he entered, eyes falling first on Max and raising an eyebrow at the bow. He didn’t bother to hide the judgemental up-and-down look he gave the mage, studying his clothes before glancing up to his face, and didn’t cover up his distaste at what he saw.

Eris’ greeting was met stone-faced, Feliks looking like he barely contained an eye roll when it was over with. “Gets a little less humble every time you drag me here,” he commented dryly, looking back over to Max. “Is this the one you sent me those piss-poor measurements for?” He asked, leaning a little this way and that for a better look at Max rather than Eris.

The vampire let out a slightly forced laugh, though it was accompanied by the Viscountess’ chuckle of amusement, so at least it wasn’t alone. He cleared his throat as Ismene returned with a tray, a pair of bottles with a pair of glasses accompanied by a variety of hors d'oeuvres. She settled it down, picking up the bottle of blood first and offering it to the Viscountess first.

Katya declined it politely, looking at Max as well. “He’s a handsome young man, isn’t he?” She asked Feliks.

Eris kept his initial comment to himself, replying instead with, “Yes, Feliks, and that, Katya, is why I require your husband’s services tonight.”

Feliks shrugged, making his way to the middle of the living room and motioning for Max to follow. “Hard to tell under that tent of a hoodie,” he replied to his wife thoughtfully before addressing Max. “Lose it. And what are you, mute? Say something, you’re making me think Eris cut your tongue out or something.”

Finally, his cue. Max looked to Feliks with his best innocent face; he was nothing more than a bright-eyed boy who didn’t know a thing about scary vampires and prestigious tailors, after all.

“Um, sorry. I was trying to be polite, Mister Vasiliev,” He responded in the most sheepish tone he could muster, “And what’s wrong with the hoodie? Eris said it looked fine…” His voice trailed off as he covered his mouth with his hand in pretend thought; doing his best to suppress a snicker. Take that, you D-list fuck. “I don’t think I was supposed to say that out loud…” Max mumbled afterward and hurriedly pulled his hoodie off.

Feliks stared incredulously at Max for a moment, caught somewhere between laughing and suppressing a shiver, before rolling his eyes. “Fuck, even I could pull off groveling better than that when I was your age,” he sighed, casting a knowing look to his wife before turning a bewildered face on Eris. “Did you put him up to this?”

He didn’t wait for a response, examining Max with a critical eye. “If you’re going to put on that kind of a show, you have to really sell it,” he commented absently, “you know, really imagine your life is on the line. Although, with a vampire like Eris I can’t entirely blame you if you don’t quite have the fear of Anastasia struck into your heart.”

Ismene offered Feliks some wine as he circled Max, pulling the tailor from his tangent. “Oh, what does he have you doing this for?” he asked Ismene, tone a lot more sympathetic than he’d taken for anyone else thus far. He shook his head at Eris. “This is like sending a race car on a grocery run, Eris. Ismene, don’t worry about that, just set it back down there please and go do something more worthy your time.” He gestured to a side table nearby.

Turning back to Max, he shot him a warning look. “Oh, and don’t call me mister. I’m not that old.”

Eris’ voice died in his throat as he pinched the bridge of his forehead. He didn’t know which was worse, Max trying to throw him under the bus or Feliks throwing that bus back at him. He should ask Ismene to make the ground swallow him up, between the pair he was sure one of them was going to end up further embarrassing him. Were they in a secret contest or something? He looked up as Ismene gave Feliks a polite bow, and he couldn’t help but glare at her. Traitor.

“I’ll have a glass before you go, Ismene,” He muttered as he practically threw himself on the other couch, scowling as he crossed his arms.

Max shrugged. He was hoping to keep the persona up a bit longer, but he got what he wanted regardless.

“Sorry, I was pretending to be this pathetic guy I know, but apparently I should’ve undersold it a bit.” Too much Retriever, noted, “It’s nice to meet you, Eris talks about you a lot.” He was still going to be fake, of course; it’d be prudent to get this guy to like him. “I dunno how much Eris filled you in, but half of it was probably wrong.” Max wanted to know exactly what kind of flowery crap Eris was suggesting before he agreed to any measuring, because there was no way that his overly-extra ass just said ‘My mage needs some armor made’ without any dumb additions in the name of fashion.

“He talks about me, does he? What, does he announce it every other night when he emails me for updates?” Feliks almost laughed, though there wasn’t much humour in it. Stepping back from Max, he closed his eyes and murmured an incantation, snapping his fingers once. Suddenly, a black leather supply bag materialized on the table nearby.

“Katya, set up for me please. I’ll need the tape measure first,” he spoke succinctly, but his tone betrayed a certain fondness. Katya busied herself laying out the needed supplies, handing a flexible measuring tape to Feliks before taking up a pad and pencil herself.

Wordlessly, Feliks used the top of his cane, an ornate and heavy bronze ball, to poke and prod Max into a posture resembling upright, having him hold his arms a little away from his body. “He told me you needed an entire wardrobe made,” he replied, a little exasperated, as he snaked the tape measure deftly around Max’s waist. He took his measurement in an instant and moved quickly between spots with practiced ease, reading each one out loud for Katya to record.

“He also told me you’re looking for some armour, something flexible and compact. I’m thinking a modular chestpiece should do nicely. Even though I’m not an armourer--” he raised his voice a little there, the comment clearly directed at Eris along with a pointed look, “--I don’t think it should be a problem. You are a metal mage, yes?”

Max’s eyes flickered to the viscountess as she worked at Feliks’ beck and call. He really had her whipped, huh? Damn. He wasn’t sure if the guy was lucky or if she was just weird - after all, she was calling Max attractive earlier too.

“Yeah, I’m a metal mage. Honestly, I thought you were just going to be in charge of all the padding underneath and pass me off to some other guy for the metal bits,” Max mused as he dutifully let Feliks measure him, “I was thinking vambraces too, at least. I need something on my arms. Some sort of pin mechanism would be ideal too, I’d like to be able to get them on and off as quickly and as hands-off as possible. Leg protection’s not really my concern, so you can skip that if Eric’s feeling cheap.”

As Ismene handed Eris his glass, he scoffed loudly. “Feliks Vasiliev is the most on-demand designer of the decade, his wares do not come cheap,” He stated bluntly.

“That’s why I figured you might wanna save a buck or two on such a premium service. I’m being considerate here!” Max chimed in smugly.

Katya looked up from the notepad, feigning surprise. “Perish the thought, Eris insisted that this be the priority--he cancelled his own fitting for you,” She reminded him, a wide smile on her face as she turned her attention back to the measurements. “He must be very kind to do so.”

“Katya, please, don’t give the kid any weird ideas,” Eris muttered. “He’s already boggled by you being here, you’re going to give him an aneurysm.”

The blonde finished writing before looking up at Max again, giving him a small smile. “Is he? I hadn’t noticed,” She said. “Do you find me odd, Maxwell?”

Absolutely.

“Not in the slightest, Viscountess. Though I’ll admit this is the first time I’ve witnessed a vampire of your status jotting down notes for a tailor.” He looked to Feliks momentarily as the man was sizing his midriff, “Is tailor the right word? It feels underwhelming.”

Feliks couldn’t contain his grin as Katya messed with Eris, moving on to measuring various places on Max’s arms as he spoke. “Well, I suppose I could be your dressmaker if that better suits your fancy, but I have a feeling tailor will do just fine.” He smirked as he measured his way through Max’s arms in record time, moving up to wrap the tape around his neck.

“Vambraces I agree with - you’d look like a turtle or something wandering around in a chest piece with nothing on your arms - but I worry the traditional tube shape will get in the way if you’re intending to wear this every night.” Feliks spoke almost as if to himself, though he did more directly address Max next. “I was thinking something more narrow, with enough material to be molded to suit your needs after the fact. How good is your affinity control?”

“With the way Eris talks about you, I was expecting you to walk through the door with laser eyes and fire breath; forgive me if the title seemed a bit mundane.” Max thought for a minute, internally debating between a partial lie or a simple omitted truth. Oh, what the hell. “My control’s alright. Not where I want it to be, but I think I more or less have force modulation down. Moving multiple objects at once is still a mess unless they’re all moving in more or less the exact same pattern.” Honesty would probably get him better equipment in this case, and it wasn’t like Phallic Vanguard’s opinion of his skillset really mattered.

“I can work with anything, though. Don’t give me something designed for an idiot when I can work with big boy toys just as well with a little practice.”

Eris openly rolled his eyes, although he figured now was as good a time as any to get the metal out here. He looked around for Ismene, remembering that she had taken the first chance to dip out with the light sound of keyboard clicking faintly heard from a distance confirming as such. Placing his glass down, he shook his head at Max, dismissing his comment.

“What an active imagination on the kid,” He said, clearly displeased as he walked out. “Let me get the stuff.”

Chuckling a little at the laser eyes comment, Feliks shook his head. “You just started, you’ll learn,” he reassured Max. It was barely there, but a flash of nostalgia passed behind his eyes. “For now we’ll choose a shape that’ll suit your needs without you having to change it too much. Later on you’ll be able to reform the pieces depending on your preference.”

Watching Eris drag his ass out of the room, Feliks couldn’t help but smirk. Moving to the couch, he sat on the arm, leaning his cane against his leg and placing his hand on the ball atop it, titanium wedding band glittering. After a moment, Feliks pulled part of the ball off the cane, the metal stretching like clay.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he spoke as he worked, motioning for Max to come over and produce his arm. The ball of bronze in Feliks’ hand stretched itself into a bar, and then further into something resembling a half-pipe. He placed it on Max’s arm to make a few more adjustments, and soon he had something like a rough bronze mock-up of a vambrace.

“I think this would be good to begin with; protective, but not encumbering,” Feliks explained. “Once you’re more practiced, you’ll be able to manipulate it to your heart’s content.” He demonstrated by stretching the plate so it formed a tube around the arm, and then into something resembling a thin bar along the arm ending in a spike, before returning it to its original shape. He looked to Max. “How does that feel? It won’t be this heavy.”

Bastard just had to show Max up, huh? Whatever.

“Yeah, that’s fine, but wouldn’t a full circle around the arm make more sense? Probably easier to attach too. I think you misunderstood me, but I literally wanna be able to pop these things off and throw them at people’s heads.” Max was a simple man with simple dreams, what could he say? At least he knew freely molding its shape was somewhere within the realm of possibility for him, that made things easier.

“I’m all ears if you’ve got ideas on places to stick subtle sharp things too. Forks up my sleeve just don’t cut it for me.”

Feliks chuckled, shaking his head. “I admire your resolve, but a full tube will be unwieldy. These plates can be secured to the arm pretty simply, but I think I know what might work for you.”

Removing the vambrace, Feliks pulled it in two like taffy, ending up with two unevenly sized pieces. The larger one was shaped similarly to before, and the smaller formed another half-pipe on the inside of the arm, flush with the top plate at the wrist but stopping several inches shorter than the top plate toward the elbow. The pieces were secured with two small pins on each side before Feliks let the full weight of the metal rest on Max’s arm.

“Better for freedom of motion than a full tube, but still offers protection to your veins. You’ll have to levitate it to assemble it.” Feliks motioned to the vambrace. “Go ahead, try it out.”

Max’s arm dropped as the weight suddenly fell on it all at once, but he quickly raised it again to test out the motion. Weight aside, it felt good. No real mobility loss, and it was about as protective as wrist armor could be. He held his arm straight out, with his hand balled into a fist. Simple enough. Outward, then forward.

The pins popped out on either side, hovering just outside their sockets. The bottom plate dropped off Max’s arm, but stopped its descent before hitting the ground and rocketed forward, barely missing one of Eris’ droll little house decorations before circling around to land in Max’s waiting hand. He then clasped the plate back on the underside of his arm before locking the pins back in place.

“I like it,” He muttered simply.

The blonde missed the show, coming back into the living room only to hear Katya laughing to herself. He raised an eyebrow at her but otherwise didn’t react, placing down a box on one of the tables. Opening it up, he carefully slid the metal onto the table’s surface, brushing some dust off of it.

“This is a titanium-steel alloy, think it’ll do the job,” He told the pair, knocking on the cube. “Heavy enough to protect and do damage, light enough to move around in. After some getting used to, anyway.”

Max felt his magic resonate with the metal before he saw it, turning at the intrusion to face Eris upon his return. Titanium? Fuck, Eris really went over-the-top with this. He kept his arm held out for Feliks to retrieve the bronze he’d shaped into the prototype vambrace, but was fully focused now on the sheets of metal resting on the table.

“Did you just casually have that laying around or…?” He couldn’t help it, he had to ask. This was a bit much, even for Eris. Well, not quite, it wasn’t solid gold or anything. Though that would probably be terrible armor. Maybe some kind of trim? No, don’t give that leech any ideas.

Eris looked at Max quizzically, eyes flickering from the metal to him. “No, I bought it for today,” He said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If I’m going to be spending a small fortune on you, you’re going to have the best.”

Katya’s smile widened, her posture more relaxed as she watched the scene unfold, her chin resting on her hand. “Hmm...I think I can empathize with wanting the best for your mage,” She said as she shifted in her seat, eyeing her husband as she watched him work. “I told you he was kind.”

The blond rolled his eyes again, patting the metal. “Say what you will, I’m not the type of person to half ass quality,” He huffed as he moved back to the opposite couch, taking a seat more gracefully as he watched Feliks literally work his magic. “Low quality means less durability, more repairs, more problems, more headaches. Think of it as a long term investment, you get your money’s worth and then some.”

She didn’t seem to buy anything he said, but she watched Max happily. “In the future, Maxwell won’t even need measurements. He’ll just do it on his own after getting the supply,” She said, seemingly nostalgic. “He reminds me of Feliks when he was young, too. A little harsh and frosty around the edges, but a burning fire determined to burn inside.”

As the others spoke, Feliks examined the cube of metal, eyes glinting like steel. He picked it up with his magic, turned it, weighed it, even tested its elasticity a little before returning it to its cube shape and letting it settle on the table once more. He didn’t seem to come out of his calculating reverie until Katya spoke again.

“Lyubimaya, pozhaluysta...” he gently chastised her, though his voice betrayed more of a fond amusement. He shook his head and slid off the arm of the couch onto the seat, a pained sigh escaping him as he sunk into the cushion. He rubbed his left hip. “We both know how that turned out,” he let out a dark chuckle, tossing a knowing look to his wife. “Maybe it’ll serve him better than it did me.”

“And you,” he pointed to Eris. “I must say, I’m impressed. I half-expected you to send me a coil of copper for the rose gold aesthetic and call it a night.” He rolled his eyes and turned to Max, talking as he collected his prototype. “You’ll get more than your money’s worth with me, but don’t swallow too much of that ‘quality’ talk. He’s right, but he also knows full well that if he’d have given me shit material, I’d have spat in his face. Especially after the trip I’ve had.” He fell back against the couch. “Katya, get the camera please. I need to do some sketches.”

Eris further sank into his seat, displeased. Why was everyone so surprised? It was actually kind of annoying, and he couldn’t stop himself from sulking and busying himself with his own glass. He’d have to minimize this little group getting together, he didn’t appreciate the mood of the room at all. He caught Katya’s look of amusement, though he gestured to Feliks and said nothing. Katya subdued her grin as she stood, bringing out a blank sketchpad, a stick of charcoal, and a small camera.

“Please hold still for a few moments,” She told Max as she handed both pad and charcoal to Feliks. She fiddled with the camera briefly, concentrating on it before the shutter would open up. Holding it to her eye, she snapped several photos from different angles, walking around Max as she did so. “This is my favorite part.” She admitted, checking the camera’s screen to make sure the pictures she took were satisfactory.

“You’ve gotten better with it,” Eris commented, resting his elbow on the arm of the couch.

“Practice makes perfect,” Katya replied, though she then looked back at Max again. “Are you enjoying learning magic at school?” She asked him. Feliks returned the metal from the vambrace to his cane once the pictures were taken, and took up his sketchbook and charcoal with a quiet thanks, attentive eyes flashing between Max and the paper as he scratched away.

Max eyed Katya warily after dutifully holding his posture for the photo. He really didn’t like talking to vampires, but at least when they were rude he knew how to handle them. Viscountesses with a young human fetish asking about his time in school was not a situation he was equipped to deal with.

“It’s alright. I’d like to be better at it, but it’s… neat?” He liked magic, just not all the sociopolitical baggage that came with it. His affinity was a bit situational, but hardly the worst. Not that he’d risk voicing that in front of Fetus Valkyrie and have it be interpreted as an insult; or worse, turned into a lecture about the merits of metal magic. “I had a rocky start, I guess.”

Feliks chuckled darkly, though his attention remained on his work. “I know the feeling.”

Katya's gaze turned slightly frosty, azure eyes glancing at Eris, who returned her gaze with mild confusion. She closed her eyes for a moment before looking at Max again, her gaze softer. "May I ask what you mean by 'rocky'?" She asked him politely.

“My magic doesn’t work like most people’s, apparently,” Max answered flatly, “It took one hell of an ordeal to even figure out what my affinity was, then I get told it manifested more like some half-senile old man’s magic rather than a competent young person.” His arms shifted slightly before returning to their prior position, as if he were going to throw them up in mock-surrender and then remembered he was being sketched. Maybe he could use that as an excuse to seem incompetent so Eris would stop making him do things. No, then he’d have to deal with the leech bullying him for it, and that was even worse.

She nodded slowly, side eyeing Eris. The vampire either didn’t notice or didn’t care, irritable enough as he decided to occupy himself with his phone on other things that needed his attention. Shaking her head at him, she turned her attention back to the mage with a friendly expression. “He hasn’t been giving you any trouble, has he?” Katya got right to the point, outright ignoring Eris’ scoff.

Max paused a moment. Could he get him in trouble here? Doubtful, it wasn’t like Eris actually did anything other than nag. At this point Max was pretty sure he was meaner to the leech than the other way around.

“Nah, he’s harmless. Or really good at appearing nonthreatening.” Max flashed a smirk in Eris’ direction as best he could without moving too much and interrupting Feliks’ sketch. Eris actually investing in his request meant Max wasn’t getting as much smug satisfaction out of publicly embarrassing him as he normally would, but if he focused on that stupid ‘favor’ he’d have to do eventually, Max was sure he’d find a way to enjoy the situation.

Harmless, what the fuck. That was almost as insulting as...getting insulted. Eris’ game was entirely off today and he didn’t like it whatsoever, and what was worse was that everyone could tell. He had all but thrown in the towel at this point, more focused on finalizing the appointment he had with Duke Horvath tomorrow. At least Feliks wasn’t tearing into him as much as usual, though he was sure something would come up any second now.

“Yup. We’re best buddies,” Eris replied dryly. “Wells and Eric against the world, it’s a real hoot.”

Katya grinned as she nodded in approval. “How delightful, I’m so glad,” She seemed relieved, relaxing against the couch fully. “There are too many instances where vampires attempt to assert their dominance early in the relationship by intimidation or physical abuse. Leaving your old life behind is never an easy thing to do, but at the very least your new life can steadily go in a beneficial direction.”

“Oh, don’t worry, he tried. Didn’t work, but he tried.” Okay, Max was having a good time with this again. Eris’ lack of a rebuttal made it especially pleasing; was he genuinely stumped or just too wary of these two to care?

Feliks huffed out a laugh at Eris’ defeated response, but otherwise stayed out of the conversation until then, finally setting his charcoal aside and looking up. “Eris’ bark is worse than his bite, and even then it’s more like yapping,” he added smugly as Eris rolled his eyes, gesturing for Max to come over to the couch. “Here, take a look.”

The tailor had drawn more in that time than it seemed, a number of rough sketches of Max in various poses and outfits spanning the page. A few showed the preliminary design of Max’s armour, looking more like a series of layered plates than one solid piece of metal. It almost didn’t resemble traditional armour at all, shaped with defined angles and cutting a slim silhouette. Another, more detailed sketch was a front view of the chest piece half-disassembled, whose construction seemed designed to be taken apart and put back together again with a series of pins and latches.

The other side of the page was taken up with a handful of sketches of more normal outfits: button-up shirts worn untucked with collar undone, yet cut in such a way as to remain semi-formal; a leather jacket here, a wool coat there, all paired with simply cut jeans or slacks. Finally, there was a single sketch of a slim-cut full suit, the right and left sides of the jackets sporting various different lapel, cuff, and hem shapes as if to compare options.

Feliks glanced between Max and his sketches, searching for a reaction. “What do you think?”

Max scanned over the clothing sketches in disinterest. It just looked like a pain in the ass to him, though it did seem like the tailor had put in effort to not compromise comfort with whatever the hell Eris considered fashion. The armor diagram caught his eye much more intently. The harness obviously had several defensive flaws, though he did say he was willing to settle for less protection, so he couldn’t blame Feliks there. The disassembly pictured was worth the minor risk involved, he assumed; until he could freely mold what he was wearing, adaptability was a more important design component. Hell, that was the main reason he even wanted the armor made in the first place. It wasn’t like anyone was going to stab him, he’d just rip the blade out of their hand anyway.

“Not too keen on the outfits, but I doubt I would be on anything passing for high fashion to begin with. It works.” Max made a pointed gesture to his sweatpants. With any luck, he’d be able to weasel his way out of wearing any of that crap to begin with. “The armor looks good, unorthodox design but I can definitely work with it. What goes under it? I was thinking silk.” His voice grew a mischievous lilt on the last statement as he shot another glance over at Eris. He’d embarrassed him, now it was time to bankrupt him too. Maybe pure gold thread on the trimming. Was that a real thing or just something they say in movies to make the nobility seem richer?

Feliks grimaced at Max’s pants, shaking his head. “I get that you have this whole quiet rebellion thing going on, but do at least try to wear something other than whatever you dug out of the homeless shelter lost and found,” he insisted. “You’re not poor anymore; take advantage of it. You can’t expect anyone to respect you if you don’t first respect yourself.”

He was more pleased at Max’s response to the armour. “Clever,” he complimented. “Silk is ideal. It’ll keep you cool, with the added benefit that it can stop arrows from penetrating too deep.” He rubbed his bad hip ruefully. “Of course, you’ll probably be able to deflect arrowheads pretty easily in the future, but one can never be too careful.”

Respect? Max didn’t care what some random background extras thought about how he looked. As far as he was concerned, the fashion travesty he’d shown up in today was a functional outfit. People in noble circles really needed to get their heads out of their asses.

As for the silk, he blinked a few times at being praised for his accidental genius. He really only picked it because it sounded expensive, he didn’t know it was viable too. Then again, one often gets what they pay for, so price and quality were bound to be intertwined.

“You never know, stone arrowheads are a thing. Not a civilized thing, but a thing.” He effortlessly played along with Feliks’ assumption. “I’d imagine those things get sweaty though, so a range of them would be nice to have. Personally, I think blue is my color, but Eris swears red brings out my eyes.”

Feliks chuckled knowingly, nodding. “I’ll order a range of colours,” he agreed, looking over to Eris. “Well? Aren’t you curious too?” He held out the sketchbook, expecting Eris to get up and take it.

The blonde looked up from his phone at last, a mildly interested look on his face as he stood. He kept his phone in one hand as he took the sketchpad from Feliks, eyes studying the sketches. Excellent work as always, there wasn’t anything he could find wrong with anything. He took the challenge of designing armor to heart, so that was one thing out of the way. Now he just needed to get everything else done and maybe he’d actually get a real day off during this break if he was lucky.

“Looks good. I’d like to prioritize the armor and have everything delivered directly to the academy,” He replied as he handed the sketchpad back to the designer. “Thank you very much.”

“Excellent,” Feliks accepted the pad, handing it off to Katya to be packed away. The bag he’d materialized didn’t look big enough to fit it, but it sank in effortlessly nonetheless. “I can’t guarantee a delivery date on that armour until I meet with Sacha, but with a little something to grease his wheels I’m sure we can get it to you by the end of your break.” He turned to Katya, flashing her an affectionate smile. “Could you draw up a quote for me, please?”

She took out a much smaller notepad, pen scribbling for a few seconds and going down farther and farther until she nearly hit the bottom. Ripping the page out, she offered it to Eris with a smile. “This is a rough estimate which accounts for labor, materials, sizing, the house visit, and an assortment of other fees,” She said as he took the paper from her.

Eris didn’t even get to glance at the total before noticing the absurd number of fees. There was the typical ‘Eris fee’ Feliks so lovingly named after him, the email fee he got for apparently checking in on him too much over email, the ‘house call’ fee, rush order fees, and--

“Rain fee? What?” He blurted out loud, looking at the tailor. “I can’t control the weather!”

“You can control when you call me here,” Feliks retorted, knowing as well as Eris did that Ivanov Designs had a wait list for appointments that was longer than Eris was tall. “Consider it an… ‘inconvenience’ fee.”

“There’s already an inconvenience fee!” Eris pointed out, annoyed. “You’re already asking me for an arm and a leg, give me some wiggle room, here.”

Katya gently rubbed Feliks’ arm, frowning at Eris. “There would be a substantial increase considering the original order was only for one suit, and now you’re asking for an entire wardrobe and armor--the latter of which we need to get in contact with a specialist with their own prices,” She reminded him. “And with Feliks’ workload increasing exponentially with the end of the year coming around, he’s stretched thin as it is.”

The blonde looked like he wanted to argue, but unfortunately, she was right. He grimaced at the paper, folding it in half and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Alright, then,” He muttered, straightening up.

Feliks patted Katya’s hand in thanks, leaning to give her a kiss on the cheek before labouring to his feet himself. It took a moment, the tailor’s face betraying some of his pain, but he refused to be helped, taking a moment to stretch before nodding to Eris.

“I knew you’d understand,” he commented coyly, shooting Eris a smug grin before he offered his hand to Max. “It’s been an unexpected pleasure meeting you,” he said sincerely. “Feel free to contact me if you remember anything else you need for that armour. Eris has my information.”

Max took the offered hand and shook it politely. “Certainly. I’ll try not to stream-of-consciousness every idea I get over email like some people.” Good, he was in this guy’s good graces, which meant he had more cards to play on Eris. Hell, even the way this meeting played out gave him something to taunt the leech with; this was likely supposed to be a session of Eris and Feliks taking turns mocking his fashion sense rather than Shit-On-Eris day.

“Fantastic,” Feliks chuckled, patting Max on the arm. “Good luck with your studies. And you,” he aimed a pointed, judgemental look at Eris. “Try not to shit yourself too much. I know it hurts, but when have I ever disappointed you?”

“Yeah, yeah, you say that, but I’m pretty sure you’d double it if it wasn’t already highway robbery,” Eris replied, waving Feliks’ comment away. “Ismene will see you out, I need to straighten out details on my trip tomorrow. Have a safe trip home.”

Katya couldn’t hide her own amused expression, brushing her hair off her shoulder as she smiled at Max. “Best wishes to you, Maxwell, I hope you enjoy school,” She carefully looped her arm around Feliks’, batting her eyelashes at him. “Shall we go?”

Feliks glanced at his watch, grimacing. “Oh fuck, yes we shall,” he replied, a little more hurriedly. Closing his eyes, he murmur-snapped his supply bag back into nonexistence and tapped his cane on the floor, taking the lead to the door. He could briefly be heard asking Ismene about a skirt suit he’d made her, but soon enough the pair was gone, Ismene closing the door behind them.

Max turned to Eris after the duo were out of earshot, lowering his voice just for good measure, “Is she always like that?” Either the Viscountess was just weird - unsurprising given her marital… tastes - or she was hitting on him. She definitely took an interest in him, at least. Very concerning.

Eris ran a hand over his face, blinking at Max’s question. “The Viscountess has a...soft spot for mages. I still don’t get it,” He muttered, shaking his head. “But uh...yeah, she’s a mage rights activist, or at least an advocate. Probably would’ve ripped me a new one if you so much as hinted at being treated poorly. Believe it or not, her father, Alexander Vasiliev, would’ve given Lady Sinnenodel a run for her money on mage cruelty, so I have no idea where the hell she got this cute little happy vampire wife act from.”

A mystery indeed, but he wouldn’t linger too long on it. “The marriage is entirely unnatural, but if that’s what floats their boat, then who cares,” He shrugged, snatching his glass and downing the rest of the blood in it.

At least Max wasn’t alone in thinking that marriage was fucking weird, though the backstory was interesting. Maybe it was simple rebellion against daddy, who could say? That, or she really was whipped.

“I should’ve played up the battered wife act more, then,” he said with a shrug, putting his discarded hoodie back on. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting you to commit so much to this, honestly.” His apology was flat, but genuine. “Now, where’s… fuck… Angela? Annabelle? Take me home, Eric.”

Eris shrugged again at his response, albeit he waved the mage away. “We’re best buddies, remember? Better to minimally get along than be at each other’s throats,” He replied, taking on a teasing tone as he strolled past Ismene. “Make sure to get Angelique to take him home, please and thank you.” He instructed her, deciding to make one more attempt at grabbing her.

“Yes, sir,” Ismene side stepped Eris, the two frozen for a second before Eris continued into the house. She relaxed, motioning for Max to follow her to the door. She stared at him for a moment, looking as if she wanted to say something, but after letting out a small sigh, she seemed to change her mind. “Right, then. I’m sure she’s waiting downstairs, but if she isn’t, just come back up and I’ll take you home myself.” She said.

After a few seconds, however, she stopped, looking at Max. “You wouldn’t happen to be involved with Count Sinnenodel, would you?” She suddenly asked.

Max followed dutifully, arching a brow at the sudden question. “Depends what you mean by ‘involved’,” He mused with a slight shudder, “I know him, I know his mage, and I know he and Eris are buddies. No idea what he’s gaining from it, though.” She was practically Eris’ secretary, she had to have context on his schemes.

“Just tell me what you want from me and I can probably answer you faster, I’m not snooty or anything.” He hated these word games, especially among mages, and extra-especially among mages under the same vampire. Weren’t they on the same ‘team’ here?

“Sorry. You’re right,” Ismene said, turning fully towards him. “By involved, I wondered if you hailed from his territory, but I suppose it’s not relevant anymore. But I’ll do as you say and get right to it: there is no trusting the count or any mage under him, especially with rumors of a fracture between the two princesses happening sooner than later. Count Sinnenodel is supposedly firmly allied with Princess Ryner, but you can only trust a Sinnenodel the same way you can trust seeing a snake in tall grass.”

She paused for a second, continuing, “I guess ‘be careful’ is what I want to say. As irritating as he is, I do care about Master Eris. But obviously he’s spending his time with the count and...call it intuition, or something.”

Finally, the juicy bits. Personally, he liked Nox marginally less than Ryner, but after that stunt the other night, her stock at the Alderman Exchange was dropping in value quick.

“I don’t trust Cinnamon as far as I can spit and I never did, so don’t worry about that. I think Eris has a plan, but fuck if he tells me anything.” Then there was the issue of their ‘association’... Max might as well just rip the band-aid off, “They fucked though. Which is creepy and weird.” The metal mage waved his hand dismissively, as if to send the thought away as quickly as it appeared before any detailed imagery could appear in his mind.

“Eris seems to like Ryner better too, but is he bold enough to actually take a side?”

Ismene looked like she had tasted something foul, raising her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. It looked like she shared Max’s opinion on the relationship between the two vampires, but there was the tiniest dismay as she squeezed her eyes shut. She still listened carefully, dropping her hand when Max asked his question. “Taking a side with one princess over the other? I don’t see why not. But taking a side against that...count, I don’t know. From what I’ve learned, it will not be in the immediate future, at least, but it will happen sooner than later,” She frowned. “I suppose if I find out more, I could let you know.”

Max couldn’t help but grin the barest amount. He really was toppling Eris’ whole house of cards today, wasn’t he? Lucky for the leech, Max wasn’t that vindictive.

“I don’t see why we couldn’t collaborate. You’re privy to master’s dealings and I’m assigned to regular playdates with Cinnamon’s pet. And I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m an idiot, so he might not notice any political savviness mixed into my innocent little questions,” Max suggested, hoping he didn’t sound too sinister there. In a really roundabout way, it was for Eris’ own good.

The young woman nodded, taking her phone out of her pocket. “The title is hard to drop after twenty-three years, so I’ll just have to accept any snide remarks about it,” She unlocked it and offered it to Max. “I’ll take you up on that offer, seeing as I can’t be there, anyway.”

“Loosen up, Izzy,” Max teased as he punched his number into her phone. Full disclosure? This was totally worth owing Eris a favor over. But Max would never admit it, of course. He handed the phone back without putting in a name for the contact, assuming she had some stupidly formal naming scheme in her phone that would’ve been thrown off with a simple ‘Max’. She seemed like that one girl who had five hundred highlighters on her desk in class to color code every note she took.

She entered his first name into the empty field, pocketing her phone shortly afterwards. “Considering I’m the favorite mage, this is as loose as I can get,” She shrugged, continuing the walk. “That’s what happens when you’re born into mage families. But at least I do as I please.”

She accompanied him down to the towncar, where Angelique waited. Ismene gestured to Max, and Angelique opened the door for him. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Max,” Ismene bid him farewell.

Max flashed her a quick thumbs up as he ducked into the car. He felt obligated to say something nice, but she was already getting too personal for his taste and he did not want to deal with that baggage.

“I think it’ll be hard to top this experience, I’ll be honest. Take a break sometime, Eric never shuts up about it.” He quickly pulled the door shut before she had a chance to respond; none of his good deeds ever went unpunished so he wanted to get out of here quick.

"Honey," Max's mother called from the living room, "Wasn't Eris Samael the vampire you said you worked for?"

The mage had been hiding in his room for most of his stay so far, trying to minimize contact with his family. His sleep schedule was fucked from jumping back to more-or-less diurnal life from a nocturnal one to begin with, so it wasn't like it was hard to make an excuse. "Yeah, why?" Was she looking him up or something? She definitely knew who Eris was, judging by the ungodly noise she made when he told her who his partner was.

"The princess just made an announcement about your school that was a little disturbing..."

Of course, the murders. Max flopped down on his bed and lazily took out his phone. Finding the video online was easy enough; the royal family's public statements were always big news. He didn't even get past the intro before he had to pause the video just to manage his own rage. Forced into frenzy? That wasn't a feral bloodbath, it was a series of calculated murders. And from an obvious mage-hater too. Was Ryner really that arrogant that she didn't think anyone would put two and two together? He called it, this lady was too important to be punished.

He took a deep breath and resumed the video. Lies. If the body he'd seen was any indication, he didn't think too many of the students would be making a 'full recovery'. More lies. False assurances. Terrorist attacks? No, it wouldn't make sense for Ryner to be covering for a terrorist, no matter how important. If anything, outing her would be the smarter political move, as any other dissenters in high places would be intimidated. Was Red Hand just code for Noila coverup? And of course Eris just couldn't keep his name out of the whole situation, could he? Too much attention to be gained from playing hero, why would that narcissist even consider that roping himself - and more importantly, Max by extension - into the narrative might be more trouble than it was worth. Idiot.

Oh, good, here was the waterworks part. Bloodworks? Whatever. Crocodile tears, Ryner, you scheming bitch. Evidently she wasn't moved enough to even give those grieving families the truth about what happened. Max didn't even care about the rest of the video, but he finished watching it just to see if the princess decided to introduce any other blatant bullshit.

When he tossed his phone aside in a subdued tantrum, he was greeted with his mother hovering in the doorway. Sophia Alderman was an exuberant woman, with bright hair and eyes that sparkled in a way that completely contrasted her son. Naturally, he found her grating. Now, however, she was looking down at Max in more concern than usual. Guess that delusion of vampires as ultimately benevolent overlords wasn't working so well for her now, huh?

"Were you involved in all that?"

"Unfortunately," He muttered, "Yes, I'm okay. No, I can't tell you about it. State secrets or whatever." It was a bad copout but he knew she'd fall for it. Besides, he doubted the Crown would appreciate their story being contradicted.

She kept staring at him with that stupid 'you're stressing your mother out' look. Did she think she'd guilt trip him here? What did she want out of him? He needed an excuse.

"Mom, I'm fine!" Max barked as he sat up and grabbed his phone, "And I'm going out for a bit, so stop trying to get anything out of me." He pocketed a cheap pack of sewing needles he'd picked up earlier that week and started for the door, only for Sophia to block his path with her best attempt at a stern glare. If anyone saw how bad she was at it, Max was pretty sure they'd be convinced the two weren't related.

"You've been distant all week," She chided, pulling him into a hug. Max resigned himself to rigidly standing there until she let go.

"I'm tired."

"Then why are you going out? Are you eating right? Not getting enough sun?"

"I'm just gonna go practice, relax," Max shrugged her off, "Dad'll be home in like an hour, you can talk to him if you're bored." At least, he hoped she would. Max wasn't in any hurry to talk to his father either. His first day back, the man actually had to audacity to congratulate him like being Eris' lapdog was an achievement, and then lecture him on the nobility and honor of the whole ordeal.

---

It was a short trek out into the woods near his house, which Max figured would be an ample spot to practice magic without being disturbed. Unfortunately, he was wrong.

"Hey, Max!"

Max was in the process of sending a spray of needles converging on a tree from multiple angles when the voice broke his concentration. He felt one of them snap on the bark, and the others flew past in varying degrees of inaccuracy. Great, he'd have to find all of those now.

Back in the direction of the voice was some kid he went to high school with - he was pretty sure his named started with a C, or was it a K? Either way, Cody looked equal parts awed and intimidated by the sudden spray of shrapnel, but apparently not enough to leave Max the hell alone.

"What?" Max questioned wearily. He'd completely forgotten to take into account that his neighbors might bother him too; he'd figured he was offputting enough that they'd forget he existed in the same way he did them.

"Whoa," Chris breathed out in amazement, "How hard is that to do?"

"That exact formation? Annoying. This?" He flicked a needle to whizz past Carl's head, causing the other man to flinch, "Easy. What'd'you want?"

"Weeeell, a lot of people have been speculating over Eris Samael's new mage, and Valerie Marbrook said she saw you in a picture with him. Plus there was that nice car outside your house the other day..."

Of course, it was Eris related.

"You want a fucking autograph or something?" Max responded flatly as he levitated all his scattered needles back into a loose orbit around him. Last thing he needed was to deal with the fallout of some dumb brat stepping on one out here while playing tag.

Kevin puffed his cheeks out in a feigned pout, "What, you think you're better than us now just because you have friends in high places? Or is it the fancy magic?"

Max didn't even remember who 'us' was. "Yep, you got me, Eris doesn't like me associating with lessers. Go away." In his defense, it was half true.

"Lessers?"

"Poor people." This was so easy. He almost had to physically stop himself from grinning.

Clark sighed, "Were you always this much of a dick?"

"Yup," he responded simply as he turned his attention back to the tree, even going so far as to pop the 'p' at the end.

"Doesn't that get tiring?" Kyle just didn't quit, did he? Was he going to sit here and psychoanalyze him now?

"Nope."

"Lonely?"

"People love me for some reason. It sucks." Max sent another spray of needles at the tree with a flick of his hand. The movement was still too uniform; he needed variation, especially with the way that vambrace fit together. "If you want insider knowledge on Eris, you're out of luck. I don't have anything particularly flattering to say about the guy."

"I was trying to be friendly, Max," Collin said with a resigned sigh.

Max paused his magical onslaught against the poor oak and looked back at him incredulously, "Why?"

"Because you look miserable." He looked vaguely sympathetic - and worse, there was pity in it.

Who the hell did this guy think he was? Max was flinging weapons around - shitty ones, granted - and Connor still had the balls to talk to him like that. It had caught him off guard, honestly, and by the time he recovered, the other boy had already walked away. Calling after him seemed like more of a cope than a proper last word, so Max was stuck standing there like an idiot.

He decided to start envisioning that kid's face on the tree instead of Ryner's for the rest of the night.

The Mariivaldi estate, though once an imposing citadel, was now a sprawling mansion, renovated when Amaris' conception was announced and finished shortly after her 15th birthday. Rose bushes climbed trellises all over the home and yard, manicured into an elaborate maze with various sitting areas and art displays. Lord Ralmevik always credited an old friend he hadn't had the opportunity to speak with in many centuries for the design from before the Sinnenodels and the Marivaldi's drew clear political lines. He always hinted, with a chuckle and a fond look, that there was more to the garden than met the eye but even with several decades of searching, none of the servants found anything out of the ordinary.

Amaris' arrival was highly anticipated. Salazar spared no expense for her arrival and everyone was in high spirits. Servants darted through the mansion, filling it with her favorite flowers, putting up all her favorite art pieces, hanging banner after banner, sprucing up the altar to her father that Salazar insisted be kept in the Foyer so everyone who visits could pay their respects. Salazar has faced ridicule in the vampiric community, especially from the older ones, but he hasn't budged on the subject and as Lord of the Marivaldi's, their complaints are only worth as much as he cares. And he doesn't care.

The jovial atmosphere infected everyone, from Lord Salazar moving decades planned events to Alyssa dancing around the in blood stores making sure they were stocked up on all of Amaris' favorites, little Romero singing away at her hip. Servants drew straws to see who would welcome her back at the drive and accompany the family through the maze. Whereas the Eves and the Noilas were served from a furious loyalty and the Astorios and Sinnenodels from fear, the Marivaldis were served because their servants loved them. Mages under the care of a Marivaldi had any for opened to them that they needed. The House was known for doting on and caring for the mages with a depth normally unseen in vampires and there was many a mage in the service of others that secretly yearned to be rescued by the family.

Salazar, in the usual mage robes he wore, Alyssa, and Romero all waited at the edge of the garden where the drive broke free from its tree dappled shade and opened into the clear moonlight. Four servants murmured softly behind the trio while Salazar spoke softly into his wife's ear, earring a fond eye roll and a should nudge from his wife as she chuckled.

The journey home had been entirely uneventful, yet it felt like it had taken twice as long as her initial trip to the school. Amaris couldn’t deny her excitement at getting to return to the family estate, however she doubted it was the sole reason for her unrest. She tightened her grip on the bag in her lap as she cast her eyes out the window of the moving vehicle. The passing scenery seemed to crawl by as she took in the sights, the natural features easily tracked by her eyes as they drew ever closer to home.

As the car approached up the drive, Amaris beamed at the sight of a small group awaiting up ahead for her arrival. Somehow, she never expected the greetings she was met with from the group. After all, she wasn’t related to the new lord of the house by blood, yet he had always gone out of his way to make her feel welcome after the passing of her father. A twinge of guilt raced through the countess as she recalled her meeting with the princess; regret that she had not appreciated his efforts more over the years. She figured she owed the man an apology at some point, but decided not to weigh down the reunion with such a heavy subject.

The countess steadied herself as the car rolled to a stop, maintaining her grip on the bag as she stepped from the vehicle and out into the moonlight. The black, full-length tulle skirt spilled out in a cascade of fabric as Amaris stood to her full height. It was long enough to hide the ballerina flats she had chosen for travel so long as she wasn’t moving too fast. For the sake of comfort, she had chosen a grey, 3/4 sleeve shirt with a wide collar so as to show off just a bit of shoulder. The material was thin enough that it allowed the chill of the night air to keep her comfortable.

There was little in the way of hesitation as Amaris rounded the car, forcing herself to keep a calm pace as she approached the edge of the garden where the group patiently awaited her. As she took her final steps forward, the countess spun herself into an exaggerated curtsy. The skirt bounced around her ankles as she came to a sudden stop, her house pendant proudly glistening in the moonlight from its home around her neck.

“I’m home, My Lord.” Amaris couldn’t hide the excited grin plastered to her face as she greeted the Lord and his family in her familiar style.

“What a relief to see you home, healthy and hale. I hope your travels proved comfortable.” Salazar wrapped her in a hug for a moment and stepped away so Amanada could kiss Amaris’ cheek. Salazar, outside of a paling of the skin, looked exactly as he did nearly a century ago. Dark skin, a shaved head with barely three inches of brown hair down the center, the same color following a strong jaw in a well kept beard, and a youth and brightness in green eyes. Amanda had started showing signs of her forty years. Her beauty still held, though her crows eyes had deepened and wrinkles creased her forehead and mouth. Her hair was cut short, neat and easily maintained, and wore her typical jeans and blouse rather than anything overly fancy. The woman moved around faster than half the vampires she knew; she definitely needed more durability than some of the fancy clothing the nobility touted.

“Welcome home, Amaris.” Amanda beamed, taking her arm and guiding them inside as Romero latched onto Amaris. He chatted at a million miles a minute, talking about all the history he learned and how he’s made new friends with a cat and some of the lesser family members. Salazar only chuckled, pausing as they passed into the doorway and bowed at the prior Lord’s altar.

“Now, I believe some time conversing is in order! We have so much to discuss.” Salazar said. “But we waited these long months, we can wait an evening more. Would you like a night to unwind from your travels? At least, as much as my son will permit you to. I’m afraid even Lord Astorio probably couldn’t pry him off you.”

“The journey home always seems to take longer than when I leave it but things were pleasant all the same. I’m just glad to finally be back.” She mused, shifting the weight of her bag to one arm so that she could wrap the other gently around Romero. A rustling from her side caught her attention as Getsuga poked his nose out through a small gap in the fabric. Gripping carefully to Amaris, the reptile moved carefully from the countess to the boy to rest atop his head like some sort of beastly crown. She worried for a moment that the night might have been too cold for the creature but he didn’t seem at all uncomfortable so she allowed him to remain.

To some, Romero’s hasty chatter might have been overwhelming but to Amaris it was just another reminder that she was home at last. The girl had started to miss the updates he would have for her, everything ranging from a new food he had dared to try to the types of history lessons most would be drooling at by the end. It seemed, very much like his father, that there was little that would keep him from the subjects of his curiosity; or his excitement to share it upon others.

There was a respectful pause as the group approached the altar, Amaris resting her palm gently before it as her smile took on a nostalgic tone. It had been decades but she could still remember the man of her childhood clear as the night on a full moon. Princess Ryner’s words clung to the edges of her mind like an impending curtain of fog, trying to draw her ever into their grip, but Amaris simply shook them off with a false indignant smile.

“And miss out on Romero’s riveting account of his adventures?! The Lord Astorio would be harder pressed to remove me from his side. Isn’t that right, piccolo topo*?” Amaris glanced down at the boy mischievously.

Salazar chuckled and guided the group upstairs to their private sitting room. Yana, an elderly woman who held the title of housekeeper for almost 60 years, just finished stoking the fire to full. Although the chill from the open doors to the veranda didn’t bother any of the vampires, Amanada was prone to being chilled easily and Salazar made sure every fire in the mansion was stoked to full during the cooler months. The circular room was decorated with elaborate tapestries woven decades prior to the wars and gifted to Lord Ralmevik by his own sire. A rug of similar design covered the stone floor and four plush chairs surrounded a well worn walnut coffee table, laden with a decanter of blood, a bottle of wine, and Salazar’s favorite honey cake.. Yana smiled as she curtsied

“Welcome home, m’lady.” Yana gave Amaris a look over with a satisfied nod. “And none the worse for wear it seems. The house hasn’t been the same since ye left, m’lady. Is there anything else I can do before I check to make sure the linens have been freshened in Lady Amaris’ room?”

“Unless Amaris needs something, I think we can take care of the rest. Thank you.” Salazar said as he took his seat and Amanda took the chair next to him. Normally Romero would be clamoring into his mother’s lap but for now, he was still firmly stuck to Amaris.

“Would I ever hear the end of it if I returned in any condition less than how you sent me off? I will do my best moving forward to send more letters home during my absences.” The countess stepped forward toward Yana, planting a gentle kiss upon her forehead before retreating once again to Romero’s side. Following Salazar and Amanda, the countess moved to take her seat as well. Out of habit, she chose the one positioned furthest from the crackling flames without sitting too far apart from the others.

“I should be okay for the moment… Although, if I could trouble you for a small blanket before you go, I would appreciate it.” Amaris added as she settled in comfortably, signalling for Romero to join her. She had always preferred the cooler spots of the estate, giving the raging fires set during the colder months a much wider berth than most of the house. She worried, however, that this habit might open Romero up to a chill if he insisted on sitting with her instead of his mother; after all, Amaris wasn’t exactly a decent source of heat.

It didn’t take long for Yana to do so, laying the blanket over where Romero curled into Amaris’ side. She was gone after that, leaving the nobles alone in the room. “How has the Academy been treating you? Has the Princess been treating you well?” Salazar asked as he passed a glass of wine to Amanda.

“Salazar, what did I say about politics? Give her a night to rest.” She chastised him. “No, tell us about your partner! Who are they, what affinity do they have?”

Amaris’ expression fell subtly at Salazar’s question, the countess taking the time Amanda spent redirecting the subject to take back control over her face. It wasn’t exactly like she hated the place, or that anyone had truly wronged her in any fashion while there… She had just hoped for more, and that hope had led her to a fair amount of disappointment in the Academy. For the time being Amanda had given her the out she needed to avoid the topic, but she knew full well the eventuality of her answer.

“Ah, Cassandra. She has an affinity to one of the base elements; fire. Scares me half to death but it’s a source of pride for her so I’ve done my best to adjust and support her. Which by the way, I appreciate the request I mailed back being taken care of so quickly. The timing couldn’t have been better, and I really think she liked it.” Amaris smiled at the rising memory of Cassandra. After weeks of learning to navigate each other’s presence and slowly building a proper relationship, Amaris had decided it was time to present her with a ‘mark’ of sorts.

She knew Cassandra wouldn’t react well to wearing a metaphorical collar, announcing to the cosmos which vampire owned her life, and Amaris could never bring herself to do so anyway. Instead she had sent home a design for a card that the mage could keep with her at all times, and choose when she needed or wanted to use it. While it was little more than a customized playing card, the design that represented their partnership could only be revealed when met with the flames that Cassandra tethered to her identity. It wasn’t just some sigil or ID that Cassandra would be forced to bear, it was personal to them both.

“We still have our moments, but I would be lucky to consider someone like her a friend.” Amaris followed up, snapping herself out of her momentary fog.

“I can’t be all that exciting though… Come on, tell me. Anything happen while I was away? Another runaway table, accidental ice ages in the kitchens? Pineapples?” The countess’ eyes sparkled as her imagination began to run away with her. She was always looking forward to something unusual happening, especially when magic was involved, and had worried she would miss out when she left the estate to attend the Academy.

“Well, Romero accidentally startled one of the newly Awakened children and they nearly buried half the staff in the formal dining room. Thankfully, there wasn’t much structural damage.” Salazar sighed. “On top of it, a few of the lower house members thought it a clever idea to cut a deal with some Astorios for front stage tickets to their underground fighting ring. I was out of the house for nearly the entire time you were gone trying to handle that fiasco. Thankfully, everything was settled without issue, the ring is disbanded, and I’m owed a few favors. A mess but all’s well that ends well.”

“Amaris, why are you asking about pineapples?” Amanda interjected, knowing full well that her husband was likely going to steer the conversation back to Ryner and the Academy.

Fighting rings, how barbaric. Explains why he wasn’t able to return my messages but that isn’t any less troubling. Amaris thought to herself before Amanda pulled her back in with the mention of pineapples.

“I have this professor, very strange guy… has this obsession with this fruit known as a pineapple. He almost always has one with him, and class can easily be derailed if you show interest in it. It’s alright though, his partner is quite good at getting him back on track, but his enthusiasm for something he technically can’t eat… It’s piqued my curiosity it seems.” The countess shrugged with a sheepish smile before slowly leaning toward the woman.

“We wouldn’t happen to have any would we? … For science?” She asked in a hushed tone.

“I don’t think we have a pineapple on hand but I’m sure we can purchase one.” Amanda chuckled. “I’m not sure if it’ll do you any good. If he’s not a young vampire, he’ll probably at least be able to taste them. Maybe you can ask him for one. If he is obsessed, maybe he’ll want to share the wealth. Also for science.”

“Old vampires have all sorts of hobbies. Saves them from losing their minds to boredom.” Salazar laughed as he chewed on the cakes. “Now I do need to know if I need to send a letter about the Academy’s treatment of you. I know sometimes the others look down on us for keeping you as part of the main family and I won’t tolerate the Princess letting such an insult permeate her campus.”

“Princes Ryner wouldn’t permit any such thing to circulate if she knew about it. I don’t know why you have this paranoia. I even looked into it for you despite it being a gross violation of our authority and found nothing.” Amanda said irritably. “What do you need to prove Amaris is being treated just fine? She’s an adult vampire. Give her some space to grow. You can’t protect her forever.”

“I can and I will. Lord Ralmevik would have wanted it and I fully intend to honor his wishes to my dying breath.” Amanda gave Salazar a look that spoke volumes and he reflexively took a deep breath. “But you’re right, you’re right. Amaris does need some space to grow. So, just let me confirm and I’ll...” Salazar’s jaw worked even as no sound came out for a few moments. “Let the issue rest. So Amaris, how has the Academy and Ryner been treating you?”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about the treatment from the general staff. It’s the other students I should probably be wary of. Following the incident with my first assigned partner, a couple of rumors started circulating the campus. The impact for me was minimal, but I fear it might have made things worse for another which is something I highly regret. Nothing I can’t handle, I suppose, but unfortunate all the same.” Amaris spoke softly as her thoughts turned to the blonde mage that had been forced to kneel before the class. Forcing a smile back into place, Amaris shot a glance in Salazar’s direction to make sure he was still alright before babbling on from the uncomfortable subject.

“Her royal highness has been an unexpected source of guidance during my stay at the Academy; her sister… not so much. But I’m sure you two have heard all about that already, so if it’s not too much trouble I would prefer to skip that discussion this evening. Oh, but did you hear that Count Varis not only attends the Academy, but that he managed to worm his way in as an assistant instructor as well? Just my luck I would pull his class.” The countess sighed dramatically, not one to hide her distaste for the man and clearly irked at her circumstances. Besides, the theatrics helped her to distance herself from the discomfort her prior report had left her with.

“Oh, for the love of...” Amanda muttered to Salazar’s stifled laughter. “Why the Princess willingly associates with that inbred bottom feeder, I’ll never know. The vampire sells disappointing mages to the Astorios for their barbaric fighting rings. Can you believe it? And if they cross him, he sells their family off for―”

“That’s enough.” Salazar spoke softly but the power in his voice was clear. He spoke as the Lord of the family, not her husband, and she snapped her jaw shut. “Take Romero and get some air.” Amanda looked like she wanted to argue but a look leveled her way changed her mind.

“Of course. I’m sorry.” She stood and pressed a kiss to his temple. “There’s work to be done anyway. I have a meeting with a contact.” She scooped Romero from Amaris’ lap. “We’ll catch up later Amaris. A girls night will do us some good.” And, despite Romero’s struggling, she was out the door in a flash.

“I apologize for the unpleasantness but involving you in the Council’s business presents a conflict of interest as long as you remain at the Academy.” He sighed, pouring himself a glass of blood and then offering one to Amaris. “Though, I do share her sentiment. Dealing with the Lady and her pet of the century is an exhausting business. I feel like anytime I win with them, I still end up losing. I’m almost convinced it’s a mind game they play but I’d loathe to find that out at a critical juncture. However that house aside we should move onto a more important issue. Whatever caused you to message, is it still something I can help you with?”

Amaris was saddened to part with Romero, having already grown accustomed to the unusual warmth by her side. She accepted the glass gratefully and nodded her head with a stiffened expression, no longer feeling pressed to keep up a smile.

“I understand. It’s just frustrating to feel like there is a game being played around me and I’ve been pulled in half way through with none of the same advantages as the other players. What’s done is done though and I suppose it wasn’t without its upside.” She said, pausing to take a drink from her glass and pull the bag she had carried in closer to her person.

“There was something I needed to know but, for obvious reasons, Ryner could only tell me so much. Father kept many secrets but she was adamant that this particular one was not kept from you. I had hoped that considering your circumstances, you might be of a unique position to help me make heads or tails of his last gift to me.” Amaris’ fingers brushed against the skin of her cheek as if searching for the long faded line the princess had made with her knife. She could still feel the blade sinking into her flesh, the memory of her soured blood dripping onto parchment still as fresh as the moment it happened. Her reservations were made clear not only through her expression, but the vagueness of her speech. Was this really a door she wanted to open when she could still walk away?

“The question is not if you can still help me, it’s if you are willing. You work so hard to protect me the way that he used to, the way that he would have wanted you to… but if I am to assume that Ryner has spoken with honesty, what I ask of you goes against that completely. I can read it Salazar but can you teach me to use it?”

Salazar’s face fell as she spoke. He leaned forward, running his hands down his face, and he stared into the fire. A weariness much older than his 200 years seemed to weigh on his shoulders as he considered how to continue. “You knew this day would come.” Salazar’s voice lacked any semblance of emotion as he spoke. “I swore I’d keep her fate at bay as long as I dare. Yet here we are, on the doorstep of disaster. The Children play and their parents scream and the rest of us die in between.”

“If I teach you this Amaris, there is no return. You will learn and grow and you will revel in your power because it is overwhelming in its splendor. Stars know I did.” Salazar gave a self depreciating chuckle. “But there will come a point that I cannot follow. You will take the place of your father. As the Lady of this family, yes. But also his place among the Children. And once you do, you will have enemies beyond your comprehension. Everything you know, everything you trust―each and every one turned against you. If you believe you have the strength to shoulder this burden, then my guidance is yours. But if not, I must take back what was given.”

“I have to know, it’s just who I am. But do you honestly believe that whatever enemies father had would just wait forever on the mere chance that I might not walk his path? Would this family be safer led in ignorance or could I forgive myself if something were to happen knowing full well I had turned away from that which could have made a difference? If I am to protect this family, our family, I cannot do it incomplete.” Amaris closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the chair as her mind raced to answer her own questions.

“Do I have the strength to shoulder such a burden?” She echoed lightly before turning back to Salazar with a steeled resolve.

“As I am now, absolutely not. But if I am incapable of growing with what I learn, of stepping up to face what is needed… Then I have no place being here let alone assuming my inheritance as our Lady. I refuse to believe that father’s fate was an inevitability, thus it is my hope your guidance might better equip me for whatever lays ahead.”

“If your will is settled, then you shall have my guidance.” Salazar promised solemnly, pulling out a pager. He pressed on it and a mage opened the door, bowing to the pair. “No one is to come near this wing, inside and out, until I approve. Have the door to this room warded immediately.” The mage bowed without question hurrying to comply. A few moments later, the door would lock itself while Salazar closed the veranda doors and pulled the curtains. “Not another soul may know you’ve decided to learn this. Do not tell anyone, do not practice in front of anyone, even if you trust them.” Salazar sat and gestured at the table.

“Since the Princess,” Salazar’s disapproval of her was clear. “Revealed how to see past the enchantment, I take it you’ve dabbled a little. A dangerous thing and incredibly irresponsible of her. The art of Marivaldi blood magic is as ancient as vampirism itself and some suggest the source of it. Blood magic allows its user to manipulate the magic in their blood and express nearly any affinity. The cost is, of course, a volume of blood consumed by the spell. It is incredibly versatile, capable of expressing nearly any strength of an affinity, and incredibly dangerous for the same reason.”

“But Marivaldi blood magic makes arcane magic look like child’s play. All living creatures have magic but the strength of the connection is what determines whether an Awakening is successful or not. Official vampires are not living and thus do not have magic but it is a lie. We vampires are something of an in between, our magics corrupted in a way that leaves our bodies warped past living but not quite dead. We consume blood in the way a mortal consumes food to power this corrupted energies that give us our strength, feeding on the magic inherent in mortal blood. This corruption grows stronger as we age, making us stronger, more durable, faster and thus does our magic grow stronger..” Salazar explained. “We Marivaldis can actively direct that corrupted magic, in ways as simple as a glamour to coaxing the blood of others out of their skin to walking through the blood’s past.” Salazar grabbed the remaining while and tossed it against the door, watching it shatter and splatter on the walls and floor. He bit into his own hand, held up the palm, and snarled “Sanguis emni actoniuma, sapien et sanguis.” A thin, shimmering strand of red flowed off his palm and vanished.

Nothing happened for a moment. And then it passed in the blink of an eye. The blood covering the door, the floor, and the bookshelves trembled and quivered before rising up in droplets that twisted into a single rope of blood and rushed Salazar, sinking into his palm as if there was no barrier. “This magic is powerful and can call the blood out from the skin of your enemies, let you gleam secrets of the one whose blood touch, and mimic the capacities of most mages. It is a difficult and painful path to walk as each spell and incantation consumes a part of your essence, the blood that makes your body. But as you grow older, this magic will only get more powerful, more painful, more exhilarating. Now open your book and we will begin with the first exercise, the basic glamour spell.”

Amaris could see why Salazar had requested such an extreme level of privacy. There wasn’t a single word that came to mind as she watched each and every drop of spilt blood respond to his summons, disappearing into his outstretched palm. It wasn’t much of a surprise that the magic would be something incredible despite its terrifying nature; after all, nothing sweet was ever disguised as the untranslated ramblings of a madman. No matter what she had been expecting, though, the sheer power the Marivaldi magic was capable of was overwhelming. The versatility alone was something to marvel at. It seemed the more she listened to Salazar speak about the possibilities the more she began to wonder how much of the lock down might actually be to protect the unwitting passerby.

“You said that some people suggest this magic might be connected to our origins. Do you think that’s true?” She asked, sliding the book from its place in her bag. Amaris opened to the page she had been stuck on when she had first messaged the man. While it might have been irresponsible to have allowed Amaris free access to knowledge and power beyond her current control, she had never been able to make it through the first notes on simple glamour. There had been a point where she thought she had semi-successfully changed the color of the paper but it had just turned out to be paint from an earlier project.

“I am not sure. We have no records going back far enough to confirm anything. I suspect one of the few people who could tell us recently passed.” Salazar replied, looking over the spell and nodding. “Now, the first part of these spells is blood. Only a drop should be fine for this.” He pricked his finger with a fang and let it drop onto one of the remaining honey cakes. “This glamour only covers a small space but as you get more comfortable with the spell, you’ll be able to cover more. With more blood of course. Once the blood has been applied, you have to use your mind to reach out and grab the latent magic in the blood. It’s like trying to grasp at smoke for the first while but eventually, you’ll feel the knack. Once you have a strong hold, speak your incantation firmly. Inculo Mutaat.” The color in the honey cake darkened until it was pitch black with white speckles.

“This spell is limited to minor visual effects. Color and the visual texture changes but that’s it. Of course once the effect is applied, it can only be broken with Marivaldi blood as powerful as the blood used to cast the spell.” Salazar explained. “Excluding the reclamation spell which recalls the blood of a spell and thus ends its effect. Sanguis venhunc aduthic ut pelunthr.” The cake returned to normal and a faint red ribbon floated off of it. “Now you try.”

“Blood, mind, incantation. Got it.” The first and last would be the easy part, it was the elusive nature of the magic that was going to be the problem. There hadn’t yet been an attempt that felt how Salazar described. What was it she was missing?

Reaching her right thumb to a fang and breached the skin to draw forth the drop of blood she would need for the spell. Stepping forward, Amaris approached the cake with an outstretched hand and applied just enough pressure to free a single droplet. Her eyes tracked the droplet as it made its descent to its target below, landing with a faint plunk. Simple. Straight forward. Now what exactly was it that she was supposed to be feeling?

The countess stared intently at the object, willing for something, anything, to call out to her. Amaris hadn’t the faintest idea of what it was supposed to feel like. If there was no draw to whatever magic might exist within the blood, how was she supposed to ‘grab’ hold of it?

Calm yourself. This is no different than trying to learn how to transform, just relax and let it come to you… no, Salazar said something, what was it? ‘...you have to use your mind to reach out…’ Pulling her hand close to her chest, Amaris closed her eyes and grew still. Despite having shut herself off from her sight Amaris was still acutely aware of everything around her. She knew the layout of the room like that back of her own hand, the empty spaces like a void among the solid objects that occupied the area. Bit by bit the countess worked to tune out the objects around her that had no part to play in her task, zoning in on the feeling of the table that displayed the cake.

The longer she focused the more she could sense something she hadn’t before. Amaris didn’t know how to describe the feeling other than familiar, a little like her, just in front of her. She had been caught up on searching for something foreign but maybe this was it? The countess figured it was worth the shot regardless of the result, after all, it was the first time something felt different to her. Focusing on that feeling, Amaris recalled the words Salazar spoke in her mind.

“Inculo Mutaat.” Amaris spoke decisively though she was hesitant to open her eyes and witness the result of her attempt.

“Well, it isn’t horrible.” Salazar chuckled at the splotches of colors all over the cake before he undid the enchantment. “When using this magic, never be afraid of it, never back down to it, never consider it your equal. Unlike mages who work in tandem with their magic and guide it, we command it. Given an opportunity, it will work against you. Try again with a clear image in your mind of the end result and command the magic with the incantation.”

Amaris relaxed a little seeing the cake's unnatural state, laughing at the uneven coloring she had caused. It wasn't right but at least something had happened this time, and that was a good enough start for her. She nodded her head in understanding and reset herself to try again.

Clear image, clear image, clear image. I wonder what he would think if I turned the thing green. Amaris thought to herself as she closed her eyes, trying to picture the cake from every angle in the hue of her choice. To keep things simple, she opted to stick to one solid color and avoid overwhelming herself with the details. Fun speckles could come later.

Once she had the desired version of the cake pictured in her mind Amaris repeated the steps from before, this time her gaze set sternly on the item.

"Inculo Mutaat."

It still wasn’t perfect but it was much closer to what it should have been than her previous attempt. She continued trying for as long as Salazar allowed, breaking down the glamour just to cast it again. Each attempt got just a little bit better, even if it continued to reveal more details she would have to focus on.

By the end of the session Amaris was drained but feeling more confident in the maneuver. It wouldn’t be long before she would get the hang of the simple spell but even she had to admit mastery wouldn’t come in single night. Instead she welcomed the opportunity for a break with the resolve to return to it another night, after all, it had been quite some time since she had slept in her own bed and she was quite looking forward to it.

Amaris stared coldly out the window of the vehicle escorting her back to her dorm at the Academy. Had the countess gotten her way, she would have been dropped at the front gates and walked herself the rest of the way like she had her very first night at the school. Things were different now though, and she didn’t have the heart to fight the extra precautions. The attack during the Revel changed everything, its effects felt even towards the outskirts of the property with the increased security… just like the princess had promised.

A little late for that. The thought was full of bitter feelings, but it was short lived as Amaris silently reprimanded herself. It wasn’t as if Ryner had planned for a tragedy like this to occur, nor could she possibly have known that it would happen when it did; at least, it was no more Ryner’s fault than her own.

Tearing her eyes away from the passing scenery, Amaris cast her glance down at the card she held gingerly in her hands. Despite its apparent blank face, the countess could still picture every detail of the design that hid below the surface. She ran her thumb across the space where Cassandra’s name should have been as her mind wandered off to other places. Amaris had heard the news about the mage during the broadcast Ryner put together to publicly address the incident that had taken place the week before.

Deep down she knew something had been wrong, after all, she hadn’t seen the girl at all before leaving to return home for the break. She had justified the absence to herself by assuming Cassandra had gotten caught up with security response to the attack, perhaps hunkered down with a friend in need of her support during the rough time… nothing more than wishful thinking. It seemed, however, that although she had seen the same broadcast as everybody else, the full gravity of the situation hadn’t set in until the card was returned to her just a couple of days later. Its return to her possession had been a clear sign that Cassandra was no longer considered her partner. Whether it be her condition or the investigation into the attack she did not know, and knew she likely wouldn’t know for some time; if ever. Instead of returning to school to the bright and high-spirited girl she had bragged to Salazar and Amanda about, Amaris would be returning to a stranger.

As the car drew ever closer to its final destination, Amaris pulled her bag from its place on the floor to her lap. She slipped the card into a pocket for safekeeping and instead withdrew a letter that had been sent from Ryner, or at the very least a member of her office, confirming the change in mage assignment. According to its contents, Cassandra’s replacement would be a girl known as Madalyn and, if everything went smoothly, she would have arrived to get settled in ahead of Amaris. The countess scanned over the words a few more times until she was certain the name had been committed to memory before folding it back up and returning it to her bag. Amaris had just finished fixing the clasps on her bag when the car rounded the corner into the cul-de-sac that contained her ‘home away from home’, pulling up slowly to her designated building before coming to a complete stop. She thanked the driver for the escort before getting out and waving the gentleman off.

For a few moments, all Amaris could do was stand and stare at the front door of her dorm; a lonely figure clad in black from head to toe. The style she had chosen was reminiscent of her ‘Gothic’ period following the death of her father. While the sense of mourning was not nearly as extreme, the simple look was still enough to get the point across. It consisted of a black blouse with ruffled details running partially down the front as well as capping the ends of both sleeves and the collar of the raised neck. Paired with the blouse was a high-waisted skirt that hugged the remainder of her torso before flaring back out until it reached its length just above the knee. The pattern etched into the fabric was subtle, the swirling designs just about disappearing into the fabric depending on the lighting, as it was the set of six buttons along her abdomen that were meant to draw the eye. Looped around the top two buttons was a thin silver chain that attached a small crescent moon charm to garment. While the countess had opted not to wear tights or leggings of any sort, the majority of her lower legs were covered by the tall leather boots she had chosen to round out the look.

“You going to stand here all night or what?” She mumbled to herself, before resigning herself to the inevitability. One foot in front of the other, Amaris approached the dorm slowly until there wasn’t any more distance to cover. Hand resting on the handle, the countess straightened her posture and let herself inside.

Madalyn had arrived a few hours earlier, picked up and dropped off by Academy vehicles from her previous mage college. On one hand, she was glad to escape the oppressive atmosphere the Countess of her territory instilled in the school. All of her schooling had been gender segregated and strongly enforced the gender stereotypes. Thankfully, it was a Sinnenodel influence and regardless of how they viewed the separation of the sexes, they were determined to educate their subjects as thoroughly as possible. She had a strong background in math and finances, in art and literature, but history, law, science, and business were always considered the "man's role". On the other hand, her lack of a well rounded education made her a little more nervous than she’d care to admit. The Noila Academy offered equal opportunities to everyone, regardless of traditional roles, and a lot of people came from territories that didn’t adhere to such strict gender roles. It put her at a distinct disadvantage and she was hoping there would either be remedial courses or she could avoid where she lacked all together.

When she’d been dropped off at the Marivaldi dorm, Madalyn almost had to ask if they got it right. Of course she’d had some etiquette classes but they were meant for interacting with other humans, not nobles. Madalyn had been escorted inside, her bags dropped off in the appropriate room, and then everything she had been alone. She’d spent some time looking around, poking through what her room had, checking out the backyard, and the rest of the dorm. It was far nicer than anything she was accustomed to. Her house back home was thrown together from thrift shops and hand-me-downs with the occasional nicer item that they’d saved up for since taxes decimated what revenue they made from the restaurant. She’d stepped lightly for the first bit but that got tiring.

She continued procrastinating―she had very little interest in going through the effort of unpacking when she’d just packed earlier that evening―for a while, lounging on the couch with a cup of coffee and a book until her stomach reminded her loudly that early evening coffee was not, in fact, food. She put doggy eared the page, put it down on the counter, turned on some easy listening music, and ruffled through the kitchen. Easy and quick was what she was looking for and when she turned up some pasta, beef, and a surprising number of ingredients she recognized from home, it quickly became a no brainer. She hummed quietly with the song as she prepped ingredients when an idea hit her.

“I should probably change.” Madalyn muttered under her breath. She’d worn something comfortable to travel in: a simple t-shirt with a band she liked on it, dark wash jeans, sneakers, and one of the beanie hats she knitted herself. The water started boiling as she considered it and she shrugged. The noble hadn’t shown up yet so she probably still had time. She’d change into something more proper later. She focused on cooking, the sizzling on ground beef keeping her attention long enough to miss the door opening.

Closing the door softly behind her, Amaris stepped into the space with a deep breath. The air was thick with the scent of cooking beef, the smell creating a homey atmosphere that helped the countess to relax just a little. Curious to see what her new partner was up to, Amaris dropped her stuff into a chair in the common area and calmly made her way toward the kitchen. It seemed that the closer she got, the better everything smelled, good enough that it came close to making the vampire jealous.

Slowly Amaris poked her nose around the corner to observe the girl she assumed to be Madalyn, noting the intense focus she seemed to have for the craft before her. It was clear that the mage had not heard the arrival of her roommate, which meant it was very likely that Amaris was about to startle her. While not an ideal first impression, she figured it was best to just get it over with and out of the way. Just to be on the safe side though, the countess remained close to the entrance of the kitchen in case she needed to get out of dodge.

“That smells delicious. What’s it going to be?” Amaris asked with a soft smile.

Madalyn startled at the voice, nearly flicking out some of the meat she was browning with an involuntary jerk, and she looked over her shoulder at the source. A woman stood partially behind the wall to the kitchen as she looked in. She was clearly a vampire and considering where she was, Madalyn's partner. Madalyn was expecting a demanding question or some sort of comment on her attire if her limited knowledge of the nobles was right so she wasn't 100% percent sure how to handle the unassuming question or the smile on her pretty face. Madalyn knew the vampire was a Marivaldi at the very least. Madalyn knew the Marivaldis respected their mages far more than the other houses. Unfortunately, that was as far as her understanding of them went so she'd have to test the waters for now. She bowed to the Marivaldi before returning to cooking.

"Just spaghetti, ma'am. Right now I'm just cooking meat that I'll add back into the sauce later." Madalyn explained as she took the beef off the heat and set about draining it and setting it off to the side. She slid the spaghetti into the boiling water and then put a bit of the oil back into the saucepan pan and set it to heat again. It was a staple recipe in her house so she could practically do this in her sleep, turning away from the stove to give the Countess her undivided attention for a few moments.

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. I apologize for my outfit; I wasn't sure when you'd be arriving and I thought I would have enough time to finish cooling before I changed. I hope my clothes don't cause offense." Madalyn said, keeping her gaze politely down.

Amaris stepped out into full view now that the initial shock had been dealt with. She positioned herself so that she could watch the girl at work, her eyes following each step thoughtfully as ingredients were prepped and moved about. While there had been many opportunities for her to watch such activities like cooking at home, the whole process still managed to fascinate her. Very rarely did she see humans eating foods that were as immediately consumable like her food-source; they always seemed to be altering their forms in one way or another.

“It’s no trouble. You’ll find that my travels tend to be on the expedited side regardless of my personal wishes. With recent events considered, I can’t say I blame the rush this time around.” The countess shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly though her smile remained soft.

“I understand this might be a bit of an adjustment for you, so it makes me happy to see you settling in comfortably. Were all of your belongings delivered properly?” There was a brief falter in the expression reaching her eyes, but Amaris pushed the melancholy sentiment aside to avoid giving off the wrong impression.

The vampiress didn’t answer her question directly and Madalyn wasn’t sure if the settling in comment was approval or a side step. She had been hoping for something straight forward but it would probably come up again if it was a problem. “Yes, ma’am, they were. Thank you.” The fat in the pan started sizzling and she turned back, sliding the ham she cut into the pan and stirring the pasta. She gathered her other ingredients as she stirred the ham periodically, using the time to collect her thoughts. There wasn’t much to consider other than this vampire was soft spoken and seemed more relaxed than the stories suggested of their kind. Considerate and quiet so far but for every good rumor there were twenty more bad ones and Madalyn knew she’d have to keep her guard up until she could confirm how true the ones about the Marivaldis were.

Once she had everything cooking happily again, she turned back to the Countess. Neither of them had introduced themselves. Madalyn wasn’t familiar with most vampires outside the Queen, the council members, and the Countess that controlled her territory so she wasn’t sure who she was dealing with exactly. Maybe she was waiting for Madalyn to introduce herself first. “My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. Madalyn Vazquez, ma’am. My affinity is life magic.” Her expression was pleasant and neutral, like she was taught in school. That was probably the only thing she’d done right so far. Her teachers back at school would probably be clicking their tongues in disapproval but she didn’t see them having to suddenly adapt to living with nobility.

A life mage… how ironic. The countess thought to herself with an internal laugh. While likely a coincidence, Amaris thought the affinity was approaching the line of cosmic mockery. Still, it was little excuse for her absent mindedness and severe lack of manners.

“I suppose it would help to give you a name if I’m going to get you to stop calling me ma’am.” She chuckled lightheartedly. There seemed to at least be a bit of familiarity, or at the very least the expectation, of etiquette. It would be helpful to not have to worry about teaching it from scratch, but she hoped she wouldn’t have to fight hard to leave it at the door.

“My name is Amaris Marivaldi, Countess to the main house of Marivaldi. But for the purpose of our partnership here at the Academy, you are more than welcome to call me Ari. Or Amaris if you think Ari is too familiar, I promise it won’t hurt my feelings.” Eyes wandering to the cooking, Amaris inhaled deeply to take in the evolving scent. It had somehow grown richer since her initial arrival, and she was greatly looking forward to its final form. Shaking her head, the countess returned her gaze to the mage still standing politely in front of her.

“I’m sure between the two of us, there are quite a few questions to be asked. Why don’t you finish up here and we talk things over where it’s a little more comfortable. I find conversations are far more enjoyable when there are chairs.”

"If Ari is what you'd like, then that's what I'll call you. It suits you." Madalyn said. "I should be done in about ten minutes and then we can play twenty questions." She chuckled and turned back to the stove, stirring the ham for a bit longer before adding the remaining ingredients. She took a deep breath as sofrito and cilantro filled the kitchen, draining the pasta as the sauce simmered and thickened. It was nice to have a little bit of home in a new place even if she was glad to be out of the nest. Not that she didn't love her family but they could be slightly overbearing. but they

Meanwhile, her mind was whirring. Trading information with her new partner, easy enough. What did she know so far? First, she was definitely living up to the Marivaldi stereotype. Polite, nice, and immediately creating a sense of familiarity with someone considered beneath her station. Well beneath her station if her introduction was anything to go by. Second, she didn’t comment on her clothing despite the clear differences between their level of dress and coupled with the easy way she put them on first name basis, it was likely Ari didn’t disapprove. Thirdly, the Countess seemed to like the smell of what she was cooking. That would be a good default topic to fall back on if there was a lull in the conversation. She hummed along with the music again as she stirred the beef back into the sauce. She definitely had some mixed feelings about this whole situation. She expected to have four years before she had to face a vampire but, much like her Awakening, she’d been thrown for a loop again. She scoffed softly at the thought.

Awakening. Not the first in the family but it wasn’t like they were common either. The last one had been her great uncle on her mother’s side so when that crystal lit up in her hands, she’d been completely unprepared. Her entire life plan―waitress at the restaurant, learn how to handle the finances from her mother, find a husband that would benefit the family and that she liked―evaporated in that moment and she’d nearly broke down crying. She’d almost missed her affinity announcement in the shock. But what was done was done and there wasn’t any point in crying over spilt milk.

She finished the sauce, stirring in the last of the cilantro because there could never be enough, and tossed the pasta in it. She considered whether to leave it covered rather than plating it but her stomach growled again and she shrugged. “This should be fine. She would have said something.” She rummaged around until she found silverware, grabbed a glass of water, and poked around for the vampire,starting in the dining room. If she didn’t find her there, she’d put the plate away first.

Amaris had stepped away from the kitchen to allow Madalyn some space to finish cooking, returning to the bag she had abandoned near the entry. By this time the object was rustling as a very impatient Getsuga nudged his nose out a hole he had found. She scooped the bag up in her arms and pulled it up close to her face with quiet cooing noises.

“I know, I know. All this traveling has got you antsy doesn’t it? Let’s get you to your heat lamp.” The countess disappeared around the corner to her room, taking her time so as not to rush the mage in the kitchen. With her pet settled in and her bag emptied of what it didn’t need, Amaris slowly made her way back down the hall to the dining area. She picked up a book she had left lying around and took a seat at the table, skimming through the pages she had read hundreds of times while she awaited Madalyn’s presence. After a few minutes Amaris sensed the mage’s approach from the kitchen, the countess placed the book down on the table and pushed herself to her feet.

“Please, sit down and eat.” Amaris gestured to the space across from where she was standing before retaking her own and leaning back comfortably.

“If you don’t mind my asking, it’s a bit odd of a time to transfer. What pushed your decision to come to Noila?”

“Thank you, Ari.” Madalyn set her place and settled into the chair across from her, considering the question as she laid out the napkin on her lap. “The headmistress of my old school called me into her office and told me that I’d be attending. She said Princess Ryner sent an invitation. I’m not sure about others but I’m not in the habit of denying her anything. I can tell the difference between a request and a politely worded demand at the very least,” She chuckled as she took a bite.

“I haven’t heard much concrete about the school though. How is attending here? This is my first co-ed experience so I’m sure it’s a world difference.” Madalyn asked.

“I see. She must have seen something she really liked. Even for her, it’s not always easy to steal talent from hard to reach places. I’m glad to get to be a part of your journey.” Amaris replied before taking a moment to consider Madalyn’s question. She had quite a few opinions about the school, but she thought it best to ease the sentiment in rather than bombard her with the negativity.

“Her Royal Highness runs a fair school, and it certainly lives up to its reputation. I just hope the recent tragedy hasn’t marred your view of this place before you’ve had a chance to try it out, it really is a wonderful place. Here you will have access to some of the best teachers and mentors you could ever hope to train under. Oh, and our headmistress will not tolerate any outright abuse of its students no matter who they are… just keep in mind there are still those that toe that line and refer to it as tradition. I recommend keeping your wits about you while you settle in.” The countess seemed almost disappointed that such a warning would exist, but the last thing she needed was for Madalyn to get hurt because she was not prepared.

“But with me, the only detail you’ll have to be especially concerned with are the feeding arrangements. Princess Ryner set it up as a way to ease through the transitional period and strengthen bonds or something like that. Would it be incorrect to assume you are new to it like many of the first year students?” She asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. It hadn’t sounded like her previous school had such a system in place, but Amaris still didn’t know much about Madalyn’s home life to be able to make a certain call.

Everyone had heard about the events. Six students hurt under right under the nose of the Princess that supported mages’ rights and she had to call in the Traditionalist one to fix the problem. She would be lying if she said it didn't make her uneasy but there were additional security measures and she was under the direct supervision of a noble so that had to count for something extra. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll make sure to keep it in mind.” She promised as she took another bite.

“It is a fair assumption. You’ll definitely be my first in many of these experiences. We have little claim to magic in the family and we own a restaurant. This is my first time sitting in the same room with a vampire for longer than a minute.” Madalyn explained. The first time she met a vampire, everything in her screamed run. Knowing that she would be fed on definitely triggered some sort of fear but she’d slowly become more accustomed to the idea. The inevitability of it definitely made it an easier pill to swallow. “Any guidance on the subject would be greatly appreciated. I’ve heard that a bite is relatively painless. Is that true?”

“From what I have been told, that is true. It is my understanding that the process feels a little different from person to person, side effects and so forth but so long as the one doing the biting is mindful of their manners there should be little to no pain. Ca-... My previous partner didn’t seem to mind it at all, but I found myself tucking her in for a nap more often than not.” Amaris’ laugh was nostalgic as she caught herself mid-sentence. She figured she would be able to speak her name again eventually without feeling the pit in her stomach, but now was not that occasion.

“It’s not something you’ll have to worry about tonight anyway, I got my fill before leaving home so I should be alright for another night or so. If you’re really nervous about it, I’m sure you can track down one of your professors or a fellow classmate to help ease your mind. Once that is settled, the rest will come as it needs to. Let’s see, am I forgetting anything?” She asked herself aloud, eager to move on from the boring subjects as soon as possible.

“Ah, I suppose there is one other thing. I’m usually one for open spaces and the freedom to occupy them, however I’d like to get the whole ‘I’ll stay out of your room if you stay out of mine’ speech out of the way upfront. It’s the only place I would consider off limits unless stated otherwise, as for the rest of the dorm you are more than welcome to stretch out and make it yours. Does that seem fair to you?” After spending the break practicing with Salazar at home, there was little she had to worry about in the ways of a novice mage discovering something she shouldn’t… but she figured setting the expectation right out of the gate might help make those necessary moments of enforcement a little less conspicuous.

Madalyn nodded as the Countess explained. It was a relief to hear that pain wasn’t going to feature in her future from a necessary ritual though the additional commentary wasn’t as helpful. So the only way to understand being fed on was to experience it. Jumping into something without some preparation wasn’t exactly how she liked to do things but it had to happen eventually. She almost wished the countess hadn’t fed; that way, she could have gotten through it like ripping off a band-aid.

But what caught her attention was the stumble. Ca―? Although she was curious, she’d wait and bide her time. This previous partner of hers was important to her, that much was apparent, but then why wasn’t she here? Why had she been brought into a situation when the Marivaldi clearly already had a soft spot for the other? There was definitely an inkling in the back of her mind but she’d explore that particular issue later when she had some time to herself and process everything she’d found out.

“I’d never dream of intruding.” Madalyn replied, putting her silverware down and giving the vampire a mildly concerned look. “I apologize for my forwardness and I don’t mean any disrespect but aren’t you entitled to come into my room? I was under the impression that, for all intensive purposes, I had no right to refuse you anything with some exceptions.”

“No need to apologize. I understand my methods are a little unorthodox. You’re not wrong in the sense that the legal system agrees with your statement, as does a good portion of my kind. There will undoubtedly be times where the metaphorical leash will be tighter, the expectations of you higher. However, there is a reason those same people don’t particularly vibe well with Marivaldi-kind. We don’t just care for our mages, we respect them as individuals. So I guess to answer your question, yes technically I am entitled to enter your room without invitation but I have no intention to unless I deem it absolutely necessary.” Amaris explained calmly, wondering if she had thoroughly freaked the girl out yet. Evidently it was not so easy having one’s expectations of life with a vampire shattered, but Madalyn seemed rather level headed. It might take some time but the countess was confident the adjustment could be made.

“You’ll find that I diverge from a lot from the traditional views of our society. Sure, sometimes you have to put on a show and pretend to just fit in, but all that stops at the door. Here, at home, it’s just you and I. What that looks like will be up for us to decide.”

Madalyn couldn’t hold back the amused snort at Amaris’ words. The last thing she expected out of a Countess’ mouth was vibe. Despite her looks, Amaris was probably around 100 years old so it was like hearing hip slang coming from your grandparents or great grandparents. The idea made her laugh softly, her smile less polite and more genuine now. She moved her plate to the side, leaning forward and resting her chin on the back of her hand. “Please tell me you’ve said vibe in a proper meeting. I can only imagine how long it took for some millennia old vampire to try and figure that out.” If Ari said it was okay to be relaxed behind closed doors, she wasn’t going to try and impersonate a high up servant. That was a lot more work that she really wanted to do and the less often she had to, the better.

“But okay. We can figure out how we want to vibe here at home so I guess that means how do you want to do this? I’m not going to lie, I’d appreciate a place where we can just chill.” Madalyn asked. “And in comparison, what are the expectations once we cross that threshold? Etiquette classes were a mandatory part of my schooling but they were definitely intended for human interactions, much less vampires and even less so nobles.”

The countess was pleased to see Madalyn brightening up, clearly more relaxed than when they had made their initial introductions. She shook her head with a laugh of her own, wondering what look Salazar, or more importantly Amanda, would have reserved for such an antic. The thought was enough to send a shudder down her spine, but she stood by the idea.

“Unfortunately I haven’t had the opportunity, but I think I’d rather avoid the extra time it would take for some of those guys to get a proper translation. Trust me, those types of meetings run long enough.” She waved her hand dismissively as if the very idea of the grumpy old vampires were a gnat buzzing about her head.

“For the sake of both of our sanity, keeping this space relaxed is what I feel is best. There will be enough of the ‘stick-up-ass’ to go around outside of these walls, no need to bring it in with us. No titles, no pressure… leave the stress for Varis’ lectures. As for expectations held on the other side of that door, well, it’s mostly about minding your manners and knowing how to feel out a situation. Aside from me, there are three other noble representatives; one from each of the houses. I highly recommend familiarizing yourself with their faces quickly and remember your titles with them. If you can, avoid the Astorio altogether. Varis can be strict but at least reasonable and, I hope, respectful of the boundary that comes with interacting with another’s mage. Victor on the other hand… I’d feel a lot better with a little more distance to be honest.” After having witnessed the man launch the mage Lillie clear across the arena, just hadn’t felt much at ease with his presence. She had hoped to know the extent of what punishment followed such a disgrace, but knew that realistically he had probably gotten off with a strict warning.

“As for me, be it Amaris or Countess I will leave that up to your discretion and comfort. You won’t have to ask my permission to do anything or go anywhere. The campus is a big place and there is a lot to see. I would honestly hate for you to miss out on even a second of it. I just ask that you check in with me every so often and understand the importance of returning swiftly if I should have to request your presence back. And if you find yourself interested in really diving into the noble etiquette I’m sure we can have something arranged, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Princess Ryner had already considered it when she sent your invitation to transfer. Just let me know and I can take care of it for you.”

So basically, nothing was expected of her. She’d wound her nerves up for nothing which is the one of the greatest sense of relief in the world. Be respectful of boundaries, behave outside of the dorm, and check in to make sure she was still alive and kicking. She didn’t know what she did to please the Princess but clearly she drew the lucky straw when it came to the nobles. “Well, that all sounds reasonable. When I was dropped off in front of the dorm, I nearly turned around and ran. I’m glad I didn’t. I think we’ll get along well.” Madalyn relaxed back into her seat. “If we’re keeping it chill in here, then call me Maddie. All my friends at home do. So, check ins. Are texts okay for the most part? We’ll see each other here plenty I’m sure but I don’t know what my schedule looks like yet so I don’t know how easy it’ll be to set up face to face meetings throughout the day. What’s your number?” She took out her phone and opened a new contact for Ari.

“So you mentioned the other nobles but they have mages too right? What are they like?” She asked.

“I wouldn’t have blamed you for taking a healthy jog in the opposite direction, but I’m glad that you decided to stick around, Maddie.” Amaris reached for the phone she had tucked into the side of her skirt after returning her bag to her room. She had been keeping the device close to her on the off chance that Cassandra messaged her while they were apart, but it was clear now that such a thing wasn’t going to happen. Instead she flipped through her information until she had located her personal number and turned to offer it to Madalyn.

“Texts are perfectly fine, as are calls if there is something you need a reply for. I will admit though, I have not fully mastered the device yet. Texting etiquette, if there is such a thing, is still quite foreign to me so I apologize for that.” With a sheepish smile, the countess shrugged her shoulders and sat back in her chair once more. It didn’t take her long to ponder Madalyn’s question about the other’s in the cul-de-sac, but unfortunately her own introverted nature left her with little response.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be too much help to you there. To date I have only personally interacted with one of the mages here. Lilie, she’s paired with the representative from Eve. A sweet girl so I hope the partnership is kind to them both. I don’t know much about Varis’ partner other than he was most definitely groomed for a position around royalty; you can see it in the way he holds himself. Unfortunately for him, he was paired with Varis of all people and his treatment is harsh. Makes me sick to see the two of them together. As for Victor Astorio… I’m not entirely sure who pulled that equally short straw. I rarely see him, let alone his assigned partner.” She figured she had seen the mage in question before, but without the proper context, she wasn’t able to connect the dots.

“Maybe we’ll luck out and they’ll drop out of the sky to introduce themselves.”

“Or they’ll leave us alone and we won’t have to mingle at all.” Maddie said hopefully as she entered the phone number into hers. She sent off a quick text to Amaris, nothing more than a hello and a hand emoji, and tucked the device away. So she was in the dark about the other mages. A disappointment considering the likelihood of them interacting was high. Hopefully, they are relaxed and chill. The royalty one made her a little nervous but she sympathized with the poor mage. If his Sinnenodel was anything like the Cou―

“Wait. You said Varis. As in, Varis Sinnenodel. The vampire who is the heir to the Sinnenodel family currently?” Maddie asked as she made the connection. For some reason, just saying the first name didn’t mean anything until the family name clicked into place. There wasn’t much in the way of news about the vampires except for those close to the Council but their heirs she knew. Great. Out of the frying pan and into the fryer. She’d make sure to put a little extra effort into avoiding that one.

“And you’re Amaris Marivaldi, Lord Ralmevik’s daughter. Wow. You are very relaxed for someone in your position.” Maddie said, stunned. The lives of the Council members and their immediate households were common subjects even among humans considering their decisions shaped their entire existence but you considered them like the stars, distant and out of reach. Yet here she was, neighbors to one and the actual mage of another and the realization was more than just a little overwhelming. “Okay. This is a lot, I’m not going to lie. I have to be honest, wouldn’t someone with experience in this kind of field be a better choice of partner? How does the Princess choose us?”

“I wouldn’t mind it much if they opted to leave us. I might actually get something productive done for once.” Amaris joked, plucking her phone back up just to tuck it back into the band of her skirt. She would fiddle with the device later to get her new contact in order. It was far more amusing to watch Madalyn make connections she hadn’t before with the names and a tad more context provided to her.

“The very same, and the only one I know of. I don’t think I could handle any duplicates. He is… interesting enough in singularity. And correct again, the late Lord Ralmevik was my father. Salazar and his wife run the show these days, and it’s because they do such a fantastic job that I can afford to be a little more relaxed. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to assist much while attending Noila anyway. Evidently, it would be a conflict of interest.” The countess smiled softly and reached a hand out to rest on top of Madalyn’s.

“It’s going to take some time to get used to, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry about the experience. You will glean some over time, and having me as a partner will hopefully help to take some of that pressure off. Now, if we’re talking about Varis or Victor… well, the experience might be a little more important. But the only thing you could do to offend me is lie to me, so as long as you don’t do that you’ll have plenty of time to figure things out.” Shifting once again, Amaris removed her hand from Madalyn’s personal space to instead pinch the bridge of her nose.

“As for Her Royal Highness, only the stars know what goes on in that head of hers. I’m sure she is full of wisdom and I don’t doubt her abilities or choices, but I cannot even begin to understand some of her decisions. I mean, she initially paired me with a girl who was under investigation for something. Nox was breaking down my door the first week of classes. You wouldn’t happen to be up to anything illegal would you?” Amaris raised her eyebrow at the mage with a playful smirk.

Maddie nodded as Amaris spoke but quickly shook her head at the end. “Well, you nobles certainly know how to get into trouble." She murmured quietly. Being a noble's mage was going to be a pain. She'd have to stay on her toes to keep out of the other ones hair and hopefully out of the eyes of whoever was eyeing Amaris next in their little political games. Why did her life have to get so complicated?

“What can I say, it just comes naturally. But I suppose that’s what it means to be in the spotlight, gotta keep things interesting for everybody else.” The countess let out a small chuckle before rising to her feet.

“Well, I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your time this evening. I’m sure you have plenty left to do in order to get settled in so I won’t keep you here any longer. Seems like a good time to retire for the morning, so if you find yourself needing anything, you know where to find me. Pleasant dreams Maddie.” Amaris departed the table with a smile, the book she had been skimming while awaiting the mage scooped gingerly in her arms as she walked away. Her pace was leisurely, the vampire in no particular hurry for anything, but purposeful as she made her retreat to her room.

There wasn’t really much in the way of luggage, after all, the belongings at the school were just a fraction of what she owned in total. What need would she have had to transport anything, when all she needed would have already been at the estate for her? The only things she cared about had already been unpacked and placed including her beloved Getsuga, who snoozed comfortably beneath his heat lamp. It wasn’t long before Amaris also found herself curled up and resting comfortably.

Maddie waved goodbye, staying at the table for a few minutes after Amaris left. She sighed at her plate as she took it to the kitchen and started cleaning up, putting away the extra food and putting away her mess into the dishwasher before retiring for the day. This situation was surreal. It was a lot to process, knowing she’d be running into more high stress, high strung vampires along the way. Hopefully, their mages were less so. Maddie stared forlornly at the pile of luggage waiting patiently to be unpacked, swore under her breath, dug out her toiletries, and left that pile for another da-

Night. It was night now. She yawned. A night owl she may be but years of waking up with the sun left her exhausted in the early hours. That kinda sucked. She was going to miss the sun and she had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be the only thing she missed. But those thoughts were no good now. Right now, a shower and bed sounded fantastic.

Aaron’s day passed slowly, the mage fading in and out of sleep for what felt like no more than five minutes at a time; he had opted to spend the day in one of Eris’ armchairs, leaving the couch to Salem. The night’s events coupled with the distinct discomfort of staying in another vampire’s dorm made it difficult to relax, and it wasn’t until briefly before sunset, when exhaustion overwhelmed his sensibilities that Aaron was finally able to drift into something resembling sleep.

Of course, like any other chance for Aaron to relax, it was short-lived, a secondary alarm he’d set for himself blaring him back to life shortly before the sky turned completely dark. He silenced it quickly, hoping it didn’t wake Eris up, and made his way from the dorm as quietly as he could, sneaking across a still-deserted campus. A few times he spotted an obsidian-clad patrol in the distance, but they paid him little mind, and he was able to make it to the noble cul-de-sac unmolested.

When he finally shambled back to his dorm (disheveled from a sleepless day in an armchair and what he assumed was a developing hangover) the delivery woman was already there, watching him with unveiled amusement.

“Rough day, kid?”

Aaron didn’t bother to hide his look of contempt, running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to look a little presentable. He did his best to shake off his lingering grogginess and approached the woman.

“You’re early,” he greeted flatly, voice dry. As if on cue, the first alarm he’d set to wake himself up for just this occasion went off in his pocket.

The delivery woman didn’t seem bothered. “It’s a slow night,” she explained, smirking as she handed over her clipboard to be signed.

Silencing his alarm with one hand, Aaron signed the clipboard with the other, not bothering to take it from her. He cleared his throat as the woman handed over his usual package, warm to the touch and smelling of raspberries. “Thanks.”

The woman chuckled, amused by Aaron’s unusually short demeanour. “Happy Revel,” she replied, turning back to her bike and not bothering to hide her snickering.

Aaron glared after her, though he gave that up before she even got her bike started, leaning against the wall and doing his best to blink the sand out of his eyes. A cursory glance told him it was 7:58pm., giving him only two minutes to prepare for what he was sure would be a thorough dressing-down when he finally got inside.

He cast a wary glance at the dorm. His immediate fear of these encounters had since lost its edge, replaced now by an exasperated, yet familiar, sense of dread. He was a mess; he set the box down on the top of the wall to brush himself off, doing his best to get the creases out of his pants while simultaneously knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. He flattened his lapel unnecessarily - his jacket was hopelessly wrinkled anyway - and hung his mask on his elbow, doing his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes and futily hoping the growing headache pounding behind his eyes would subside.

At 7:59 Aaron made his way to the door with his package and stood for a moment at the threshold, taking a deep breath. He didn’t know what awaited him on the other side of that door - though he had a couple guesses - but he resolved that there was no sense giving himself time to get worked up over it, and knocked.

Varis, for once, set an alarm himself the night before when he realized the incompetant oaf was late. Once again, Varis had to wonder what they taught them behind those castle walls. Maybe the royal family was just letting them lounge about like exotic pets until it was time to put them on parade. That would explain all the poor manners the boy had. The earlier hour added an extra edge to his irritation as he got ready. He chose a royal blue suit today with ruby cufflinks. He didn’t wear it often but he was feeling a little color today after the cathartic night before. And raking the boy over the coals would be the perfect way to clear out the last vestiges of weakness he succumbed to.

His next alarm rang at 7:45 as he was stepping out of his room. He’d made sure to draw the curtains when he finished cleaning up his mess. A quick appraising eye around the room and he fixed on a couch cushion left askew; otherwise, everything looked to be in order. Not a thing out of place and certainly nothing to suggest he’d reverted to a childhood habit. He repositioned a chair in the middle of the living room, took a step back, decided it wasn’t quite right, and put it back. It was important to make an impression. The boy was, irritatingly enough, taller than Varis and he wasn’t sure just standing would be enough of a power play to remind the boy of his position but the chair had been used so frequently in recent nights, Varis was afraid its effectiveness was fading.

Varis would never admit it but he lost track of time, startling at the knock at the door. He huffed and straightened his jacket, smoothing out any last wrinkle, drew back the curtains, and went to unlock the door, not bothering to open it as he turned away and made his way back into the living room without looking at Aaron. Varis kept his back turned and snapped once at the spot next to him.

Aaron heard the lock slide over, unsurprised that the door didn’t open, and opened it himself, stepping in with his package under his arm and doing his best to act like he didn’t look like he’d just returned from some wilderness excursion gone wrong. By the time he got in he could already see Varis in the living room, dressed uncharacteristically colourfully and staring thoughtfully out the window. Yeah, that couldn’t be good. Varis usually sat for their little talks, presumably to lord his comfort over his mage’s groveling and give himself the freedom to perch a shoe under Aaron’s chin, so forgoing that luxury tonight and standing certainly meant he had something different in mind. Great. He’d do his best not to dwell on that too much. The snap, at least, was expected, and Aaron made only enough of a detour to deposit his package on the kitchen counter before promptly kneeling where Varis indicated, gaze trained silently on the floor.

Varis let the silence stretch between them for a minute. He closed his eyes, enjoying the pleasant aroma of the pastries and the tension that must certainly be in the boy’s shoulders. He let out a sigh. “After all the progress you’ve made, after you’ve earned a day off, after you made me believe that you were improving. A curfew. That’s all you had to do. No other rules, no other responsibilities. And you couldn’t be bothered to meet it.” Varis sighed again and shook his head in disappointment. “I was considering the next step would be covering one of those awful letters in your room but I clearly need to rethink that.” Varis let him sit on that for a while longer.

“I’m disappointed, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Aaron almost jumped when Varis broke the silence, but truthfully it was nothing more than he expected. In a way, Varis echoed his own thoughts on the matter. Everything he said was true; following a curfew wasn’t rocket science, and after how excited and grateful he’d been to receive his night off, he repaid that kindness by falling short of the only expectation he had to follow. It was shameful, and Aaron would have been just as displeased if the roles were reversed.

“You’re right, Master,” he agreed. “It was a simple order, and I’m disappointed in myself that I couldn’t manage to follow it. For what it’s worth, know that I had every intention to get back on time. Please accept my humblest apologies.”

Varis resisted an exasperated eye roll. Immediately taking responsibility? Exactly as the boy should do but it took all the fun out of this. He thought on the matter some more, considering whether that was enough to let the boy off the hook. Probably not. “Your apology is being considered. While I am glad you didn’t shirk your responsibility in this matter and accepted your failure for what it is, it still begs the question of why. If you had every intention, what distracted you? The Starags’ reputation suggests perfection to the point of obsession when duty and responsibility are involved so what was so important that you miss your curfew? Walk me through the last hour or so of your evening.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Aaron suppressed a sigh. Again, Varis was right, both about his family’s reputation and how he himself usually behaved. He self-admittedly pursued completion of his orders with single-minded purpose; the problem was that he had to admit it was the pursuit of someone else’s orders that made him late.

Swallowing his apprehension, Aaron forced himself to speak, resigning himself in advance to the furious response he expected to receive. “Most of my last hour was unremarkable,” he began, “I spent it enjoying Revel with Ms. Dionne - the Eve mage - and a few others, with alarms set to return for my curfew. Ms. Dionne stepped on a bottle before we left and cut her foot, and while I did help her home, I was still on track to be here on time.”

He took a breath before continuing. “However, when we arrived in the cul-de-sac, Princess Ryner was standing at the threshold of the Eve dorm with an Eve by the name of Count Benjamin - apparently another replacement for their House’s spot here, Countess Mariette having apparently vacated the position. Of course she wanted to talk, and given her station I was loath to refuse her. The conversation carried on a bit longer than expected, and on top of that she asked me to relay her contact information to the new Count.”

Aaron’s next steadying breath was more of a sigh, a bit of lingering exhaustion sneaking into it as he recalled the fiasco at the Eve dorm. “He invited me inside, and I could hardly leave without giving him Her Highness’ information as requested. He seemed reluctant to release me, and by the time I finally got out of there, I had missed my curfew.”

The little tidbit about the new Eve―Count Benjamin? He’d have to look into that later.―was filed neatly away for further inspection. If that had been the end of the story, Varis may have ended their little discussion there with a lighter sentence than originally intended. It was important to encourage good behavior as much as it was to punish bad behavior without going overboard but it didn’t. Of course, it was something about Ryner. The entire reason the boy was in this situation was to distance him from them and here she was, meddling every five bloody seconds! She hadn’t been without him for a semester and here she was, upsetting everything he was trying to accomplish. Varis sneered and whirled on the boy.

“You missed the simplest expectation because you wouldn’t bother explaining that your Master expected-” Varis stopped short as he finally laid eyes on the boy. The colors, the mask… All of it screamed Noila loyalist. Noila colors. On his mage. Out at a public event. “Would you care to explain this ensemble, boy?” Varis spat, jaw clenching as he held himself back from repeating the scene at Ryner’s dinner. The utter disrespect of this situation, first with the curfew and now with his obvious Noila preferences, was a slap to the face and Varis seethed. If anyone saw this brat in this outfit and recognized him… Varis didn’t even want to think about the social consequences of a mage promoting, no flaunting, their loyalty to their previous owner.

Aaron had an explanation on the tip of his tongue - albeit he wouldn’t know what it was until it came out of his mouth - when Varis cut himself off, stopping Aaron’s thoughts in their tracks. A cautious glance up showed Varis’ eyes darkening, a look Aaron was much more familiar with than he felt like he should be, though expected given the situation.

Sure enough, the topic switched to his clothes; Aaron wasn’t surprised at the outrage, but somehow this had been the first time he really thought about the consequences of dressing himself up as a de facto Noila mascot for Revel. Sure, Varis wouldn’t be out in the mess to see it firsthand, but what reaction had he expected when he came back at the end of the night?

A stone of dread dropped in his stomach, and he suppressed a shiver. “Just something sent from home, Master,” Aaron replied quickly, “I had no say in the matter.”

“Oh? You had no say. Well, that makes everything better!” Varis said derisively. “Are you saying someone came into my home, put a blade to your throat, and demanded you put those clothes on? Are you telling me you didn’t put each and every piece of that gaudy outfit on, check for wrinkles, make sure your cuffs were buttoned up properly, check the lacing on your shoes more than once because you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself and trip while dancing? Did some sort of enchantment compel you into putting these clothes on because from where I’m standing, it seems to me that you very much had a say in the matter.” Varis crouched, grabbing the boy’s chin firmly, and made him look him in the eye. He let his thrall reach out into the mage, letting it fill the boy with a sense of security despite Varis’ visible frustration.

“Why don’t you tell me how wearing those clothes made you feel. Was it nice wearing Noila colors again?” Varis asked, his tone sweet and soft.

Aaron resisted flinching as Varis let loose his barrage, each point lowering his head a little further with shame. Because it was true. And it was shameful. And foolish. Foolish to think he’d get to enjoy that one evening of respite from reality. Good lord, he’d have been better off coming home naked! The break was nights away and he couldn’t wait that long to pretend that his House hadn’t cast him out? Sure, he hadn’t requested the ensemble himself, but he hadn’t told his mother otherwise either, and he’d admired it and cherished it as a memento from home, and somehow hadn’t thought about the consequences. Once more he’d brought this on himself; so much for not making the same mistake twice.

The chin grab was all but expected, though Aaron’s insides squirmed again when he was forced to look into Varis’ black eyes. Strangely, though, the feeling was gone as quickly as it came; Aaron saw the look of utter contempt on Varis’ face, saw the rage swirling in his eyes, but somehow wasn’t bothered by it. It was the same feeling of calm he used to get as a child when he had to be ushered out of the way, warm and distinct. Varis was probably thralling him, but Aaon wasn’t terribly concerned about it.

“It was… a nice reminder of home…” he softly repeated his words to the stranger at the ball, drawn in by Varis’ welcoming tone.

“Yes, I’m sure it was.” Varis kept his voice level and slow, not wanting to snap the boy out of his control. Even if all he wanted to do was to drag the boy outside and sell him off to the Astorios for embarrassing him like this. “Do you ever wish you could go back?”

Only every night, but Aaron couldn’t tell him that. Or, maybe he could? Varis seemed to want to know, after all. He shouldn’t lie; Varis had made clear his contempt for dishonesty. Of course, there was one caveat.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, though his voice did go a little quiet. “But… I don’t think they’d take me.”

"And why is that?" Varis asked, letting concern leak into his voice. He'd heard it plenty from Ryner when she was consoling other vampires that it was easy enough to imitate. "You're the only male in the Starag line. Isn't it odd to think they wouldn't take you back?"

Indeed it was, but it was the only conclusion Aaron could come to. His hopes of being a diplomatic tool had gradually been dashed as Varis’ opinion of him worsened - after all, no one gives a defective gift to curry favour - so why else would he have been sent away? He used to dream of attending the Queen for fuck’s sake, and now here he was, tripping over himself to obey the simplest orders from a Count. Clearly he'd overestimated his capabilities - maybe that was why he was here. Maybe being the only fertile Starag left was what kept him from having his name stripped for good, but otherwise, Aaron had to assume that he was here because the Noilas thought he wasn’t worth the trouble.

“I suppose,” he answered Varis’ question somberly, “but I can only imagine that if they still wanted me, they wouldn't have given me away in the first place.”

Varis had enough of the boy’s pity party. He’d never cared for the servant class’ depressive tendencies. It left an unwelcome taste in his mouth like all their other emotions. He stood back up, breaking his thrall, and took a moment to process. Playing with the boy’s head gave him time to collect himself and he no longer felt like an Astorio brute despite the simmering anger. The fact still remained that Aaron disrespected him in one of the worst ways possible, and publicly no less, so he needed to rectify that immediately. He gave Aaron a few moments to shake off Varis’ influence and collect himself before immediately returning to chastising the boy.

“This disrespect is unacceptable, boy. You flaunted another house’s colors, your old house’s colors, in public which sends an unmistakable message to anyone with more than two brain cells. Which thankfully rules out the majority of this school but the rare few are going to be talking about this everywhere. I guarantee that the staff at the very least will spin rumor after rumor that’ll have to be handled sooner than later.” Varis muttered at the end, rubbing his temples as he considered how to handle that. He was definitely going to lean on Eris for that one. The vampire knew how to play the public like a lute and Varis wasn’t above making another headline to avoid this one.

“For now, I want that off. Everything you’re wearing needs to come off right now. Fold it neatly and leave it right where you are. Shoes and mask included. Then, you’ll lead the way into your room and take a damn shower. Clean yourself up because you are disgusting and I will not tolerate that for another second. Just looking at you makes me want to vomit. And then we’ll deal with the rest of your Noila belongings like I should have at the beginning.” Varis ordered.

Varis stood, and the calm that had fallen over Aaron immediately began to lift, an ugly ball of dread coming in to replace it. Oh no. No no no. He did not just say all that out loud, to Varis, did he!?

Coming to the full realization of what had just occurred, it was all Aaron could do not to panic. He’d just admitted some things to Varis he would hardly admit to himself, and all of them unbearably traitorous. And now, Varis was silent, and all Aaron could do for a moment was stew in dread.

Mercifully, Varis finally broke the silence, and Aaron had never been so happy to be ordered to strip; better than a million of the much less pleasant alternatives his panicking mind had come up with. He did just as he was told, wasting no time worrying about modesty as he stripped and folded his clothes as commanded. There was no time to wonder what would become of them before he took off to his room; once there, he unceremoniously removed his earring as he turned on the water, leaving it on the bathroom vanity and not even waiting for the water to warm before jumping in the shower.

Varis inspected his nails as Aaron rushed to complete his tasks, rolling his eyes. At least he still did one thing right. Varis followed Aaron into the room and ignored as the mage threw himself into the shower. Varis shook his head. The boy could rival Eris for his dramatics. He helped himself to the boy’s closet, barely bothering to look around as he snatched things off hangers and shelves and tossed them on the floor. Trash, trash, trash… Varis tossed two of his undershirts on the bed, two pairs of slacks, underwear, socks, and the least irritating pair of shoes he could find alongside them. Those would be enough to tide the boy over until he returned to the castle with his tail between his legs.

"If you don't finish washing in the next five minutes, I'll finish it for you." Varis said as he walked into the bathroom and grabbed the earring off the counter before returning to the bed, sitting down, and examining the jewelry.

Aaron didn’t have to be told twice. He’d already been washing at a fever pace anyway, scrubbing like mad to keep his hands from shaking. Part of him knew he really needed to get this stress response under control, but tonight… tonight was different. Aaron wasn’t sure he’d ever screwed up this bad with Varis; even being dragged around the Princess’ dining room by his neck hadn’t felt quite this urgent. As far as Varis was concerned, that episode had merely been incompetence. This… this was much worse. This was purposeful disrespect.

He didn’t even need the full five minutes to finish; he emerged with about a minute to spare, drying himself quickly but thoroughly. He left his towel hanging on its rack - experience told him it would only irritate Varis, and Aaron had bigger things to worry about at the moment than nudity - and made his way back into the bedroom, sparing only a glance at the mess that was his closet and the clothes delegated to the bed. Seemed about right. The Noila belongings Varis wanted to “deal with” constituted just about everything Aaron owned, and it seemed like Varis really was intent on “dealing with” all of it. A bit of distress sparked up in the back of Aaron’s mind as he considered exactly what that entailed, but he forced it aside as he took his usual place at Varis’ feet, noticing only then that the Count had his earring in hand. That couldn’t be good, either.

Varis waited until the boy settled to turn his attention away from the earring, folding his hands in his lap as he considered the mage at his feet. Varis put his foot beneath his chin and tilted the boy's face to meet his gaze. "This is much better. I'm quite sick of these Noila trappings you wrap yourself in. There is little more disrespectful than my own mage trapessing about in another family's colors. Plus, it only serves as a distraction. It'll be better once we- you- deal with these, receive your punishment, and we can move on from this mess." Varis clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"But before that. I'll admit I can't quite wrap my head around something. Why, after everything you said, would you even do this? Why scorn the House that took you in after Ryner cast you to the wolves? Do you blame me for this situation you’re in? Is that why you're acting out?" Varis demanded.

Aaron struggled to meet Varis’ gaze when his face was lifted, and this time only partially because of his usual aversion to eye contact. Mostly, it was because he was embarrassed; not even so much from the kneeling or the nudity - he was used to that - but from his behaviour. He didn’t have the heart to try to defend himself, tell Varis it was never his intention and he simply wore what was sent to him, nothing. Not only would Varis not believe him, but it wasn’t even true. The truth was, he’d known exactly what he was doing when he put on that suit and strapped on that mask. He was dancing the night away in his nostalgic little bubble, pretending he was back home and everything was fine. Above all, he didn’t just disregard the flagrant disrespect it showed to his new House - he enjoyed it.

“I don’t blame you, Master,” he murmured. At least that much was true - Varis seemed no more the willing participant in this match than he was. If anything, it was him who got the short end of the deal, being given a mage as incompetent and reprehensible as Aaron was learning he was.

For a moment, though, he wasn’t sure how to continue. How could he? Anything he said would only serve to further insult Varis, not to mention expose him to more of those mortal emotions he viewed with such contempt. But Aaron had already spilled so much of his guts under Varis’ thrall, was it worth keeping the rest of it a secret now? Wouldn’t it be better to get it all out of his system, take whatever punishment resulted and finally move on?

“Mortal attachments are illogical, Master,” he finally continued, opting to just come out with it. “Serving the royal family is all I’ve ever known or wanted, I’ve broken a centuries-long legacy, and… I suppose I’m still struggling to accept it.”

"Interesting. Tell me, how do you feel about this?" Varis unfurled the earring and dangled it in front of the mage. "Be honest. I don't have the patience to take the answers nicely this time."

Aaron watched the earring swing with hard eyes. Be honest, and expect consequences. Bite the bolt and get it over with. It seemed he had the right idea to start with. “It feels like a cattle tag, Master.”

"It feels like a-" Varis stared in silent amazement at the boy. Varis gave him a claim of ownership, not his first pick of course but an effective one nonetheless, and the boy calls it a cattle tag? Once again, the slow building interest in the boy crashed at his utterly ungrateful behavior. The boy should be thanking him that Varis bothered to show interest in him at all! Varis wasn't the one tossed out from his home, Varis wasn't the one kneeling in front of another, Varis wasn't the one being used as a pawn in some twisted game! Varis closed his eyes and swallowed back the bubbling anger. Mostly.

"A cattle tag. I give you a gift and you treat it like a common piece of garbage. How predictable.” Varis scoffed, returning the earring to his lap. “I never realized the Starags were such an ungrateful bloodline. I assumed yours above such things but clearly I was wrong. Just another thing on the list of things to correct I suppose. And I thought it was finally getting shorter.” Varis sighed and tapped the toe of his shoe against Aaron’s chin thoughtfully. If the boy didn’t care for it, then perhaps he’d indulge him. Considering the offence, a bolder statement would probably be better anyways as much as Varis disliked the thought. But this mage was as dense as they came and seeing that in the mirror would be much more reinforcing than an earring.

“After some consideration, perhaps you’re right. Perhaps this mark is treating you too much like livestock.” Varis voiced his thoughts out loud. “Something more personal would be suiting. Would you like to be treated like a pet instead? I’m sure any number of craftsmen would love to be the first to design a collar for a Starag’s neck. I’d even pay to have it prioritized and sent to you at home. That would clear up any misunderstandings quickly enough. We can't have my mage wearing refuse, now can we."

Varis had a talent for tearing people down, and it seemed to Aaron that no matter how often he thought he’d hit the bottom, there was always a little bit further to fall. Aaron shook his head as best he could against Varis’ shoe, doing his best to contain his disgust at the idea of a collar.

“No, Master, that won’t be necessary,” he insisted, defeated. “Forgive me for not recognizing your generosity. I’ve never been given this type of gift before.”

“Good. I don’t think I could handle seeing a mage of mine in something as hideous as that.” Varis didn’t bother hiding his contempt for collars as he held out the earring for Aaron to take. “Put this back on. As for forgiveness, that will be much more difficult to earn. This is the third time you’ve slapped me in the face in less than a night and your punishment will need to reflect that appropriately. The first step is easy enough at least. I don’t think you’ll figure out a way to mess it up.” Varis waved at the clothes on the bed.

“For now, get dressed. What I’ve laid out is what you’re permitted to wear until you’ve returned to the Noila castle. As plain as it is, it’ll do you some good to take away one of your defensive layers for a while.” Varis stood, his foot leaving Aaron’s chin, and he gave the boy an appraising look. He needed to make sure he had the boy’s measurements before he left. Varis couldn’t have him wandering the school like this forever so he’d need to bring an entire wardrobe back with him. Probably a tailor too for quick fittings. “After that, I want everything on the floor folded and brought into the living room. I have your publicity stunt last night to handle so hurry up.” Varis left Aaron in his room, settling out on the couch with his laptop. He had all his work from yesterday to catch up on and this disaster to avert so he sighed and set out typing emails to whoever he thought useful though he paused over Ryner’s contact information. He’d hold off on that one. Aaron would probably enjoy adding his input to that correspondence.

That Varis seemed as uninterested in a collar as Aaron was was as a small comfort, though of course, it didn’t linger long. Aaron knew quite well by now that forgiveness was a difficult thing to come by in this household, and this latest and most severe of transgressions was certain to prove one of the most difficult yet to erase. He put his earring back on when told, quite practiced by now at securing it, but his jaw nearly dropped when he finally got a good look at what Varis had left for him to wear. This was hardly even half of a complete outfit! He was smart enough not to hesitate, but there was still plenty of time for the horror to dawn on him as he dressed. An undershirt? That was all? He realized Varis seemed to be purging his entire wardrobe, but surely it would reflect poorly on him to have his mage walking around half-dressed, wouldn’t it?

Varis left, and Aaron stole a precious second when he had his clothes on and the others folded to look into his full-length mirror. In just an undershirt and slacks, arms and shoulders hanging out like some hillbilly in a movie, he felt even more exposed and underdressed than he did when he was naked. The shirt almost felt see-through, though he didn’t think it actually was. Rubbing his bicep absently, he was marginally comforted by the fact that there were no classes to attend between now and when he went home, though that’s when he realized the worst part of all; he’d have to show up at the castle dressed like a homeless madman. But there was no time to dwell on that while Varis was waiting, and Aaron didn’t tarry long, moving promptly to the living room to deposit the folded clothes and take his place once more at Varis’ feet.

Varis finished replying to an email about a disagreement between a Duke and Duchess under his purview then opened a blank email for Ryner. Or at least her pet mage considering the Princess could barely use a flip phone. "Now before we move onto the next step, I have to notify a few people that may also be affected by this development and since you grew up groomed for service to the royal family, I thought I'd use your expertise. How would you tell the Princess about your involvement in this incident?" As he spoke, a sense of dread washed over him as he realized he'll soon be in a similar position as the boy. Chances were she already heard and was just waiting to see how faithful he'd be. But that was a task for later, once the boy was away.

How would he tell the Princess? Aaron wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He’d already told Varis that Princess Ryner had seen him last night; she was perfectly aware of the situation, and (he realized, a little late and a lot uncomfortably) also doubtlessly aware of the consequences, given her familiarity with Varis. Although, now that he thought about it, Ryner probably wasn’t the object of Varis’ attention at all. Certainly he knew her skill - or lack thereof - with electronics, and knew that all of her emails went through one of her mages before being transcribed for her to read. Un prior years, that duty fell to her personal mage, Aaron’s mother; but now, with her declining health keeping her at the castle and working remotely, one of Ryner’s other mages had taken over that part of the job while the Academy was in session. Aaron had to bite back a proud little smirk; had Varis just missed the mark?

That must have been it! This was just another humiliation tactic. The email wasn’t for Ryner’s benefit, but for the mage transcribing it; he clearly thought it would be Aaron’s mother - which would have achieved his goal quite disastrously, no doubt - but he hadn’t paid enough attention in recent years to know that job had been passed to a mage Aaron barely knew. Ha! Even in the face of the disaster he’d wrapped himself up in, that one little detail changed his mood more than he ever would have expected.

Doing his best to contain his satisfaction at finally being on the… well, not the winning side of one of these little punishments, but at least not too far on the losing side either, Aaron shook his head, tucking his tiny victory away for later. He had an idea of how he might turn things around, even just a little bit. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Master,” he replied evenly, though a bit more confident than before. “Her Highness is already aware of my disgrace, and besides, I have it on good authority that she might have her hands full with other matters for the time being.”

Varis narrowed his eyes at the boy as he considered the question. Varis would give him credit - the boy kept his reactions well in line but Varis made it a point to observe his mages while outside of his direct attention and he quickly realized he'd made a mistake. Varis made a note to look into Ryner's staff. As far as he was aware, Ryner should be relying on one of the boy's relatives to keep track of her emails but the brat barely seemed phased. His response lacked the typical pause when he was forced to consider duty versus pride. Varis put the laptop aside, crossed his legs, and rested a hand on his knee and another on the back of the couch. It seems the boy won that round.

Disgusting as it was, Varis felt, dare he say it, excited. Not only did he play his victory off with a quiet confidence, just a bit more training and he could erase even that, he twisted the conversation away from a track that Varis would have likely picked at until the boy bled. It was the faintest twitch, one Varis wasn't even aware of, but an involuntary smile at the corners of his mouth appeared and vanished before his unimpressed expression radiated disappointment once again.

"Of course she has her hands full with other matters. Ryner is one of the primary diplomatic administrators of the entire government and thus, the world. If she didn't have her fingers in twenty different operations, I would walk into the sunlight from the shock. She calls me a workaholic but I've watched her resist sleeping for two weeks and not suffer an iota of fatigue." Varis said dryly but he gestured for the mage to continue anyways. "However, I will indulge this obtuse attempt to redirect the conversation. Go on. We'll discuss how you'll dispose of these offending articles after you spit whatever important information you have to offer."

“There was a murder on campus last night,” Aaron wasted no time. “I spent my morning after curfew apprising myself of the details. Mr. Spellman and Mr. Alderman discovered the body, followed by Mr. Samael. It was drained of all blood from a vampire attack. Apparently the scene was gruesome, though Mr. Spellman was adamant that the wound on the victim’s neck had to have been made by a vampire in their right mind.”

Aaron inwardly cringed at the thought. “The three of them were taken by campus guard to Princess Ryner’s office, apparently to avoid interrogation by Princess Nox, though they claim Her Highness was impersonated by a mind mage. After the illusion was broken, all three went back to Mr. Samael’s dorm, where Salem summoned me to hear the details.”

Varis considered the information. A murder on Ryner’s personal property? Whoever took on that task was clearly an idiot or suicidal with a thirst for vengeance. At least if it was the latter, Varis could respect the decision especially since they were clearly competent. What a waste of potential. With Nox personally on the case, he had little doubt that vampire would be staked for the sun sooner rather than later. Despite their estrangement, this was a clear attack on Ryner and, by extension, the Noila family and Nox was nothing if not protective of their status. Too bad he wouldn’t have an opportunity to invite the vampire to dinner.

“That is interesting. A murder in Noila territory. And then she hid the three prime suspects from her sister’s investigation?” Varis clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “She must have had suspicions about the real culprit and went out to handle the situation herself. How disappointing. I haven’t seen her get into a physical altercation before. I would have loved to see that.” He was more than a little curious why Eris hadn’t immediately contacted him. He doubted the vampire was pleased at having the wool pulled over his eyes with Ryner’s little trick and that sort of thing wasn’t a minor slight.

“If it were any other vampire, I would almost believe the murder was staged. A shocking death is a good way to distract from something. Perhaps I should have one of my contacts look into that anyway.” Varis nodded, making a mental note to set it up when he returned home. And then a wicked little light bulb went on above his head. Ryner handed him a little mole on a plate. “Of course, you’ll tell me everything you hear while at the castle and you’ll make sure to keep a keener ear than you used to. You’re a Sinnenodel mage now, after all, isn’t that right?”

Any lingering satisfaction from his tiny victory fled from Aaron as Varis held his position over him, a ball of discomfort taking its place. Impressed or not, Aaron was painfully reminded of his place, and Varis certainly knew how to twist a knife. A storm of indecision whirled in his head, duty to his new Count - assigned to him by Ryner, no less - conflicting with his lingering loyalty to the Noilas. Secrets and rumours flew around like flies back at the castle, and not even the unspoken ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy that governed the servants could inoculate him to them completely. And now he was asked to go looking for them; who knew what he’d find?

Of course, Aaron reminded himself, it was that lingering loyalty that got him into this mess. Like it or not, Varis was right; he was a Sinnenodel mage now, and he needed to come to terms with that sooner rather than later. Easier said than done. But maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Surely someone at the castle must have anticipated this; it couldn’t come as a surprise that he’d become a Sinnenodel earpiece. Really, with that in mind, it was remarkable that he was being welcomed back at all.

“Yes, Master,” Aaron conceded, defeated. His earring hung heavy from his ear. “I will keep you abreast of the situation.”

“Good. Though I doubt you’ll find anything useful, it won’t hurt to give you a task over the break. No need to see your mind stagnating with the Spellman boy around.” Varis said, dismissing the matter as soon as it was resolved and moving forward. “Was there more information you had to offer or should we continue on with how you’ll make up for your blatant disregard of your new position?”

“Just one more thing, Master. The reason for my lateness, in fact.” Aaron spoke expediently, anxious to get on to whatever demoralizing punishment Varis had in mind so he could get it done and over with. “I mentioned earlier that House Eve has a new representative at the Academy. His name is Count Benjamin; I’ve heard of him a few times before, he's a prominent mage rights advocate, certainly a black sheep of his branch. He took quite an interest in me, though he seemed a little unsure about Ms. Dionne. But that's not the interesting part.”

Aaron shifted on his knees as the other mystery from the night before resurfaced. “When we were talking, Princess Ryner let skip that Countess Mariette’s absence is due to a death in her family. But I've heard of no such death, so it's either very recent or very well covered up.” His eyes flicked up, just for a moment. “Does any of that sound familiar to you, Master?”

Varis frowned at the phrase “mage rights activist”. First a Marivaldi and now a tolerant Eve. As if he didn’t have his hands full handling his Lady’s business in the family as it was. He needed to figure out who he was as quickly as possible but as much as he hated to admit it, it wasn’t a priority. Dracul’s “death” was a matter of urgency and at this point, Varis wasn’t sure if he had the resources to handle another point of interest. Throwing in some family death on the previous Eve’s part, which Varis was willing to bet a walk in the sun Ryner made up some excuse on the fly, and Varis was going to lose his goddamned mind if she didn’t settle the fuck down this instant. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Frankly, I’m surprised the Eves still have anyone left at the rate they’re dropping.” Varis grumbled. He was concerned that so many mage tolerant vampires were in close proximity to the boy. If even one of them reached out and with the intent of offering succor without Varis knowing, doing his job would become ten times harder. He didn’t want to cultivate any relationships with the plebeians but he may have to assemble a little coetere to keep him in check when Varis wasn’t around. Damn bleeding hearts. At this rate, he was going to stake the damn Princess himself.

“If Ryner let her leave to a death in the family, I’m inclined to believe it. It’ll be something to look into later.” Varis said, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. “Though I doubt your precious Princess would appreciate your speculation. A Starag questioning a Noila, I never thought I’d see the day. I’m glad to see you taking your lessons well.” Varis chuckled at the thought.

“As for this Count Benjamin, we’ll see his colors soon enough. It’ll be interesting to see why she chose this one. He clearly has political clout, as poorly directed as his efforts are, but not enough for me to know him. I wouldn’t doubt if Ryner was grooming him into a puppet for later. She is in a unique position to cultivate favors and helping someone rise in their family significantly would put that vampire on a leash for a century or two.” Varis mused and shrugged. “Something to consider later. For now, it’s time we moved onto dealing with your transgressions. Since you performed well enough in your duties as a Sinnenodel mage, I’ll forgive your tardiness. Do not do it again.” Varis said as he leaned forward, catching Aaron’s chin and turning his gaze to the pile of clothes.

“But that transgression I cannot forgive. Your naivety put my reputation at risk and there must be consequences for that.” Varis shook his head in disappointment. “I think it only fitting that it be symbolic of your departure from the House. I want every scrap of fabric from your closet burned to ash. You’ll watch every ember wink out and then you’ll burn anything that survived. That awful outfit from last night will be the last thing on the pyre.” Varis let him go, gesturing to the mask.

“That, however, we’ll deal with now. I think it’s the perfect way to affirm your dedication to your new House. Pick it up, admire it if you want. It is an exquisite piece of work. Think of who sent it to you, what it means that the Noila house cared enough to send it to you, that your family cared enough to send it to you.” Varis said. “And then, I want you to break it right here. Into as many pieces as you can possibly manage and I want you to remember they let you go. Kicked you out from where you were supposed to be without warning into a strange and confusing world without so much as a peep. I want you to remember that despite your many failures, I took you in, I gave you a place,” Varis gently touched the earring, keeping his voice soft and low, empathetic. “I’ve given you direction and a purpose. And despite this slap in the face, I fully intend to continue to do so. One mistake isn’t the end of the world, no matter how great the stumble, but I need your dedication to this. Can you do that for me? For us?”

Varis’ point about questioning the Noilas caught Aaron off guard; how strange, he hadn’t even considered it. Varis was right, it wasn’t like him to question things like that. He figured he was only questioning the source of the information, but he had a point; speculation like that would never fly at home, where everything was governed by a strict unspoken policy of “don’t ask, don’t tell”. Up until this point, Aaron thought he’d been barely stumbling through Varis’ roundabout ‘lessons’ and only (poorly) acting the part, but now had to wonder… was all the espionage actually changing the way he thought?

While he was on the back foot, wondering if the Sinnenodel methods really had begun getting into his head, Varis explained his punishment and just about bowled him over completely. So he was to purge himself of all his Noila-given belongings? Well, he supposed that was almost all of his belongings, but his clothes made up the bulk of them, every article made to measure to exacting Noilan standards and lovingly taken care of. Aaron’s gut twisted at the idea. Destroying all he’d been given felt like treachery, like a slap to the face of the family who gave him so much throughout his life, the family he owed everything to.

The family, as he was painfully reminded by Varis’ next instructions, he thought he’d spend his life trying to repay.

He followed Varis’ gesture, eyes falling to the mask. It really was a beautiful piece of work, glossy black enamel and feathers laden with gold. Regal, elegant, opulent; the very pinnacle of Noilan perfection. Even the crack in the beak only added to its beauty, broken just enough to make it shine. That was how he’d always imagined his upbringing under the Noilas, come to think of it. Like every swing of a switch over a mistake or an insult was a stroke of a sculptor’s hammer, each one expertly molding him a little bit closer to form. The pain was temporary, and he always came out the other side better than he started. Over time, as the corrections grew less and less frequent, he’d thought it was because he was nearing perfection. Lately, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was because he was beyond repair.

Maybe he’d gotten lost somewhere along the way, gone by the wayside and fallen short of expectations. Maybe they thought he wasn’t worth the effort of rebuilding, or that he couldn’t fill the sizable footsteps left by his ancestors. Maybe they thought he’d make a better diplomatic tool than an attendant, and figured they could kill two birds with one stone by giving him up. Whatever the reason, Varis was right; they’d thrown him away. But what hurt the most, what kept him up during the day, was that he didn’t know why.

Aaron froze when Varis touched his earring. He sat stone-still, heart pounding like an animal in a predator’s sights, Varis’ soft tone of voice sending a shiver down his spine as he listened. But what hurt and shocked him was that everything Varis said was true. Aaron was embarrassed to admit it, but something in him welcomed Varis’ reassurance and reached out for it, pining for the sort of stability he described. The Count’s methods were torturous, but were they so different from what he was used to? Methodology aside, they seemed to be working. Was it so absurd to think he might fit the Sinnenodel mold better than he fit the Noilas?

The very thought twisted Aaron’s heart in his chest, like he was betraying every Starag who came before him even just entertaining the idea. But what else could he do? Like every other, the choice had been made for him. His place wasn’t with the Noilas - not according to them. They thought fit to uproot him and turn everything upside-down, jettison him off into a world that - just as Varis said - he didn’t understand. That they’d never prepared him for. But worst of all, they took away his chance to carry on his family’s legacy. His whole life’s purpose, as far as he’d been concerned. Without it, he was aimless. He was nobody.

Aaron picked up the mask, resolve flaring in his chest, though he nearly faltered as he cradled it in his lap, admiring the details and running his fingers over the feathers. His mother meant well in sending it, but looking at it now, it almost seemed a mockery, a feeble glimpse at what he could never be. Sure, he could parade himself naively around in Noilan colours for a night, but at the end of it he’d still have to take them off again, wouldn’t he? Take off his face and name while he was at it and turn back into the unrecognizable thing he was now.

But who said he had to stay that way?

Shocking himself, Aaron suddenly snapped the mask in half, and in half again, and again and again with a vigour he didn’t even know he had. Each snap incensed him further, every hour spent tossing and turning and agonizing burning their way to the surface as he worked. By the time he was done, the mask lay littered on the floor at Varis’ feet like confetti, an unrecognizable pile of rubble and feathers. His eyes stung, and a painful lump formed in his throat, but he remained resolute.

“I can try,” he finally answered, voice betraying a conviction he still didn’t quite understand.

Varis watched as Aaron shattered the mask at his feet. Frankly after all Ryner has put him through so far, it was nice to watch her little pet destroy her family’s image so energetically. Cathartic. He felt something in him ease, a worry he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he smiled. At least something of his plan was going well. The boy clearly thrived on a supportive relationship with his vampire and Varis would definitely exploit that as a plan B. He of all vampires knew not to trust anyone and Ryner screamed caution. Varis brushed his hand down the side of the boy’s face and guided his gaze to meet with Varis. He knew his eyes would be quite clear considering how pleasant the sight of a Starag destroying Noila property was.

“I believe you’ll do much better than try.” Varis kept his voice soft, his tone light, before releasing the boy and resuming his typical briskness. He waved at the mess. “Now, discard this and handle your punishment. Once you’ve done that, meet me in the study. We have plenty of work to do this evening.”

“Would you keep an eye on Salem for a little while?”

Hamish looked up with surprise at Aaron, who was dressed in his riding clothes and cradling a cloth-wrapped wooden box under one arm. He perched a hand on his hip. “Sure, no problem. Where are you going?”

Aaron shrugged, subtly gesturing to the box. “I’m going for a ride in the woods.”

Suddenly understanding, Hamish gave Aaron a knowing look and a solemn nod, gesturing to the door. “Of course. Leave Mr. Spellman to me.”

Aaron nodded and headed to the stables, saddling up his favourite horse, a cream-coloured mare by the name of Star. At first he took the normal riding path, a leisurely, winding trail around the castle grounds and through the most appealing portions of the surrounding forest. Star knew the way well, and Aaron was able to let her lead the way to a point, allowing himself to relax and drink in the crisp forest air, admiring the wealth of nature the grounds had to offer. Fireflies flickered in the bushes amidst moonlight that filtered down through the trees; a cool, fresh breeze whispered through the pines, and once or twice Aaron heard the soft hooting of owls somewhere in the branches, no doubt watching his horse navigate the path below. It was beautiful and soothing, a welcome respite from the bustle of castle life, but tonight, it wasn’t what Aaron came for.

There was a point in the forest where the path came to a bend, curving away from an area of forest that grew thicker than the rest. There, wild young evergreens pressed in on all sides, a stark contrast to the spacious trunks of ancient pines that made up the rest of the trail. The thicket marked the border of the castle grounds, where the undergrowth was no longer kept at bay and left to crowd together, and any sane rider would know to follow the path, as there was no way to traverse such thick foliage on horseback, or even on foot for that matter.

Of course, every castle had its secrets.

Aaron nudged Star in the direction of the thicket, and she turned without argument, uncharacteristically calm. Most horses would balk at being led into what was essentially a wall of trees, but this one knew better; she and Aaron passed through a spot in the foliage without so much as a scratch, the boughs opening up to accept them and closing seamlessly behind them. Salem might be impressed at the plant magic involved, Aaron mused. Too bad he’d never, ever see it.

The trees opened to a less-trodden path, practically a tunnel of firs until it opened up at the mouth of a small clearing. At the back of said clearing, bathed in moonlight, was Aaron’s destination: A small, cubic structure of shining white marble, that had no earthly reason to be there.

Leaving Star to graze in the clearing, Aaron made his way toward the structure with his box, pushing in through a heavy inset door and shoving it closed behind him. Inside, the only light came from a tiny skylight in the ceiling, admitting only a sliver of moonlight, but it was enough for Aaron. Two walls held sconces bearing unlit torches; placing the box he’d brought on a stone bench in the centre of the room, he fished a book of matches out of his pocket and lit them, bathing the room in a warm, yellow glow.

The chamber was constructed entirely out of pristine white marble, square in shape and relatively unadorned, contrary to just about everything else on castle grounds. Along the back wall, though, was the exception: facing the doorway stood an exquisite, life-sized statue of Landar Starag, standing tall at a height of 6’4” and dressed in full Noilan livery. In one outstretched hand, he held a polished censer, and in the other, a carving of a scroll. Behind him on the wall was a hulking tablet of black marble, contrasting the surrounding white, and written upon it in gold script were Landar’s name, his dates of birth and death, and the names of the vampires he served: King Geoffrey Noila and Queen Anastasia Noila. His was the only statue in the room, but the other walls held similar tablets, bearing the names and information of Landar’s wife and children. Aaron knew that behind each tablet, the ashes of each of them were interred in an urn inside the wall, in keeping with an ancient burial ritual Landar had requested for himself and his family before his death. Generously, the Noilas had kept up the tradition with his family ever since, despite the usual vampiric abhorrence of death; thus, this very mausoleum was born.

Slowly and silently, Aaron unwrapped the cloth from the box he'd brought and used it to carefully dust the statue. It was already spotless - someone had been here recently - but that was irrelevant. It was the process that was important, and Aaron worked meticulously, reverently, like he was carefully carrying out some delicate ritual. Which, in a way, he supposed he was. This was what was done out here, a tradition that dated back to when Landar and his family had first been laid to rest.

When he was finished, he set aside the cloth and turned to the box itself, a small oak rectangle set delicately on the mausoleum bench. Opening it revealed a number of small cones of incense set into a bed of felt, and predictably, one of them was missing. He set a cone into Landar’s censer and lit it with a match; his mother always lit it with her magic when she came here, and Aaron remembered looking forward to a day he'd be able to do the same after he Awakened. The memory brought a faint smile to his face as he extinguished the match, depositing it in a small compartment in the incense box to be disposed of later. Things hadn't worked out quite in his favour in that regard, but he had learned to love his affinity even if it meant having to light incense with matches.

And of everything that hadn't worked out as he'd planned, that was the least of his worries.

After a moment, fragrant smoke curled delicately up through the holes of the censer, drifting dreamily through the still air of the mausoleum and encircling the statue of Landar like a protective companion. Aaron breathed deep the warm, familiar scent and finally bowed to the statue, his little ritual complete.

Sitting on the bench before the statue, he looked up at it for a long time, following the tendrils of smoke that surrounded it and the folds of his clothes, all the way up to his grandfather’s stoic expression, eyes fixed on the door rather than whichever of his descendants had come to sit before him.

It always had a way of making him feel small.

Maybe it was because it really did stand three inches taller than him, or because he’d been staring wide-eyed up at it ever since he was little, but sitting in front of it, Aaron always felt… insufficient.

He remembered how, as a child, that stern expression would always make him stand a little straighter, more effective even than those looks from his teachers. It still had that effect on him now, the man he’d become posturing up a little taller. All through his life it had been a habit; even on his saddest and most frustrating nights, nights when he was convinced he’d never do anything worthwhile and wanted to throw it all away, when none of his teachers, his family or even the Noilas could motivate him, the look in his grandfather’s eye always brought him back down to earth, grounding him and reminding him of his place. That storming out wasn’t an option. It wasn’t the Starag way.

A little smirk tugged at Aaron’s lip. The number of times he’d run to this place in a fit of rage or worry was larger than he cared to remember, but it had always done wonders for him. The place was calm; the air was cool, the crypt was quiet. There was a weight to the room, like history itself was pressing down on him, that always managed to calm him when no one else could. When last he'd come out here just hours before his awakening, that weight had stilled the fearful trembling in his hands; when he'd come back out after discovering he really was a mage, that same weight grounded him out of his fit of giddiness and brought him back to quiet dignity. No matter what, this place could always soothe him, bathing him in torchlight and silence and the watchful company of his ancestors.

“A lot has changed since then,” he murmured out loud, shaking his head.

He sat in silence for a moment, contemplating saying something more, but he could hardly get his thoughts straight. So much had happened, and there was so much he wanted to say he didn't know where to start. Eventually, he decided to think on it; there was something else he needed to do here anyway.

He ran a hand along the smooth marble of Landar’s arm on his way to the corner of the room, taking a torch from the wall before kneeling before one of the large marble tiles that made up the floor. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hand flat in the middle of it, closing his eyes. After a second, the tile shuddered in place and began to rise, grinding up out of place until Aaron could catch the edge and pry it up by hand. Beneath it was a tunnel with a ladder, leading down into murky darkness.

Torch in hand, Aaron took the ladder down to a lower chamber, lighting another torch in a sconce at the bottom. This chamber was a mirror of the one above, but larger; tall marble pillars supported the ceiling and the walls were lined with black tablets as before, ancient stone urns bearing the ashes of his ancestors settled neatly before them. Where Landar’s statue should have stood, though, there was a different one; a 6’1” red marble likeness of Geoffrey Noila, with the Noila and Starag crests carved neatly into his hands. The people buried here were almost as ancient as Landar himself, his closest descendants, and there were more levels below, the graves in them getting more and more recent as they neared the bottom.

There were only a few graves on the bottom level that contained people Aaron had ever met, but that didn’t matter. Making his way slowly down through the crypt, he could practically feel his ancestors there, as absurd as the concept might be; it was like he walked among them, countless generations watching as he passed. Some nights that presence felt intimidating, like each urn he passed was judging whether he was worthy to count himself among them; other nights, it was reassuring to think that his ancestors were watching over him.

Most of them had died long before his time, but Aaron knew their names as well as any of his living relatives, and their stories, passed down as bedtime stories from generation to generation, were as familiar to him as his own memories. Even after all this time, it was still hard to shake a feeling of wonder as he walked among the tombs; to him, the Starags of eld were all characters in a grand epic stretching back to the formation of the Treaty, heroes and warriors and loyal servants alike.

Aaron always wondered what part he would play.

Reaching the bottom, he finally found a few graves of people he could remember in his own mind’s eye. There were only two he really knew, though. One was Basil Starag, his great-grandfather who had died when he was quite young; Aaron’s only memory of him was of a very old man with sparkling eyes and a wide smile, lifting him high above his head as a toddler. The next Aaron was much more familiar with: Clytemnestra Starag, his grandmother, who had passed at the beginning of the year. She was nothing like her father; Aaron had largely avoided her once he was old enough to manage it, and she seemed perfectly fine with that. Most of his memories of her were of a cold, harsh stare or a dismissive comment to encourage him to leave her alone. A quiet joke among her daughters was that she was every bit an ice mage, though they always marveled at how the Queen could tolerate having her for an attendant. Clara always joked that her blood must have tasted of piss and vinegar.

A flash of cold resentment surfaced in Aaron, followed promptly by a wave of guilt. But he couldn’t help it; the woman was a bitch, and as terrible as it was, no one was particularly devastated when she died. She would have hated being buried here, too, having shown nothing but contempt for their family’s traditions throughout her life - one of many ungrateful tendencies of hers. And yet, despite her cruel demeanour and muted distaste for… well, everything, she’d been a mage to Queen Anastasia herself for over sixty years.

Aaron could see his reflection in the tablet marking her tomb, and saw his eyes go cold. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been happy she was dead. At long last, he’d thought, an attendant’s position had opened for him to finally take, and for the Queen no less. He’d always thought that Queen Anastasia would have welcomed a happier, more vibrant attendant after decades of chilly indifference from his grandmother, that maybe even if he needed just a little more polishing before he was ready, there would finally be a spot for him at Her Majesty’s side.

Clearly he’d been wrong.

He tore his gaze away from his grandmother’s tomb, forcing himself to walk away before he got more heated. Past her grave were a few more, as yet unfinished: empty tablets lined the walls past Clytemnestra’s grave, along with a few that bore inscriptions, but were incomplete. Aaron went straight to the end of the line, past the tablets bearing the names of his mother and his two aunts, to the last one with a name on it. His.

Every tablet in the crypt was pristine, but his was clearly newer than the rest, having been inscribed and installed only about three years prior. As per tradition, it was put in shortly after his Awakening and inscribed with his name and birth date, the death date and name of his master left blank. He’d been there when it was installed, as a part of the regular ceremony for a Starag’s awakening. He remembered being elated; after so much time spent fretting and worrying about not being a mage and losing the only home he ever knew, he had finally been given reassurance that no matter what, no matter what happened or how difficult things got, he would always have a place here, immortalized in history alongside his ancestors.

A painful lump jabbed at his throat at the sight of it now, something in his chest twisting. Could any of that be relied upon now? Sure, his stone was still here, but he’d learned that it wasn’t the anchor he’d thought it would be. Clearly it had done nothing to cement his place with the Noilas, so who was to say he wouldn’t be tossed into the soil to rot when he died like any other common human rather than cremated and interred here like he was meant to be? He doubted Varis would go to any length to accommodate him after death - would one of the Noilas take care of him in his stead?

Would anyone even care?

The very thought made Aaron sick, and he fled from the chamber as quickly as he could without making too much noise, extinguishing the torches and hauling himself up the ladder. He shoved the floor tile back in place as if some monster from below was coming up after him, and stayed on his knees in the corner for a second, trying to catch his breath.

“Give me strength…” he strained out, choked by a sob threatening to escape.

“How ashamed you must be,” he whispered, hauling himself up shamefully to sit on the bench before his grandfather, head bowed. “I failed them. I failed you.”

The muted tension he’d been feeling since he arrived came out in full force, and Aaron finally let the tears fall, gripping the edge of the bench. “I don’t know how, or why, but I failed.” His body shook with a shuddering breath. “I failed and they threw me away to the snakes!”

Aaron gulped for breath, trying his damndest to shut himself up and stem the flow of nonsense he was spewing. It took a few solid minutes of sobbing to finally calm down, weeks of frustration and uncertainty and pain finally working their way out.

Finally, after a long while, Aaron coughed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “What a fool you must think I am,” he told the statue, voice gravelly. He looked up at his grandfather, tall and stalwart, and felt small. “Here I am sobbing about my own shortcomings in front of you. How pathetic.”

He shook his head angrily, resentful of his own weakness. He could practically feel Landar judging him, and rightfully so. Who on earth was he to whine about his lot in life in front of him? The man had sacrificed his freedom, his children’s freedom, that of every mage for a cause greater than himself, he’d bent the knee to people he hated for the greater good, and what, Aaron expected him to feel sorry for some poor excuse for a grandson who was unhappy with his new master?

“You’re right,” he agreed, clenching his jaw. He was acting like a petulant child. So what if he didn’t serve the Noilas? So what if he wouldn’t be buried with his kin? None of this was about him, it was about millions of humans who were safe because of his sacrifices, and the thousands of mages who made that same sacrifice every day for the same greater good his grandfather had fought for. His own selfishness blinded him to that fact, but as always, a little trip to see his grandfather made it abundantly clear.

“Thank you.” He stood up in front of the statue, briefly remembering all the times as a teenager he’d measured himself up against it, and steeled his gaze, following Landar’s toward the door. Looking toward the future, as his mother always told him.

What he had to do was get a grip and do the same.

“Welcome back to Spell Theory 101. I assume you’ve taken this break to reflect on the importance of your schooling and returned refreshed and eager to learn. As I said before our last class, we start applying the theories we’ve reviewed thus far in our first arcane spell: Dark Eyes.” Professor Hayes spoke in the same monotone drawl as he looked over the class. The bags under his eyes deepened over the break, the lines in his frown harsher than before, and his shoulders displayed a weariness he hadn’t shown previously. “Named after its visible physical alteration upon a successful casting, the Dark Eyes spell is a critical tool for any mage dedicated to the service of a vampire. The basic spell grants a mage a temporary heightened sense. Like how a light mage’s eyes naturally adjust to even the poorest light conditions, there still must be some light present. As your mastery over the spell grows, you’ll have the opportunity to learn its modifiers to enhance and alter the spell’s nature. That will come in time and with the appropriate specialization.” Hayes pulled a wand out from his robe and, with a flick of his wrist towards the computer, it flickered to life as did the projector. The screens behind him dropped down and displayed a brief review of some of the topics covered over the past month.

“Before we continue on, we will freshen your memories of a few details we covered before the break. Arcane magic is a form of magic that is separated from the elemental aspect. The incantations and mental exercises that allow us to cast in such a fashion serve to strip the rigidity of our elemental nature and allow us full flexibility with our magic.” He slid his wand back into his robes and looked over the students. “Mages with primary affinities tend to struggle with this. Primary affinities are instinctively intune with their affinity whereas secondary and tertiaries are a step more removed, thus allowing them to separate themselves from their affinity with much more ease.” Hayes took a sip of his water before continuing.

“Now, we left off before the break discussing the different types of arcane magic. In arcane magic, there are two types of spells: Static and Continuous. Static spells are cast and take hold, no longer taxing a mage’s magical reserves. The Lance spell spell, for example, conjurers a bolt of arcane energy that moves straight out from the mage’s front. This bolt, once created, requires no further effort to expend its effect. On the other hand, continuous spells tax a mage’s magical stamina and require active concentration for its effect to persist. Dark Eyes is one such spell. Although the incantation much only be said once, the mental pattern must be held to maintain the effect.” As he spoke, his wand came out again and he flicked at the computer, changing the slides as he discussed each type. It flicked forward one more, a depiction of the Lance spell under both continuous and static. The Static header showed a mage shooting the barely visible bolt while the continuous one showed several of those same bolts suspended in the air around the mage. “Many spells can shift between the two types. In this case, the Lance spell becomes suspended in the air while the mage holds the spell in an attempt to find a more advantageous position. In this situation, the mage must continuously resist the base spell’s effect which takes a toll on the magical reserves. Dark Eyes does not have a developed static form. The last time it was attempted, it melted the eyes of those who developed it."

“Attempting arcane magic requires two components: an Incantation and the Pattern. The Incantation is simple enough, only requiring the appropriate phrase and pronunciation. The Pattern, also known as the Intent, is the mental pattern required to strip away the affinity from your magic. Each spell has a unique pattern that must be kept in your mind and your magic pushed through. Failing to perform either component will cause the spell to fail. An improper incantation won’t result in anything spectacular but a failed pattern will, in more cases than not, cause some form of elemental reaction.” The slide shifted, the four primary elements listed above a series of eyes. Water affinies displayed various amounts of tears, ranging from a slight watering to a complete waterfall. Earth showed dry eyes, the most extreme harsh and cracked. Fire displayed actual smoke from boiling out at the corners and air showed temporary clouding over the eye. “With this spell, none of the effects will harm you and will only last for a few seconds. As you delve into more advanced ones, the consequences of failure become more extreme, so it's always important to properly study your pattern and fix it in your mind before working on the Incantation. You'll have access to a physical reference for the pattern during our exercises that you’ll be able to take to study with outside of class. In the event you lose it, each class sends an updated list of student permissions and will replace it.” The slides shifted and the phrase "Oppolik" and a few other phrases around it.

"Now arcane spells are grouped into sets known as families. These families are spells similar in nature, share the same pattern, and require the same modifiers. The Ward spell, the simplest of protection spells, is a weak shield capable of blocking a single hit or two in order to allow the mage to remove themselves from a bad situation. Its modifiers change the shape and location of the primary shield effect. Watch as I demonstrate. Oppolik." A grey disk the size of a steering wheel materialized in front of Hayes. "Actopplik." The disk doubled in size. "Fleci Actopplik." The disk curved, turning into a partial dome. "Fleci Actopplik Scansis." The shield shifted so it hovered directly above his head before vanishing. "Such is how modifiers work in a family." The slides shifted again, the title displaying Dark Eyes and the imagine of a simple drawn eye with a curled pupil. Beneath it was the phrase “Tiltoure”.

“This is the pattern and incantation for the spell Dark Eyes. Refrain from attempting the spell. We will move into the next room for that. For now, take a moment to consider what you see and fix it in your memory. Are there any questions before we move into the practice portion of the class?" Hayes asked. "I'll discuss the finer details in the next room."

Lilie was entirely unamused by the presentation, a dread hanging over her. Now that the time had actually come for magic, a lot of her previous enthusiasm was balled up in her stomach, making her feel sick. She had gotten to practice a lot of her affinity, but she had known from the very beginning that arcane magic was going to be a struggle. Figures as much, getting a tame affinity with little payoff. She let herself mope a little as she took meticulous notes, often underlining once in a while. She circled the part about primary affinities, her head dropping in defeat for a few seconds before she would take note of the consequences. Ren always said she was a crybaby, so it was kinda funny to see that was the consequence of a failure. But she was a little curious about the difference in static versus constant for a visual spell. Maybe it was because of the constant channeling magic through the eyes? She'd have to put some research into it, scribbling a note to herself as a reminder on the corner of her page.

The shield demonstration was really cool, and she thought she remembered one of Kanalie's friends practicing something like that in the arena. The development of magic and their families grabbed her attention, her hand working like crazy as she continuously scribbled her own thoughts in between the notes given. That Lance spell definitely caught her attention more, though, the thought of slinging thunderbolts at an opponent more tempting than she wanted to admit. Patterns didn't seem too hard, but then again, she had no idea how hard it was actually going to be. Picturing something didn't really sound like a biggie, but she was sure there was probably more to it. She hastily copied the symbol and wrote down the name of the spell followed by the incantation, raising her hand to ask something.

"How do you pronounce that?" Lilie asked.

Hayes stared at her for a moment, pursing his lips. "I'll repeat it in the lab in a moment but I'll say it once. It is pronounced Tihl-toor-ay." Hayes clarified slowly. "No one attempt it yet. A few more questions and then we'll move into the lab."

Admittedly, Aaron struggled to pay attention through the review portion of the lecture; not only had the return of sleepless days and growing stress over choosing an arcane major sucked the energy out of him, but Hayes had a talent for making a very interesting topic sound very… boring. Instead, he took to drawing a series of lazy swoops in the margins of a piece of scrap paper, mind wandering back to his new dream until the bob and weave of Lilie’s cute little puffball pen caught his attention instead.

He did come back to reality when Hayes switched to the topic of the night, sitting a little straighter and watching raptly as the professor showed off a series of shielding spells. Maybe defence would be a good major? If only he could convince himself; unfortunately, recent events made him feel like only one (unappealing) major would suffice.

Aaron grinned to himself when the professor recited the Dark Eyes spell; he knew learning latin as a teenager would come in handy somehow. He waited for Lilie’s question to be answered before holding up his own hand. “I have two questions, if I may,” he asked politely. “First, how does Dark Eyes interact with a light mage’s natural abilities? Is there any indication beyond the spell’s effect that it’s working?”

He glanced at his notes and back to Hayes. “Secondly, can arcane incantations be abbreviated if time is of the essence, or are we tied to lengthy casts?”

“In practice, a light mage gains no benefit from the spell. Their natural ability to adapt to low light environment renders this spell obsolete. There are a few situations in which their instinctive magic is suppressed or otherwise unavailable so it is still a required spell.” Hayes explained. “Our exercises and practicals will include an affinity resistant compound that reacts normally to arcane magic. This ink is known as Viatymbol for the bacteria it is extracted from. Each person will be given a piece of paper with a design written with Viatymbol and expected to use the Dark Eyes spell to determine the symbol. The solution will glow blue on the page.” Hayes looked unamused at the second question.

“You are not to take shortcuts with magic. Ever. Simplifying your incantation risks failing the cast or worse, casting something else entirely.” Hayes said shortly, looking around for anymore questions and when he found none, he continued.

“Now, we’ll move on to the practical exercises. Follow me into the next room.” He exited stage right, a flick of his wand and a door in the wall popped open. He flicked the lights on and revealed a room not unlike their spell mastery class. Tables with two chairs set around them were set in even rows through the dimly lit room. Each table had two pieces of parchment rolled up and a short divider that ran through the two tables. Each piece of parchment had a person’s name written on a small index card in front of them that also had the pattern and spell name on it. Hayes stepped to the end of the room and folded his arms behind his back.

“Find your seats quickly and quietly. For this exercise, each person will alternate between practicing and spotting. Those practicing, keep your pattern fixed firmly in your mind’s eye and visualize your magic flowing through it. Feel free to look at your reference material as necessary and incant firmly and slowly. Eventually, you’ll find the words come more naturally and quickly but for now, control is more important than speed. Your magic may resist at first; this is natural and try to refrain from struggling against it. Like any muscle, your magic may have to build up the strength to withstand the spell.” Hayes waited for people to settle before he continued. “Spotters. Your job will be to look for tells of a successful casting. Black eyes and sudden sensitivity to light are the two mostly easily noticed signs. Once they have, you’ll hold your parchment up for them to read. Once you both have managed to successfully cast the spell consistently, you can verify that your partner was seeing the correct symbol on your parchment. This probably will not happen this class but everyone should be casting successfully within the next few days. Please begin.”

Lilie tried to remember as much as she could, scribbling down notes until the last possible minute before promptly depositing everything into her bag. No abbreviations, pronounce it right, focus. Apparently, this was the time to learn just how behind everyone else she was going to end up. The ball of dread grew, and she ended up taking several long, deep breaths once they transitioned to the next room. She could do this. It was magic. She was born with the ability even though she spent her entire life not knowing she could do it.

Man, she really needed to work on psyching herself up ‘cause she felt worse by the time she sat down.

The one small comfort was sitting next to a familiar face, except that was a complete lie because once the two sat down, the idea of embarrassing herself in front of her best friend dominated her thoughts. Aaron already held her hand through Treaty Law as it was. Was she just destined to suck at everything?

Suddenly feeling very shy, she cleared her throat as she turned to him. “So, um, do you wanna go first?” She asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Aaron followed into the practice room, a little pang of habitual dread as the furniture brought to mind so many tense exchanges with Salem in Affinity Mastery. But tonight, he had much more pleasant company, though he wasn’t blind to the fact that she seemed a little out of her element. At first he thought she might have just been homesick coming off the break, but by the way she spoke when they sat down, maybe it was the magic she was worried about.

He offered her a comforting smile, pretending not to notice her unease. “Sure, I can go first.”

He took a moment before attempting his cast to set out the necessary materials, taking his card in hand and smoothing out the provided parchment on the table. Like Professor Hayes had said, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting immediately, so his vision was clear; the parchment, however, remained blank. At least that would serve to tell him whether he succeeded or not.

He studied the pattern on the card for a moment, picturing what it would feel like to guide his magic along that path. It looked like it should be easy; light didn’t appreciate bending, but all of his affinity practice involved guiding his magic into a circular path for the light to follow. Same concept here, right? He’d been making spirals for weeks, he was practically an expert.

When he closed his eyes and tried to do it, though, Aaron was met with unexpected resistance. His magic had never resisted him before; it had always been malleable and eager to please, its ‘will’ reflecting his own. But guiding his magic through the Dark Eyes symbol felt like herding crows; as soon as he thought he got part of it down, a different section sprang away from him, apparently unwilling to sit still. More than once he felt the familiar urge to draw in light from around him, almost doing it once or twice but managing to resist.

After about a minute of fighting with it, he could feel the effort of wrangling his magic grow taxing. Still, he couldn’t let himself give up without at least one full try, so he got his magic as situated as he could manage and recited, clearly and slowly, “Tiltoure.”

His pronunciation was perfect, but as soon as the word left his mouth Aaron saw a painfully bright flash and his vision clouded with a large, blotchy afterimage. “Oh dear, I’m blind,” he chuckled good-naturedly, eyes open wide as he tried to blink away the splotches. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes were glowing yellow again, like they did when he practiced with his affinity. Still, he had to grin. “I don’t think that worked out.”

Lilie watched Aaron, though after a moment, she realized that nothing was going to happen until he spoke. Maybe he was focusing? Right, focus was a big part of it. She waited until he finally made an attempt, shrinking back a little as she noticed his reaction.

"I think you used your affinity," She told him. "Your eyes glowed."

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I can get my magic to follow patterns just fine for that, but I think it wasn’t too fond of an arcane spell and reverted to old habits.”

He made it seem so easy, but he still failed. Well, the professor said to expect it, so it wasn't that bad to not get it right away. Lilie tried to subtly inspect Aaron, noticing his blinking. She wondered what the rebound did to him. Taking a quick look around, she could hear a few others giving it a go as well, several different kinds of reactions all ending in failure, too.

She turned back to Aaron. "Feel like giving it another go?" She asked.

Looking around rapidly as his vision started to clear, Aaron shook his head again. “I think I’ll let you go next,” he offered. “To be honest, it’s… surprisingly taxing.”

Oh no. Lilie thought she would have more time before trying! She forced a smile and nodded anyway, turning to her own parchment. Slowly unrolling it, she laid it flat on the table, her nerves creeping up on her. Okay, she could do this. This was just a door to a lot of other things, there was no need to worry about it. One step at a time, and she would have control. Nothing bad was going to happen. No one was going to get hurt.

With card in hand, Lilie brought her left index and middle finger together as she traced the pattern physically. At least that part didn't seem hard. Her magic bent easily, mimicking the movements of her fingers and giving her a much needed boost of confidence. Okay, now time to try.

Taking in a breath again, Lilie's face scrunched up in concentration. “Tiltoure.” She probably said it quieter than she should have, but she didn't even get a chance to brace herself as a stinging sensation shot through her eyes. Squeezing her eyes shut, her free hand flew to her face, and to her surprise, she felt several tears flowing down her cheeks. It was even more than when she cried hard! Was this normal? She put down the card on the table as she tried to rub her eyes, the stinging ceasing, but the tears still flowing for a few more seconds.

When she finally looked up and at Aaron, she looked like she had exploded into sobs without any usual redness of puffiness. "Uh--Uh I don't--oww…" She rubbed her eyes again, letting out a tiny whimper.

The tears threw Aaron for a loop, but he reminded himself that it was just a side effect of her affinity. Still, he didn’t like to see Lilie in tears. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket - now sporting the Sinnenodel crest after Varis’ little wardrobe makeover - and offered it to her.

“Just like in the picture,” he commented, trying to keep things light. It was nothing to be ashamed of, after all. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Lilie shook her head, opening and closing her eyes a few times until it went away. Exhaling a long breath, she gratefully took the handkerchief. "It's like cutting an onion," She explained, wiping her cheeks dry and carefully dabbing at the corners of her eyes. "I used to hate dicing a lot of them, they always made me tear up and I'd have to take a small break just so I could see."

Aaron nodded, though admittedly he didn’t have a clue what that felt like. When had he ever had occasion to cut an onion? He knew how to fry eggs, toast toast, and pop popcorn, but that was about it.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the worst,” he lied, feigning understanding. It was simple little moments like these where he really felt the consequences of his sheltered upbringing. “Peppers do that to me too, it’s so annoying.”

Lilie blinked a few times, her mouth slightly opened, but after the moment ended, she burst into a fit of giggles. She quickly covered her mouth as she noticed how loud she was, shaking her head at Aaron. "That's...that's a good one," She admitted as she calmed down, her grin wide. "You're so funny!"

As she calmed herself and looked down at the handkerchief, fingers tracing the stitched symbol. It had a nice silver color to it, different than the other blue one that he had lent her before. Her expression fell slightly as she noticed that it didn't have the Noilan symbol on it, instead it had the Sinnenodel one. It was then that she realized she never did return the blue one, or even the gold one that he had lent her after they had gone to the arena!

"Oh no, did you run out of the other ones?" She asked, feeling guilty as she showed him the symbol.

Aaron forced a laugh as Lilie did, jotting down a mental note that he was probably wrong and that peppers probably didn’t make people cry and eagerly moving right along. He watched her examine his new handkerchief, spinning his ring.

“Oh, no no,” he half-lied; he didn’t exactly run out, but he didn’t exactly have them anymore either. “Master just took the opportunity over break to… update my wardrobe.” Yeah, that was a gentler way of putting it than telling her that Varis made him burn the clothes he came with. Aaron painted on a smile and opened his arms, showing off his new clothes. He’d chosen the most formal outfit he could come up with tonight, a black button-up and slacks, though he knew sooner or later he’d have to ease himself out of his comfort zone and into the more casual clothes Varis insisted he wear. “I’m practically a new man.”

Her lips formed a small 'o' as she looked him up and down. His outfit was darker than she was used to, but it still suited him nicely. It was flattering to his already good figure, and while it completely contrasted his usual colors, she found herself liking it. There was a thought that maybe his count was trying to bring his fashion sense to this century, but she kept that to herself. As she met his eyes, she nodded in approval. "Good thing you're hot enough to look good in anything," She teased, pulling at the collar of her own blouse.

At least Count Sinnenodel got Aaron flattering clothes, she looked like she just came home from one of those stuffy private schools. The black turtleneck covered her from wrist to neck, the brown, billowing skirt easily reaching her ankles. Even the Eve pendant reminded her of one of those rich old ladies who liked to drink wine and gossip. Aaron’s comment on castle attire was something her count decided was a great idea, the outfit making her feel ancient. Oh well.

For now, she brushed it aside as she crossed one leg over the other, her hand fiddling with the silver pendant she had been gifted. Her thumb ran over the rubies as she sighed. "At least thanks to you I talked to the count and I'm getting some stuff that isn't so plain," She told him cheerfully, lightly dabbing at her eyes with her free hand. "I know you probably agree with him, but I really don't want to look like I'm sixty years old. I'm only eighteen!"

Aaron’s ears burned at the compliment, and suddenly he felt much less disdainful of his wardrobe changes. The mention of Lilie and Count Benjamin working things out lifted his spirits further, too; he really didn’t think the Count had cruel intentions at heart, and he was secretly glad that Lilie was coming to terms with dressing appropriately for a mage of her station. Still, he couldn’t help but laugh at her comment.

“If you thought those clothes made you look sixty, you must have thought I was two-hundred!” he joked, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. He realized he was beginning to sound like Varis, going on about how his Noilan clothes were outdated, but this time it didn’t feel as… mean. “I’m happy the two of you could reach a compromise.”

"Only thanks to you," Lilie replied sincerely, her expression dropping a touch as she looked down at the handkerchief. If only her brother could agree. But she didn't want to think about that right now, instead deciding to confess to her crime. "And...I haven't been the best friend to you. I keep stealing your handkerchiefs and never returning them!" She smiled bashfully. "I still have the blue one from Revel and the gold one from when we saw each other at the arena. You're gonna have to start charging me or something for always keeping them!"

Lilie’s gratefulness did nothing to stem the flush in Aaron’s ears, but he allowed himself only a moment to savour it before tucking it away to be reflected upon later. Her admission brought his grin back, and he laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, holding up a hand. “I certainly have no shortage of them.” Not to mention that Varis would have a fit if he caught him with Noila colours again. Besides, there was something… gratifying about knowing Lilie held on to something of his.

"I take it you both have sufficient mastery over the Dark Eyes spell?" Hayes interrupted, looking decidedly unimpressed at the pair's sudden interest in socializing. "And if you haven't, I would request you return your focus to the task at hand. I doubt our audience up above is as interested in your social life as they are your magical progress. Let's see a demonstration, Mr. Starag, and then we'll see how Ms. Dionne is doing."

Lilie jumped in place, clearly not expecting the professor, and she gave him a sheepish look. "I'm sorry, sir, we just needed to recharge a little," She tried to explain. "I wasn't expecting it to backfire so hard."

Aaron was startled too, and a lifetime of teachers with rulers and sticks made him sit a little straighter and speak a little clearer. That, and the reminder that Varis was up somewhere in the stands, judging his every move. “Yes, beg your pardon. We just got a little side-tracked.”

Clearing his throat, Aaron took up his index card again, focusing hard on the symbol. With the pressure on, he found his magic more willing to cooperate, though it still vibrated with excited unrest as he tried to guide it through the pattern. “Tiltoure.”

While this cast was painless and lacking the eye-glowing from before, it still wasn’t successful. Instead, all colour drained from the room, and the parchment on the table remained decidedly blank. “Not quite, but better than before…” Aaron admitted, looking up at a black-and-white Hayes. “My magic seems a little preoccupied, but it’s starting to cooperate.”

Hayes’ expression didn’t change. “All the more reason to continue practicing. Ms. Dionne, if you would.”

The girl sat up immediately when addressed, quickly snatching up the index card. Should she do the same thing and try to get advice? But repeating her mistake would be pretty embarrassing. Her two fingers traced the symbol, giving her a feel for it, but she had no idea what to do differently. Even now, it all felt familiar, but that couldn't be right. Her affinity let her magic flow freely so that wasn't a problem, but it was almost like a really clingy friend that wanted to go with her everywhere. Maybe she could try pushing it away?

Despite knowing it would end in failure, Lilie braced herself this time. She placed the index card down, her fingers drawing the pattern before she uttered, “Tiltoure.” She visibly winced as she squeezed her eyes shut again, using Aaron's handkerchief to try to stop some of the tears coming out.

“Failure is the harbinger of success. Focus and determination are the key to successfully separating your affinity from your magic. Needless social distractions can wait until you’ve exited my classroom.” Hayes said, continuing more quietly. “Next time you need a moment to compose yourself, I suggest you keep the topic of your conversation firmly in this classroom and on the spell at hand. I understand teenagers have a propensity for indecorous conversation but I’m sure you both understand your positions demand a higher degree of composure.”

“Now Ms. Dionne,” Hayes voice raised to normal levels once as he changed the subject, “I take it your second attempt was nearly identical to your first? Would you please walk me through your experience?”

Sheepishly keeping her gaze on the desk whenever she didn’t have tears pouring out, Lilie threw Aaron an apologetic look. She wasn’t used to getting in trouble, but of course Professor Hayes was right. Goodness, she needed to get a hold of herself, she was a good noodle! When he raised his voice, Lilie reluctantly looked up at him.

She put Aaron’s handkerchief down and picked the index card back up, placing her fingers on the pattern. “Um, yeah. But I don’t really know what I’m doing wrong,” She admitted, tracing the path. “I can feel my magic going in the direction I want, but then the spell is just...not working.”

"It seems you're treating this like your affinity mastery class. Your magic shouldn't feel comfortable when you cast it. It should be struggling or feel bland at first." Hayes frowned as he considered it. "Some water students in the past have found visualising the aids as filters rather than traceable patterns helps like when you separate impurities from water. Your magic stays in the pattern while the affinity drains away on the other side."

Lilie stared blankly at Hayes as he spoke. What? Wasn't it the same? Her gaze slowly dropped to the index card as she bit her lip. She figured this is what the textbooks and lessons talked about. Well, she wasn't the first primary student, so obviously this was just something she had to do.

With that in mind, Lilie scrunched up her face in concentration. So all she had to do was what she had been doing, just without her affinity. As the thought crossed her mind, though, she found her magic actively resisting her. Her eyes widened before she narrowed them, focusing on the path, but it was like her affinity was forcibly tagging along. That couldn't be right, could it? Was she doing something wrong?

"It won't let me," She muttered, shoulders tensing as she struggled. "It's like...it's being super clingy!"

"Primary affinities do display an increased resistance to arcane magic. The instinctual connection works against you here. Now that you've found the proper path, you'll just need to continue practicing until your magic doesn't fight you constantly." Hayes confirmed. "Continue practicing and stay on task. Understood?"

Lilie visibly deflated. So this is the primary affinity struggle. She should’ve known it was too easy to go through the pattern. She quietly nodded and offered no response, deciding to focus on the pattern on the index card. Well, they definitely wouldn’t get in trouble for talking now—Lilie did not want to fall behind. She wasn’t going to settle on anything less than perfection, and she wasn’t going to let something stupid like her own dumb water magic stop her.

Aaron was glad that Hayes directed his attention to Lilie, that little reprimand having brought the heat back to his ears once more as he redirected his attention to his index card, doing his best not to look as embarrassed as he felt. It reminded him far too much of the lectures Count Julian used to give him as a teenager when he caught his gaze lingering too long on female staff, hammering in the importance of maintaining a comportement appropriate for his station and keeping his ‘urges’ in check. Aaron suppressed a shudder. No matter how many times he’d heard it - and he’d heard it a lot - it never got any less uncomfortable. Inwardly he slapped himself. Hadn’t he left this childish ogling behind in his teen years?

After using Hayes’ conversation with Lilie to collect himself, Aaron nodded up at the professor. “Understood,” he confirmed quietly. He continued to study his pattern until Hayes had occupied himself at another table.

“I think I’ll give it another try,” he said, taking a deep breath. By now he had the pattern memorized; all that was left was to convince his magic to calmly go through it.

Chastened by Hayes’ reprimand, Aaron closed his eyes and took a more stern approach to his magic this time, ultimately pleased by the result. His magic simmered down considerably, following the path set out for it with relative ease and this time, without tugging so much at the light around it. He could still feel a restlessness, but it was much more subdued, and it felt as if his magic was starting to ‘click’ with the idea of operating sans affinity. “Tiltoure.”

Aaron didn’t feel any backlash this time, but when he opened his eyes, the room looked just as it had before. He was ready to let go of his concentration in disappointment until he glanced to the parchment. To his surprise - and satisfaction - it was no longer blank, instead sporting an ornate drawing of a tree with a wide canopy and outstretched roots.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, glancing rapidly between Lilie and the parchment, “I think I got it!”

Lilie had been so absorbed in trying to make some progress that she jumped at Aaron’s exclamation, eyes wide as she looked at him. As soon as she registered what he said, a mix of excitement and disappointment clashed together. He got it already? She couldn’t even get her magic to cooperate past the first curve!

Catching herself, she lowered the index card to her lap. “That’s great!” She congratulated him, slightly taken aback by his eyes. Shoot, that was actually a little scary! “Ah...you have the eyes and everything, too.” She confirmed, squinting. “Does...does it hurt?” She knew it was a silly question, but goodness, it looked so off.

Aaron glanced excitedly around the room as Lilie spoke, eyeing symbols on parchments from nearby tables happily. At the mention of his eyes, he pulled out his phone and turned on the front-facing camera, wanting to get a look at himself. What he saw—his own face unchanged but for his eyes having turned pitch black—actually startled him.

“Oh, wow,” he breathed, turning his face this way and that with eyes on the screen. Yep, he could definitely see where the spell had gotten its name. It was creepy; he’d seen his eyes fully yellow before from using his affinity, but he’d never seen just the iris change, and certainly not to black. He offhandedly remarked how this was what he would probably look like if he was a vampire and angry, though he pocketed his phone at that discomforting thought.

Looking back up to Lilie, he shook his head. “No, not even a little,” he assured her, offering a smile. “It’s interesting, though,” he continued, “everything looks exactly the same as before, the only difference is the symbol.” He tapped the parchment.

She followed his tapping before slowly looking back at the index card. He got it so fast. Why wouldn’t her magic just listen? Of course, she knew the answer to that, as her fears were ultimately coming true. It was disheartening, but it couldn’t be helped, she supposed.

Narrowing her eyes, she decided to try again. Pulling her magic along felt like trying to swim with someone actively pulling her down. Her affinity just would not let her do anything without it! It was actually starting to get on her nerves, feeling like she was playing tug-of-war with a really strong, immature child. No matter how much she pulled, she felt just as much resistance. Trying not to pull so much gave the same amount of pulling back, so that didn’t help.

Despite her frustration mounting, she made a last ditch attempt at a cast. “Tiltoure--ow!” She winced, nearly doubling over. Oh, that one hurt a lot more than last time. She blinked repeatedly as she rubbed her eyes, letting out a sigh. “I’m not very good at this.” She mumbled.

Lilie’s shout made Aaron lose his concentration, and a soreness like eye strain bloomed behind his eyes as the spell suddenly dropped. Squeezing his eyes shut for a second, the pain was quick to fade, and he turned his attention to Lilie.

“Try not to be discouraged,” he told her gently. “Like the professor said, it’s to be expected. You just need a little time.”

Slowly blinking, Lilie looked at Aaron with one eye while she held the other one closed. Too much pulling and that would happen. That failure hurt, though she wasn’t sure if it was the physical pain or her own ego that was hurt more. She let out a slight huff, slowly nodding as she looked back down and waited for the pain to subside.

“If I take my time, I’m going to fall behind,” She told him as she kept her eyes closed. “I mean, I’m already behind as it is. I just have to try harder.” She insisted.

Aaron shook his head. “You can’t rush this sort of thing,” he patiently insisted, subtly noticing the irony. He’d been the same way when he first Awakened; he could understand the urgency, but it was ultimately for nought.

“My aunt has a primary-presenting affinity and she had trouble with arcane magic too,” he mentioned, hoping an example from a family like his might help Lilie not to feel self-conscious. “It will come, but if you push too hard you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Lilie slowly opened her eyes to look at Aaron, although she averted her gaze for a moment. It was hard to admit it, but she felt like she had something to prove, like she was here for a reason. Not helping matters was the small voice in her head telling her that she needed to keep up with Aaron, and she would be lying if she said there wasn’t a tiny ounce of her that had hoped she would have had the edge here. But that was not the case; once again, he bested her. Oh well.

“Yeah, I’ll try to slow down, that really hurt,” She said, returning to her first exercise and slowly tracing the symbol with her fingers as she pulled her magic along at a slower pace. She paused for a moment as a thought occurred to her, wondering if she should ask, but she didn’t want to get them in trouble. She quickly looked around to make sure Professor Hayes wasn’t close before asking, “If I never catch up...do you think they’ll throw me away?”

Aaron was taken aback, the unexpected question stirring a few of his own anxieties to the surface. Part of him had no idea where Lilie would get such an idea. Did mundane schools expel students who didn’t meet academic standards or something? Or was she worried about her House rather than the Academy? His knee-jerk reaction was to tell her that no, of course they wouldn’t, that even mages who couldn’t ever control their affinity were outfitted with obsidian safety collars rather than tossed to the wayside outright; unfortunately, what with his own circumstances… well, sometimes he didn’t know what to believe.

But he wouldn’t tell her that. That was more a ‘him’ problem than anything.

“Of course not,” Aaron told Lilie instead, his tone hushed, but unequivocal. “Princess Ryner hand-picks every student in her academy, and she would sooner stake herself for the sun than forsake a single one of them.” That he did know to be true. “You were brought here for a reason, and a little delay in arcane magic isn’t going to change that. Plus, I doubt you have anything to fear with your Count either.”

He offered Lilie a comforting smile, but leaned a little forward and glanced pointedly to the observation balcony, hoping Lilie would get the message. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Still, it’s probably best to keep those concerns out of these classrooms, okay?”

Lilie wished she could say that she was comforted, but she honestly completely forgot about the observation balcony. Her face flushed red with embarrassment, pointedly looking back down at the index card and repeating her tracing. “...R-right. I'll just...keep practicing...” She sighed. Great, like Count Benjamin needed another reason to think she was hopeless. She didn’t dare look up, focusing entirely on the pattern. Honestly, she couldn’t admit that she secretly hoped being a bad mage meant she got to go home, but maybe that was too much to ask for.

But what possible reason could the princess want her here for?

She shook her head at herself, disguising it as a little frustration at her uncooperative magic. If she started thinking about that again, she was going to give herself another panic attack. Going home wasn’t an option, so she would just have to try. She wondered if slowly pulling her magic along would be easier. She couldn’t tell if it was more or less effective, still feeling the resistance. Stupid water affinity. If Aaron could do it, then that meant she should be able to get it by now, too.

“I’m going to try again,” Lilie said, concentrating to the best of her ability. “Can’t let you make me look bad!” She joked, squinting at the card. Slowly, she pulled her magic through the pattern again, focusing on pulling it away from her affinity. “Tiltoure.” She muttered, bracing herself for the inevitable sting. At the very least she wasn’t gushing tears anymore, but clearly she wasn’t using enough magic.

Aaron chuckled at the joke and went back to practicing as Lilie did. It seemed his magic had figured out the arcane thing, no longer resisting separating from his affinity and flowing through the pattern readily. His next cast was successful again, and this time Aaron held it longer, noting the subtle difference in how it felt to maintain an arcane spell rather than an affinity exercise. After about a minute or two, he felt his stamina start to slip, and noticed the same pressure behind his eyes as he had when he’d dropped the spell by accident the first time. It interested him how much more taxing it felt to maintain the arcane spell compared to affinity magic; he could reliably get through an entire one-on-one session of Affinity Mastery with minimal fatigue, and was getting stronger every night, while this spell had tired him in a matter of minutes. Still, he was heartened by his existing improvement. If that was any indication, he imagined his stamina would pick up pretty quick here, too. All the better if Varis was going to be watching.

Aaron checked the time purely out of habit; it was the middle of the night on Saturday and he’d gotten his duties out of the way early, with nothing left on his schedule but one last errand before a morning of doing his best to study. But he was used to keeping to a schedule, doing things in a timely fashion, and in his state, sliding into routine and checking things off a mental list was a welcome distraction.

For the time being, he focused on his task: washing dishes. It was a chore he never particularly minded—really, the only chore he especially disliked was ironing—though tonight was a bit of a mixed bag. Usually he enjoyed tedious work like this, as he found turning his mind off and going through the motions relaxing, but tonight the mindless work seemed to do the opposite. Whenever his mind wandered, it always wandered to the same place: A sunlit manor with a bubbling fountain and a familiar face, buried deep and unwelcome in the woods in his head. Every time he heard Varis mumble to himself from where he was grading papers in the study, he saw that horrible masked figure in the candlelight, heard that same voice whisper frightening nonsense to him in a pagoda on the beach. And each time he tried to tear his mind away and refocus, he could feel the stress wear on him a little more, unable to shake the feeling of wrongness in his head.

Setting the last cup aside to dry, Aaron reached for the last dirty dish, bigger than the rest. It was Lilie’s cake platter, still dirty with a few crumbs and a bit of strawberry icing, and when he saw it, Aaron finally came out of his head a little to smile. It had been so thoughtful of her; he’d mentioned offhandedly that his birthday was coming up and the next thing he knew, Lilie was on his doorstep on the 15th with this beautiful strawberry cake. Even more astounding was that Varis had let him keep it. He looked like he’d been ready to tell Aaron to throw it out until the scent hit him, and he agreed to let Aaron keep it so long as he could get rid of it in a timely fashion. That was certainly no problem. The thing was delicious.

Aaron smirked. Apparently he hadn’t been the only one to think so. He knew Varis liked the smell of sweets, but what he hadn’t expected was to find a swipe of icing missing and the Count retching in his bathroom, insisting he was fine. Aaron almost wanted to convey the compliment to Lilie—it wasn’t every baker who could entice a pureblood to try eating—but he figured it was best to save Varis the embarrassment. He had plenty of mortal praise to heap on her anyway.

Setting aside the rest of the dishes to dry and be polished later, Aaron drained the sink and dried the cake platter by hand, ensuring there were no streaks before going to change. He’d slowly been getting accustomed to his new wardrobe, and as much as his troubling encounter with Hannah made him want to crawl right back into his old habits, conservative suits in mild colours were sadly no longer an option. Instead, he decided to try and be a little daring, remembering how Lilie seemed to like the new, more ‘stylish’ changes. Maybe she’d like a pair of dark jeans and a short-sleeved button-up, too.

…Maybe with a vest. He was going to a Count’s dorm, after all.

He stole a glance in the mirror as he left his room and concluded that while he did look a little tired, it could probably be written off as him putting a little extra effort into affinity practice or something. Which he had, although the faint circles under his eyes would be more accurately attributed to the days of fitful sleep he’d been suffering since his meeting. Though, honestly, she might not even notice. Since coming to the Academy, fatigue had become a recurring feature on his face.

He got little more than a hum in acknowledgement when he informed Varis through the study door that he’d be heading next door for a few minutes, and without further delay Aaron was on his way. He climbed the steps to the Eve dorm with more enthusiasm than he’d enjoyed in some time, but took a second (as he always did) to put on his polite face before he knocked.

There was a moment of time before the door opened courtesy of Benjamin Eve. The previously concentrated expression fell to an ill-conceived joy, the count composing himself a few seconds later than he should have. He assumed that he would be receiving a package, but the visitor on his doorstep was much more welcome. The young Starag looked a little worse for wear, perhaps in need of a decent night's sleep, but his more casual attire pointed to being off duty. Or at least, that was his assumption.

"Good evening, Mr. Starag," Ben greeted him kindly. "How do you do?"

The Count behind the door took Aaron by surprise, though it seemed at the feeling was mutual. Aaron collected himself a little quicker than the Count seemed to, though, and offered the vampire a bow.

“Good evening, Count Benjamin,” he greeted politely in turn, “I’m well, and you?”

He snuck a quick glance past the Count into the dorm before returning his attention, surprised to see no sign of Lilie. Of course, maybe he shouldn’t have been. If Lilie were home, surely it would have been her answering the door.

“Pardon me for disturbing you, I thought Lilie was in,” he explained, producing the cake platter. “I was just looking to return this to her.”

Ben recalled the making of the pastry as he had walked into the madness that was baking in the kitchen. For some reason, that level of disaster coming from the neat mage had been a sight to behold, but that was neither her nor there. He was surprised that the recipient hadn't returned the platter with cake in hand but he supposed even the Sinnenodel count couldn't find fault in the fruity flavored dish. Nonetheless he was glad for the mage's timely arrival, even if it was obvious who he was here for. Perhaps he could tempt him into coming into the dorm with something? It was as good a chance as any, after all, but he feared without his mage around, he would soon rather drop off the platter and take his leave.

"It's no trouble at all," Ben replied slowly, looking back into the dorm. What could he say to help convince him? He could not offer him a cup of blood, but he could offer him something else! "I don't suppose I could ask for a small favor from you, could I?" He suddenly asked, invigorated by the idea.

Aaron was admittedly a little taken aback, and for a moment almost refused. Things hadn’t ended well the last time Count Benjamin asked something of him, though Aaron couldn’t blame him for that. He’d dug his own hole that time, but this time he didn’t have a curfew creeping up on him, or really much of a time limit at all. And he supposed it wasn’t that strange a request; maybe Count Benjamin just wanted him to relay a message to Varis.

He checked his watch, more out of habit than anything. “Oh, I suppose,” he replied, looking up at the Count. “What can I do for you?”

Ben tried not to show his excitement at Aaron's acceptance as he kept his cool. He placed both hands behind his back in an attempt to show some pause, crinkling his expression. "Well, you see, I've come across a new hobby that is proving exceedingly difficult," He decided he would explain himself so as not to make it an obligation; he truly meant well and would rather have some semblance of trust between the two. "I've been trying to learn how to make tea." The announcement was a touch more grandiose then intended.

Aaron’s eyebrows raised a touch, though he was as careful as ever to keep his responses measured in noble company. First Varis with frosting, and now Count Benjamin with tea; was this normal for young purebloods? Aaron thought he knew the ins and outs of vampires, more or less, but this was new.

“Oh, how interesting,” he replied smoothly, holding back his curiosity for the moment. Curiosity, and the overwhelming oddness of the situation at large. “Is that what you’d like me to help with?”

Ben had probably just made a fool of himself, only just realizing how the entire affair must have sounded. A pure blood had no use for anything that wasn't blood. He could feel Aaron's interest slipping quickly. There must be something more convincing he could use. "Indeed. Of course, I understand if you would rather not," He spoke slowly as he bought himself a little time, coming to a decision on the fly. "But I can only ask for mortal help at this point. I would ask my own mage, but it wouldn't be prudent to spoil the surprise." That wasn't entirely a lie, either; he did initially decide to take a stab at tea-making for her sake, but she had openly spoke of how odd that decision was. But it would be beneficial if he did succeed!

“Oh, I see.” Now that made a lot more sense. Aaron still found it a little bit odd for a Count to go to such trouble for his mage, but given what he’d heard of Count Benjamin as an advocate for mage rights, not entirely unexpected. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Count.”

Aaron teetered on the edge of a decision for a moment. Varis had made clear his disdain for donating time—his time, as he was so fond of reminding him—with no promise of recompense, but… maybe he could justify it as repayment for the cake. Not wanting Count Benjamin to feel like something was owed to him. Yes, that would work nicely. One kindness for another, and no one left indebted.

Mind made up, Aaron nodded. “How can I help?”

Ben stepped back as he gestured inside the dorm. "You could be my tester as a start," He joked.

Aaron grinned, dipping his head and following the Count inside. Again, it was strange to be in another noble’s dorm, but at least this visit lacked the palpable awkwardness of the last one. A tiny fear that he was about to be poisoned nagged at the back of his head, but Aaron doubted any tensions between House Eve and Sinnenodel were severe enough to kill him over, especially considering that would also antagonize the royal family, and House Eve was certainly not stable enough to withstand that.

At least, Aaron thought it would anger the Noilas; these nights, though, he found he couldn’t be sure.

He pushed that thought aside with the others and accompanied the Count to the kitchen, placing the cake platter on the counter before giving Benjamin his full attention. “Okay…” he began, realizing he wasn’t entirely sure how to initiate this sort of exchange. He was very used to receiving instruction from vampires, but definitely not the other way around. “Is… there any particular part of the process giving you trouble, Count Benjamin?”

Ben carefully walked around Aaron and to the stove where the latest cup sat, still steaming. He took it and offered it to the mage. "I believe the instructions stated that the best way to make tea is to boil the water and then to soak in the leaves afterwards," He said, explaining his process. "Some places suggest grounding out the leaves, others state placing them into tiny bags is best, but I felt I would try with the entirety of the leaf in order to enrich the water with flavor." He seemed proud of himself as he spoke even though he had absolutely no idea which way was actually best.

Aaron took the cup, nodding as Count Benjamin spoke. The tea he was given was weak, leaves still swirling and free of any kind of filter. Ah-ha. Aaron wasn’t much of a tea drinker himself, but his mother and one of his aunts practically made a hobby out of it ever since they started having weekly get-togethers with William, and he’d picked up a working knowledge of tea from their conversations. At the very least, he knew enough to tell that the Count had his work cut out for him.

“I see,” Aaron said slowly, still examining the cup for a moment before looking back up. “Well, grinding certainly isn’t necessary; the leaves you have here seem fine. Whether you bag them or not is personal preference, but you’ll want to filter the leaves from the tea somehow, either with a fibre bag or a metal strainer. Otherwise drinking it can feel like eating grass.” He chuckled a bit, but remembered himself, a little self-conscious. Was he over-explaining? It wouldn’t do to insult the Count’s intelligence, but he really did seem clueless on the topic.

Best to move along. “What variety of tea is this?”

Ben was attentive to the criticism received; he hoped he had something positive to bring, but alas, it seemed he had much to learn. This was, of course, a positive for the moment, as Aaron felt the need to explain how to properly blend the flavor into the water. He matched Aaron's chuckle, as he had definitely thought it odd that mortals would enjoy what was essentially water with leaves. But he did see Lilie drink a cup, and apparently it was popular enough, and so there they were.

He took the package of leaves in hand and squinted at it as he tried to remember the name of the leaves. "I believe these are dried white peony leaves, they're commonly served among the mages under me," He recalled placing the order. "I read somewhere that it had a refined taste. After the...fiasco my partner and I experienced, I think slowly easing her into a life of nobility one task at a time would help smooth the transition." He almost believed that himself had it not been for Lilie adamantly protesting nearly every change he had made, but Aaron didn't need to know that.

Aaron nodded again, remembering how upset Lilie had been. Good, he was glad that the Count really had taken her concerns to heart. She needed someone understanding to guide her and he was pleased to see that she was lucky enough to finally be paired with someone who would consider that.

“That’s smart,” he complimented, looking back down at the cup. Frankly, he was surprised that he chose a white tea—from what he heard from his mother, it took some getting used to—but if that was what his household was accustomed to, all the better that Lilie got used to it. “I think you’re right, Count. Although, if I may, it might be prudent to have a backup plan.” He gestured to the cup. “My own mother told me white tea took some getting used to, and while I admit I can’t say if that’s normal or unique to us—” a bashful expression crossed his face for a second as he was again reminded how far removed from other mages he really was, “—it might be a good idea to have a different type on standby in case Lilie doesn’t take to it right away.”

Ben hadn't considered that possibility. There were a good dozen different teas served in the castle alone. It seemed like the smallest oversight, but that was precisely why he needed mortal input. There was the added bonus of the subject being one where Aaron was well versed, and it did give him an odd comfort to see the mage at ease. He sincerely appreciated everything he said, but simply taking the advice would end the visit prematurely—he couldn't let him run just yet.

Ben reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notepad with a pencil looped through the binding. Flipping to an empty page, he looked to Aaron for his expertise. "What do you recommend?" He asked simply.

Aaron was surprised to see Count Benjamin whip out a notepad; he supposed in the back of his mind, it was just weird to see a vampire apparently hanging on his every word. The Count must have really taken Lilie’s concerns to heart if he was going to such lengths to make her feel more comfortable; he’d have to ask her later what exactly she told him that had such an effect.

“A black tea would probably be best,” he recommended, recalling the few times he’d joined his mother and Dora on their little tea dates. He’d be the first to admit that his palate was garbage, and he always found he couldn’t taste much in the more delicate teas they tried, but black teas could always be made to work. “They have much stronger flavours, and they can be sweetened as well if she prefers. They’re a good option if Lilie finds this one too subtle.”

Ben carefully wrote down everything Aaron said. Black tea first. That seemed easy enough to remember. He tapped the page with his pencil, staring at it. He wondered if perhaps ordering an entire variety would be best. The academy would surely provide. He gave Aaron a grateful smile as he stowed away the notepad for the moment. He was about to thank him when he realized that he would likely leave. What more could he say to get him to stay?

"Your insight is wonderful, thank you," Ben started. "If you don't mind, perhaps I could bother you with a few more questions? It won't take much of your time." And hopefully he would take his time deliberating so Ben could think of any questions.

Aaron dipped his head politely at the praise. “My pleasure, Count.”

The added questions were a surprise; Aaron figured he covered everything pretty well, though he could always be wrong. Strangely though, he was starting to feel like Count Benjamin was… stalling. Was he trying to keep him here for some reason? Aaron didn’t sense any malice, but he felt like the vampire’s principal concern wasn’t tea. Maybe he was biding time until Lilie got home from wherever she was? Or maybe this was just how this Count was; he’d shown the same reluctance to let Aaron leave at Revel as well.

He checked his watch. Varis usually lost track of time while he was grading; it was probably fine. “Of course,” he obliged. “What would you like to know?”

Ben was elated to hear the acceptance, but he had unintentionally put himself in a difficult position. What did he want to know? There were very few questions that he could ask that didn't come off as patronizing or made him look like a complete fool. Perhaps he could ask for advice on how to handle Lilie, but if Aaron told her, that would possibly stir up trouble in their relationship; while he was certain they were steady, he didn't want to undo all the progress that they made. He should just say the very first thing that came to mind.

"I was wondering for a little advice on...magic," He chose a random topic he had absolutely no prior knowledge on, but what could he possibly ask? "It's certainly a curious thing." He realized that was not a question the moment he left his lips, and he mentally chastised himself. He could come up with responses on being interviewed during his father's dinners but couldn't come up with a simple question to ask a mage without tipping him off?

Magic? What? Aaron kept his expression carefully neutral and attentive, but he was getting more and more… concerned for this Count by the second. He knew some of the other Eves at the Academy had been strange, but surely it couldn’t be all of them, right?

“It certainly is...” Aaron assented slowly, a little at a loss for words. If he didn’t know any better he’d think Count Benjamin was lonely and just longing for someone to talk to, but disregarding how thoroughly weird that would be, it also couldn’t be true. In any case, he had no sweet clue how to respond to the Count’s inquiry. Normally it would be rude to try and openly discern a noble’s intentions, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel like the Count had painted himself into a corner and could use the prompt.

“Forgive me Count Benjamin, but if I may,” he began cautiously, “is there another reason you wanted to speak with me?”

This was his comeuppance for coming up with the shoddiest of excuses. Ben slowly shook his head, ashamed of himself. Alas, there was little he could do but come clean and hope he hadn't alienated the mage completely. He straightened up considerably as he would speak, "There is. I ask that you forgive me for the roundabout line of questioning. I will say firstly that your advice is genuinely appreciated." And this was true. "I had been hoping to apologize, but admittedly bringing it out immediately after receiving some much needed advice seemed out of place. I suppose I owe you two apologies now."

His lips straightened as he considered which way to go about it, but since he had been caught, a direct apology seemed best in his opinion. "On the night of the Revel, I couldn't help but feel that our introduction had gone awry," He said. "I sincerely apologize for the awkwardness and any other discomfort you might have suffered. It was not my intention, I only want to honor the princess' invitation and the promise I made to foster relationships between all four noble representatives. Those relationships include those of their mages as well, and I feel there must be something I can do to make it up to you."

Aaron almost voiced his surprise, but refrained, momentarily stunned by Count Benjamin’s confession. Aaron wasn’t the kicked puppy Max and Salem seemed to think he was, but he would freely admit that a vampire—and a noble at that—prostrating himself like this over a presumed offence toward a mage was entirely alien to him. This wasn’t just an offhand pardon from an unusually polite vampire; Count Benjamin seemed sincerely bothered by the idea that he might have put Aaron in a bad position, and apparently wanted forgiveness bad enough to lure him into his dorm under false pretenses. Aaron was at a loss for words.

Luckily, he had some stock responses for such an occasion. “That’s not necessary, Count,” he insisted, dipping his head. “Your apology is kind and appreciated, but please don’t feel as if you owe me anything.”

The very thought was absurd. Short of ill-conceived gambling debts, what on earth could a noble owe a mage anyway? Aaron was comforted to hear that the Count regretted the events of Revel, but the thought of a noble feeling indebted to him—not his master, but him personally—was just bizarre.

The response was expected and disappointing altogether, but Ben supposed he had brought it upon himself. The damage seemed to have been done—his lowbrow scheming probably did not help his chances—and this was the result. Perhaps he had hoped for too much after all. Of course that didn’t mean at least they couldn’t be cordial and if that was all he would get then he would have no choice but to accept it. He could disguise the motion as one of goodwill, or even simple neighborly affection.

Ben gave Aaron a short, curt nod, but he felt he could not give in just yet. “If you do not mind my asking, is that the Sinnenodel mage response, or is that the Aaron Starag response?” He asked. “I would much prefer the latter, if I can be earnest.”

Aaron blinked, then blinked again, stunned into silence and entirely unsure what to make of this vampire. He almost sounded like Princess Ryner the way he seemed intent on coaxing him out from behind his court manner walls; but Princess Ryner had known him since he was born, and this Count had met him all of twice.

Clearing his throat, he opted for a more ‘genuine’ response, even if in this instance, his ‘Sinnenodel mage’ answer and his ‘Aaron Starag’ answer were practically one in the same. “...I beg your pardon if I came across as disingenuous,” he tried to recover, “I suppose I’m not used to being apologized to by nobles.”

Bringing his hands together, he started spinning his ring. “I’m happy that you’re taking Her Highness’ aims for the Academy to heart, I really am,” he insisted. That, at least, was true. “The Revel was a… strange night, but rest assured after our exchange I was no worse for wear.” He had spent the day on the lawn and gotten a thorough punishment from Varis for his trouble, but he didn’t blame Count Benjamin for that.

Aaron wasn’t sure what else he could say that would satisfy the Count, but as his gaze wandered back to the cake platter on the counter, he had an idea. “Your apology really is enough for me, and I thank you for it,” he began. “But, Count, if you have your heart set on making it up to me somehow, then I would say you already have.”

He gestured to the cup on the counter, still steaming. “Frankly, I’m happy that you’ve put so much effort into helping Lilie adjust to noble life.” He was sincere. “As I’m sure you know, she’s had multiple masters abandon her—not to offend your House, of course, but I’m afraid it’s true—and with her background, she’s been struggling.” Good lord, Lilie would kill him if she knew he was saying this to her partner, yet Aaron continued. “She’s my friend, and I hate to see her struggle. I’m heartened to see that she’s finally found a master who’s so eager to help her thrive.”

Now was probably a poor time to admit the tea was meant purely to lure Aaron in. Fortunately, it seemed the fates smiled kindly on him. Aaron’s response was truly one of Noilan fashion: polite, distant, and with a dash of an odd humility thrown in. Ben would take what he could get at this point, as alienating the young man would only undo the kindness given to him. However, his words did confirm a lingering suspicion, and he had unknowingly done him another favor.

There was a short pause on Ben’s part, but he came to a decisive conclusion. “I have to thank you again for informing me. Miss Dionne—Lilie is not forthcoming with her struggles,” He said. There was some guilt in exchanging information on his mage, but it was oddly satisfying to get the truth at last. He wanted to impose once again, but perhaps he was hoping for too much. He needed to be more cautious with mages, and he would rather play it safe for the moment.

“However, I will say it is a relief to see someone care for her wellbeing,” He continued. “I can only hope that someday you’ll allow me to extend that courtesy to you. There isn’t any reason we can’t at least be acquaintances, you and I.” It did not need to be said that this was solely between the two of them. “I’ll need someone’s assistance to see if my tea making has improved, after all.”

That Lilie didn’t admit her trouble wasn’t exactly surprising—it seemed like her faith in vampires had faded a little, although he was still pretty sure Lilie didn’t dislike her Count—though Aaron was more interested in the Count’s next words. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say this Eve wanted to befriend him. Sure, friendships between mages and vampires weren’t unheard of; in fact, he’d seen low-class purebloods and embraced mingle with mages on campus as if they were one in the same. Hell, it even happened in his own family; his mother and Princess Ryner carried on like old friends, and even Clara displayed some affection for Princess Nox. But those examples were either low enough on the social ladder that the distinction between vampire and mage mattered little, or well within the bonds of servitude, where developing a certain fondness was practical and expected. A Count pursuing the company of a rival House’s mage, on the other hand, was strange at best.

Aaron inwardly grimaced. Varis would call him a fool for even entertaining the idea that seeking friendship in another House’s ranks was anything but subterfuge. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Count Benjamin was genuine; his reputation as a mage rights advocate preceded him, and aside from some petty complaints about the trappings of life with a noble, Lilie hadn’t said anything bad about him either. He also had Ryner’s approval going for him, but mostly, well… Aaron didn’t feel like he was being manipulated.

That wasn’t to say it wasn’t still weird, but at least it didn’t seem maliciously weird.

Nodding, Aaron decided that he’d at least humour the Count, even if he didn’t quite understand him. “I’m honoured by your interest, Count,” he offered, dipping his head once more and offering Benjamin a polite smile. “I’d be happy to help you again, if I can.”

Ben prevented himself from getting overly thrilled, but through his own bumbling he managed to earn the wary mage’s trust for the moment. He could not ask for more, and to expect anything else was a fool’s wish. He was entirely satisfied and sincerely hoped that with time, the two could be on amicable terms. Next time he would take the advice for a better tea to properly entertain him and come up with better conversation starters; he could not lean on the topic of his mage too much, lest he form a dependency.

“The honor is mine, Aaron Starag. Truly,” Ben responded to Aaron’s humility with his own and gave him a slight bow. Once he straightened he chuckled. “I’m sure I’ve kept you long enough. Please, don’t let me keep you any longer, perhaps if our free time coincides I can invite you over again.”

Still taken aback, both by the general absurdity of the situation and now the added spectacle of the Count’s little bow, Aaron could only smile and return it with a deeper one of his own. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “Good evening, Count Benjamin.”

He waited until he was off the Eve property altogether to heave a deep breath, looking around at the other dorms and the forest and the stars for any indication as to what on earth he’d just been party to. By the time he got back to his own porch—at a more leisurely pace to account for some deliberating—he concluded that he had no idea what to make of all that, but he supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Whatever the Count’s… intentions, he’d been pleasant, and Aaron had no reason to believe he had malicious designs. At the very least, those twenty minutes of strangeness served as a welcome distraction from visions of masked figures and false memories, though as he opened the door to his dorm, he supposed all good things must come to an end.

Aaron fully expected an earful from Varis regarding why exactly the returning of a platter to a dorm forty feet away took twenty minutes to complete, but to his surprise, none came. In fact, there was no response of any sort from the study; Aaron was used to being met with utter indifference anytime he didn’t quite deserve scorn, sure, but he at least expected to hear a few more murmured insults and violent pen scratches as Varis graded papers for his ‘invalids’.

A gentle nudge of the study door confirmed Aaron’s suspicions, bringing a smirk to his lips. There, once again, was Varis, slumped over at his desk and fast asleep. Shaking his head, Aaron closed the door once again, taking the opportunity to sneak to his room undetected. His chores were all but done, and Varis had been working himself ragged lately; maybe he could let the Count rest for a few minutes longer, and get in a little rest of his own. Moon only knew he needed it.

But even as he lay on his bed, eyelids like lead when he closed them, he found he couldn’t relax. Try as he might, he just couldn’t justify it; Varis hated falling asleep and wasting precious time like this, and as much as he would have loved the chance to take a nap, Aaron couldn’t let himself cast aside his Master’s wishes like that in favour of his own. He was an attendant, his job was to make life as easy for his charge as possible, and while Varis made it clear that so far he’d been failing on that front, that was no excuse to let small obligations like these fall by the wayside.

Inwardly groaning, Aaron dragged himself upright again, cursing his own devotion as he went. But, it was for the best. Maybe the Count wouldn’t have much to say about it anyway.

Aaron had never been good at sitting still.

And that was at the best of times. But now, waiting for his appointment with his guidance counselor to roll around, he was even more fidgety than normal. He had his elbows perched on his knees, his whole body shaking with the feverish rhythm his leg jumped of its own accord. He fiddled mercilessly with his ring, moving it from finger to finger and spinning it madly. Now and then he’d pause to blow a stray lock of hair out of his eyes, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize he’d have better luck if he just braided it up out of the way.

Ever since the school had given notice that arcane majors were to be declared by the end of the term, fierce indecision had been clouding his every thought. Sure, it probably wasn’t an uncommon sentiment - after all, everyone was probably feeling a little intimidated about choosing the arcane path they’d be taking - but what probably set him apart was that he wasn’t struggling to choose between this or that arcane school, but rather deliberating over just one.

He’d been prowling the library for weeks, reading up as much as he could about his prospective choice. He’d found a lot of good information, though none of it was particularly comforting; what was more, any books about its actual practice were locked away in the library ceiling, barred from consumption by the general populace. He’d be lying if he said the secrecy didn’t intrigue him, but there was more than enough disturbing information he could access to make him think twice. Before he’d come to the Academy, he probably never would have considered it, but after that night with Lady Sinnenodel and realizing he’d probably have similar experiences every time he dealt with her for the rest of his life, his potential path had seemed more and more like a necessity.

At long last, the door to the counselor’s office opened, and Aaron was beckoned in. Grateful for the chance to move, he stood and made his way inside, sitting where the counselor gestured and doing his best to put his thoughts in order.

Aaron's guidance counselor sat behind his desk, thick eyebrows shot up in surprise. The older man was heavy set and papers were scattered everywhere across the desk. Two computer monitors beeped quietly at him and he turned them off, sitting forward with his hands steepled. The man considered Aaron a moment before speaking

“Mr. Starag himself in my office. Never thought I'd see the day.” The man laughed, his voice rumbling from his chest. His eyes twinkled. “A surprise but a pleasant one at that. What can we do for you today my boy?”

Aaron answered the counselor’s laugh with an obligatory chuckle, offering the man a smile before looking back down more pensively at his shoes. He’d gotten that sort of reaction from a few other staff members so far; he still wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but it was important to handle it graciously nonetheless.

After a moment of spinning his ring, he collected his thoughts enough to sit up properly, schooling his features into something more cordial that didn’t reflect the turmoil he’d been going through in recent weeks. Best to get right to it.

“Well,” he began, looking around the office before forcing himself to pick one thing to look at and focus on it, “You’ve probably been hearing a lot of this, but I was hoping for some advice on choosing an arcane major.”

“Of course my boy!” The man, whose name tag said Mr. Deshane, pulled out a binder for every arcane school. “Did you have any thoughts on where you'd like to start or would you like to go over all of them?”

Aaron almost grimaced, but stayed pleasant. “That’s just the problem,” he admitted, tugging on his ear, “I… really only have one idea.”

He paused a second more to gather his thoughts before sighing, leaning back a little and deciding to just come out with it. “I’ve been looking into Mental magic.”

Mr. Deshane blinked for a few moments after Aaron's confession and he shuffled his binders around, putting the purple Mental Magic binder in front. He flipped it open with a thud and looked back up at Aaron.

“I take it that your indecision comes from the potential risks.” Mr. Deshane spoke seriously. “The risk of losing your affinity is very real and there are several prerequisites before applying. You'll need a written recommendation from one of your affinity instructors and there will be a full psychological evaluation before you are approved. What makes you want to take this route?”

Aaron nodded along with Mr. Deshane, playing with his ring again. He’d hit the nail on the head; the risk of losing his affinity was probably the only thing stopping Aaron from making his choice, the possibility so daunting it kept managing to overshadow the reasons he wanted to go down this path in the first place. But those reasons were hefty on their own, hence the indecision. He’d been beating his head against the wall on the issue for weeks for specifically that reason.

“I suppose I had a bad experience,” Aaron admitted, careful not to get into too much detail, “And even though the risks are… well, terrifying, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s something I need to do.” He leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair, looking to the counselor. “Does that make any sense?”

“I'm afraid not but if you're determined, I won't try and talk you out of it. Let's go over our prerequisites then.” The man sighed and unclipped a page from. The binder, handing it over to Aaron. It had a long list of courses. “These are all the education you need before the Academy even considers your application. Four additional affinity courses and three advanced spell theory classes, including one dedicated to protection. With such a high risk of affinity loss, these classes are meant to help strengthen your connection. You'll sacrifice a lot of freedom on the academic side of your courses until you've cleared these unfortunately. Are you okay with that?”

Now it was Aaron’s turn to raise his eyebrows, tossing Mr. Deshane a look of surprise before he turned his attention to the list he’d been given. Was he really not going to try and talk him out of it? Aaron had almost been hoping he would, thinking that this meeting would knock some sense into him after having so seriously considered such a dangerous school. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, turning his thoughts instead to the list.

“...Yes, that’s fine,” Aaron replied, a tad preoccupied by the list. He’d been wanting to do more affinity courses anyway, and as for the rest of them… well, freedom was a relative concept, and to be honest, none of the other arcane schools had piqued his interest once he’d realized that mental magic was an option anyway. But that possibility of affinity loss was a considerable hurdle to jump to make his choice.

“How high is the risk, exactly?” Aaron asked, handing the list back to the counselor. “I’ve done as much research as I could into the subject, but I never could find a number.”

“Our last count was…” He rifled through the binder again. “53%. Just over half those enrolling in the course lose their affinity. Of course, these numbers aren’t the greatest since we don’t have a stable control group. Some years we only have 1 applicant and others we have a full twelve. We haven’t lost anyone in the past two years thankfully.” He looked at Aaron, concern clearly showing in his eyes.

“If you choose this path, you have to be sure your connection to your affinity is strong. We do our best to encourage its growth but only you can really tell.” He leaned back and tapped a pen on his desk. “Do you have regular activities to destress and relax? This branch has the second most difficult spells to control and the process is incredibly stressful and violating until you can control the magic.”

Aaron almost groaned. 53%? That was terrible. Any self-respecting gambler would never go in on such shoddy odds if anything of value was on the line. And something of value was on the line.

So why was he still considering it?

He took a moment to think, leaning back in his chair. His connection to his affinity was strong, or at least, he thought it was. The more he learned about it, the more he used it, treating it like a reflex. He barely even thought about it; to him, it was an extension of his body, as much a part of him as his arms and legs. And what was more, he loved it. Practicing affinity mastery was probably the best part of his day, aside from sitting next to Lilie in Spell Theory.

Remembering the counselor’s question, Aaron played with his ring again, mentally cataloguing his habits. “I train to relax,” he stated simply, though he did smirk. “‘Gets me out of my head’, so to speak. I’ve always found it hard to be stressed while exhausted.”

Thinking another second, he added, “I keep journals as well, and playing my cello also helps calm me down. Anything that lets me work on muscle memory, I suppose.” He left out the occasional daytime trips to the woods. Those were probably better kept private.

“You’ll need to figure out a solid routine that lets you rest both your body and mind so training is out of the question.” Mr. Deshane typed into his computer to wake it up and typed for few a few moments while talking. “You need a regular, restful, routine. It should last about an hour of nothing that requires too much exertion, mentally or physically, and helps ground you emotionally. Perhaps you should ask..” he trailed off as he read the screen, clicking his tongue thoughtfully. “Maybe not. Though it is a requirement that you have something so even Count Sinnenodel couldn’t deny you that.”

“The cello wouldn’t be a bad idea but I imagine that an hour of that daily in addition to whatever practice you manage may be boring. The official suggestion is spending a few hours with your partner to develop a plan and then test it for a few weeks but in this case, I would recommend finding someone else you trust or know to have some empathy to make that plan and then present it to him.” Mr. Deshane turned away from his computer again. “I can schedule a meeting with a student currently in the program if that would help. She is Athena Lexitori’s mage, the acting president of the Arena Guild. She is quite accomplished in the art and might be able to provide some better insight into the difficulties you’ll face.”

Aaron listened intently, pulling out his phone to jot down everything the counselor mentioned. He smirked knowingly at the little jab at Count Varis, though it was only there for a second before he schooled his features into something more polite. He wasn’t thrilled that training wouldn’t work, though. Ever since he’d started when he was ten, training had been one of his only outlets. A new method would take some getting used to if he did decide to go this route.

He perked up, however, at the mention of someone he could speak to. “That would be excellent, thank you,” he told the counselor, “did she manage to hold on to her affinity?”

“So far, yes. With her control over the mental disciplines, our instructors are surprised she has but as of yet, we’ve seen no signs of affinity regression.” He replied, the pride and relief evident on his face. “When I reviewed her psychological evaluation while I was on the committee, I had my doubts but she managed to surpass all of our expectations so far.”

Aaron nodded, pensive. Maybe if someone ‘unexpected’ like her could do so well, there was some hope for him. But he still wanted to know what he was dealing with.

“What more can you tell me about the risks?” He asked, almost a little scared to hear the answer. “For example, affinity loss. Is it something that just happens at random, or is it possible to recognize before it’s permanent? Is there any way to consciously work against it?” He leaned forward on his elbows, morbidly curious.

“We have no way of measuring affinity loss without the mage’s communication. From what we understand, the process happens rather naturally. They don’t notice losing it until it happens.” He leaned back again, resuming tapping. “Affinity magic is the result of everything we are and how we perceive that. Mental magic expands the mind, making it do things no regular mage is capable of, and sometimes things change in the process. The mind is a tricky machine and one that doesn’t take lightly to unnatural alterations. There are some warning signs but none of them are consistent across all mages. It’s why we focus on affinity classes all through the program.”

“We believe maintaining a close connection with familiar comforts, friends, family, spouses, and hobbies, help maintain a healthy balance between affinity magic and the arcane arts. You’ll undergo regular psychological evaluations throughout the process as well so we can try and refocus your activities to help avoid that loss.”

Aaron nodded along, somewhat somber as he listened. It astonished him that someone could somehow not notice losing their affinity. Even as early on in his education as he was, the very idea sounded as absurd as not noticing the loss of your arm. Did those who lost their affinity have a weak connection to start with? Or was mental magic so intense that he simply couldn’t fathom its effects? What was he in for?

That line of thinking led him down a dark path, and finally, he had to mention something. “This information is very helpful, thank you.” he began, “but to be honest, I thought I’d come in here and you’d try to talk me out of it.”

Tugging his ear, he finally had to ask. “I realize you’re probably not supposed to give an opinion, but if I may ask anyway, what would you recommend I do? Am I an idiot for pursuing this?”

“Personally, I believe this school of magic should be banned as well. I do not recommend anyone go into it.” Mr.Deshane admitted after a long pause. “But the branch has amazing potential. It’s just so incredibly risky. I technically can’t tell you not to enter if you want to but I would highly recommend you talk to a few others on it. Maybe even your partner if you can convince him to talk to you like a person rather than a resource.” The man made a face at that statement.

“Whatever you chose, the Academy will do its best to make sure you succeed safely. The Princess has made sure of that.” Mr. Deshane smiled comfortingly at Aaron. “Speaking of which, did you want me to schedule an appointment with that student?”

Aaron suppressed a groan at Mr. Deshane’s statement; he'd found more than a little speculation in his research as to why mind magic hadn't been banned. He almost wished it had, too; if so, the event that threw him into this whole mess would never have happened.

It took a second for Aaron to realize Mr. Deshane had finished speaking, and when he did, he cleared his throat and straightened up, a little embarrassed at having gotten lost in thought. “Yes, please, I’d appreciate it,” he replied, standing and holding out a hand. “Thank you, you've been very helpful.”

Mr. Deshane sent a letter to the Sinnenodel dorm confirming the details of the meeting with Hannah. She agreed to meet at 5am in study room 2 in the library. The library itself was a bit louder than usual as students scoured the bookshelves for research material and texts and tomes flew every which way. The study rooms were only on the ground floor, a single door set next to the entrance. Entering required a key that a librarian supplied when the reservation time approached and each set of keys would take students to a specific room despite the shared door.

The study rooms, in addition to being private and quiet, were themed for students who needed a relaxing space to work. Study room 2 in particular sat on an empty stretch of beach. A round table sat in the middle of a large pagoda, cushioned benches in the place of chairs. A projector on a mini fridge sat across from a drop down screen. Gulls cried in the distance and crystal blue waves rolled over golden sand, shimmering in the warm sunlight.

Hannah sat underneath the shade, sipping quietly at an iced coffee. She wore simple clothes, a bright t-shirt and jeans accompanied with a pair of garish flip flops. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun and a pair of silver framed glasses sat on tired eyes. She watched the gulls in the distance, seeming distracted.

When Aaron retrieved the study room key from one of the librarians, he’d been expecting to step into a small room with tables and chairs, not unlike the practice room back home. What he walked into was a shock to say the least; he wasn’t bothered by the sudden brightness of sunlight, eyes adjusting immediately, but rather by the jarring change. He had thought the magic in the rest of the library was extraordinary enough, with its warping of space and gravity, but this was above and beyond what he could have expected.

He took a moment to stare around at the beach and the ocean, stunned, before he found another figure in a nearby pagoda. He made his way over carefully, awkwardly stepping through the sand before gratefully reaching the pagoda, shaking sand off of his shoes before he turned his attention to the girl on the bench. Noticing she seemed distracted, he followed her gaze, finding nothing but birds in the distance. Good lord, did the room really extend out that far, or was it just an illusion?

In any case, they had something more important to do. Turning back to the girl, Aaron cleared his throat and offered a smile and a hand. “Hannah? I’m Aaron, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you're here!” Hannah startled from whatever she was thinking, a smile crossing her face as she shook his hand. “Sorry, it's so quiet I kinda spaced. So, what's up? Mr. Deshane said you wanted to talk about the program? Oh and I brought some coffee in the fridge if you drink it.” Hannah gestured to the mini fridge. She watched him intently however and he could feel just the slightest brush against his mind before she blinked and it disappeared.

“Oops, sorry sorry. Habit and all that.” She laughed. “Once you're used to getting in people's heads, it's just instinct.”

Aaron shook her hand politely, though he recoiled a bit when he felt a sensation he couldn’t quite describe in his head. Luckily, it was gone as quickly as it came, with Hannah apologizing. That had been her? Aaron couldn’t say he was fond of it, but it was definitely more pleasant than what Lady Sinnenodel’s mages had done.

“Uh, no worries,” he replied a little uneasily, settling onto the bench a bit away from Hannah. Forcing a bit of a nervous laugh, he asked, “See anything?”

“Nerves and concern. I didn't delve deep enough.” She kicked off her sandals and put her feet up on the table, leaning back. “Relax. I don't bite. Though I get it. This magic is pretty intense. Took me almost a year to stop randomly jumping into these weirdos’ heads. Gotta say, don't miss that phase. People think weird shit.” She laughed, gagging at a memory. “So, talk to me. What's going on?”

Nerves and concern? Sounded about right. That could have been an apt description of almost his entire Academy experience so far, Aaron mused. He laughed along with Hannah, mostly just to save face, before becoming a bit more businesslike.

“Well, you’re right, I was interested to hear from someone in the program,” he told her, shifting a little in his seat so that he could look at her face-on. “Against my better judgement, I’m considering going into the mental program myself. I suppose I’m wondering what you could tell me about what I can expect.”

“Well, I hope you don’t like secrets because after this you won’t have any. The first thing they work on is closing your mind off. And by closing it off, they repeatedly invade and violate all sense of personal boundaries until you learn to shut them out! It’s a horrifying ordeal but effective.” Hannah explained jovially as she counted ticks on her fingers. “Then there is telepathy at the same time and that's a trip because you just start broadcasting and picking up thoughts willy nilly. Started more than one fight that way. Good thing my vampire knows how to fight!” She sipped a bit more at the coffee and snapped her fingers.

“Next step is trapping invaders and reversing the connection. Then telekinesis and man that’ll trigger all on its own too. I personally recommend tying everything to your body. Backpack, pencils, phone... If you want to keep it nearby, tie it down.” She finished counting and flashed him a thumbs up. “And that’s all year one and two! They might mix it up here and there but they’ll work you like a dog at the beginning. And don’t worry, your instructor is legally bound to silence by the princess herself. Even if you were personally planning a rebellion against the Queen, they couldn’t say anything!” She leaned in really close and whispered, “I hear the instructors are bound by dark magic. And when I say hear, I mean I saw.” She winked.

Aaron listened intently, doing his best not to recoil in his seat. Good lord, he was used to learning things the hard way, but that sounded like an ordeal. No wonder this poor girl looked so tired. Nonetheless, it was morbidly fascinating, especially hearing that ‘closing off’ the mind was the first thing they taught. Horrifying as it sounded, was oddly comforting. After all, that was most of the reason he wanted to go into this school.

He eyed Hannah warily when she scooted closer, leaning a little away when he heard what she had to say. Alright, silence, great, but the rest sounded like something secret he definitely didn't want or need to know. She did say secrets wouldn't be a luxury of his anymore, but good lord, he didn't need to be learning about possible dark magic in Princess Ryner’s ranks today.

Yet, despite the nightmarish contents of her speech, Hannah didn't seem the least disturbed. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him. “You seem… Awfully cheerful about all that,” he stated, forcing a bit of a laugh, “How did you handle it?”

“I could tell you. Or I could…” She pointed a finger at Aaron and spoke, “Relvelo Bombardum.” Images flashed flashed through Aaron’s head almost faster than he could comprehend them. Her sobbing in front of her instructor, her doubled over with her hands over her ears, her scratching at a wall as everything went black. Aaron felt despair and hopelessness and most of all, pain. Her most sacred place being violated over and over and over again. People laughing at her thoughts and kicking her around. People disturbed as she responded instinctively to their thoughts, slowly losing the ability to discern the difference between spoken word and thoughts. A phone flickered and died, untouched and unconnected as friends stopped contacting her.

The pain eased and vanished as a hand, pale and powerful, picked him up in every memory. The lingering feeling of a kiss on the temple when everything was too loud. A strong presence when everyone else was scared. Athena beamed and the heart beat faster. Determination and pride gradually replaced the fear and the loss. Friends returned and the voices quieted. Athena danced across the arena, looking more alive than any human, and the magic in the air sang with purpose. With determination. With strength. Hannah dropped her finger and Aaron snapped back to his senses.

“A purpose.” Hannah continued sipping at her coffee. “I went in at first only wanting power. The risks intrigued me and the benefits outweighed the results at first. They warn you plenty about losing your affinity and how it could affect your life and all that. But no one warns you about the responsibility, about the loss, about the creep factor in the early days.” She laughed, but it was far from joyous. “They don’t warn you how exhausting it is to know everyone better than they know themselves. White lies are truly a blessing, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“It nearly ruined me. I wanted to die by the end of the first year but Athena wouldn’t let that happen. She picked me up over and over and over. She stood with me when no one else would. And so I decided she was why I wanted to learn. To help her for what little time I have in comparison. I wouldn’t have this power if she wasn’t here so it only seems fair to repay that.” She chuckled, this time much more nicely. She put her empty cup down on the table and let her head fall back. “So find a purpose, an anchor, anything or anybody that’ll stick with you regardless of what happens. It’ll be miserable but at least you can justify it.”

Aaron hadn't realized how hard he'd been gripping the edge of the bench cushion until he released it, the visions fading away. His first reaction was to bristle a bit at the intrusion; good lord, were all telepaths so obnoxious? Is that how he'd behave when he became one?

But he forced himself to relax, resisting the urge to glare at the girl as she spoke. Apparently it was something he’d have to get used to, and at least now it wouldn't be Lady Sinnenodel doing the digging. He gave himself pause, though, when he realized he'd been thinking of everything in certain terms: when he became a telepath, he would have to get used to it. As if the decision was made. He'd thought he was still deliberating, collecting all the advice he could before making a choice, but more and more he felt that despite every frightening thing he learned about the school of mental magic, he couldn't see himself doing anything else.

Still, he took Hannah's advice to heart. Find an anchor. Of course, his first thought was Lucan, but a hint of doubt crept in: Aaron had been elated that Lucan would be joining him at the Academy, but the vampire he considered a brother had all but disappeared without a trace on some assignment, and he had no idea when to expect a return. So who could he turn to? Hannah had her partner, but in Aaron's circumstances the very idea of such a thing seemed like a joke. He'd have to put more thought into it later.

Realizing he'd been quiet for a moment, Aaron nodded absently, eyes fixed on the table. “Do you think that's what helped you hold on to your affinity?” he asked. “Was there ever a time when you thought you'd lose it?”

“I don't know honestly. I know my grades were slipping in most classes because of the stress but I couldn't say any of my issues were because of that.” She said apologetically. “But I do honestly believe that it's because I have a purpose that I still have it. Some of the previous classes always mention feeling lost but since my decision, I've never felt that. I've never felt like I'm just going through the motions for the sake of it.”

Aaron hummed some affirmative response, looking down at his hands. He rotated his ring on his finger, watching for a moment how the light bounced off the many facets on its surface. There she was, talking about purpose again. What was his? Protecting the people close to him? That was why he’d considered mind magic in the first place, to make sure that his loved ones couldn’t be leveraged by Lady Sinnenodel. Or maybe it was to spite her; he could only imagine how satisfying it would feel to block her out, to be able to stray from Varis’ side without fear. But that seemed pretty weak for a driving force to hedge his affinity on. What else did he have?

“You’re lucky,” he murmured, almost by accident. He looked up from his ring, blinking as he turned back to her. “I mean, that’s great, that you have someone to excel for.”

Hannah gestured lazily at Aaron with a muttered “Ivderanus.” Nothing seemed to happen for a moment but she flicked absently, her eyes unfocused and distant. A warm presence, full of happy feelings and good intentions, slipped into the boy's mind.

“Wow, your life sucks doesn't it.” Disappointment underscored her words as she continued to flick. It was like she was flipping pages in a book and sometimes circled something here and there. “Jeez, who’s that? You just played with that poor girl. Too busy looking at those legs hm?” Hannah cackled but suddenly she coughed, flicked the page, and coughed again, clutching at her throat. Her eyes grew wider and wider as she struggled against something and a dark bruise started forming around her neck. The presence vanished and she gasped, suddenly able to breathe again. Hannah slowly climbed back into her seat, winded, and stared at Aaron wide eyed.

“Who the fuck has been in your head?” She wheezed, still trembling. She made a shaky gesture and the mini fridge flew open, a bottle of water soaring into her outstretched hand. “I've never even seen our instructors able to pull something like that off.”

Hannah’s incantation rubbed Aaron the wrong way, figuring she was delving into his head again. But soon he felt more comfortable with it, satisfied in the knowledge that she meant him no harm as he watched her, somewhat fascinated.

Her comments didn’t bother him, though panic overcame his calm when Aaron saw her clutching at some invisible presence around her throat, jumping up when that bruise started forming, though he didn’t know what to do. He considered running and getting help, but he was hesitant to leave her.

Mercifully, Hannah’s fit was over almost as quickly as it came, though it did little to calm Aaron as he watched her recover, wide-eyed. Only when she spoke again did he finally take his seat, feeling behind him for the bench with eyes locked on Hannah, heart still jumping in his throat.

“Are you okay?” He asked urgently, ignoring her question, “What the hell was that!?”

“A very violent block in your head.” She groaned, rubbing her throat. “Advanced mind magic can put wards against intrusions in your head, normally keyed to specific memories. They can cause psychic feedback, sometimes strong enough to knock out whoever is rooting around, but I've never even heard of one that can physically hurt someone.” A note of awe crept into her voice as she spoke. She eyed Aaron again but an excited glint replaced the panic from earlier.

“So, who was in your head? All I could get was some music, maybe a piano?” She leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “It was beautiful though. I've never encountered magic with that degree of sophistication. We have to go back in. We have to see what it is. Come on, I can take both of us.”

For a moment, Aaron could only stare, looking at the girl like she had two heads. What the hell was she going on about? A piano? Lady Sinnenodel had dragged him kicking and screaming through his own memories, but nothing involving a piano. Although…

“Lady Sinnenodel was in my head,” Aaron replied, a little breathless in his lingering shock. “Why on earth would you want to repeat that?”

“Lady Sinn—” The woman launched herself at Aaron, hitting her knees and clinging to his. “I got lost in someone's head for three days just to find a spell they couldn't remember. Something like this? It's a once in a lifetime experience. I’m begging you. I think it's the most beautiful thing I've seen since I started this. I've read most of the illegal material on mind magic.” Hannah's eyes were wide, in a comical attempt at puppy dog eyes. “And I think it might actually kill me without your permission so please?!”

Aaron shifted in his seat, shying a little away from Hannah as she dropped before him. Immediately he took her shoulders, gently guiding her back up to the bench with a muttered, “Please don’t do that.”

He watched her incredulously as she continued, practically manic at the thought of diving headfirst into what he was fairly sure would be a nightmare for all involved. But as he watched her, her excitement began reminding him of when he’d first started practicing his affinity, wanting to get his hands on techniques far beyond his skill level. Besides, if this was the world he was going into, he supposed he should start getting used to it now.

He searched Hannah’s face a moment longer, hoping he would think of something to change his mind, but nothing came. “...Fine,” he conceded, inwardly groaning. “Just... please be careful.”

“Yeeees. I'll be as careful as can be!” Hannah promised cheerily. She placed her hand on Aaron's chest and pushed gently. The scene around them vanished, wisps of color fading into darkness and the forest outside Ryner's home appeared. Varis smoothed out Aaron's tie and stormed off into the darkness.

“What an asshole.” Hannah snorted. “You should deck him one day. Bet he wouldn't even see it coming! Oh but this is as far as I got before something choked me out. Mind walking us down and we'll see what happens!” Hannah clapped her hands together eagerly, watching Aaron expectantly.

Aaron blinked around at the darkness when the scene changed, surprised nothing else seemed all that different. He was standing in his same clothes, and still next to Hannah, several steps down the path from… Aaron.

He peered through the darkness at the pair down the path, watching from an outside perspective as Varis fixed his tie after having grabbed it, right after he’d given his warning. He might have rolled his eyes at Hannah’s comment had he not been so transfixed on the bizarre view of watching himself hurry into the woods at Varis’ heel.

Looking suspiciously to Hannah, he began to lead them down the path after… himself. “I could have just told you what happens next,” he informed her, a hint of sarcasm sneaking into his voice as some of the same nervousness from that night began to grip him anew.

They followed close enough behind to keep his other self and Varis in view, though that meant they couldn’t stray too far, lest the darkness swallow them. In fact, the trees on either side of the path were shrouded in it, an inky, featureless blackness that clashed with the slightly more illuminated path. Every now and then, though, a small patch of the forest to one side or another was a little more detailed; after watching his other self for a moment, Aaron realized that those detailed parts only appeared where he saw himself glancing. Apparently he hadn’t looked at the rest, having been wrapped up in his own nerves, so their features were missing from the memory.

Soon enough, the forest lightened and Aaron could see Ryner’s gate up ahead, the path of her drive extending beyond it.

As the pair approached the houses, Hannah gripped her head for a moment and Aaron could feel something tighten on his chest, the faintest outline of a hand gripping his shirt visible against the darkness. The familiar scene of the manor vanished and instead sunlight poured through the trees onto a manor covered artfully in vines and rose bushes. The fountain still ran, looking brand new, and the driveway was only partially completed. The faint sound of a piano playing caught their ear, seeming to echo across the scene, but no one could be seen.

“Wow.” Hannah's words seemed breathless as she reached her hand out. She plucked at the air and a thin golden line appeared in her fingers, humming along with the piano. It sparked and vanished. “A crash course on memory blocks and improvised memories: Like cloth, fake memories are made of “threads”, bits and pieces of magic woven with emotions and sensory images and put together to make an image. Threads take on different colors based on how real a memory is. Real measures how much true memory is woven into it rather than magic or fragments. Our books say gold is impossible because it's pure magic, there is no part of real memory woven into it, and so it falls apart. But this,” Hannah spread her arms and laughed. “This makes me think we don't know anything. Well, let's go see what this is all about! Have you ever seen this building?”

Aaron was staring wide-eyed at the scene before them until Hannah started to speak, explaining the origin of what he was about to say; that this was not his memory. However, rather than being as terrified as he should have been that a false memory was in his head, what Hannah said about real memories and impossible threads, sounding giddy all the while, made him feel more inquisitive than afraid.

At her question, he turned back to the manor, examining it closely. “It looks like… Princess Ryner’s manor…” He spoke slowly, combing through his memory. He remembered from his schooling that the manor was built ages ago, almost a millennium, and the rose bushes creeping along the outside confirmed for him that it was indeed hers. But the fountain was new…

“Wow,” he breathed, eyes widening as he let his shoulders fall. “This is her manor right after the Treaty was signed.” He looked to Hannah, and this time, it was his turn to get excited. He pointed to the fountain. “That was installed at my grandfather’s recommendation, it’s a defense measure. She had a few water mages with her at the time.”

Looking back at the manor, it was hard to tear his eyes away. “This happened within my grandfather’s lifetime,” he remarked, a little stunned. He ran a hand through his hair, gaping at the sight.

“Well, that shouldn't be right. Golden threads mean nothing should be based in reality.” Hannah walked forward, periodically plucking at a thread and tsking at the gold colors, until she raised her hand and pounded against the memory. Threads rippled for a just a moment, gold rushing off into the distance, but a pattern was clearly visible. The threads wove together in interlocking diamonds and in each one, a black eye hovered. Hannah watched, her excitement shifting into caution.

“Black normally only shows up in those suffering enthrallment.” She muttered. “But you don't have any of the other hallmarks. So why are there black threads in gold threads where neither mean what they should? This is…”

Hannah stopped suddenly as man rounded the corner, arguing with himself as he tossed a ball of fire between his hands. A younger Landar Starag, looking no older than Aaron, approached the pair and sat on the edge of the fountain. The piano in the background flowed from one song to the next. Landar's fire went out and he looked up abruptly, eyes fixed on Hannah. He stood, scowling, and suddenly his skin cracked and shattered like porcelain. It shifted and changed, moving around until the man looked older, wiser, with no hint of a smile and he lunged at Hannah and wrapped his hands around her throat once more.

Aaron all but jumped back from the lattice of black and gold, moved to deep unrest that something so disturbing was lurking in his mind. His mind. But none of it, none of it lingered in his thoughts for long when he spotted a man rounding the corner. A young, blond, blue-eyed man, playing with fire.

Aaron actually gasped, one hand coming up to his mouth as he looked on, transfixed. That was him. That was him. He was younger than he should have been, but it was unmistakably him. The man Aaron had spent his life looking up to in portraits, right there.

Crackling into pieces, and lunging at Hannah.

Coming to his senses with the sudden attack, Aaron reacted, lunging forward himself. He almost hesitated, confronted with the face that hung all over the walls of his home, but not for long. It wasn’t real, it was a false memory, but he knew the danger to Hannah wasn’t.

Wedging himself between the two, Aaron tried to wrench Landar’s arms away, but the second he touched the man, he exploded into— ravens?

Aaron threw his arms up instinctively as a raven flew at him, a few others flying out from where Landar had been. On the ground, several snakes slithered off of a pile of apples, over their feet and away into the grass.

Aaron could only stare at the apples for a second, breathing heavily. A rushing sound caught his attention, and he looked up to see the fountain running, spouting sand instead of water. He gaped for a second, before looking back to Hannah.

“What the hell is this?” he pressed darkly.

“Confirmation.” She wheezed but reverence seeped through as she fell to her knees. “The original vampires and their close descendants had power magic only dreamed of. I read in one of the restricted books that mind magic was created to counter one of the originals’ power but they didn't have a source. But the threads, the lattice, the literal noble seals— This is a—” Hannah's face went slack and she vanished, turning into wisps of dark smoke. Aaron felt something lift off his chest as she did but the scene around him remained unchanged.

“Just like Landar.” A voice, deep and smooth, rolled out of the mouth of a snake nearby. “Always getting in trouble without me watching. You're early, boy. And I bothered to give you my protection. Tsk, tsk, tsk.” As it spoke, the voice climbed an octave slowly. It stirred something in Aaron's head but the feeling wouldn't click. “Since this will fade once you leave, you may as well take advantage child. Ask one question before the sand engulfs you.” Sand rapidly poured over the edge of the fountain but the music started up again, this tune bringing back the image of a strange place with blank sarcophagi.

On instinct, Aaron grasped at the smoke where Hannah had vanished, panic rising in his chest when the memory didn’t disappear with her. But before he could wonder if this had all been a very long fever dream after the Revel or something, a voice turned his head, a snake as its source. An adder.

There was no time to be confused over its words or the strange pitch of its voice before the scene changed again, piano music filling his ears and sand flooding the floor between rows of sarcophagi. Fourteen, to be exact. But he hadn’t counted.

It was more than deja vu that struck Aaron as sand pooled around his legs; no, he knew he’d been here before, and he knew exactly when. But this had taken him out of a nightmare last time, not played a part in it. So what was so different now?

There was certainly more than one question swirling in his head, but Aaron was biting down panic as the sand reached his waist, trying and failing to move his legs. There was no time. So he did all he could do, grasping at the question which had been gnawing at him since they entered the false memory.

“That was just going to be a normal memory,” he snapped at the snake, eyes burning as the sand approached his chest. “So what the hell was in there that’s so important it needs to be protected like this?”

With his question, the sand shimmered before exploding into thousands of glowing butterflies against a dark room. Muffled shouts of celebration rang from beneath the floorboards and the smell of stale ale and sweat permeated the air. A candle lit, followed by the rest, and the room glowed orange. Only a mirror sat in the middle, covered with a dusty cloth.

“There lies your answer. Look if you dare.” The voice whispered in his ear. A gloved hand hung off Aaron's right shoulder and a sudden weight along hung back suggested an arm may be there as well.

“I do love mindscapes. I can be tall in them.” The voice sighed dreamily. “Being short was always a pain. You're lucky you know.”

Aaron peered around through the dim light, eyes landing on the mirror in the centre of the room. He started a bit, shifting instinctively, when he felt a weight across his shoulders, that eerily familiar voice in his left ear.

Rather than make a beeline for the mirror, Aaron stepped out from under the arm, turning to face the owner of the voice. He was confronted with a figure about his height, but bulkier; upon closer inspection, it was clad in leather armour, candlelight bouncing off the familiar dark slick of blood. Under a mop of unruly red hair was a face—no, a mask—that Aaron recognized. One of Lucan’s distant relatives, she’d died in battle defending Princess Nox.

Narrowing his eyes at the figure, Aaron spoke more coolly than he might have expected from himself. “Greta Bordeleaux wore obsidian plate, not leather,” he stated, examining the figure.

“All work and no play makes Aaron a dull boy.” The figure sang with a laugh. “Very well, very well. Maybe you'll like something a bit more masculine.” The mask contorted and shifted, Greta's face melting off like wax. A new face pushed out of the blank space; Donovan Astorio sneered down at Aaron. The vampire was executed for nearly throwing the realm into civil war three hundred years ago. “Are we going to stand here all day and play games to amuse you or would you like your prize? After all, the longer you stay in here, the more worried your little friend gets.”

“Aaron? Aaron? Wake up!” Hannah's voice, desperate and frantic, rang through the room before more celebratory noise replaced it. The figure slipped over to the mirror and grabbed the cloth, ready for a dramatic unveiling.

“Of course if you're scared, that door behind you will wake you up just the same. But how disappointed would your dear grandpappy Landar be?” The figure taunted Aaron.

Aaron lifted his head at the sound of Hannah’s voice, though despite her frantic tone, he held firm, an eerie calm setting in. “She’ll be fine,” he replied coldly, eyeing the figure as it moved to the mirror. “This is all in my head, after all.”

His gaze didn’t waver as the figure mocked him, his eyes trained on the mask of Donovan Astorio. Its offer was tempting, but something in the back of his mind was still gnawing at him as he approached, stopping him from reaching out.

“You seem awfully fond of the dead,” he remarked, crossing his arms and coming to a halt in front of the covered mirror. “Is that why you like to taunt the living?”

“Dead? They never lived.” The figure chuckled. “Better yet, they never existed. They were only roles written in a game far older than civilization as you know it. And there are many more where they came from, surrounding you and your kind. Far too many for my liking.”

“But,” the figure sighed as he leaned against the mirror, “I do envy you. Enjoying the breeze on your skin, the moonlight on the water, the touch of a lover. All things I am destined to be without for far too long. But we do crazy things for vengeance don't we.” The room dimmed, the edges fuzzing. “Seems like you've nearly ruined your memory of me. Quickly, make your choice or you may not get back at all.”

Aaron stared at the figure, listening not to his words, but to his voice. His words were mostly gibberish to Aaron anyway; it was the voice he’d been trying to hear. The pitch, the cadence, it was all so familiar but for the tone. But Aaron had achieved his goal, it seemed, and gotten the figure talking long enough for it to finally click in his brain who it was.

Except it was Varis.

A familiar spike of fear shot up through Aaron, and he stepped back at the realization, mind buzzing. The room was growing dim, and he was growing panicked, his former calm having burned away. He was done with this. He had to get out. But he’d come in for a reason, and like hell he’d be leaving without his answer. Urgently, he grabbed the cloth and tore it from the mirror, casting it aside.

He got barely a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Dawn shining at his side, before everything went dark.

“Ah!”

Aaron shot upright, inadvertently banging his head into something before he even managed to open his eyes. When he did, he was greeted by sunlight, golden sand, and Hannah, who had apparently been sitting too close and whose head had been the victim of his collision. Leaning forward, he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning quietly and massaging the sore spot on his forehead.

Hannah recoiled when they collided, her back hitting the table with a loud thud. She groaned as she rubbed her forehead and stumbled into her seat. It took her a moment to collect herself.

“What a reaction to a little mind reading.” She grumbled. “If you want to make it through mind classes, you'll have to get over this passing out defense mechanism. I know we're all a little squeamish at first but wow, you are extra aren't you?”

Aaron glared sideways at Hannah, not sure whether to be angry or confused. “What are you talking about?” He demanded, justifiably a little curt. “You saw that, didn’t you?”

“Saw what, a life of boring imprisonment and letting a fight go on so you could ogle a girl for the first time? Yes, I did.” Hannah looked confused and concerned. “Look, I'm sorry I did that without permission but you gotta get used to it or get real good at making excuses. The hive is gonna want to connect or Dennis is going to cry and you'll make us all angry and it's just going to be a bad time.”

Aaron stared at Hannah with that same combination of confusion and irritation, slowly straightening as she spoke. He didn't know what to address first: that little jab at his upbringing, whatever the ‘hive’ was, whoever Dennis was or why Hannah was acting like they hadn't just stumbled on something terrifying and incredible in his head.

“I gave you permission,” Aaron began, moving up to the bench without breaking his gaze, “We both went in, remember? We— I— Hannah, you were strangled twice!” Aaron took out his phone and held it out so that Hannah could see her reflection in the screen, his own eyes locked on the dark bruise around her neck, a confirmation that he wasn't the crazy one.

“That's from a nasty evocation spell gone wrong, Aaron.” Hannah spoke carefully, taking a few steps backwards. “I never asked your permission to enter you mind. I was just trying to help you find some sort of purpose and then next thing I know you passed out. If you'd been under any longer, I was going to call for help.” She eyed him like a feral animal, keeping her distance.

“Are you sure you're okay. Maybe you should pick a different arcane major? You seem a little… unprepared,” Hannah suggested. Her hand lingered on the table as she sat back on a bench.

Aaron resisted the urge to throw up his hands and look to the sky for answers, instead pocketing his phone. “Well, ‘okay’ is a relative term but yes, I think I'm okay,” he conceded with a slight huff. He looked at Hannah suspiciously.

“Just to be clear,” he asked, “gold threads, black eyes, an apparently impossible false memory; none of that is ringing any bells?”

“I mean, minus the black eyes yeah? I'm glad you've done some reading ahead but you don't need to know that for at least a semester.” Hannah sounded genuinely confused. “What are these black eyes?”

“‘Signs of enthrallment’?” Aaron replied indignantly, “Except I'm not enthralled? Nothing?”

“I wish I knew another language so I could tell you ‘no’ in that one too. Is this some weird way of asking me to get in your head because I'm not sure that's such a great idea right now. You know, with the hallucinating and shit.” The woman snapped, crossing her arms. “Maybe you should get evaluated before joining. You've obviously got some shit going on in there.”

“Well I'm obviously going to get evaluated, it's required,” Aaron snapped back, before exhaling heavily and leaning back, rubbing his eyes. Why was he bothering? Something obviously happened in there to wipe her memory, or… something.

“Sorry, I guess I respond poorly to mind reading,” he sighed, figuring it was best not to anger the girl who could be helping him and resolving to look into it on his own. “Anyway, what's the hive? Who’s Dennis?”

“Okay then.” Hannah settled down, drinking her water. She still seemed unconvinced. “The hive is just all the students in the program. Once we've controlled our telepathy, we all just sort of link up. It's incredibly useful, cheating is ridiculously easy but you lose most of your privacy to the hive.” She shrugged at the mention. “I remember Dennis tried to ask this girl out and half of us were whispering pick up lines and the other half of us were trying to shut them up. He did not get the date let's just say.” Hannah chuckled fondly. “Dennis is a junior in the program. He's a bit insecure and cries really easy so he's the baby of the group and the hive is incredibly protective of him. If someone upsets him, we all flood the person's mind with nightmares for months. No one hurts Dennis.”

Aaron quirked a brow, examining Hannah questioningly. Truth be told, that all sounded like a nightmare, not to mention it seemed like they were awfully mean to this ‘Dennis’ despite apparently wanting to protect him. But he supposed that was none of his business; not until they wanted him to wire into the ‘hive’, anyway.

“Ah,” was his reply as he finally tore his eyes away, staring down at the table as he prodded gingerly at the lump forming on his forehead. He was quiet for a second, wanting to interrogate Hannah further, but he was fairly sure he wouldn't get anything out of her. It really seemed like she forgot everything, all they'd seen having been pasted over somehow with mundane excuses.

“Is there anything else you think I should know?” He finally asked, looking over. “Anything you wish you knew before you started all this?”

“Hm, yes actually. Always bring a box of tissues to defensive practices. And new contacts if you wear them. And lots and lots of water. You're going to be bawling through every lesson for the first year.” Hannah cringed. “Other than that, make sure you have a direction and meaning for going into this. It isn't for the faint of heart and it'll chew you up and spit you out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aaron replied absently and nodded, standing and holding out a hand. “You’ve been very helpful, thank you. Would it be alright if I contacted you again?”

“Of course! Here, give me your phone so I can put my number in it.” Hannah held her hand out.

Aaron nodded, pulling up a blank contact on his phone before handing it over. “Thanks, I'm sure I'll be using it.”

She typed out her contact, chuckling at something, and tossed it back to him. Her own phone lit up, Janelle Moane's “Screwed” blasting at full volume. “Wow where did the time go? I have to jet, sorry. Athena's got a match soon and I hate missing them. Send me a text so I have your number!” She waved and bolted towards the door, leaving a wake of swear words behind her.

“She's funny.” The figure's voice, though distant and weak, tickled Aaron’s ear. “I wonder why she hid her mouth though.” And, like a veil being torn away, Aaron's memory shifted. Every image of Hannah changed and two of her overlapped perfectly. Neither image made sound even though her voice was clearly heard but only the top image's mouth moved.

Aaron whipped around at the voice, though all he saw was Hannah, seeing double, but not quite the same. Any former caution or composure was long gone, the man practically snarling at the voice and the vision.

“What is this!?” Aaron shouted, trying to back away from the images. “Who are you!?”

But of course, there was no answer. Instead, the voice went silent and the visions faded away, leaving him alone. Aaron simply stood there for a moment, breathing heavily and wanting to scream. Soon, though, the room felt cold and unsafe, the sunny warmth and gentle crashing of waves doing nothing to comfort him. So he simply stalked away, looking over his shoulder and lost in his head.

Making an appointment with Princess Ryner normally involved struggling to find an opening in the royal figure’s schedule and then getting rescheduled for important matters of state only to be pulled from a class during the night as Ryner forced her schedule open when she found out someone pushed aside a precious student. In recent years, Ryner created a special office hour period. This hour and a half block was dedicated to only students immediately after dawn, a time most sane vampires would be sleeping and unable to call on the Princess for anything less than the most dire circumstances.

The walk to Ryner’s manor was much more peaceful than the last time. Early light drizzled through the forest canopy, catching the morning dew. Bird calls and the chitter of insects permeated the air, a slight breeze whispered through the leaves, and a few deer grazed in the distance. Even still, Aaron was cautious, the memory of his ordeal with Hannah still fresh in his mind. Oddly enough, though he normally appreciated a chance to be out after sunrise, the sunlight on Ryner’s manor as he approached made him ill at ease, reminding him of the false memory he’d been replaying in his mind ever since that meeting. He even went so far as to keep his hand on Dawn’s handle as he approached, though his worries were unfounded, the walk to the manor altogether uneventful but for his own nerves.

Ryner’s manor practically glowed in the morning sun, light glittering off the quiet fountain and the dew on the roses around the building. The door opened to a young man bowing as the light mage approached, silently taking him through the manor to Ryner’s study. Two sharp knocks and a bow to him later, the man disappeared down the hall as Ryner called out, “Enter!”

Aaron did his best to swallow the flicker of jealousy he felt at the sight of the servant, his gaze lingering on the man a touch longer than necessary as he took his leave. Before he opened the door, he took a breath to clear his head, unnecessarily straightening his tie. Thinking like that was ungrateful and unproductive, and in any case, it would only serve to drive him crazy.

Ryner sat on her desk, still dressed in her riding outfit and her hair tied up tightly in a bun. A glass of blood swirled slowly in her hand and she read from a book titled “Ancient Beliefs: Religion and Death.” Two comfortable leather chairs faced her and a colorful rug covered the hardwood floor. Bookshelves lined the walls, holding both books and artifacts in glass casings. A painting of the sunrise over a foggy lake hung over her desk. She looked up as Aaron entered and a fond smile spread across her face, placing down both the book and the glass in favor of walking to him and wrapping him up in a warm hug.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Even if you were just at the castle for the break, I swear you grow a little more each time. I’m surprised you didn’t put on more weight while you were at the castle by what your mother said she planned to feed you!” She exclaimed, beaming as she kept hold of his shoulders and checked him over. “Enough of my worrying, sit down. It’s well past your time to turn in. You must be tired.” She returned to her chair behind her desk, taking another sip of blood in the process. “Now, what can I do for my favorite light mage this morning?”

Aaron barely had the chance to get his customary bow out of the way before Ryner approached him, though her hug and her kind words did manage to earn her a bashful smile, however bittersweet. Ever since he was a child, she’d been a calming presence, some of his tension relaxing even now. He shrugged off her comment about the hour, hoping that it would be excuse enough for the circles under his eyes that he wouldn’t have to admit he hadn’t had a full day’s sleep since his meeting with Hannah.

Taking Ryner’s cue to sit, Aaron pulled a little at his sleeves, taking a second to anchor himself and put his thoughts in order. It was reassuring to have been able to dress properly this time; while his suit and tie - one of the few in his new wardrobe - were a different style than he was used to, they were still more of a familiar feature than the more casual clothes Varis insisted on putting him in. The silver earring swinging from his right ear he could probably have done without, but at least his disdain for the thing had mostly faded.

Not wanting to waste any more of the Princess’ time than was necessary, Aaron forced himself to speak, neatly shelving his growing self-consciousness about the meeting behind his practiced court smile. “Well, Your Highness, to put it briefly, I’ve all but decided to go into Mind magic as an arcane focus, and my guidance counselor told me I had to submit a plan for… coping.” He did his best to act nonchalantly, but the nature of his request was gnawing at him, making him a little hesitant. “He recommended I find someone I could trust to help me make one, and with Sir Bordeleaux occupied, I thought of you.”

Though he maintained his outward calm, on the inside Aaron practically groaned. Good lord, he felt ridiculous even just saying it. Taking up the Princess’ valuable time for a personal matter felt distinctly improper (not to mention that this was the second time he’d done it), Aaron being sure that she had far better things to do. It just killed him that what he said was true; with Lucan away on assignment (and apparently with hands full enough that he couldn’t even answer a letter), he really didn’t have anyone else to turn to, and he’d never be accepted into the program if he didn’t make a plan.

“Aaron, I’ve known you since you were a babe. I’m more than happy to help you but I’ll need more than your pleasant smile.” Ryner sent him an amused look. “Part of what you’ll have to learn on this path is emotional honesty. You’ll be exploring the deepest recesses of your mind and while I have no doubt you are capable of such a venture, hiding or ignoring how you’re feeling behind your court manner will only hold you back at best. You’re safe in here, with me. Anything you say or do stays with me.”

“Now, what have you considered so far? Activities similar to your sessions with Sir Bordeleaux should be avoided. As calming as exhaustion is, it is bad for a struggling mind.” Ryner sipped more at her glass as she relaxed into her chair. She watched Aaron for a moment, seeming lost in thought. “Music is always a good outlet. Have you kept up with your practice? Playing some simpler pieces with a friend or two can be one option.”

Aaron nodded, ears beginning to burn at the Princess’ gentle reprimand. She saw right through him; he should have expected it, but he’d always found ‘emotional honesty’ to be a challenge. It was much easier to shelve things away to be more or less dealt with later than to wear his struggles on his sleeve. But she was right, he needed to learn and he might as well start now. A little reluctantly, he finally let his mask fall away to reveal an exhausted and embarrassed young man, uncertain and seeking guidance.

Sighing, he shifted in his seat, running a hand over his jaw at the mention of training. “My counselor said the same thing, though I can’t say I’m very happy about it,” he replied, running his fingers thoughtfully over the scar on his ear. “In the past, when I couldn’t train, I didn’t really know what to do with myself.”

At the mention of music, Aaron nodded again, remembering something. “Of course. I did mention that to my counselor, but I’m not sure if that will be enough.” He dropped his hand, letting it fall on the arm of the chair as his expression grew somber, eyes unfocused and aimed somewhere on Ryner’s desk.

“When Sir Bordeleaux found out that Mom was sick, he had me doing a lot more music than training, but I was still going a little crazy worrying,” he admitted, fingers finding their way back to his ring. There was a brief pause before he took a breath, perking himself up a little. “I’d still like to at least incorporate music, though I don’t really know anyone here who plays. I suppose I’ll have to find some new ensemble partners.” Moon only knew how he’d go about that; most of the campus gave him a wide berth already.

As Aaron spoke, something flickered behind Ryner’s eyes and she grinned, throwing open drawer after drawer, rummaging through them, and giving a quiet huff as she couldn’t find what she was looking for. She moved to the bookshelves, pulling out a few of the glass cases and huffing again when she didn’t find it.

“You always were an active child.” Ryner laughed as she continued to look for whatever it was. “Always a fidgety little thing. It was absolutely adorable honestly but it would be remiss of us not to consider that for this. So instead of beating yourself half to death and scurrying away to a life mage we can always…” She pulled a case of the opposite shelf with a quiet “Aha!” and pulled out an old MP3 player.

“I knew I kept it stashed around here.” Ryner beamed as she returned to the desk and pulled out an old mp3 dock. “I haven’t quite had the time to update my things. I’m afraid they’ll confuse me as much as phones confuse my mother so I stick with the old technology.” She fiddled with it for a while and finally got everything plugged in properly. She tapped a few buttons on the player and music played softly, a familiar cello standing out against the rest of the ensemble.

“I remember when you played this at court. Just after your awakening, you were so relieved I just had to have it recorded.” Ryner reminisced with a fond smile. She held her hand out to him from the middle of the room. “Come, dance with me. A simple waltz always helps me clear my head after a rough day at Council.”

Aaron watched curiously as Ryner searched around her office, eyebrows shooting up when she produced a sort of MP3 player he hadn’t seen since he was a child and started playing a familiar tune. It took a second for him to recognize it, but it clicked in his head what it was from just before Ryner herself mentioned it. He had to take a breath to steady himself as emotion welled up in him, both from the memory of that night and how ecstatic he’d been and from the encouraging, humbling thought that the Princess had thought that moment important enough to record.

“I remember,” Aaron stated absently, rising from his chair at Ryner’s request. He took her hand, placing his other one appropriately on her waist as he moved effortlessly into a start position. “I didn’t know anyone had recorded it,” he remarked, listening carefully and stepping into a waltz when the music was right.

He’d played the piece almost exactly three years ago, but he was astounded by how clearly he remembered it. He could pick out his part with no trouble, mentally going through the motions of that particular piece, remembering the positions of the notes on the page and where he’d marked in his cues and corrections. He didn’t usually record himself, so hearing his own music played back was strange; he could predict which notes would be emphasized, stretched or condensed because it was him playing, his style immediately apparent to his own practiced ear. It wasn’t just the music he remembered, either; he also remembered the hall he’d been playing in, the other people in the ensemble, even the way the light glinted off a scratch on his stand. He remembered getting a little giddy every time he saw it, still riding the high from his Awakening. He’d been grateful for the relative simplicity of the piece, because his mind had been elsewhere, hands working on muscle memory as his mind raced with excitement. Even now, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“There he is! I knew I’d find you eventually.” Ryner chuckled as she followed Aaron’s lead. “Of course I recorded it. I have all of your performances recorded. I’ve saved as many of you and your family’s moments as I could get away with. Your mother has most of them. Duty too often gets in the way of your moments so I keep them just in case.” The little bit of tension set in her faded away as she flowed into the familiar steps and hummed along with the music. She closed her eyes, fully comfortable with Aaron’s lead.

“Mental magic, hm?” Ryner mused. She spoke softly, just loud enough for Aaron to hear but without speaking over the music. “That is quite the choice. I’m not sure anyone in your family has attempted to learn it. With how giddy you were after your Awakening, I’m surprised you’re willing to take the risk. I take it you’ve done your research? Talk me through your process.”

Aaron was touched by the thought of Princess Ryner holding on to moments from his and his family’s lives, his smile warming even as Ryner closed her eyes. But it faltered a touch when she asked about his decision, and he was tempted to put his walls up again, the topic bringing with it a spark of now-familiar anxiety. But he had taken the Princess’ advice to heart, and he figured he owed it to her to be honest, so he would do his best.

“Truthfully, I never thought it was something I would pursue,” he explained, paying almost no mind to the steps of the waltz as he navigated the pair of them away from Ryner’s desk. “I’d be devastated to lose my affinity, and I’ve been trying to talk myself out of it for weeks, but I can’t shake this feeling that it’s something I have to do.”

“Does this have anything to do with the dinner?” Guilt crept into her voice at the mention of it. “I know I apologized over the break but I’m sure I can’t apologize enough. I should have known the Lady would have taken advantage of your aunt. In case you haven't managed contact with her yet, she made a full recovery from that night despite a shaky month.” Ryner sighed, the days spent pacing outside the woman’s bedroom after the event still clear in her mind. “Is that why you plan to enter the program? Defending yourself?”

Aaron nodded, taking a breath to try and stretch out the growing tension in his chest. “All I did was step away and she got into my head and saw everything. I know I shouldn’t have moved, but with Aunt Dora screaming like that, I didn’t even think.” He looked off to the side with a slight huff, clearly irritated with himself, before returning his attention to the Princess. “And now anyone I’ve ever met could be under her microscope. I know it's too late for me but if I can help it, I'd like to keep the people I care about far out of her reach.”

It felt strange to talk so freely about his Lady, especially considering that he was fairly sure saying the same to anyone else would probably have disastrous consequences. But despite the worry nagging at the back of his mind, it felt good to get it off of his chest. “Trust me, if it were just myself at stake I probably wouldn't risk it, but with Master’s position I can only assume I'll be seeing more of her, and I can't justify putting other people at risk just because I’m afraid.”

“Under a microscope? Who thinks Lady… Varis.” Ryner opened her eyes long enough to roll them. “I assure you, the world's second most premier drama king drastically threw this out of proportion. Lady Sinnenodel has more pressing concerns than evaluating a single mage's life. However, taking the risk for your loved ones is commendable. It's one of the many things that make you shine.” Ryner's grip on him tightened and she brought their dance to a halt.

“But never forget that you, your feelings and your instincts, matter. You cannot sacrifice what's important to you for other people. You are strong, so so strong Aaron, but you will not come out the same if you walk into this with only that.” Ryner's eyes were full of care and warmth and concern as she kept eye contact with Aaron. “You need more to make it through this, Aaron. I would be devastated if anything happened to you. I should set up a meeting between you and one of our current students to help give you some direction on that.”

That was exactly what Aaron had been thinking, that Lady Sinnenodel wouldn't possibly care enough to bother with anything she found in his head, but he still couldn't shake his worry. Besides, he'd be lying if he said his reasoning was entirely altruistic. He was not a fan of her or anyone picking his mind apart. The irony was not lost on him, of course, being that he'd have his mind combed through repeatedly throughout his training, but the idea that he could protect himself by the end of it was tempting nonetheless.

He stopped when Ryner halted him, heart swelling at her words. Again he had to take a breath to quell the emotion rising in him; it was amazing how profoundly her kindness affected him. In the back of his mind, he realized he'd been almost craving it, the Princess giving him the sort of guidance and understanding he'd been pining for ever since he joined Varis.

He was grateful for the change of topic when it came, rapidly blinking a few times and clearing his throat. “Actually, I’ve already met with someone. Her name was Hannah, I think she was in second year. Do you know her?”

“Yes, I do. She has quite the appetite for magic.” Ryner said thoughtfully, starting the waltz again as the music looped. “She came to me personally for access to our restricted texts on the subject matter. How did your discussion go?”

Aaron picked back up when Ryner did, though he looked away when he spoke. “It was… definitely productive,” he replied, a little uneasy. For a moment that was all he offered, dancing a little stiffly as he wrestled with himself. But he realized he’d put up his walls again, and resolved to open back up, making himself relax with a long breath as he closed his eyes.

“I suppose there’s more than one reason I want to go into this school,” he admitted, keeping one ear on the music to ground himself and opting to explain from the beginning. “Hannah and I spoke for a little while, and she was very helpful, explained what I would go through during each stage of my training and how she coped. She said I needed a ‘purpose’, something or someone to do it all for when I couldn’t do it for myself. She has her partner, but I can’t help but think that may not work in my case.” He gave a ghost of a knowing smirk before growing serious again.

“Anyway, she tried rifling through my memories to help me find mine, but when she did, something… stopped her.” He stopped then too, drawing back a bit. One hand found its way to his throat, absently rubbing it as he collected himself. “I don’t know what she did to me, but when Lady Sinnenodel went into my mind… I think she might have left something behind.”

Ryner paused at the comment but continued dancing, concern evident on her face. “First and foremost, are you okay? Did it hurt you? Do I need to call a medic?”

Aaron shook his head, returning his hand to Ryner’s waist and continuing the dance. “No, it didn’t hurt me,” he corrected, “I don’t think it did anyway. But it hurt her.” A certain urgency crept into his voice, and he looked Ryner in the eye, something he would never otherwise do, to convey the gravity of the matter. “When she got to a certain point in my memories, something started to strangle her. I saw it, I watched her choke, I saw the bruise it left. It wasn’t just in her head or mine, it was physical. She said it was some kind of memory block, like she’d never even heard of before, and insisted I let her investigate.” He tore his eyes away, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know, maybe I should have refused, or gone to one of the instructors for help instead of letting her do it, but I did let her do it, and I do not like what we found.”

“Something in your memory choked her in the physical world?” Ryner stopped them, disengaging from the dance entirely, and stopped the music. “And you think Lady Sinnenodel put it there? Tell me exactly what happened from start to finish.” Ryner sat behind her desk, a pad and pen quickly in front of her.

“Yes!” Aaron exclaimed, admittedly surprised that Ryner believed him. After Hannah seemed to forget everything, he’d been growing more and more concerned that he was just crazy. He followed her to the desk, sitting in his former chair and perching his elbows on his knees. “Hannah was actually excited about it. She practically begged me to let her go back in, and she only even asked my permission because she thought whatever it was might kill her if she went in without my consent. So I agreed, and she did… something, and suddenly we were at the edge of the forest on the night of the dinner, watching Master and me from a few steps behind.”

He told her the story in the order it happened, giving her as much detail as he could remember; which was quite a bit, considering he’d been running over the events of their ordeal over and over ever since it happened. The words practically fell out of his mouth, Aaron surprising himself at how eagerly he told the story; apparently it had been swirling around in his head so much he’d been dying to get it all out. He told her about the false memory, the threads and the eyes, seeing his grandfather and her manor from hundreds of years back, and everything else, all the way through his encounter with that strange figure and the mirror, to when he finally woke up.

“... but Hannah insisted that I’d passed out from a routine mind-reading, and that the bruise around her neck was from an evocation spell gone wrong. No matter what I said, she just looked at me like I had two heads and essentially told me I was crazy.” He leaned back in his seat, his exhaustion apparent as he slumped into the leather, leaning his temple on his hand. “Then when she left, that voice - Master’s voice, I swear it - came back, saying…” he paused a second to remember the exact words, looking up at the ceiling, “... ‘She’s funny, I wonder why she hid her mouth though’.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “But I don’t know what that means. And suddenly all my memories of her were replaced, or altered, or something, by this odd… overlap? Of two of her? Like seeing double, but not quite. Only one of her moved her mouth, but it was like her voice was coming from somewhere else.”

He let his head fall back on the chair, rubbing his face and heaving a sigh. “I was very stressed by this point so I yelled at it, asking what this was and who it was, but it was gone.” He lifted his head back up to look at Ryner, the circles under his eyes evident. “I don’t think I’ve had a day’s sleep since, I just keep going over and over it all in my mind. It feels like there’s something foreign and malevolent hiding in my head, and honestly, it's really disturbing.”

Ryner wrote as fast as Aaron spoke, pages flipping rapidly and another note pad slipping out from her desk. The longer he spoke, the more anger replaced the concern on her face. When he finished, she sat back and her face went blank as she thought. It was silent for a long while as she flipped back through the notepads.

“Thank you for bringing this to me.” Ryner broke the silence, her face softening once again. “I can only imagine how unsettling that experience must have been. That being said, I don't believe this… event will occur again. Given the identities it chose and the scene with Landar, I believe I know what happened and if that is the case, you are in no danger. If you are feeling up to it, I would like our instructors to confirm my suspicions and then compare it to Hannah's memory of your time together. I would rather know you are no longer in danger before we start a full investigation these events."

Aaron nodded eagerly. “Yes, anything that will help, I'll do it,” he insisted, relief crashing over him. What happened to him was real, he wasn't blowing it out of proportion, whatever it was was real and not just an overreaction on his part. “I'm honestly just glad to hear I'm not just crazy. I was beginning to worry.”

He was quiet for a moment, considering whether his next question was valid, but decided to come out with it. Ryner wanted honesty, and he would be remiss if he wasted his chance to speak openly. “May I ask the purpose of an investigation? Whatever happened to me, is it a crime? Are you at liberty to tell me any more about what it was?”

“It is not what happened but rather who happened.” Ryner spoke carefully. “Somehow someone discovered information restricted to the royal family and passed it into you undetected, or that was an impression of the man responsible for all those events. Either option is a grave security threat to the realm and we must move quickly before whoever is behind this realizes their impression has been triggered. As such, the evaluation will occur as quickly as our mages can arrive.” Ryner pulled out a flip phone and made a quick call, orders phrased politely but with a firmness that demanded immediate action. Once she hung up, she relaxed a little and fondness filled her face as she looked at Aaron.

“You did nothing wrong and my first priority is making sure you are safe so don't worry about this. I expect your part in this to end before you return to your dorm this morning.” Ryner changed the track on the mp3 player, a piano and a cello playing softly through the speaker.

Aaron nodded slowly, a little surprised that he was being evaluated so soon, but understanding the urgency. But ultimately, Ryner’s explanation provided more questions than answers.

“So you don’t think my Lady is to blame for this?” he asked, knowing it was possible he wouldn’t get an answer. “Or did she put something in there and then someone else blocked it off? Or something else entirely?” Confusion was evident in his voice, as well as a prick of apprehension. He wasn’t a fan of where his reasoning was headed. “Is it possible for someone to have invaded my mind without my knowledge? With my Lady and Hannah, it was at least noticeable...” He trailed off, sinking into thought, eyes unfocused and searching.

“Wait,” he added suddenly, snapping back to focus. “Your Highness, you said I’m no longer in danger. Was I in danger before?”

“Anyone in the general vicinity of that person is in danger but yes, you were. If my suspicions are correct, the entity in your mind would have grown over time and eventually been fully capable of seizing full control, manipulating your memories, and even your senses in real time.” Ryner explained gravely. “However, it seems at this age it only had enough power to manifest that particular mechanism once without damaging the structure of the block. Going in and triggering it a second time must have collapsed it.” Ryner looked at Aaron for a few long moments.

“The short of it is yes, you were in danger and assuming I am correct, yes they can stroll into your head at almost any time. Technically, eye contact is required but this vampire is old enough that altering memories is as easy and quick as tearing a single sheet of paper. If he didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t.” Ryner smiled reassuringly. “I do not believe Lady Sinnenodel responsible for this. This ability isn’t learned; its an ancient and innate power of the original vampires and their children. The originals and the children slaughtered each other mostly and those remaining actively and aggressively opposed the Treaty. They were culled for the sake of peace with humanity. But if the Children are back…” Ryner trailed off, thoughts whirling in her mind, but she shook it off. “But hopefully it was an elaborate prank or a simple ruse.”

Aaron listened intently, growing visibly more troubled as Ryner went on. He was reeling, all this talk of the originals and how vulnerable he really was quickly becoming overwhelming. Eventually he couldn't sit still any longer and stood from his seat, pacing slowly and spinning his ring. He had so many questions, confusion and concern flooding his mind, though even beyond how on earth any vampire could possess magic, one stuck out from the rest.

“A ruse?” He asked finally, though he didn't stop his fidgeting, moving his ring from finger to finger. “But why would someone with that kind of power ever bother with me?”

“Your bloodline is a glowing testament to the Treaty. Imagine if you spoke against it.” Ryner responded. “It would throw our order into chaos. Rebel factions would feel emboldened and all out war may actually break out. As much as I agree change is necessary, destroying everything in the process is radical and dangerous to the greater human population. A single document is all that stands between the old ways and now. A Starag speaking out against it would obliterate it.”

“I would never speak against the Treaty,” Aaron replied automatically, though he was entirely sincere. He remembered what he'd told Salem that night after dinner (and what felt like every night after that), how despite its flaws, the order prescribed by the Treaty was the way things had to be to maintain peace. The very thought of someone trying to upend it was disturbing enough, and now what, someone was actually trying to do it?

“All those things Master said about the Red Hand…” Aaron stopped his pacing, eyes falling somewhere on the rug. “Truth be told, I didn't believe him. Not about Salem, anyway. Though I did see the Marivaldi house boarded up afterward…”

He looked back over to Ryner, head snapping up. “Do you think there's any chance they're behind this? What if they try again? Your Highness, if that's what's going on then I really may have no choice but to pursue mind magic; if someone is trying to manipulate me to undercut the Treaty, I have to do everything in my power to protect myself.”

“If that is what you believe, if that makes you feel safe, then do it. You always have a choice Aaron. As difficult as those around you may make it, you always have a choice.” Ryner said. “But no. The Red Hand isn’t behind this.” Ryner tapped absently on the desk. “But it does mean someone is hiding something.” At that moment, Ryner glanced up and the door swung open. Three mages in long robes swept in, bowing to the Princess.

“Visar, Allison, Dominick, this is Aaron. Based on recent events that he brought me, I believe Hannah has lost her affinity and is using a restricted technique to hide it. Allison, Dominick, find her and subdue her. She is not to be harmed under any circumstances but we cannot have her using what she has learned.” The pair of mages bowed and swept back out. Visar instead let his gaze fall on Aaron, sizing the boy up. The man matched height with Aaron and circled him slowly.

“This is the boy, your highness? This is my first time seeing a Starag in person. I must say, I’m-” Ryner silenced the man with a look and shook her head. Visar bowed his head.

“Sit down please Aaron. We can continue our discussion once we are done.” Ryner said, nodding at the chair he left vacant.

Aaron looked to the door when the mages arrived, though at the mention of Hannah, Ryner had his full attention. “What?” He all but blurted out, forgetting himself in his shock. Hannah lost her affinity? So what, did that mean everything she told him was useless, or did she just not have a strong enough connection after all? Or did their ordeal have something to do with it? It would torment him to think he had a hand in her affinity loss, but he truly had no idea.

He barely glanced at the one she called Visar, suddenly straightening when he realized his rudeness. Clearing his throat, he sat where Ryner indicated, speaking much more calmly. His court manner came back in the blink of an eye, neatly shelving his shock and concern behind a polite, if curt, mask now that he and the Princess were no longer alone. “Yes, forgive me, this is all a lot to take in.”

“I'm sure.” Visar said sympathetically as he took his place in front of Aaron. He leaned in and placed his hands on the mage's temples. “Relax into my magic when you feel it. You'll feel drowsy and you may fall asleep. It is perfectly normal.” As Visar spoke, Aaron could feel him coaxing at the edge of his mind, pulling up the sleepless hours he’d spent fretting and washing the pure exhaustion over him. The worry and anxiety faded away and his body felt light and sluggish all at once. Visar's magic felt like soft pillows and cool sheets and his mother's touch, refreshing and relaxing and familiar as he sifted through Aaron's memories.

“There are no foreign entities in his mind any longer, your highness.” Visar's voice was distant and far away as light touches and warm caresses coaxed Aaron further and further into his own mind. Visar murmured a few more words and Aaron slumped, fast asleep.


“Aaron.” Ryner murmured as she ran her hand through his hair, putting just enough pressure to make her presence known. Visar had given his report almost half an hour ago and his spell would be wearing off soon. “Aaron, it’s time to wake up.”

A sensation in his hair began to coax Aaron from sleep, a voice, somewhat distant, bringing him back to the surface. His eyelids were still heavy when he opened his eyes, blinking slowly as he registered his surroundings. When he realized where he was, though, his eyes flew open with a sharp gasp and he practically jumped out of the chair, stumbling a bit and catching himself on the arm of the chair as he rose faster than his balance could adjust.

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, almost like a reflex as he blinked around at the office, waiting for the last fog of sleep to dissipate from his mind.

“Aaron, you walked into my office with dark circles. I'm not going to deny you a little much-needed sleep.” Ryner soothed, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her amusement. “However, I have to ask. Is it only the stress of debating your major that is causing this or have you had another dream? Life mages can ease your way through stress but those are an entirely different matter.”

Not entirely hearing her at first, Aaron searched the rug as he tried to figure out how he'd managed to fall asleep in a meeting with the freaking Princess. It took him a little longer than expected, grogginess clinging on more insistently than normal, but he remembered that they had been dancing, and then sat back down, talking more about finding his “purpose”. He must have nodded off in the chair, perhaps soothed by the music. Though Ryner was understanding, he still mentally kicked himself for behaving so irreverently. Maybe opening up and unloading his anxieties about the program had relieved enough of his tension for the exhaustion he'd been building on the past few weeks to come upon him all at once, but he still cursed his own foolishness.

Shaking his head as the last tendrils of sleep faded away, Aaron finally registered what had been said to him. Shaking his head, he allowed himself to settle back into his chair. Of course, Princess Ryner saw right through him. Not altogether surprising; the stress had been rolling off of him since he got here, and he knew after so long sleeping poorly his eyes looked more dead than alive. Frankly, he was surprised she hadn’t asked sooner.

“Your Highness, your intuition is uncanny,” he half-joked, although there wasn’t much energy left to keep up the facade as familiar anxieties crept back in. “It returned the last day I spent at home, though this one only lasted a week.” He got right to it. “I’ll admit that this one is more pleasant—if you could call cryptic dreams pleasant—but I’m sure you understand why I’m not exactly comforted by the thought.”

Ryner frowned when he explained the situation and she stood, returning to her desk and pulling out a new legal pad and a quill. “That is concerning. Why don’t you explain this dream to me and we’ll see what we can make of it. Hopefully, piecing it together will ease some stress off your shoulders and maybe give us a clue why you’re having them.”

Aaron nodded, taking a moment to put his thoughts in order. “At the very least, this one is less eventful,” he began. “The entire thing takes place in what I assume is Ellmare’s new home. She thinks it’s in the sky—presumably a tower—with a garden, and she’s been able to make herself at home. In the dream, she’s on a balcony, basking in the sunlight.”

He rubbed his temple, closing his eyes. “She thinks about the sun, and about Yvaine and others whom I assume are her associates—people Ellmare thinks of as the moon and stars, respectively. She feels safe and happy there with them, but just as her lingering doubts return, ‘her moon’ makes her presence known, sending a blue butterfly to call for her. Ellmare treats Yvaine like a mother, and Yvaine treats her as a daughter in turn.” His brow furrowed. “She seems to call upon something resembling plant magic, but more than that; she creates vines and flowers and stars to comfort Ellmare, and they’re effective. Ellmare drifts back to sleep and then…”

Aaron opened his eyes once more, shrugging defeatedly. He was starting to notice a pattern. “Then I wake up.”

Ryner had been writing for most of it, her quill moving as quickly as she jotted down notes and questions alike, but it had come to a halt at the mention of stars and flowers. She tapped a few times and underlined something before she looked back at Aaron. There was no expression on her face. “Starting from the beginning, you said it might be a tower and she was basking in the sunlight? Were you able to see anything beyond the tower or anything in the garden? Any details that might give us an idea where she is in your dream?”

“If not,” Ryner flipped the page and wrote some more. Her lack of expression didn’t change as she spoke, an unusual occurrence in front of any of the Starags. “Did she mention anything about Yvaine and her associates? Any specific details would be perfect. Did you see any of them?”

A stone of familiar dread settled in Aaron’s stomach as he watched the Princess disappear behind a mask of her own. Still, he took a moment to think, eager to provide as much information as he could. “It seemed to be warm in the daytime and cold at night, if that helps at all. Whatever home she was living in had a library, and apparently the garden was a maze garden. She seemed to think it stretched out beyond the horizon…”

It was like he was back in the dream for a moment, the images surrounding him as they had so many times before. It was vivid, and enchanting, but alas, there wasn’t anything more he could discern. “And that’s all, I’m afraid.”

As for the people, Aaron paused again to count them all. “There was… a funny little man who would bring Ellmare toys, and told her that silence was actually conversation—maybe a Divination instructor?” He sounded unsure, but counted off on his fingers anyway. “Then there was a woman who behaved like a leader among the others, but also taught Ellmare jokes and pranks she could play on Yvaine.” He almost smiled, feeling the familiarity from the dream. But as soon as he noticed it, he pushed it away, the thought of carrying anything out of those dreams disturbing him. “And then two more men. One I think was the man who accompanied Yvaine in the first dream, with an axe and a distaste for staying put, and the other was stern but warm, who Ellmare thought of as a father. It seems he took care of her anytime Yvaine wasn’t there.”

He looked back up at the Princess, letting his hands fall on the armrests. “I didn’t personally see any of them, but Ellmare was very familiar with all of them. There were servants present in the household too, but not mentioned except in passing. Does that help?”

There was a brief glimmer of relief in her eyes, gone in almost a blink, before a thoughtful frown replaced the expressionless mask. “Not immediately. I’ll do some research into it. Yvaine is still a central figure so it’s likely these are the other Children? Or perhaps embraced of her own? There is still so much to consider. A new dream before I could barely put a scratch on the other. At least there is more to go on. Hopefully it’ll help accelerate my research. Though I’m curious if we’ll see another dream in a similar time frame. If you do, I hope it’s as pleasant as this one. If you must be bothered by something, the least it could do is be nice.” She put down her quill, worrying at her lower lip as she considered her notes.

“Did Salem experience this dream at the same time?” Ryner asked. “And did your family find out you were having them while you were home?”

Nodding, Aaron refrained from admitting that he didn’t just hope the next dream was a pleasant one: he hoped it never came. Unfortunately, he feared he might not be so lucky.

“He did, yes,” he answered Ryner’s question. “To my knowledge, no one else knows. Salem tried to talk about it while we were still there, but I was quick to put an end to that.”

He ran a hand down his face, bringing it back up to massage his temple. “You know as well as I do that the walls at home have ears, and confidential details aside, I don’t need rumours flying around the servants’ quarters that I’m sharing dreams with a suspected rebel.”

“Don’t worry about the investigation. It’s little more than a facade to cover my mother’s pride. Though, Salem does seem to lack a certain survival instinct.” Ryner chuckled with a shake of her head. “Good job containing it. It would be a disaster if more of your family got involved. I’m glad I can count on you. With all this information in your head, I suppose it’s best you focus on mental magic as a major as difficult and risky as it is.”

Aaron couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved to see that he wasn’t the only one who thought Salem seemed to struggle with the idea that jumping off a cliff would not make him fly. But the humour was short-lived, an air of solemnity falling over Aaron once again. “My thoughts exactly,” he agreed. “It’s like you said before, Your Highness: Now that I have confidential information in my head, I have even more responsibility to protect myself.”

His smile did return for a moment as he recalled something. “Through force, duplicity, or any other means necessary, I think is how you phrased it.”

He shook his head, serious once more. “The difficulty doesn’t bother me, and the risk… well, I think it’s worth it. I think I can overcome it. If I can follow Hannah’s advice, anyway. It seems to have worked well for her.” He absently spun his ring as he spoke, but at that moment he stopped, recalling something pertinent from their meeting.

“Oh, but speaking of confidential information, is there anything you can tell me about ‘the Hive’? Hannah made it sound like a party line of mental mages; they all hook their minds together and… talk, or share consciousness, or something. Apparently you lose your privacy to it.” Aaron wrinkled his nose in distaste, despite himself. “She made it sound like there would be pressure to join, but I’m sure you can understand why I’d rather keep as much privacy as I can.”

He shuddered just to think of it. It wasn’t just Council secrets and nightmares he had hidden in his mind; the floor plan of the entire Noila castle, schedules of the servants and guards, and a highly secret and illegal mausoleum tucked away on castle grounds made up just some of the privileged information he had access to. He didn’t even want to think of the consequences he’d incur if anyone not bound by vows of confidentiality were to be literally picking through his brain.

“The Hive? There shouldn’t be any pressure to join. It’s entirely optional.” Ryner assured Aaron. “The Hive is just a place where the mental students can find support in each other because other students tend to ostracize them. We strongly encourage that they continue to interact with their peers outside the program as well. The more people know about them, the less likely they are to avoid and fear them. Privacy shouldn’t be an issue either. The keystone that holds the base spell that created and stabilizes the mental link will eject you and protect you from the rest of the students in the event you feel uncomfortable. Its process is entirely automatic and is far too advanced for any student to override it. Plus, an instructor regularly refreshes the enchantments on it. You should have nothing to fear from them.” Ryner tapped her fingers on her desk.

“However, I will speak with my team about it. Just in case, I’ll have them run interference and remind students about the privacy clauses of our school. And if that doesn’t work and they’re still pestering you,” Ryner leaned forward, a wicked glint in her eye. “You have quite the weapon in your pocket. I highly doubt someone as secretive as your Count would care to know his mage is being infiltrated. Twist your words right and maybe you can earn a little favor with him. I technically can only interfere so far but Varis has far more right to defend you than I. And as long as he doesn’t kill or harm them well,” Ryner sat back with a shrug, “What can I do about it?”

Aaron smirked at the Princess’ mischief. He had to admit, despite their… strained relationship, the idea that he could rely on his Count was a reassuring one. That was how things were meant to be, at least in Aaron’s ideal world; a mage serves his master faithfully and from it gains a stalwart ally. Granted, this was not an ideal world, but while he was pretty sure Varis would throw him under the bus for any number of reasons, the Count at least had a vested interest in the security of his mage’s mind. Despite the connotation, the thought was strangely comforting.

The Princess’ information was likewise a welcome relief, although a shadow of doubt still poked at the back of Aaron’s mind. “That is reassuring, thank you. Though, if it’s all the same to you Your Highness, I’d like to relay what Hannah told me about the Hive to one of your team just in case.”

“Of course. Would you like to commit it to paper and I can send it to them or would you like me to set up a meeting with them tomorrow?” Ryner asked. “I’m happy to oblige either way.”

“Paper should be fine. All things considered, there isn’t much to tell.” Aaron replied, the Princess handing him a pad and pen. He wrote quickly in elegant script - turns out all those lines were good for something after all, as his handwriting no longer looked so much like it was photocopied from a cursive instructional - and signed the bottom for authenticity. Folding it in half, he handed it back to the Princess with his thanks.

Ryner read over the paper, surprise written over her face. “Hannah said all this? If even half of this is true, this is incredibly concerning. We’ll absolutely look into this. For your safety and the safety of future students.” Ryner’s eyes narrowed. “Did your handwriting change, Aaron? Forgive me but it’s not quite as stiff as it used… Ah.” Ryner laid it on the side of her desk and glanced at the clock.

“Oh goodness. It’s probably about time we both find our way to bed.” Ryner chuckled as she stood and made her way around, taking Aaron’s hand. “Now, I need you to remember. My doors are always open to your Aaron, no matter where you are and no matter who you serve. There is always a place for you here. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there, okay?”

Aaron’s ears flushed bashfully at the Princess’ words, though he couldn’t help but cast his eyes down as that little creature of doubt Varis had planted before the break started gnawing at the back of his head once again. He wanted to believe her, he really did; she sounded sincere, and she’d been so much help to him despite her many responsibilities, but did he really have a place in front of her, or was this just a showing of remorse for other deeds? She talked about his assignment to Varis as if it wasn’t her doing, as if she hadn’t personally plucked him from his life in her household and thrown him to the snakes. She didn’t seem to think him worth keeping around in any official capacity - was this just her way of softening the blow?

As much as the doubt rent him in two, previous weeks had taken too much of a toll on Aaron for him to continue down that miserable road at the moment. He took a deep breath, giving the Princess’ hand an appreciative squeeze. “I’ll remember,” he promised. He had to take a moment to collect himself before he spoke again; despite his lingering uncertainty, Ryner’s kindness and the relief of getting all of his concerns off his chest crashed over him like a wave, and with his exhaustion on top of it all, he felt like he was moments away from just unraveling at the seams. A lump grew in his throat from the intensity of it all, but he swallowed it with a deep breath before finally meeting the Princess’ gaze. “Thank you, Your Highness. This has helped me more than you know.”

Clearing his throat, Aaron stood, looking - and feeling - much more like himself. “So, I can get those recordings from my mother?” He asked, getting ready to leave.

“Yes, you can. Or if you have something connected to a cloud, I believe I can get someone to send it to you through my cloud?” Ryner frowned a little. “I’m not quite sure what these clouds are but we can figure out a way to send them directly to you if you want them quicker. Now, don’t be a stranger or don’t think I won’t pull you out of class just to hear about your nights.” Ryner joked but pulled him into a tight hug before letting him leave.

Aaron couldn't help but laugh a little, returning the Princess’ hug somewhat more gently. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” he assured her, stepping toward the door. “I might write home and have a few more things sent in anyway, and I'll see Mr. Deshane about that application. I think I've made up my mind.” He gave her a smile and a customary bow, taking his leave. “Thank you again, Your Highness. Good day.”

Ryner’s smile lasted all of 30 seconds after Aaron left. She tapped on her desk as she thought, the wheels turning quickly in her head. She didn’t like this situation at all. Things were becoming messier than she’d like between his choice of major, Varis’ apparent inability to put more than a few dents in him, and he’s dreaming of her. Ryner had her suspicions at first but with this dream, there was absolutely no doubt. It hurt.

Ryner blinked away the tears threatening to fall and whipped out her phone, hitting the button Ella told her was Varis’ number. She’d thought it odd that one button was an entire cellular phone number but her mage assured her it worked. Something called ‘speed dial’. Ryner didn’t know what that meant but if it got her in contact with the annoying Count then it didn’t really matter. She waited impatiently until a groggily muttered demand snapped into her ear.

“Yes. I know what time it is, Varis. No, I don’t give a damn if you need sleep. You should be thankful that I’m telling you this now.” Ryner snapped right back. “Stop acting like a fledgling and grow up. Your part of the bargain just walked out of my doors and things are deteriorating in a way I do not like. I need this done last century, do you hear me? The sooner I have him back under my control the better so hurry up.” Ryner waited a moment and hung up right in the middle of his retort. That was sure to aggravate him to no ends and hopefully, that frustration would provide plenty of inspiration to twist the knife in Aaron.

She knew what she was doing was horrific. Willingly sending one of her Starags to Varis of all vampires with these intentions was horribly manipulative. She felt like her father for a moment but she shoved the thought away. She hadn’t worked all these years for a little guilt to trip her up now. The murder had put her plan in jeopardy with Nox shoving herself into the investigations but she’d smooth it over. She could handle a bump or two.

Ryner collapsed into the sitting chair Aaron vacated. Everything was so much. Aaron was just born at the wrong time, in the wrong family, and now she had to turn the pressure up as these dreams kept going. She couldn’t erase his memories for every issue, every time. She only hoped she’d figure out a way to stop them before he saw too much. Everything weighed in on her and she couldn’t stop the sob. The tears came after that and she shook silently as the blood stained her clothes. Pranks on Yvaine? How delightfully awful.

Varis let out another long sigh as he circled another section on this blithering baboon's paper. Seven corrections earlier, Varis left a very polite “See me during my next office hours” on the top, in big swooping letters and underlined only twice instead of the ten times he really wanted. Somehow, every date was off by exactly a century and at one point the student rambled about land acquisition instead of the medical improvement the Magical Medicare expansion of 1862 could have brought and why it failed.

“How do mages manage to live this long?” Varis muttered as he finished the paper, adding a few more petty corrections out of spite. It took more than he realized not to leave a scathing review of the paper, remembering his own grade apparently rested on his students’ review of him, and instead wrote it on the scrap paper filled with insults and jabs from previous papers he'd graded. Why some of these idiots wanted freedom baffled him. They clearly couldn't survive without someone holding their hand their whole lives.

Aaron, on the other hand, was counting down a list of numbers, his ledger on his lap and laptop lying nearby on the bed with several tabs open. He peered carefully between the screen and the ledger, marking down figures, scrawling the occasional simple equation in a scrap notebook nearby. He hadn’t meant to get so swallowed up in his betting history, but he’d been killing time after having finished his regular duties, waiting for Varis to finish his grading. It was a welcome distraction, though; so far in the racing season he’d more than doubled what he started with, though the series of small bets that made it happen had the consequence of being extremely time-consuming to calculate. It didn’t bother him much, though. Took his mind off what he was waiting to do, at least.

But all good things must come to an end, and soon enough Aaron had himself all squared up, with nothing more to balance, and nothing more to do. He hadn’t heard any movement from the study, though a glance at the clock on his laptop made him think Varis should have been done by now. Aaron mused that he might have fallen asleep again, finally sliding off his bed and deciding now was as good a time as any to get this whole affair out of the way. It wasn’t like he could wait much longer, anyway; his complete application to the Mind program was due in a few nights, and he’d be loath to push it any further lest he run into any setbacks. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but he was confident Varis would be able to find something that needed fixing before he could get everything submitted.

If for no other reason than to give himself a few extra seconds, Aaron stretched and pulled a folder labelled “Application” out of a drawer on his vanity, giving the pages within a final flip through before he crossed the hall. He paused outside the study door, taking a second to ground himself (as he’d become accustomed to doing before dealing with Varis) before he knocked.

“Enter.” Varis barked as he slammed his grading folder shut, looking up at the noise. Good. The boy would bring some insignificant detail to his attention and Varis would completely shred any opinion the mage had on it. Excellent timing.

Aaron entered, holding his hands and his folder behind his back after closing the door and bowing, and eyeing Varis’ grading folder curiously. “Oh, pardon me Master, I didn’t think you’d still be at it,” he apologized. “Do you have a moment?”

“Digging your eyes out with a dull spoon is slow going.” Varis commented dryly. “And if I didn't have a moment, I wouldn't have bothered allowing you in. Get to your point.”

Aaron nodded, producing his folder and holding it out for Varis to take if he so desired. “All I need is an appraisal of my arcane major application,” he stated simply. “It needs your approval before I can submit it, and it’s due at the start of the month.”

Varis took the folder, an eyebrow raised in pre-disapproval. Approval? Did Aaron just require approval for everything he did? Varis flipped the folder open and skimmed the first part quickly and his other eyebrow shot up. This boy must have some death wish. Did he forget his Lady liked collecting mental mages? Not to mention all the other risks involved in the school.

“I don't approve. What I've seen of your aptitude doesn't suggest you'd survive the program intact.” Varis continued reading, this time paying careful attention to each section. “I will not risk my newest show mage on a half baked magic school. Do you understand the risks involved? Do you want to end up like Vanessa because you will.” Varis snapped the folder shut and threw it on his desk.

“However, I will entertain you since you've obviously put some amount of effort into something for once. Explain yourself.” Varis demanded as he leaned back in the chair, legs crossed and one hand tapping irritably on the desktop.

“I’ve been deliberating over my reasons for some time but in short, I’d like to prevent a repeat of what happened at the beginning of the term, of any kind,” Aaron explained, fighting down the chill that slithered up his spine at the mere mention of Vanessa. Hopefully Varis was bluffing. “I understand the risks. You’ll find that both the psychological evaluator and my Affinity Mastery professor have approved me for the program, I’ve met or exceeded all the requirements, and I’ve spoken to multiple people at length regarding this decision. Including Her Highness,” he added the last part a touch more insistently, remembering that she and Varis seemed to have some measure of a friendly relationship.

Varis flipped open the folder again to confirm Aaron's claims, stiffening at the mention of Ryner. That would explain the call at that horrific hour. If she expressed her support despite the boy possibly losing his affinity, a major point to their plan, she must have an idea how to twist this. He pursed his lips irritably and clicked his tongue. He did not appreciate her changing the plan with such little notice. The last time brought the two vampires they weren't ready to handle yet. How could this change screw things over?

“You went above my head before consulting me.” Varis's tone turned downright deadly. “These petty officials can be forgiven, even commended as an act of responsibility, but you blatantly disrespect me by going to the Princess herself. Despite my relationship with her, denying you now would be equivalent to publicly disagreeing with her. You've effectively tied my hands in the matter.” Varis looked at the boy, cold fury written across his face and his eyes darkening. In reality, he didn't care, but his irritation at these students coupled with Ryner's recklessness quickly angered him. He snapped at the ground by his feet.

“If you don't want me to embroil your precious princess,” Varis practically spat, “in a horrifying public scandal, you will look me in the eye and beg for the opportunity.”

That spike of fear, like an old friend at this point, shot through Aaron at the Count’s sudden change in demeanour; he very nearly flinched at the tone, and he could practically see the scorn rolling off the vampire. He wanted to elaborate, explain that the Princess had done nothing except offer him the resources to cope with the mental program should he choose it, that he’d only gone to Ryner specifically because he hadn’t made his choice and didn’t want to waste Varis’ time on indecision, but it was clear that now was not the time.

Varis’ command brought with it a combination of reactions, part of Aaron wanting to strangle the bastard for his flagrant disrespect and the other, more sensible part of him wanting to do something like dissipate into the air and be blown with the wind far, far away. Unfortunately, both options were equally ridiculous—after all, strangling a vampire wouldn’t even do anything—and whatever anger was there melted into humiliated defeat, Aaron hanging his head. Maybe he’d been foolish to think he could cling to some shred of dignity, but regardless, he was no less determined to have his request granted. In any case, like so many things, it didn’t seem like he had a choice.

Swallowing his mounting nausea, Aaron did as he was told, falling to his knees before the Count. It took a few seconds and a deep breath to work up the courage to lift his head and look the vampire in the eye, Aaron having to consciously fight down the reflex to look away.

“Master, please,” he began quietly, ears already starting to burn, “I beg you, please grant me this opportunity to learn to protect myself, and become some measure more useful to you than I am.”

Varis let him sit, silently reveling in the boy's embarrassment. The boy really had perfect timing. It made him feel marginally better but he would have words with Ryner today. Tearing the rug out from under people was his job. He leaned down and gripped the mage's chin tightly so he couldn't look away.

“That is barely enough but I guess I'll allow it. You'll have my signature.” Varis sneered. “But you'll have to be punished for this infraction. Imagine if the Princess wanted to discuss your decision before you told me. What a fool I'd seem with no idea of your plans. So I have to take something from you for now. Something valuable enough that its absence will teach you a lesson for the next month. What do you think I should take, boy?”

For a moment, Aaron wished he were a water mage; perhaps then he could melt into a puddle and drip down through the floorboards. If only life were so fair. Good lord, he hated when Varis made him weigh in. It reminded him of when he was a child and his teacher would tell him to fetch a switch to be beaten with, only somehow worse. At least the pain from the switches faded after a few days; with Varis, nothing was ever over so quickly.

Fighting the urge to tear his chin out of Varis’ hand—he thought he’d get used to it, but it seemed he just hated the sensation that much more every time it happened—Aaron did a quick mental inventory. Goodness, he didn’t have much apart from necessities, did he? And as much as the childish part of him wanted to suggest something more inconsequential, he knew that wasn’t an option. Even back home, trying to cheat by bringing over a lighter switch than was necessary always resulted in getting caned that much more harshly. In any case, he doubted Varis would actually take his suggestion into consideration. Aaron had learned quickly that many of Varis’ tactics were just exercises in humiliation.

“If you’re willing to accept a month-long lapse in my training, then I suppose the obvious choice would be Dawn,” he stated flatly, both groaning on the inside and hoping suggesting something harsh might appease the Count a touch.

“Lapse in training? There are plenty of weapons to choose from at the arena.” Varis sat back, replacing his hand with his shoe under the mage's chin. “That is an excellent suggestion. I would have reduced your punishment by a week but this attitude is unacceptable. Do not speak to me like that again or I'll take it away for longer.” Varis snapped his fingers at the door. “Fetch and return in this exact position.”

The shoe made Aaron bristle, but the equivalent of a long line of question marks burst through his head at Varis’ reprimand. Attitude? What attitude? He was groveling on his knees, having been carefully training a facade of neutrality and a habit of perfect obedience for his entire damn life, but apparently Varis considered anything short of fawning sycophancy to be attitude.

Keeping his mouth shut this time, Aaron rose obediently and all but bolted to his room, pulling Dawn from its spot in the closet with a measure more reluctance. He forced himself not to hesitate too long, only pulling it out of the scabbard a few inches to check the blade as he walked back. He would have liked the chance to oil it before Varis stored it away, but he was on thin enough ice as it was. He could only hope rust wouldn’t set in before he got it back. He snapped the blade back into the scabbard before returning to the study, settling into the same position as before, as instructed.

Varis waited until he felt the slight push of Aaron's chin to look up from his application folder. He'd picked it up while the boy took his time fetching his weapon but Varis couldn't fault him. He was only human after all.

“Drop it.” Varis ordered as he continued to read. “Walk me through this relaxation plan or whatever you have in here.”

It was lucky Aaron had a talented poker face, because that meant he was able to fight down the snarl that threatened on his face. Gently, he placed Dawn on the floor at Varis’ feet, forcing himself to calm down. Irritation still pricked at him from Varis’ attitude comment, but now was not the time.

“It’s a mandatory component of the program,” he explained, no small amount annoyed at the resistance of Varis’ shoe under his chin as he spoke. “For an hour after each mental training session, I have to do something to relieve stress. I’ve been told that my usual method of exhausting myself won’t work, so I’ve replaced training with simple dances like waltzes, accompanied by recordings of my past cello performances.”

He finally let out the breath he’d been holding, his anger fading and leaving only mild exhaustion in its wake. “As well, once my application goes through I planned to send away for some things from home. Old pictures, journals, things of that nature. I’ve been told repeatedly that keeping in touch with my past will help lower the risk of affinity loss.” He shifted a little on his knees, putting his hands in his lap. “There’s a draft for a month’s worth of this plan in the folder, though it’s flexible enough to change depending on how the program affects me.”

Varis read through it with half hearted interest until he mentioned waltzes. Dancing suggested he would need a partner, someone he felt comfortable with if he was supposed to relieve stress. That would put a damper on his plans if the boy had a reliable source to calm him down. He tapped his other foot as he thought. He did not like this one bit but Ryner stole that choice from him. Another thing to yell at her about.

“Very well.” He set the folder down and pulled out a pen, his hand stilling just before he signed. “However, you will introduce me to whoever you waltz with. We'll have a formal dinner with them and their vampire. I will not tolerate you mingling with anyone beneath your station, is that understood?” Varis would ensure he could force some distance between them. He couldn't control the boy's family items anymore thanks to this mess so he'd have to dip his fingers further into his social life.

Aaron nodded; at least, as much as he could against Varis’ shoe. He’d been considering including Lilie in his waltzing plan, but something about Varis getting involved with her rubbed him the wrong way. After having spent a few months with the Count, Aaron had figured it best to keep people he cared about more or less out of the situation. He had a few other ideas, luckily, though he’d have to think on it more later. For the moment, he simply replied, “Understood, Master.”

“You're dismissed.” Varis signed the page and dropped the folder on the floor next to the mage. He moved the foot under Aaron's chin and settled it on top of Dawn's sheath, watching Aaron closely as he did.

Aaron watched Varis place his foot down, but had to force himself to tear his eyes away when he stepped on Dawn, another flash of anger striking him. Instead he focused on collecting his folder and standing, giving Varis a bow and a curt, “Thank you, Master,” before taking his leave as quickly as could be done politely, eyes glued to the folder. When he got back to his room, Varis might have heard the thump of his vanity drawer closing just a little harder than necessary.

Home was a bittersweet struggle for Varis. The silence and the stillness that permeated his family home suited Varis just fine. It was a much needed respite from the chaos that came from working with Ryner and for his Lady in equal measure. But the ghosts of his old life ambushed him in the quiet of the halls, the crackle of the fire as in flickered in the library, the starlight drifting across the snow across the fields the isolated him. The stuttering violin of a younger him after his mother’s death, the shredded pages fluttering around him when he crossed his brother once too many times, and… Antwone pulled at right as expected, five minutes before their appointed time. Varis slid into the back, helping himself to his favorite travel bottle and the blood glass Eloise brought back from her last soiree with Edgar’s show mages. How the vampire managed to get anything done with all the parties Varis would never know but at least it kept Eloise busy when he didn’t have anything specific for her to do. Varis poured himself a tall glass as his mage finished putting away his luggage and pulled away.

More than once this semester, Varis wished alcohol could numb a vampire’s problems. He’d thought their little deal was an easy favor but by the Queen’s saving grace, the boy was an idiot! A perfect pedigree, an amazing affinity, an education even a noble’s show mage would be envious of and he couldn’t even figure out where to put cufflinks without cuffs and embarrassed his own master in such a public manner. Varis could only imagine Landar was rolling in his grave. A mage of the Starag line who was nothing more than a glorified side table. Anything more complex than holding something and Varis had to hold the idiot’s hand through it. Varis let his hopes get up after the brat did something passingly well and look where that got him.

Varis tapped his foot irritably against the passenger seat. He harbored little doubt that any other House would have backed out of this deal but any Sinnendel worth their name would rather walk into the sunlight. Varis wasn’t sure which was worse right now. The Count was no stranger to breaking mage’s. The more willful, the more fulfilling it was to watch the personality fade from their eyes. But the boy presented a challenge he hadn’t handled yet: a mage dependant on his servitude. He never considered that a mage could use their position as a shield. A distraction, an excuse? Par the course. But a full suit of armor? Varis was baffled and everytime he thought he found a chink in it, the boy would just adjust to it. The stubborn mage was frustrating and frustration made him impatient and impatience embarrassed him.

The ride home was silent. The privacy screen stayed up, Antwone kept the drive smooth and took the scenic detour Varis preferred when he was drawn a little too thin, and pulled into home with no fanfare. A servant, eyes kept determinedly on the floor, opened Varis’ door and scuttled away with the luggage as soon as Varis was out. He waited until he was alone again and ran his hand through his hair, a weary smile breaking through. The Count always prefered the first few hours to himself in solitary contemplation as he wandered the family’s garden, a massive maze that they’d kept up for as long as they could remember. Varis had transplanted a wide variety of flowers through the maze to add a little color through the seasons but otherwise left it the same.

“Finally home.” Varis murmured, the tension melting away as he took the first steps into the garden. It had been years since he’d let himself take his usual paths through the garden. It had been years since he’d let the familiarity fade and focus on how the moonlight played in the shrubs. Years since he’d put behind the demands of Court and Council, of the monster he served, of childish Duke and Duchess’, and now from the weariness of a deal he wasn’t sure he could twist in his favor. Here in the garden, he felt closer to… something, a vague feeling or a memory blurry and faded with age. Fleeting impressions of bitterness, of heartbreak, of laughter, of longing, of fury. He followed them more often in his youth; an escape from a tyrannical father and apathetic siblings as he ran down the hallways of his own mind. These impressions always left him with more questions than not but he’d come to a startling realization about it.

It comforted him. Knowing there would always be a new puzzle, a new riddle, a challenge in the days he grew bored with the tediousness of his projects. More than one vampire lost their minds when everything stagnated around them but Varis had his own little puzzle locked away where no one could find it. On the nights his web wove itself and the pieces of his grand schemes just fell into his lap, he could always steal away for a few hours and chase these intangible clues as far as he could. He could try again and again and again because he never seemed to make any headway. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy and he certainly couldn’t handle these complications every night but once in a while, it was an excellent headrush.

Varis enjoyed it for a while longer but he knew there was work to be done. He followed the twists and turns to his childhood spot, a secret little swirl that opened to reveal a jagged piece of stone tucked away under a wooden pagoda. His grandfather stole it from an archeological site he helped fund before the finds were reported to the Noilas. Archaic writings covered the stone, a language Ryner refused to teach him. Varis worried his lip at the thought, rolling his eyes at the familiar fight, and he bent down to the base of the pagoda, prying open a loose board, and pulling out a long, thin wooden box. He hadn’t opened it since the 25th anniversary of his mother’s passing but he hadn’t needed to. He knew what was inside by heart but seeing it again might help clear his head. He slipped it into his jacket, replaced the board, and headed into the castle.

His family’s castle was a dark, imposing structure. Three spires clawed at the sky as they rose out of a heavily fortified manor, dark and imposing on the skyline. The design choice was from an era before the vampire lords worked together rather than against and his twice great grandmother brutally crushed the weak territories around her and brought them under her reign. Varis pushed his way into the main hall, not bothering to acknowledge the older mage waiting with a briefcase and a tablet in hand. The man fell in step with Varis exactly two paces behind him and paused when Varis picked up the mail his mages determined important. He almost groaned at the familiar handwriting on one and immediately shoved it to the bottom of the pile. If it had been important, his presence would have been demanded immediately after the Academy.

“How is the situation with the Noble Hearts?” Varis asked as flipped through the various envelopes.

“Their preliminary evaluations of the Duke’s protections have been concluded. An estimate for their services are on your desk. I authorized the funds with your treasury two nights ago and provided the transfer account. It only needs your signature.” The man rasped.

“It’ll be signed before the sun rises. I expect the evidence will be delivered with payment?” Varis waited for confirmation and sneered. “Excellent. A kidnapping and a framing. That nosey Marivaldi will be busy for a bit. How is the Eve situation?”

“Dracul’s death has dealt a major blow to the traditionalist grip in the family. Nox originally controlled the investigation and handled the remaining estates but Countess Arianna has submitted an official transfer of estate to Princess Ryner and has opted to sequester herself in a distant family holding. Princess Nox will lose control of the estate in less than a week.” The mage offered Varis a single sheet of paper from his briefcase. “A contact in the investigation passed along a few notes of interest. It seems more than one vampire sent their mage to investigate the situation but we’ve managed to keep our Lady’s private support out of the public eye thus far.”

“When Ryner gets her claws in it, that’ll be a PR nightmare.” Varis grumbled. Nox may not like the Sinnenodels but she was a stickler for rules. Any investigations would be handled quietly, privately. But Ryner wasn’t interested in solving a murder. Putting the family under public scrutiny would drive a wedge between the Queen and his Lady, giving her a little more breathing room but Varis would be the one to suffer the consequences of that decision and he would be damned if he was going to willingly stab himself in the chest. His Lady tortured him enough as it was. Literally. “Malek, handle this. Every gift, every letter, anything that would show our support, I want it gone. Dracul wasn’t an idiot but he was old and old vampires are predictable. He’s bound to have some sort of blackmail floating around. I want it gone last night.” Varis glanced down at the short list of likely suspects. Only two were verified but he wasn’t worried about them. Devon Pierce and Nintrella Sinnenodel though…

“Investigate these two. I want to know who they sent, what they were looking into, and where they went with their information.” Varis commanded and passed the list back. “Have Eloise secure a meeting with the Countess during my next break and remind Edgar he owes me for the last fiasco he caused with my Lady. I want his mages watching Nintrella until that meeting. I won’t have a horse faced gambling addict trying to usurp my position.”

“Immediately Count Varis. As well, we discovered the source of the leak while you were gone. My grandson was persuaded by an outside interest into granting them access to your private records vault. They managed to escape but we have added additional wards against intrusion. Nothing was lost but Joshua has been detained since.” Malek droned as he took back the page, adding a few notes, and slipping it into his briefcase. “Unfortunately, the Marivaldis managed to dismantle your preferred buyer. Would you care to reach out to Count Dominick or Countess Annita?”

“Really? They shut down the Grey Dancer? How disappointing. Barbaric activities aside, they had the best bottled agony in the entire realm.” Varis sighed but considered his options. “Joshua is 16? Too young for Annita so sell him off to Dominick. We’ll get less but they only buy garbage for their dogs.” Behind Varis, Malek’s shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes for a moment longer than a blink before he managed to compose himself.

“It will be done, Count Varis.” Malek bowed and vanished with murmured incantation.

Varis climbed the stairs to his room as he shuffled through his letters. Brown nosing from Countess Fennila after he ruled against her in a business dispute with one of her duchesses. Typical. He’d expected it sooner but she was always one to sulk for a few years before she moved on. Whining from some nobody about a comment he made at some party or another that he couldn’t bother remembering. And, of course, the worst of the lot. A letter handwritten by his Lady herself. He waited until he was in his room, door shut firmly behind him, to open it.

Count Varis Sinnenodel,

Your presence is expected at Lady Sinnenodel's Raining Star Villa along with all documentation on the acquisitions of Green Vision Inc and plans for hosting Chaend. Lady Sinnenodel's attendant will arrive in two days. Arraignments for your meeting with the Astorio Counts have been made. Expect to return to the Noila Academy directly from the Villa.

Secretary of the luminous Lady Sinnenodel.

He reread the letter as his plans for his break slowly crumbled around him. He thought the meeting with the rest of board of Green Vision would protect him from anything she planned but clearly he was far too optimistic. The page started trembling and red blotches suddenly bloomed on the page. Varis frowned.What an odd thing for paper to do. He tossed it on his desk and made his way around the room, immediately preparing for his next trip. He’d have his school things shipped from here to the school when it was time. He spent an eternity, or a second he wasn’t really sure, putting together his luggage for his next trip. He was sure he wouldn’t use all of it but he may as well be prepared in case she changed up how she messed with him. Though he’d really have to talk with someone about those red dots on his clothes. They were clearly blood stains. Maybe someone died doing the laundry. Just another headache.

Soon enough, the mechanical task of folding laundry was done and separated into piles of red stains and no red stains. He stared at them for a while longer, head blank and body heavy, before moving onto the next task which was… He froze again as he saw the letter on the desk but the welling dread never came. His hands trembled again, he noted with indifference, and he moved to smooth out his jacket when he felt the lump. He pulled out the box he retrieved earlier, placed it on top of the letter, and gingerly slid off the lid. He pulled out the parchment gingerly and carefully rolled them out and weighed them down. He smiled weakly at the thin, fading scrawl of music notes across the page. He knew the tune by heart but it had been half a decade since he had time to play. He fell asleep at his desk most nights unless one of his mages gently pushed him to bed or he was entertaining for the evening. With the added stress of teaching and sitting through these inane classes, Varis felt thinner than he ever had. And with his most convenient form of stress relief otherwise occupied for his limited window of freedom, Varis wasn’t sure how to make it better.

Until he looked at the violin sitting neatly on its stand. He realized with a start he hadn’t even considered picking up the instrument while he was away. He used to play it every night and he couldn’t remember when he stopped. He picked out the rosen from his desk and gently ran it over the bow and checked the strings. With every pass, every off note, Varis’ motions became more fluid and gentle. He felt the dried blood on his cheeks, the bubbling dread in his stomach, the faint but irritating tremble in his fingers but at least he felt in control again. He tucked the instrument under his chin, held the bow poised over the strings, and counted the beat in his head. His eyes closed at the familiarity.

The first pass of the bow drained the tension from his shoulders and each one after lightened them even more. He fell into the familiar melody, forgetting everything that loomed dark around him and drifted off into a time he didn’t care for all these vampires and mages and their muddlesome politics. When he only cared about the approval of one person and the words his books took them away to. When this song made him feel more alive than any drop of blood and the mysteries of the past were his only concern.

Varis played into the night and well into the day, the passing mage covering the windows before he burned himself alive, until Malek pried the instrument from where Varis slept standing with the bow still on the strings.

Human psychology class had been cancelled for the day and instead assigned them the task of viewing their partner's first day in the Spell Theory Lab. The point of the exercise was observation and evaluation; learn to identify when your mage was struggling or insecure so a vampire could smooth over any potential problems before they festered. Watching mages learn to separate an instinctive part of themselves would present an opportunity to note the physical tells of their frustrations without the distraction of serving.

Each Spell Theory Lab boasted a viewing area as comfortable as Affinity Mastery's, several full couches a step above a row of chairs and side tables that lined the edge. Unlike the other, this viewing area was set back into the wall rather than protruding out over it and a glass pane separated the vampires from the mages. Most of the class had filed in by now. Most of the vampires took the couches, more interested in themselves than their mages as they discussed the various rumors flying around about the recent murders. A few sat at the edge, watching with interest as the mages made their attempts.

Varis ignored the rabble on the couches as he took his spot as close to the boy as he could. Any opportunity to personally oversee his mage's progress at such a critical stage would be well used. The boy had shown he could barely keep himself in order, especially after that nonsense during Revel, and Varis wanted to ensure the boy remembered his place through this process. Anything less and Varis would be waiting with a lecture and lines longer than the mage knew existed.

The Sinnenodel colors suited the boy far more than the pesky Noilan colors, though Varis noted he stuck close to his comfort zone despite the magazines he left in the boy's room. He'll get up at the same time as the boy tomorrow and set a few new grooming standards. Varis appreciated sticking to simplicity but one had to know how to change when it was necessary. The boy clearly struggled with that so Varis would instill some sense into him before the end of this school year. "I buy him an entirely new wardrobe and he doesn't bother to use it. What a disappointment." Varis sighed to himself.

Meanwhile, Benjamin had been positively ecstatic upon learning the class would get an observation period. The surprising amount of vampires that chose to gossip and take no interest in their mage's progress was astounding. What was the point of coming to the observatory if you weren't going to observe? The leap in logic was beyond him, albeit the one advantage was that there were plenty of free seats closest to the action. He was all too happy to approach the glass, his search for his mage overwhelmingly simple (the one advantage of her having such hair, he supposed). He kept an eye on her location as he searched for a place to sit.

A flash of red caught his eye to his left. Count Varis Sinnenodel had also taken the opportunity to observe his mage as well. That must have meant Aaron Starag was also in this class. With that in mind, he took a quick look around the classroom, but it took him slightly longer than it should have to realize that Aaron was the blonde man sitting next to Lilie. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, the setup granting him yet another chance he hadn't been expecting. All that was left to do was pass it off as casually as possible. He truly did have every intention in owning up to his word and keeping peace between the houses, however, any interaction with a Sinnenodel had a tendency to go awry. If he slipped up, he was certain he would find himself trapped in the snake's clutches. Fortunately, Ben felt confident in his ability to keep a conversation cordial. In the worst case scenario, the mages could be the topic of conversation.

With that in mind, Ben decided to approach the table respectfully, clearing his throat to catch the other country's attention. "How comforting to know I won't be observing alone," He decided to be as pleasant and casual as possible, extending his hand. "Count Benjamin Eve, how do you do?"

Varis turned his head at the unexpected noise, quite ready to chastise whoever insisted on bothering him at an important time, but he held his tongue as he took in the newest Eve. Morose was the first word that came to mind but his pleasant approach shrugged off the initial impression. Though, the conflicting personality would suit the house. Maybe it would keep one of them here longer than a fortnight. Varis considered brushing him off until he proved that he would be staying―after all, what use could a single conversation do when you didn’t know who our opponent was―but it left as soon as it came and Varis stood with a smile, shaking the offered hand.

“Count Varis Sinnenodel. Well enough, thank you. I’m glad someone appreciates an opportunity to invest time and effort into a blossoming asset. A flower is only as beautiful as it’s gardener’s effort after all.” Varis gestured to the seat next to him, retaking his own. “Please take a seat. Which mage is yours?”

Ben would do as Varis asked with cautious optimism. That optimism would come crashing down as soon as he asked a very reasonable question. He cleared his throat and gestured to the table where Aaron and Lilie sat. "I believe the mage that I was assigned is the one seated next to the blond dressed in black," He said as he tapped the table with the tips of his fingers, neglecting to refer to the glaringly obvious fault. Perhaps that was a little cold, but it was the truth. "It would seem in her generosity Princess Ryner thought it best to give a lower class mage an opportunity to taste life on the other side."

The honest reply was surprising. Considering how late into the semester was, it was clear Varis was aware of who his mage was. He didn’t doubt every noble mocked the house for suffering a clear sign of the Princess’ displeasure. He certainly did. In his shoes, Varis would have redirected the conversation rather than admit such a clear sign of disrespect. But the eves were always an odd lot. Varis would give him the benefit of the doubt this time. Hopefully, there was a more interesting strategy here.

“The Princess is known for her generosity. Far be it from us to question her wisdom. I don’t doubt that there is some deeper meaning to this sorting system she has. I don’t envy her. It is a momentous task, I’m sure.” Varis responded, turning his attention back to the boy and the Eve’s genetic mistake. “Incidentally, that blond headed boy is my mage. Aaron Starag of the Princess’ personal retinue. It caused quite a stir when it got around that she’d given a Starag away, much less to a Sinnenodel. However, it seems his name is all he’s worth. Obedient, a vaulted pedigree, and a light mage but he can’t think for himself. The curse of vampirism, forever guiding the sheep in an endless cycle.” Varis sighed in disappointment.

“How is your mage adjusting? It has been a hectic few weeks for it.” Varis asked.

The deeper meaning of nobility was usually simply reduced to passive aggressive remarks on actual opinions. The message was sent loud and clear: the royal family greatly preferred the Sinnenodel House while clearly outlining their poor opinion of the Eve House. There could be more to it, but Ben wasn't going to entertain it nor would he linger. Instead, he wanted to make it clear that he viewed this as a challenge—he had the utmost confidence that he would turn Lilie into a proper mage.

“I see this as a test,” Ben outright admitted. “The previous Eves have all but neglected Miss Dionne, and while I can’t speak for their intentions, I feel they didn’t see the chance in front of them. Aside from the obvious, the girl is a blank slate otherwise, free to be molded and to become whatever I want her to be.”

He didn’t buy that the Starag had any issue, especially when the complaint was that he couldn’t think for himself. The goal of every mage was to think for their betters, after all. “Shepherding a mage of Mr. Starag’s pedigree will likely be little more than some minor adjustments, I’m sure,” Ben said.

“There are few Houses that a minor issue can’t cost a mage, and his vampire, everything. Neither of ours are at the very least. A Sinnenodel cannot manage their mage’s every movement like a Noila. Structure is little more than an illusion meant to subjugate. If a mage wants to succeed here, the faster on their feet, the better. I am not the greatest monster in my house and he is far too close to it for mistakes.” Varis responded seriously. His Lady had already seen inside his head. Even Varis couldn’t fathom want insignificant detail she picked out and decided to poke at and, something he would deny for all of eternity, it made him nervous. It was a necessary gamble and it seemed it paid off but there was a reason he didn’t bring mages to see his Lady.

“It’s commendable you plan to put all this time into your mage. Surely molding her appropriately will take a considerable amount of attention and patience. Speaking of which, I’m glad you are handling this slate appropriately. It’s far too pale for common decency. Too much chalk from the others I assume.” Varis shook his head. “But where do you plan to find this time? I barely have enough time as it is to ensure the boy can put his shirt on properly, let alone teach him manners. With teaching and planning Chaend and a business acquisition in the process, I can’t imagine the strain on your schedule this challenge will place on you.

Varis was entirely right, but Ben was still confident. The pun nearly made Ben laugh out loud, but he did offer a polite chuckle. He pondered his response for a few seconds, choosing his words carefully. “I see now. You can’t teach a thought process, so I suppose you have your work cut out for you,” That much he would agree with and understand, as Lady Sinnenodel’s character was infamous. Unpreparedness was as much a death sentence as standing out in plain sunlight was.

As for his plans for Lilie, that hadn’t been entirely thought out just yet. There were a few possibilities lingering around that he had spoken of with Geoffrey, but he had yet to decide. Waiting for any proposals was out of the question and Eleanore already served as his primary guard. Fortunately, he still had time to decide on exactly what he was going to do with her.

“There is always the late morning when most stop responding to calls. Whenever the case may be, it will be her priority until she is to my standards—everything else comes second,” Ben said. “I will delegate a set time every day for the rest of the semester and whenever I feel she is improving I can and will adjust accordingly. I’ve already delegated where I can, so some of that burden has shifted since coming here. If the house can’t run while I’m gone, then clearly, I’ve failed. Fortunately, Miss Dionne is not the first mage I’ve trained, so I expect her to learn quickly.” And if not, they would have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

Varis generously gave Ben a few moment seconds to speak but it seemed the conversation continued on without so much as an attempt to pick something out. No jabs, no comments, not even an underhanded question. Either Count Benjamin didn’t care or he was just wholeheartedly devoted to the failure of a mage. Either way, Varis boiled this Eve down to the same thing every other Eve had been: Boring. He turned his attention away from the Eve and considered how he wanted to continue. Varis wasn’t certain the new Eve even had anything worth his time so he could completely ignore him at this point but on the other hand, he didn’t know anything about him and that annoyed him more than the bland responses did.

“Admirable. Dedication to one task is a rare trait these days. Though, some may argue it's because it's no longer suited to its environment.” Varis commented as he relaxed in his chair, his attention shifting back downstairs. “Forgive me my ignorance but I don’t think we’ve had the opportunity to meet before this. Where do you fall in House Eve?”

The alternative was marrying off the mage and as tempting as it was, realistically it was not something that Ben could get away with. Ben followed Varis’ gaze, only to feel the shame hitting him once again when he laid eyes on that white head. The conversation wasn’t particularly going anywhere, but he wasn’t entirely sure which way to steer it. Speaking with a Sinnenodel was more about survivability than anything, but Varis was tame. At the moment, anyway. He supposed that his father was right.

That thought alone nearly made him want to retch and he nearly missed the question. “My family is the fourth oldest bloodline of the Eves,” He said, running a hand over his face. “And my father is Pierce Devan.” Of whom he would have preferred not to think or speak about, but here they were. His mood was soured, but he couldn’t tell if it was due to his father or the visible reminder of being shot in the kneecap with that mage of his.

In an effort to save his mood and keep from speaking on his father, he decided to change the topic, “I’ve heard you aren’t the only heir attending. The Marivaldi Countess must be an interesting mystery to unravel.”

“The Marivaldi heiress, if you can still consider her one, is as lackadaisical as her lack of public appearances have painted her. Absolutely plain and little in the way of wit. I believe it’s the abhorrent obsession with mage rights. They have more than they’ve had in centuries and they still dally with the help. Their holiday is representative enough.” Varis hand-waved the thought of Amaris away. “I’m far more interested in the son of Pierce Devan. With a power vacuum to fill, I’m more surprised with how much energy you’re willing to redirect to the charity case you were given.” Varis’ knowledge of Benjamin’s father was lacking. Bending the Eve’s had fallen squarely on the shoulders of his Lady and even Varis wasn’t foolish enough to trespass in her territory. He knew those Lady Sinnendodel funded and passingly of the other players but his focus was on other projects. But Ben presented an opportunity he couldn’t resist.

“I doubt there is love lost between your father and yourself considering your easy dismissal of the subject. How do you feel about the situation the Eve household is in? Openings are so rare in our society. I can’t imagine you’ll ignore it.” Varis sat forward as he spoke, resting his chin on his hand. He lowered his voice as well to try and keep the conversation somewhat private.

Varis had no information on the countess, either. Either he was as useless as Lilie on that account or Ben would just have to see for himself. But he couldn't think too much on that as instead he chose to focus on a subject that Ben was not too happy to talk on: his father. Fortunately, he was well aware that this was an inevitability that he was more than prepared for. If there was ever a time to make his goals clear, it was now.

"If multitasking between duties and training a mage is beyond a vampire’s reach, then they don’t deserve the title of count. My father would wholeheartedly agree," Ben said. He would not elaborate on the barely-there relationship between himself and his father anymore than that. This wasn’t new to anyone who was familiar with his family’s dynamics. Perhaps Varis was fishing for information. He was looking at the wrong person for that, but he supposed it is what it is.

That said, it was his chance to make a statement. "As for the current power vacuum, the solution is simple: I have every intention of taking the role of Lord for myself, of course."

Varis leaned back, adjusting his gloves absently, and cast an appraising look over Ben. What ambition. Clearly not quite cut from the same cloth as his weakling house but ambition was the trait of the bold and the stupid in equal measure. He still hadn’t settled on which this Eve was but he was still favoring the latter. “Lord of the Eves. A lofty goal, an admirable goal. But how do you plan to accomplish that? Dracul’s passing put your father in a stronger position than ever. You’d have to climb over him to get to it at this point. Not that I intend to discourage you from cannibalizing your familial relations for power but I don’t see that type of desperation in you, Count Benjamin. Where do you plan to begin?”

Ben suppressed the chuckle coming from him. He wasn’t about to show his hand to a Sinnenodel, especially when nothing was guaranteed. He was, after all, still working on getting other support, but he supposed that Varis wondered where his confidence was coming from. “There are things I would like to change, and to make that change, I need power. What better power than the seat of the Lord? Although, if it comes off as desperation, I’ll keep that in mind,” He briefly mused as he sat back in his seat. “I’m currently looking for influence outside of my father’s circle, and after seeking council from other, older vampires, I think I’ll have what I need to take the needed steps forward.”

He remained confident, but he supposed now was as good a time as ever to keep his word. “Her Highness has her reasons for choosing us as our houses’ representatives. I feel she sees something in each of us, whether it be ambition, drive, power...and as such, I think it would be to our mutual benefit to have a positive relationship while attending the academy. Maintain the peace and what have you.”

“Her Highness pulls families apart with a poorly guised demand. I’m not naive enough to believe she’s choosing us for her Academy’s reputation or to foster whatever ambiguous talents she sees in us. She’s calculating in her choices and that’s why our Queen is as lenient with this place as she is. Look at her choices from the Houses. From the Marivaldis, she summons the last heiress of the previous Lord despite the rumors suggesting she has plans to overthrow Salazar. It isn’t a stretch of the imagination Ryner is showing her support for the vampiress and is setting up a direct conflict in the public eye between the two Houses. From the Sinnenodels, she takes the favorite of Lady Sinnenodel herself. While we are colleagues on Council matters, this puts a key opponent to many of her propositions under her direct authority. Coupled with a position that already drives vampires to bask in the sunlight, Her Highness can effectively stall my ability to intervene in any of her plans while also attempting to usher me out of my position that much faster.” Varis commented, ticking the families on his fingers as he spoke. “From the Eve’s, she specifically took the children of the two most powerful Traditionalist factions. With the recent passing of Count Dracul, your father is in the prime position to combine the two and remove the modernists’ favorite from power. How interesting that she called you after a long line of others. Normally, I’d argue choosing you was intended to foster your House’s instability but doing nothing would achieve that faster.” Varis tapped on the table next to them as he spoke.

“And then of course, there is the low born Astorio. An odd choice considering the pedigrees of her other Noble representatives. I was admittedly confused about the decision, how the juxtaposition of breeding made the Astorios look, until I had a conversation with the vampire. A headhunter for the Council. And with no one else on the Council in the immediate vicinity, the Princess has direct authority over him.” Varis chuckled darkly. “Right next door to the three potential heirs. Funny how it all works out, hm? Ryner is several hundred years old. She preaches tolerance and peace but she’s as ruthless as her sister.” And didn’t Varis know that. Although, he begrudgingly admitted it worked in their favor. Getting the up and coming son of the Traditionalist faction in the Eves under their thumb was brilliant and he hated her for it.

“The Sinnenodels find positive relationships are built on reciprocation and frankly Count Benjamin, I’m not entirely sure what you have to offer me in return. I find it strange that although I know your father’s status, I was unaware of you. Curious. Most advertise their progeny with pride.” Varis considered his options. Clearly, Count Benjamin was going somewhere. That much was clear. But Varis wasn’t sure where he was falling just yet and he was hesitant to make investments into a vampire he’d barely met. If he truly was aiming for the Lordship, he was in the perfect position to take it. Just a twist of the knife in a few spots and he’d be sitting at the Council in no time. It piqued his curiosity enough to move forward. He’d add this to Malek’s task list later tonight. “Now that being said, your plain ambition has caught my attention. So I propose a gathering of the nobles here at the Academy. I’ll arrange the affair, list you as the guest of honor, start a few positive comments among the mages at the Academy, really set the foundation for these positive relations you spoke of. I imagine it’d be easier if the nobles prime council were favorable towards you and who better to act as your foil than the conniving Count Sinnenodel.”

The anonymity worked in his favor once again. Ben would never admit that there was a reason his father never mentioned him, but to be frank, for once he could say that it was for the best. That could be easily waved away by any number of excuses, but instead he was cautious about the offer presented to him. Perhaps he had been too naive to think that simply coexisting without issue was too much to ask. At this point in time there was little that Ben could offer in return and the idea of owing a Sinnenodel was dangerous. He had one or two things he could possibly offer in return but nothing concrete. He would have to take a gamble and see what would happen.

Ben ended up agreeing with Varis, leaning forward casually in his seat. "You're right. And for that, I do have something to offer in return," He kept his voice low before he continued, "I have it under good authority that there is a myriad of assassination attempts in your house—as I'm sure that much is commonplace among nobility, but what sets this set apart are the targets. Mainly those of the eldest bloodlines." He made sure to pay careful attention to the count's response.

"Assassinations against the eldest bloodlines?" Varis murmured thoughtfully. It was halfway through his career. It was only a matter of time before his rivals took aim but he doubted anyone would start with assassination attempts this early. Which left one exhausting cultript. She couldn't wait another decade or two before she started getting bored with them? He’d need to double down on the boy’s affinity practice and swordplay. “Is that all? Some baseless rumors someone, somewhere, at sometime will try and assassinate us? The list of enemies we have as a House would rival some of the longest pieces of literature known to vampire kind. Is there more to this like some sort of dramatic pause because from where I stand, I’m setting you up for a bright future and only getting vague warnings in response.” Varis resisted the urge to pull out his phone and review the update security features Malek forwarded to him.

Ben thought that was a rather disinterested response all things considered. He did, however, recall his father's information on the Sinnenodel heir. Varis was either a talented actor or a fool, and Ben wasn't going to assume the latter just yet. However, he had yet to fully convince him. That much was fair at least, he would need to get the information from the duchess.

"As a gesture of goodwill and proof of my intentions I will get you specifics—I can assure you that I received that information on good authority and can get more in a relatively short amount of time," Ben promised.

“Normally, I don’t take promises as a reasonable exchange but I’ll make an exception for a beneficial future.” Varis agreed after a few minutes of consideration and took out his phone, pulling up his calendar. “We’ll have a midnight blood tasting. I recommend your mage prepare a demonstration of a skill; the other nobles are sure to be interested in someone worthy of Ryner’s generosity.”

“Now, for invitations. They’ll go out in a few days but considering our lack of familiarity, what title would you prefer on them? I doubt Count Benjamin Pierce of House Eve is enough to do the son of Devon Pierce justice.” Varis asked.

Ben wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, albeit despite supposedly being the one to benefit he couldn’t help but feel that he had somehow lost. At the very least nothing of value was taken, with one foot in the door he could make his own impression to the other nobles. He would have to contact Duchess Perez at the first chance he could to recall exactly what it was that she had told him. As for the demonstration, he sincerely believed it to be a good idea; he hadn’t the slightest clue what his mage was capable of now that he thought about it.

He did, however, give Varis a pointed look with the arrival of his question. “That will do just fine,” He stated plainly. “Should it change, I’m certain it would be known to all.”

Varis stepped into Ryner’s office with practiced nonchalance. The Princess looked up, ready to greet him, but he held up his hand as he waited for the doors to close behind him. She gave him a confused look as he calmly walked to her desk, rested his weight on his hands as he leaned over, and smiled sharply. Varis stayed like that for half a minute, staring straight into Ryner’s eyes who returned the look with confusion and concern. She opened her mouth again and Varis brought a finger to her lips, shushing her softy.

“Would you like to explain,” He softly, his voice growing increasingly louder as he continued. “Why in Geoffry’s royal backside you encouraged mental magic?!” He was screaming at the end, his calm facade broken and his face twisted in his fury. “His affinity is a keep part of our agenda and you’re willing to gamble with it? You have waited this long for the perfect poster mage and you’re willing to throw it all away because he’s a little nervous around mind mages? Have you lost your mind, Ryner? Because I’m having serious problems putting my faith in your little scheme now.”

Ryner’s expression went from concern to boredom almost instantly. She waited politely for him to finish. “Varis, sit down and use your inside voice please. It’s exhausting keeping up with your temper so take a moment and collect yourself and we’ll start again.” Varis wanted to reach across the desk and slap that condescending smirk of her face but he knew that friendly as they were, even that would be too far. So he sat down with a huff, slinging one leg over the arm of the chair and propping his arm up against the other so he could rest his cheek on his fist. Ryner shook her head in fond exasperation.

“So, now that I’m at a better viewing angle.” Varis said, free hand gesturing as he spoke. “Would you care to explain yourself? I know you’re a scheming bitch behind closed doors but really, I’m offended I wasn’t included. And when I say offended, I mean livid.”

“I believe you made that quite clear.” Ryner said drly. “And of course I’m going to encourage him. Sybil is the epitome of the worst of vampire kind and if anyone can do something to have some peace of mind around her, then let them. We’re putting Aaron through the wringer; give him something at the very least.”

Varis stared at her like she’d grown two heads. Misplaced sympathies drove her to jeopardize everything they’d worked on? How utterly absurd! Why would she let emotions cloud her judgement now? Of all the times she could have shown some inane empathy and she chose now to mess with one of the keystones of their plan. Varis contemplated leaving, he really did. Getting up and working on his exit plan would be the perfect break and, if he played his cards right, Ryner would be out of the picture forever.

“Varis, calm down. I can smell the stench of your cowardice from here.” Ryner cut off his train of thought with an exasperated sigh, a feeling she had long ago resigned herself to experience whenever she even thought about this particular vampire much less spoke with him face to face. “His choice in major also serves as a precautionary measure. If he can learn to keep his mind shut in Sybil’s presence, then anything he may learn will not make it to her. You can’t be around him all the time and I guarantee she is already plotting ways to get him away from you. It is important to make him self sufficient. Focusing on him and him alone would be detrimental after a while.”

“Yes Ryner, I am fully aware of the ramifications of his choice. I agree that it is a useful skill and an arguably critical one but the risk, Ryner. If we lose his affinity, we lose the Starag connection and we have to start all over. Which, I’m not sure if you recall this little, tiny, miniscule detail, but he is the last male heir because you and yours can’t seem to get your pets breeding properly.” Varis retorted. “His affinity is far more important that sparing him a little mental torture. In fact, it would have been beneficial. You may as well be taking the tools out of my hands and throwing them into the ocean, Ryner.” Varis narrowed his eyes. Was Ryner impulsive, emotional? Yes. Was she stupid? She wouldn’t have made it this long if she were. Something else was going on here and Varis didn’t like it. It must have shown on his face because Ryner sighed and rested her face on her hands.

“You know I’m going to ask. You don’t want him to learn to protect him from my Lady.” Varis sat up, grinning. He could smell a favor coming his way. “He knows something he isn’t supposed to, doesn’t he? You want to make sure someone else doesn’t find out what he knows. Oh, this is too precious. What did the boy learn? Tell me.” Ryner grumbled irritably and Varis kept pushing. “You have to tell me, Ryner. He’s my mage and I’m entitled to know everything that he does. And if you don’t tell me, I’ll just go to him. You might be as stubborn as an old goat but he isn’t. Devoted, yes. And he’ll resist for a little while. He’s stubborn like the rest of his lineage but I have no doubt when I give him the option of advancing his training or telling me the truth of the matter, he’ll buckle. He knows so little about the real world, has so many first experiences left, that he’ll want an out when I offer to personally give him a hands on experience.” If looks could kill, Varis knew the look Ryner sent his way would have obliterated him but he also knew he won. This is why you shouldn’t have soft spots for mages.

Ryner struggled with herself, the conflicting emotions playing out on her face an absolute joy for Varis. It sent a thrill through him knowing he backed Ryner into a corner. She leaned over the desk, beckoning him close and speaking in a low voice. “If the Council found out you know, they’d stake you and leave you for the sun. Are you sure you want to know Varis? We’re already risking as much as we are.” Varis gave her an unamused look. Of course he wanted to know and Ryner gave a defeated sigh. She beckoned him in a little closer and whispered into his ear.

“Psych!”

Varis blinked a few times. It took him a moment to register what she said and he turned slowly to look at her, covering a grin with her hand, eyes sparkling with mirth, and shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Psych? Psychic? Psychology? Psychotic? Clearly, Ryner was messing with him but what was psych? He’d never heard of someone just using the word psych in this situation. As far as he was aware, it meant to prepare yourself mentally but clearly that wasn’t the case here.

“I don’t know what nonsense you just pulled but I’m sure I should be offended.” Varis said, bristling. He didn’t know what “psych” was but he was sure it was some sort of insult and while he had no issue throwing one back in her face, he couldn’t do it effectively if he didn’t know what the insult was!

“Oh sweet, sweet stars, your face!” Ryner wiped away blood gathering in the corner of her eyes. “It’s a cute little mortal prank that I saw on a TV show I was watching the other night and I just wanted to try it. It was so satisfying! I see why they do it.” She took a moment to collect herself while Varis gave her a flat, unamused look again. Why he liked her was beyond him. Such a queer fascination with mortal culture but he couldn’t all toegther blame her. This past month had been an absolute nightmare and they all had to find a distraction where they could. At least one of his easier ones was on campus. He had no idea what Ryner did to destress until now. Indulge in mortal culture apparently.

“No, no. I encouraged it because it will likely alienate him further away from the student body. Not that he’s making many friends but I’m hoping the initial effects of his choice drives the ones he has away. Add a little stress from the peer pressure of joining the little social club the mental students cultivated and you have the perfect kindling. Just make sure you don’t save him too quickly.” Ryner said, her face twisted like she tasted something foul. Varis rolled his eyes. Anytime she talked about doing something bad to the boy, her silly conscious kicked in and the guilt started eating away at her. This was why he was in charge of the boy. She would have given up before she even started because of her silly attachments. Varis thanked himself every day for keeping his perspective proper; mages were tools, nothing more, nothing less. Those who forgot that always lost something in the long run.

“Fine. It’s not like I can do anything about it anyways.” Varis grumbled, fiddling with his gloves. Ryner looked down at them confused but Varis ignored it. “But, aren’t you the crafty one. Benjamin Pierce Eve. Heir to the only traditionalist faction in the Eve family and an ambitious one too. How many favors have you pulled out of him or is he practically indebted to you for the rest of his existence?”

“I’m not trying to extort favors from him, thank you very much. I’m trying to cultivate a friendly and positive relationship with him. Unlike you, I understand that twisting someone’s arm isn’t always the best way to handle things.” Ryner said with a judgemental sniff. “But if he did feel indebted to me when I help lead the way to his Lordship, then who am I to refuse his feelings of good will? Plus, I assumed once you figured out who he was, you’d adjust your end of the plan. He’s quite the feather in a cap from any viewpoint isn’t he?”

"He's a mage sympathist, Ryner. What part of that makes him a good ally for the Sinnenodels." Varis shot back. "We did have the chance to talk briefly during the first spell theory lab. My first impression is boring and far too serious. He'll break under all the pressure he's putting on himself. But he surprised me. I made him an offer. I'd introduce him to the fellow nobles, get his reputation on campus a boost, and all that. He took it but I almost laughed. He offered me a rumor that there are assassinations lined up against most, if not all, of the older Sinnenodel bloodlines."

"Already? Isn't it a little early? It's only been five decades. I didn't realize assassinations were planned this far in advance." Ryner said frowning. Varis waved off the thought.

"If they are true it's not likely any of my rivals. Assassinations protocol is the last decade and a half. Too much chaos otherwise. No, no." Varis sighed and shrugged. "This is my Lady's doing if the rumors are true. She'll probably hold them off a little while yet. I lined up a new pet for her to torture for the next decade at least. Feliks Valscoffie or whatever his name is. His mage fetishist vampire and he should provide ample entertainment for me to extort some favors from my dear family in the name of defense."

"Its Vasiliev, Varis, and I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped treating a premier artist and his wife like garbage. And further-" Ryner blinked as she processed everything past the blatant disrespect. “You served them up to Sybil as a distraction? You know she’ll try to ruin their marriage right? And if that doesn’t work, she’ll just kill them. Oh stars above, Varis. You are a heartless wretch.”

“What is your problem? I’ve kept one of our biggest threats distracted and it only cost us two societal anomalies. Imagine how much more his remaining works will be when they’re colored by tragedy. And anyways, isn’t that a bit hypocritical? You’re utterly destroying someone you like for the sake of your goals while I throw someone I wouldn’t grace the time of night if I could avoid it to the wolves and you say I’m the heartless wretch?” Varis laughed. “Please. I suggested we avoid the mage all together. We have the Red Hand’s daughter. That should have been enough to unite these idiotic renegades that are too busy fighting each other to do anything substantial.”

“At least I know what I’m doing is horrible and I will hate myself for as long as I live but it’s for the greater good. You on the other hand are a selfish jerk who prioritizes the suffering of these poor people over the benefits it reaps.” Ryner explained. “And yet, I still enjoy your company. Probably because you’re the only one who isn’t afraid to actually talk straight to me. Everyone else dances on eggshells in the event I express my displeasure. Now, I have another meeting in twenty and I’d like to have some time to prepare. Was there anything else you needed, Varis?”

“Not particularly. I thought I’d bother you for a while before I returned to running my enemies into the ground and expanding the Sinnenodel business empire but if my time is up, my time is up.” Varis sighed dramatically as he pushed himself up from the chair, tugging at his gloves again and smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes.

“You know, I think you somehow managed to slide back a century. I don’t think gloves have been a fashion point since I was a fledgling, Varis. Why are you wearing those? I’m surprised your diva can even stand the sight of them.” Ryner teased and Varis glared at her.

“I know what you’re insinuating and we are merely acquaintances who understand having a mutually beneficial relationship is a good thing. He’s useful.” Varis snapped.

“Really? And what are you getting out of him?” Ryner asked.

“He’s a foot into an industry I didn’t have easy access to before and he’s the one who put me in contact with your pet tailor for Chaend. Plus, his sister has a reputation for quick dramatics. The cover ups are excellent.” Varis retorted. Ryner lifted her brow, a thoughtful frown on her face.

“But I could have put you in contact with him and it probably would have been done faster. What’s worth more, a recommendation from a Princess or a child actor? And yet you went to him. That speaks volumes, Varis.” Ryner pointed out. “And you are obsessed with efficiency, So why didn’t you come to me?” Varis leaned over the desk and she smiled sweetly at the darkening of his eyes.

“Listen here, you meddlesome old crone. You will not spread slander and lies about my relationships with my business associates. There is nothing more between us than convenience, especially now that he is here. No, I will not “settle down”. We aren’t all emotional fools with attachment issues.” Varis glared at her and pushed off the desk, turning sharply on his heel.

“Then, you wouldn’t mind if I took an interest, hm?” Ryner said slyly. Varis paused for just a moment, sending her a look over his shoulder.

“He’s not your type.” Varis said as he left. Ryner laughed with a shake of her head.

The warm orange glow of the sun was shining through the leaves of the forest and dancing along the stone wall enclosing the Astorio dorm. Lush green grass was broken up by small smooth stones surrounding a patch of soil where small sprouts could be seen growing, evidence of Salem's practice on his magic while also helping keep the dorm stocked with fresh herbs, vegetables, and fruit for consumption. Two mages could be found in the center of the grassy field, Salem on his back, shirtless, with his hair tied up as he did sit ups, Lilie holding down his ankles for him before they'd inevitably switch off.

As Salem was going down he watched the orange hue behind Lilies head, his own spinning from the fatigue of sleepless nights couple with intense work outs and schooling. The cold blades of grass felt soothing against his sore knuckles each time his head hot back down onto the grass. "Hey...Lilie…How much do you know about the Eves?"

Lilie herself was preoccupied with Salem. She wasn't sure how she hadn't noticed until they got close how tired he looked. She wondered if he was having trouble getting used to the time change, too, but even while she struggled she didn't look nearly as exhausted as he did. His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she told herself to focus on holding his ankles down. The question caused her to frown slightly, giving him a slight shrug.

"They're full of weirdos, I can tell you that much," Lilie sighed, shaking her head. "But maybe I'm biased, having three different partners and not getting along with Mariette--Countess Mariette kinda makes me not think about them much." She paused, looking at him. "Why do you ask?"]

That's right. She had mentioned that she was having a hard time getting along with her partners, and she had been through so many. Salem tried to wipe away the fog in his mind and think more on the matter and how to word his questions. "It's nothing really. I just don't know as much about them. Was hoping maybe they drawled on to you about their lineage and the many important figures in their household. Wouldn't do for me to open up a second investigation because I upset another Noble family. Honestly I'm lucky Victor didn't throw me through a wall when I first came in." He tried to laugh a little to help smooth over the joke, but it was grounded in too much reality.

Lilie shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about that. I don't think the countess is that high up in the hierarchy--apparently Countess Arianna was, but she's gone. And I haven't heard from Ike…" She was sad to admit just how little she knew about the Eve house, though her expression fell when she mentioned Ike. He had stopped responding to her messages some time ago. "She's the daughter of a...retainer? But we don't really talk much, she just kinda feeds then locks herself in her room."

"I suppose that can't be all bad. It does give you minimal interaction with their kind, which it seemed was something you were hoping for the last time we spoke. Even if you somehow managed to befriend Victor enough to join me in my morning routine." Salem winked at Lilie as he curled up, sticking his tongue out at her playfully.

She grinned at him in return. It did seem weird that she got exactly what she had hoped for, but she didn't realize how lonely it made her. She was used to coming home to a house full of family, living with someone she barely knew just felt sad.

"Count Astorio is...not what I expected," Lilie outright admitted. "And he did apologize! He seems like he has to be what people expect him to be, so it was easy to get along with him." And her not-so-hidden agenda of getting some extra training from the count.

She sighed again, though she just gave Salem a shrug. "You're right, though. It is what it is. Though I'll probably get another partner by the end of the month," She joked. "How about you? Have you guys been getting along?" She asked. "You guys haven't been fighting or anything, right?" She hoped that wasn't why Salem looked so ragged.

As Salem went up for another sit up he couldn't help but laugh, the simple act using his core and causing him to fall backwards onto the grass as he continued his laughter. "He certainly isn't what he appears to be no. I'm not sure I see a reason as to why you would get another partner but perhaps this one can be a bit more chatty at least. Right?" Salem laid there taking in his breath for a moment before continuing. "We quickly established guidelines and other things the first night I came in. I think we see eye to eye on a few points and I'm willing to bend slightly but I wont conform and he knows that. It's a give and take situation."

He slid his legs free of her grasp and walked over to grab a sports bottle containing the tea equivalent of an energy drink, full of B12a and caffeine naturally obtained from within his greenery. He tossed a bottle of water towards Lilie, prompting her to 'think fast' as he took a sip of his drink. If he was lucky, maybe he could see how far along her magic has gotten.

Lilie was in the middle of stretching her arms above her head when Salem tossed the bottle at her. She tried to catch it, missing it by a hair. The idea of pulling it to her came to mind and she yanked the water inside back. Unfortunately, it was a little too much, causing the bottle to go flying upwards. She sighed, waiting for it to come back down before catching it with both hands.

”I could definitely use some of that secret tea you gave me,” She giggled. She was glad to hear they were getting along, pausing for a moment before deciding to ask, ”How about everything else? You doing okay?”

Salem chuckled at the mention of the secret tea, trying hard not to laugh too loud. So much had happened in such a short time that he'd almost forgotten about that brew. "I'll see about having a few sachets made for you so you can take them on the go." His shoulders dropped slightly as he moved the bottle down towards his side, she already had so much to worry about for both him, her, and Aaron, he didn't want to add any more unnecessary stress in her life. Aaron was already on it and helping and that was more than he could ask for. Sure omission he'd had told Aaron that omission of the truth was bad and broke friendships but this was one of those rare cases where it was needed.

"Yeah, I'm doing fine. I know I don't exactly look the best but I've just been practicing my magic a bit more than I probably should be and I think it's wearing me out. But much like exercising, I see it like a muscle, itll be sore at first and hard but with more and more practice my body will get used to it and adapt to the new changes in routine." Liar

She frowned as she shook her head slowly at Salem, letting out another sigh. ”Please be careful with it, okay? I know I’m the last person to talk since I’ve exhausted myself once or twice getting overexcited, but I want you to take care of yourself,” She smiled warmly. ”I’m going to have to keep a close eye on you and make sure you get better.”

"Well you will be seeing me every other morning for these trainings, so I guess I'll have to just listen to you. Doctors orders." Salem stretched his right arm over his chest as he held it with his left. "Ready to go to the next set?"

Bracing against an unexpectedly chilly wind, Aaron checked his watch once more, looking around through the darkness for any sign of Salem. Instead, all that looked back were the various faces of other students waiting at the Academy gate for their rides to arrive, peering strangely at the blond man with a sword but no suitcase, inexplicably braving a September night in nothing but an undershirt and slacks. He brushed their looks away, rubbing his bare bicep with one hand and pulling his phone back out for the umpteenth time with the other to check for any updates.

Nothing. Sure, Salem wasn’t late yet, but Varis’ insistence that “on time is late and early is on time” had made enough of an impression on Aaron that he still chafed a little waiting. At least everything else was going according to plan; the driver had taken his special instructions discreetly and without question, preparations had been made for their arrival, and everything was running properly on schedule. The two-hour drive to Noila Castle would hopefully afford him just enough time to really hammer the house rules into Salem’s head before they got there, their arrival would be smooth and quiet, and everything would be fine. Probably. Honestly, all Aaron really knew for sure these nights was that if Salem didn’t arrive before the car did, he’d kick his ass all the way to the castle instead.

Having a hard meeting time was both a blessing and a curse for Salem. He ended up having to start his exercises several hours earlier tonight, having told Lilie that they wouldn't be able to work out together today as he was on a tight schedule. As soon as he was finished with his training, there was setting timers and feeders for his plants to ensure that they wouldn't die during this two week stretch. Any sproutlings that may have struggled were helped along with his magic, his own training he'd been doing to help the amount of energy he could put out. All in all Salem should be arriving at the exact specified time if not a bit earlier.

As he made his way out he ensured to announce himself to Victor, leaving in the same suit he wore the day he had dinner with the queen though now with an added cloak. If you asked him this was all ridiculous, but if this was how Aaron thought he should dress then so be it from him to argue. Salem gathered the last of his bags, one case full of clothing for the trip and other full of the ingredients for Victor's elixirs. He pulled out his pocket watch as he noticed Aaron already standing there bracing the cold. hmm five minutes early "What's the matter Starag? Are cloaks not allowed at the castle as well, besides you seem a little underdressed...you sure you don't want my cloak?" He eyed his watch once more before adding "And aren't you a bit early?"

Aaron’s head snapped toward Salem’s voice, his relief at seeing him arrive on time tainted by the horror of whatever on earth the man was wearing. Hideous suit aside, was that a cloak? Aaron was used to vampires dressing in the styles of their outdated youths, but not mages, and it wasn't as if it was cold enough to warrant such a thing anyway. Good lord, and Varis criticized his wardrobe. Honestly, all he'd told Salem was to dress formally!

He tried not to show his exasperation too obviously, but inwardly, he groaned. He could already tell this was going to be a long two weeks.

“I didn't want to keep the driver waiting,” Aaron replied flatly, looking Salem up and down one more time as he approached. “And don't worry about what I’m wearing, worry about you. Put that--” he gestured to the cloak, “--away somewhere before the driver sees you, and… is that the suit from dinner at the start of the term?”

Aaron paused as a horrible realization dawned on him. “Don't tell me that's your only suit.”

"It was the only one I packed yes. I wasn't exactly planning on making multiple trips to her highnesses castle when I enrolled into this academy." Salem unclasped his cloak, allowing it to fall back as he grabbed it and draped it over one arm. "There's no more room in my luggage I'm afraid so I'll just have to carry it. Guess we had the same thing in mind then with being early. Father always said if you're early you're on time, if you're on time you're late, and if you're late you're fired. Not that I ever saw him fire anybody, people tended to come early just to make sure they weren't."

“Her Majesty,” Aaron corrected, “the Princesses are ‘Her Royal Highness’ and the Queen is ‘Her Majesty’.” Sun and stars save him if Salem ever had occasion to use those terms during their stay - Aaron was hoping they’d be able to avoid any and all contact with the royal family to mitigate the risk of any further problems - but he had to say it nonetheless.

Salem Sr.'s punctuality standards helped explain part of why he and Varis apparently got along, but Aaron couldn’t say he was all that interested in the subject. “Well it’s a good thing you are,” he said, checking his watch again and looking up the drive. “The car should be here in a few minutes. I’m going to explain everything you’ll need to know about the castle on the drive, but if there’s anything you want to ask that you don’t want the driver to know, now’s the time. This is your last chance not to be overheard for the next two weeks.”

Salem hadn't really thought about the lack of privacy that he would have in the royal castle. A household swarmed with vampires and servants who, if they were anything like Aaron, would undoubtedly tell the royals of anything either boy did during their stay. He'd have to be on even better behavior than usual, and he would have to play guest once more. "I can't say that I can think of anything, my main concern right now is if you have a greenhouse where I can either, practice my magic, or collect herbs to make these elixirs Victor has tasked me with drinking. If I'm under accompaniment then I will also need you or another to escort me outside for two hours a day. Another requirement of my partner, getting sunlight."

Aaron considered for a moment, pleasantly surprised at a rare moment of cooperation. “There’s no greenhouse with herbs, but there are plenty of gardens and the grounds are full of plants. I’m sure you can practice your magic on those, provided you can reverse any changes you make. Otherwise I can speak to the gardener and see what we can do about some seedlings or something. He and the groundskeepers are plant mages too.” He nodded to himself. “As for sunlight, that’s no problem. There are rooms in the mages’ quarters with full-spectrum bulbs, but if you really want natural sunlight then that can be arranged.”

"I'm sure if Victor wanted me to use synthetic lighting then he wouldn't mind the ones I use at the dorm for my plants. No I'm afraid it has to be the real thing. Oh and I almost forgot that after my sunlight I am to do morning exercises, the time varies but it has been shortening the more I do them which means I'm most likely going to need a new regimen soon. But that's all I can think of right now."

Aaron’s expression fell to something less amused as Salem spoke. “Alright, we can fit those in but you’ll have to do them at different times of night,” he replied hurriedly, checking his watch. “I’ll need to confirm the schedule at home, but you’ll probably have to move your sunlight time to morning before bed, and you’ll do your exercises in the training room with me as I do mine.”

He glanced anxiously up the drive again, where a few pairs of headlights shone in the darkness. He turned back to Salem, expression deadly serious. “Now it’s my turn,” he spoke urgently as the vehicles approached, voice lowering. “Beyond anything else I’m going to tell you on the way there, you need to follow my lead. If I say something you don’t understand or that doesn’t make sense to you, do not correct me. Do not question me. Just go with it. I know what I’m doing, and you’re just going to have to trust me.”

Before Salem had the chance to respond, three vehicles arrived at the gate a sleek black limousine flanked in front and behind by two intimidating black SUVs. The back doors of the SUVs opened to produce two armed men each, clad in light armour emblazoned with the Noila crest; the standard among the castle guard. From the driver’s side of the limousine, a middle-aged man in a neat black suit appeared, opening the back door and gesturing into it.

“Mathias!” Aaron greeted the man jovially, approaching with none of the imposing attitude he’d shown Salem just seconds before. “I was glad to hear they’d be sending you. Did you fill out my request?” He lowered his voice a little slyly at the end.

“Indeed,” Mathias replied happily, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gestured inside the car. On the far end of the seat, a garment bag hung from a hook in the ceiling, and Aaron beamed.

“You’re a heavensent, Mathias,” he clapped the older man on the shoulder, climbing inside.

Meanwhile, Mathias approached Salem, looking at him more cooly than he had Aaron. “I will take your bag, Mr. Spellman,” he said, less offering and more informing. “Please, follow Mr. Starag inside.”

Salem gave the man a polite bow before handing him his suitcases. "Please be careful with this one, there's glass vials in there from my partner and I'd hate to lose supply so quickly." He made his way past Mathias and entered the car next to Aaron eyeing the bag that hung.

Mathias eyed Salem but didn’t comment, moving to put his bag in the trunk as Salem got into the car. Inside, Aaron unzipped the garment bag to reveal a white dress shirt, tie, and suit jacket, all in his usual style and matching his slacks perfectly. Immediately he set about putting on the shirt, occupying himself with fastening the buttons and tucking it in as Mathias got back into the driver’s seat.

“I kept your request discreet as you said, but Aaron, you must know that I can’t help but ask.” Mathias betrayed no malice - in fact, a hint of amusement tinted his voice. “Why exactly has it fallen to me to provide the other half of your ensemble tonight?”

Aaron chuckled fondly, working on tying his yellow satin tie as he replied. “You won’t believe the misfortune I’ve had this evening,” he began, exasperated, “no sooner had I sent all my other shirts for dry cleaning than I spilled coffee all over myself.” He laughed. “Imagine my horror.”

Mathias chuckled from the front seat. “Well, I am always happy to help,” he replied. The convoy started moving, circling around the Academy drive and out onto the road toward Noila castle.

Salem tried his best not to roll his eyes as the two of them spoke. It was clear that Mathias had little care for Salem, and Salem had never known Aaron to be so careless as to not have something to wear. Aaron's voice rang in his head, reminding him that he was not to be corrected and to just follow his lead. He waited a moment for the light mage to get himself together before gently nudging him to let him know he was ready to listen.

Aaron was waiting for Salem to toss caution to the wind and make some comment, but to his pleasant surprise, none came. Hm, it seemed the man took his advice after all. If this set the tone for the break, then Aaron was in for a huge and welcome relief. He tried not to get too hopeful.

Looking over at the nudge, Aaron took it as his cue to begin. “Alright…” he began, pausing to put his thoughts in order as he fastened on a pair of cufflinks. Strange how he knew everything he needed to tell Salem, but somehow couldn’t quite ascertain how to order everything; he was so familiar with all of it that it was like second nature, and he supposed he wasn’t sure what he could assume Salem knew and didn’t know.

He decided to anchor himself by relaying the information he’d been given. “As you know, you’ve been sanctioned to spend the break under my supervision as part of the terms of your freedom during your investigation. You won’t exactly be a prisoner in Noila Castle, but you’re not quite a guest either, so keep that in mind as we go forward.” He looked over to Salem to ensure he was listening.

“You will be constrained to the mages’ wing, specifically the Starag quarters, for the duration of the break,” Aaron continued, more or less quoting from the briefing he’d been given. “If you want to leave, you’ll have to be accompanied at all times, most likely by me but not necessarily, so be aware of that. Even with supervision you will not be permitted in either of the Princess’ wings without the corresponding Princess’ express permission, and if there are guests at the castle you will not be allowed to interact with them at all without one of the Princesses present.” He dropped his robotic tone to add, “Personally, I’d prefer if we avoided guests and the royal family altogether; just to minimize any possibility of anything going wrong.”

He looked to Salem expectantly. “Any questions so far?”

"Just one for now. Will I need supervision while roaming the halls of the mages wing? That is to say, will I need an escort to the kitchen, restroom, and bedroom, or even the training area or garden?" This all sounded too much. It reminded him of an old saying he'd heard time and time again, children should be seen not heard. Although in this case they should be neither seen nor heard unless called upon by someone of royal blood.

Aaron shook his head. “You’ll find all of those in the Starag quarters. In fact, there should be no real reason for you to leave; all the amenities you’ll need are provided. Outside is a little trickier, but the boundaries of our quarters are pretty clear and there are guards stationed at key spots who will turn you around if you’re straying too far. And of course, I know the place backwards and forwards so if you need something, you can always ask me.”

The more Aaron spoke the more his previous words sounded like a sugar coated lie. This wasn't a break, it was a prison. The halls his courtyard, and the room his cell. Salem leaned his head back for a moment and closed his eyes as he thought about how long and arduous these next two weeks will be. "You keep saying Starag quarters, is that separate from the mage quarters? If so would I be allowed to interact with the other staff? If I could gain insight from the other plant mages that would be very appreciated."

Aaron didn’t miss Salem’s exasperation, but he wouldn’t comment. “They’re in the same wing, but our living quarters are separate from the other staff, yes,” he confirmed. “You’re free to talk to the other staff if you want, so long as you’re not venturing outside our quarters unaccompanied to do it.”

“But I’m glad you mentioned that; it brings us to our next point,” he continued. “You’re going to be surrounded by people - more people than you’d probably expect - who are all happily in the employ of the Noilas. At the castle, keep in mind that my way of life is the standard, and yours is the outlier.” He looked to Salem, a warning in his eyes. “Even disregarding that it would spark rumours and probably hurt your case in the investigation, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that voicing your… distaste for our way of life isn’t going to be met very kindly. Loyalty to the crown and the Treaty is the one thing we all have in common there, and insulting either will make your stay more difficult than it needs to be. Understood?”

About a thousand different things ran through Salem’s mind, each worse than that before he finally landed on what to say. "That seemed to be a given. So yes that is understood. I'm really trying to get in the way of their work, I wouldn't want them to potentially be punished because I took up their time. Just figured i could watch the gardeners at work and ask questions while they do their stuff so that I can advance my learning since I wont be able to take this time to be surrounded by an estate of plant mages."

The more Salem said, the more Aaron suspected that he wasn’t looking for input from plant mages at all. After all, he’d grown up around them, and he’d told him before about all the knowledge they’d passed down among themselves. No, he wasn’t looking for insight; he was looking for familiarity. Salem was homesick, and wanted to surround himself with plant mages to mitigate it. Aaron had to sympathize. He was homesick too, but at least he got to go home rather than to some new strange place with rules he might not adjust to. The thought crossed Aaron’s mind that Salem was only in this position because of his own hubris, but still, a small part of him felt for the guy.

“Like I said, that can be arranged,” Aaron confirmed. “As long as you’re respectful and don’t impede anyone, it shouldn’t be a problem.” Provided they agreed to talk to him, anyway. Aaron knew there was a distinct possibility that they wouldn’t. And who could blame them? All they knew about Salem was that he was a suspected rebel under investigation, sent to Noila castle to spend his break under strict supervision. It was entirely possible they wouldn’t want to touch him with a ten foot pole.

“Just don’t take it personally if people are a bit… distant,” Aaron added.

Salem's eyes opened and they looked towards the rear view mirror of the car, notably making contact with Mathias. "None taken. I know what I must look like to them, and, and I say this with no disrespect, but who knows what has been whispered of me. Things tend to get misconstrued when spoken too much so as far as anyone is considered I could be a rabid mage who foams at the mouth and wants to topple our society...which of course we both know isn't true."

Aaron had to chuckle; as much as he denied it, Salem certainly did a good job of playing that part. “Well you know how word of mouth can be,” he agreed, “and servants are particularly talented at gossiping. All the more reason to think before you speak.”

The rest of the two-hour drive to Noila Castle passed in relative silence, interrupted periodically anytime Aaron remembered another detail he thought Salem should know. He covered the proper way to speak to servants of different stations, some information on his family and how to talk to them, and a number of tidbits about the history of the castle largely amounting to “don’t touch anything”, among others. Despite occurring in small bursts amid stretches of silence, by the time they neared their destination Aaron was growing tired of the sound of his own voice.

“We’ll be arriving in about five minutes,” the driver called back, eyeing the pair in the mirror.

“Thank you, Mathias,” Aaron replied, nodding. He glanced at his reflection in the darkened window once again, giving himself a final once-over. He adjusted his tie just so, and straightened his collar for what must have been the fifteenth time throughout the drive. He smoothed the lapel of his suit jacket as per habit and also did a final check of his hair, neatly combed just as he liked, checking every detail one last time with a critical eye.

The car turned down a forested road, the trees closing further over it until the stars could no longer be seen through the canopy. It ended at a wrought iron gate attended by two heavily armed guards, one of whom stooped to confirm the drivers’ identities and purposes before the gate opened and they could continue on. They went up an incline, and when they crested it, the treeline disappeared.

It was then that the castle could finally be seen from the drive, all hulking gothic spires stabbing at the sky, the architecture of a caliber unlike anything else in the world. Both the drive and the castle were expertly lit, and everything in sight, from the building to the paths to the grounds and gardens, was immaculately maintained. There was a large, elliptical driveway encircling a magnificent water feature at the grand entrance, but the convoy did not approach it; instead, it ducked down a smaller road to the side and around to the East. They pulled around to the back of the castle and into a much smaller circular driveway in front of a much less exaggerated entrance, though everything was still of a standard not seen anywhere else.

“Here we are…” Aaron murmured, mostly to himself as he stared out the window at the castle. He wasn’t sure if the twist in his stomach was excitement or dread, but they’d find out soon enough.

Salem looked around, noting the detour that Mathias was taking, remaining silent as he watched the trees pass by and wondered as to where they were being led. Once they arrived he turned to face Aaron. "Where exactly is here? Or I suppose I'm more curious as to why we didn't use the front entrance."

“This is the mages’ entrance,” Aaron explained, adjusting some minute flaw in his tie as Mathias got out of the car. “The entire East wing of the castle is the mages’ wing, so we come and go through here when we aren’t directly accompanying our vampires.”

Mathias circled around to Aaron’s door, and another servant appeared on Salem’s side. Before they opened the doors, Aaron looked to Salem one last time. “Okay, to reiterate: be respectful, try not to speak unless spoken to, and above all, follow my lead.”

The doors opened, and Aaron stepped out gracefully, taking a moment to straighten his sleeves as he thanked the driver. A servant had already begun unloading the trunk, taking the luggage off to some other door around the corner after Aaron told him to take it to Salem’s room. The servant gave him a strange look, presumably questioning the lack of a second set of luggage, but didn’t question it, disappearing without a word. The convoy disappeared as well once the two men were clear of it and Aaron led Salem to the castle confidently, though he halted at the door where a young, heavily armed guard in Noila livery stood waiting for them.

“Hamish, it’s great to see you again,” Aaron greeted with a smile, giving the guard’s hand a firm shake. The guard returned his grin in full, though his eyes lingered on the Sinnenodel earring swinging from Aaron’s ear a little longer than was necessary.

“Likewise Aaron,” Hamish replied, perching a hand on his hip. “Though I’ll be honest, escorting a wanted man was not how I expected you’d be returning to us.”

“Life is full of surprises,” Aaron shrugged, giving his earring a flick.

The two shared a knowing look before Hamish offered the pair a curt bow, gesturing to the door. As if on cue it opened, pulled by some unseen servant on the inside. Hamish kept his eyes on Salem as the two passed, but said nothing more.

Inside, they were greeted by a large foyer, cheerily lit and constructed in warm tones of burgundy and cherry wood with a large, curved staircase cascading down the back wall. Aaron looked around fondly, glancing to the benches along the right-hand wall; it was on one of those benches he had said his goodbyes to his mother before leaving for the Academy. What a way to return.

Much to his relief, there was no arrangement of servants waiting to greet them, only the one who opened the door and another who flitted from one attached room to another, barely sparing the pair more than a mildly suspicious glance. Aaron barely noticed them; he only noticed the middle-aged woman who emerged from the right-hand door next, who nearly jumped when she laid eyes on the pair.

The woman was significantly shorter than Aaron and looked to be somewhere in her thirties, but shared the same cerulean eyes, with a head of curly golden blonde hair corralled beneath a sheer lace veil. A familiar pink crystal glimmered from among the curls, matching a pair of long earrings, and a rosy beige dress cascaded loosely from her small frame, billowing sleeves tightening at the wrist. Her face was a picture of shock, and her hand flew to her mouth. “You’re early!”

Aaron’s expression mirrored hers, though he had to laugh. “I’m early?” he asked incredulously, “You’re here!” He crossed the room insistently, taking his Aunt Dora by the arm and stooping to kiss her on the cheek. “What are you doing here? What happened to Count Alder?”

Dora shook her head, a smile replacing her shock. “Don’t you worry about him. I’m here working out a few kinks with Her Highness for him, as usual,” she replied airily, scoffing. She playfully smacked his arm. “And besides, I wasn’t about to miss your visit!”

Aaron shook his head, smiling. “Well you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he told her, turning back to Salem.

“Salem, this is my aunt, Isadora Starag, if you recall,” he introduced, looking to Dora. “And Aunt Dora, I’m sure you remember Mr. Spellman,” he spoke more cautiously.

“I do indeed,” Dora replied. To Aaron’s considerable surprise, she strode across the foyer to where Salem stood by the door, approaching him confidently and laying a comforting hand on his arm. After a moment, Salem felt a warm calm spread through him. “You poor thing, you’re wound up like a spring,” she cooed. “Do try to relax; no one is going to bite. I do understand though, being so far from home is difficult, especially under these circumstances.”

It was hard not to notice all of the eyes that were cast upon the two, but primarily Salem. He did his best to mimic Aaron's movements and follow his lead, staying silent and only offering polite smiles to those who passed the pair or gave him a discerning eye. Hamish's view seemed to linger the longest, Salem keeping his smile held for as long as those eyes were in his direction. Never once did he speak up.

The interior was warm and welcoming, contrasting the reception that he had had so far. Though he wasn't exactly surprised by how he was being treated, he did hope that the mages would be better at hiding it then they were. That is until Aaron and Dora were reunited. The scene was enough to warm anyone’s heart, seeing two people so happy to see each other and watching Aaron finally loosen up the smallest bit. It brought a tinge of sadness in Salem as he began to think of how his mother would've acted in the same way, his aunt more than likely offering them all drinks as they took the time to finally catch up.

Without realizing it Salem began to rub the nape of his neck as he watched their display, snapping out of it only when Dora had approached him and used her magic to calm his emotions. "My apologies, it hasn't exactly been the warmest welcome so far but that is to be expected. I do appreciate your trying to help but...so far I haven't had the best relations with other mages using their magic on me so if you could refrain that would be greatly appreciated." There was a slight awkward pause before he continued, "But that's enough about me, how have you been feeling? How are you doing?"

Dora withdrew her hand from Salem’s arm as if it had grown spikes, a brief look of horror crossing her face. The immediate effect of her magic was gone, but a semblance of calm still lingered for the moment. “Oh, I’m so sorry dear! Terrible force of habit, though you’d think I’d know better by now. Especially after what the two of you went through.” She glanced sympathetically between the pair before raising a hand to her brow, shaking her head to assuage Salem’s concerns. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ve made a full recovery. Took some time, but so does everything,” she brushed off the events of their shared dinner experience perhaps a little lighter than she should have, though the unpleasantness of the memory was clear in her eyes.

“But!” Dora clapped her hands together, looking between the two. “I’ve kept the two of you long enough; Aaron, I’m sure you have things to discuss, and Mr. Spellman, I imagine you’re eager to settle in. This is all very overwhelming, I know. There will be plenty of time for talking when the two of you have your affairs in order.” She pulled Aaron down by the sleeve to kiss him on the cheek, and patted Salem’s arm again (without magic this time) before moving to the door opposite the one she came, disappearing into the castle proper with one last wave.

Aaron watched the whole scene with eyebrows raised, Dora’s confidence with Salem entirely unexpected. She was probably the most timid of the three older Starags - not that he’d ever tell her that outright - so to see her freely speak to Salem like a familiar guest rather than a suspected rebel completely blindsided him. He watched her go in silence, returning her wave and a bewildered smile, before turning awkwardly back to Salem.

“Well that was a pleasant surprise…” he commented, almost to himself. Looking to Salem, he cleared his throat, gesturing to the door from which Dora had come. “Let’s get going then, shall we?”

"Very pleasant. I know she meant no harm and I really hope I didn't offend her. Maybe I could do something to make it up to her, perhaps the kitchen would allow me to cook her a meal or...no that won't do. They'd never let a suspected rebel gain the chance to potentially poison someone." Salem wasn't really talking to Aaron so much as past him and to himself. He began to rub the nape of his neck again as he continued to think before snapping back and realizing he was mumbling before Aaron in his own house. "Sorry, yeah. Let's get going I suppose.”

Not too worried about Salem’s self-reflection, Aaron crossed to the double door on the right of the foyer and waved for Salem to follow. Beyond the door was a wide, similarly decorated corridor, spanning almost the entire length of the wing before splitting in two at the end, each branch turning off out of sight. The walls boasted priceless paintings of past Starags and their vampires, as well as small statuettes and other artwork depicting various versions of Starag and Noila symbolism. About halfway down the hall were a huge painting and enormous tapestry, facing each other, and the walls on either side were peppered with doors.

“Well, this is home,” Aaron said as he walked, expecting Salem to follow. They passed a few doors on the right of the hall that he didn’t acknowledge, and the first door on the right was actually just an archway, leading into a spacious and lavishly furnished residential kitchen, complete with an island and barstools and a kitchen table.

“This is the kitchen,” Aaron stated the obvious, stopping so Salem could take a look. “Our meals are usually prepared for us in the castle kitchens, but this one is nice for in between meals or if anyone would ever rather cook than be served. My mother is especially fond of it, though I don’t personally use it for much more than popcorn and eggs.”

"If your mother is even a fraction of the warmth and hospitality Dora seemed to provide, then I'm sure that perhaps I will see her in there, maybe get a glimpse into your life and where you came from if she would allow me." Salem paused for a moment in order to take in the view of the kitchen, beginning to attempt to piece where each bit of equipment or supply might be stored based off of the design. "Shall we continue?"

Shrugging off Salem’s usual nosiness, Aaron continued, waving lazily at the right hand wall. “Those doors are all just spare bedrooms; in the past there were occasionally generations with enough Starags to fill every bedroom, but most of them are for guests or storage now. That’s our dining room,” he pointed to the next room on the left, denoted by double doors rather than a single one, “and farther down here we have the den.”

Aaron pushed the next door on the left, holding it open for Salem to take a look. The den was a cozy family room, though larger than it looked. It was practically a glimpse back in time; a large fireplace with an ornate mantle was embedded in the back wall, and fine antique furniture surrounded it, as if it had been furnished in the 17th century. In a corner sat an ancient, but well-maintained gramophone, flanked by a large collection of records. Finally, an antique piano and a few performing chairs and music stands stood neatly beneath a window in the opposite corner, accompanied by a shelf full of sheet music.

“Stop me if you have questions,” Aaron offered.

The den was an astounding room to behold, Salem’s tense shoulders relaxed a bit just at the mere sight of it. Thoughts of potentially spending his time tied up in this room reading, playing chess (against himself most likely) or simply listening to the music, began to flow in his mind. Only halting when Aaron asked if he had any questions. In truth he had one, but it wasn't one that should be asked aloud nor to anyone. If there weren't as many Starags as previously held, why give one up? "I'll let you know if I have any. For now I'm just taking the place and information in so that I don't get lost and accused of plotting a nefarious deed." His tone was a bit more jovial than he had been recently, playfully joking at the horrid situation he was in.

Grinning just a bit, Aaron shook his head. “Duly noted.”

As they continued toward the fork in the hallway, a portion of the wall to their left swung suddenly inward, and a young servant carrying an armful of linens emerged from the thin corridor within, pulling the wall flush again by a piece of the molding.

“Good evening Aaron, welcome home,” she greeted warmly, though her gaze, like Hamish’s, lingered on his earring a moment longer than it should have.

“Evening Myra,” Aaron greeted in turn, smiling as she passed. “It’s good to be home.”

Myra smiled but otherwise said nothing, pointedly avoiding Salem’s gaze as she passed before ducking silently into one of the many bedroom doors behind them.

“She’s probably putting the finishing touches on your room,” Aaron commented absently to Salem, watching as Myra disappeared. “Looks like they put you in the one next to mine, I suppose that makes sense.” He shrugged. “We’ll see those in a bit. For now…”

The two reached the end of the hallway and Aaron led them to the right hand branch; this corridor was significantly shorter, with only a handful of doors to the left and one to the right, ending in a heavy exterior door.

“This is where I spent most of my time growing up,” Aaron explained, gesturing down the hall. Moving to the first door on the left, he opened it to reveal something resembling an old classroom, where a single desk and chair sat in the centre. Three walls were lined with bookshelves, and the fourth sported a large chalkboard. Next to the board was a table and a rack where several long rulers were arranged next to a few long rods of various thicknesses, including a thin metal one that Salem might have found familiar. On the floor in the corner was a bucket full of pebbles. While everything was spotless, it was still clear nothing in the room had been used for some time.

“I learned all my academics in this room; I’m sure you can see why the class sizes at the Academy came as a shock,” he explained, stepping inside and gesturing around. He looked to the shelf in the corner and the bucket almost fondly, mild amusement clear on his face. “This is also where I was familiarized with Count Julian’s methods,” he added, chuckling.

Salem began to look around the room, moving slowly and taking each item in. He stopped at the familiar thin rod and winced slightly as he touched it. "Hello old friend, I didn't think I would be meeting you here today." He turned to face Aaron with a smile. "His methods are...unorthodox but I see they worked to instill something in you at least. Are you to show me the training room you had mentioned earlier or will you save that for another day?"

“Unorthodox? Maybe for you, but here Count Julian is the industry standard.” Aaron shook his head at Salem's naïveté, shrugging. “The training room is just across the hall here, follow me.”

The door across the hall led into a large, high-ceilinged room, about the size of a gymnasium. The floor was rubberized and around the room were various areas for different types of exercise: a weight track, a few punching bags, some dented and worn wooden training dummies along one wall, even a balancing rail. Benches lined the walls and moonlight streamed in from tall windows, bathing the room in eerie silver light until Aaron turned on the overheads.

“This is it,” he said, gesturing inside and looking around himself. He hadn’t been gone long, but even after a month the sight of the room, the faint scent of sweat and rubber, brought a wave of nostalgia over him. Absently, he ran a hand over the scar on his ear, letting an old memory wash over him before he came back to his senses.

Looking to Salem, he pointed to a set of double doors on the far wall and cleared his throat. “That's the equipment closet, full of different sparring weapons. I have a key to open it if you need it, though needless to say I'll be supervising if you want to use anything in there.”

"I won't be needing them but thank you. I have a feeling Victor would keep over in his grave if he caught wind that I changed up his routine without so much as asking." Salem placed his hands on his hips and turned his head softly, taking in the gymnasium. "Suppose this will do just fine. It'll be a bit lonely without Lilie but I'll manage."

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms. “It’s hard to be lonely here, but suit yourself,” he said indifferently, making his way out of the training room and beckoning Salem to follow. “The last thing I’ll show you tonight is where you can get your sunlight in the mornings.”

He led Salem to the door at the end of the corridor, pushing open the heavy exterior door with a little difficulty. The door swung out to a flurry of black feathers and annoyed cawing, a number of ravens scattering from a pristine marble patio circling an elegant water feature. The patio formed the centre of an expertly lit garden, full of beautifully maintained topiaries and nocturnal-flowering plants, with white marble benches and statuettes arranged around the fountain, peacefully bubbling away. When Aaron led Salem out, one of the ravens from before returned, hopping around in the grass.

“Why hello there!” Aaron cheerfully greeted the bird, who looked through one eye at him skeptically. He made a face at it, murmuring, “that one never liked me,” before turning back to Salem.

“This is the mages’ garden,” he explained, gesturing at the lavish plants all around. “It’s smaller than the castle gardens, but it’s quiet and private. This is the tip of the East wing of the castle, so there’s lots of sunlight in the morning, but not so much in the evening. You can get your few hours of sunlight out here.”

He's talking to birds. He really must have been lonely in his childhood to have developed relationships with the wildlife outside his quarters. "Thank you, it's quite lively out here isn't it? And I've never seen so many ravens in one spot. They must really like you." Salem removed a golden ring from his finger, one with which he had no prior attachment, and he gently tossed the ring by the bird’s feet a few inches away.

“We feed them all the time, so they’ve gotten accustomed to congregating here,” Aaron explained, watching as the raven took flight once more, startled by the ring tossed in its direction. It landed atop the fountain, eyeing the pair suspiciously.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Aaron told it defensively, holding out his hands. He got a rather offended look in response.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “They’re not huge fans of strangers,” he explained to Salem, “and even though they get used to people they know after a while, they’re still not terribly personable. Until you have a handful of meat scraps, anyway.” He shrugged. “Make sure you greet them when you see them, though. I think I told you before, they’ll give you bad luck if you don’t.” He couldn’t help but smirk. “I think being the royal bird has spoiled them a bit.”

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Who knows, I might even be able to befriend that one before the times up. If not at least it'll have collected a good amount of objects to add to its hoard wherever it may be." Salem began to make note of the time, wondering how close it was till sunrise and what the next day had in store for him. Something told him this would be a lonely, drawn out birthday full of glaring eyes and silent tongues.

“I suspect you’ll just leave here with lighter pockets, but you’re welcome to try I suppose.” Aaron shrugged again, leading the pair back inside. The raven on the fountain would probably collect Salem’s ring in the daylight when it started to glitter, but didn’t seem too concerned about it for the moment.

“I think that's enough touring for tonight,” Aaron concluded, leading the pair briskly back to the fork in the corridor. He gestured to the branch they hadn't taken as they passed, and Salem would notice it was closed off with a door. “That's the general servants’ quarters, where all the staff aside from my family live,” Aaron added. “That's off-limits for you, too, so don't think you can go exploring just because it's not a vampire section.”

Leading him back up the corridor, Aaron stopped Salem at the door they'd seen Myra go into and opened it. The room was a good-sized bedroom, featuring a double bed draped in expensive bedding against one wall, a vanity, dresser, shelf and desk, and two other doors inside. Unlike their dorms at the Academy, this one actually had a window above the bed, coincidentally looking out on a portion of the garden. Salem's luggage had made it there before he did, neatly deposited next to the bed.

“And here's where you'll be staying,” Aaron concludes his door, gesturing for Salem to go inside. “That door is a closet, and that one is a bathroom, so you don't have to worry about sharing.” He looked to Salem. “Any questions?”

"None at all." Salem paused for a moment as he entered the room and opened up his suitcase. The latches clicked open as he held his hands there, still, before finally speaking again. "I'm sorry that your break isn't turning out how you expected it. I'm sure neither of us expected for it to take place chaperoning or being chaperoned, but nevertheless I appreciate your hospitality and will try not to be in the way while I am staying here." With that he began to take out hard full of plants, herbs, and other assorted medicines that were handed to him by Victor, placing each onto the desk and beginning to get his room in order.

Aaron watched Salem skeptically for a moment as he unpacked his strange, strange belongings, but eventually he had to sigh. “Don’t worry about it,” he said softly, unsure what else to add. He watched Salem a moment longer, leaning on the door frame, before he took a deep breath, shaking off the solemnity of the moment.

“Okay, so,” he clapped his hands, looking around the room. “My room is right next door if you need me, remember not to go wandering around without talking to me, and if you hear footsteps in the walls, pay them no mind. The castle never sleeps. With that I think I’ll leave you to it for the moment, and I’ll see you at dinner I suppose.”

He was in the act of ducking out the door when he stopped himself, unable to leave quite yet before making one last thing painfully clear. Leaning back into the doorway, he made sure Salem was looking at him before speaking. “For the record, I think you’re innocent. I really do. And I feel for what you’re going through, it must be awful,” he insisted, sincere. But then, his expression grew more serious. “However, you’re in my home now, where my family lives. Where the royal family lives. And I feel obligated to tell you: if by some slim chance you’re actually guilty and you try something shifty here, I will not hesitate to kill you myself.”

Satisfied that he’d made himself clear, Aaron finally took his leave. “See you at dinner.”

12:45pm

Sunlight was so unlike the moonlight she'd grown accustomed to over the past few months. Moonlight held no warmth, no tangible feeling that suggested it existed outside the imagination. Moonlight left the stones of the balcony cold and biting where the welcoming crackle of the fire couldn't reach. It didn't soothe away the dread that churned in her gut when fear tore away the comfort of sleep from her shoulders. A creak of the door in the wind, a muttered curse from a stumbling servant outside the room, even the sound of a soft conversation she wasn't expecting could shake her to her core and plunge her into the fear of the belt and the man again. The warmth the sun provided, heavy and wholly encompassing, helped chase away that dread that so stubbornly clung. It was why, when she woke with a scream in her throat and tear stained cheeks, she stole outside just to bask. It was something she'd never been allowed and that grounded her. Reminded her she could choose, that she was somewhere different.

But the sunlight was nothing in comparison to the moon itself. She never understood when the other children said they liked the sun better. The moon was soft and reassuring. It lacked the typical warmth but it didn't judge. She didn't judge. The moon was acceptance, the promise that any problem could be fixed, that the world was more than what you could see but what you felt and how it changed you. The moon and all her darkness that draped behind her like a melancholy, the weight of secrets long faded and passionate promises whispered broken beneath the sun's harsh, brutal, unrelenting determination, never refused or turned away. She handled the burden with grace and strength and nothing in the world could stop her.

Those same arms that held the weight of the world could hold her when the tears didn't stop, when her throat was hoarse from screaming, her body exhausted from thrashing and lashing out against things that were gone but wouldn't let her rest. It chased away the darkness, the horrors that clung so stubbornly. At least for a time and when they came back, those arms would come right back with that sadness in her eyes and a warmth on her lips whispering into her hair until she slipped into exhaustion again.

And the stars. She'd never given through to the stars. She'd always saw them as accessories to the moon, lacking depth and existence without her. But no. They were existances in their own rights: a funny little man who brought her dolls and puppets when she wanted to play, who taught her that the silence was never what it seemed but rather an entire conversation carried in the unconcious. A woman who spoke with authority and command with others and carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, who taught her jokes and pranks to play on the moon. A man who spoke little and chafed inside the stone walls of her home, who caught her pets and brought her flowers despite the bloodied axe he carried. A man who she imagined as a father, focused and stern but almost as warm as the sun when he carried her on his shoulders and tucked her into bed when her moon was away.

She never imagined living in the sky. Chains and bars and screams held her to the ground for so long it seemed an impossibility but here, where the stone walls were covered in her favorite books and the garden spiralled out past the horizon and the moon and the stars dotted on her, she felt like she was floating on a cloud. It scared her.

What if she fell? What if they left? What if...

But a smile broke the deepening frown. The curtains barely twitched and she knew. Her moon was pacing in the shadows. She always did when she went outside during the day, somewhere she couldn't follow. A pale blue butterfly wriggled out between the curtains and fluttered over to her, settling on her nose. She giggled as it tickled her and drifted onto an offered finger. It faded away quickly, the sun quick to remind the moon of her place, but it was enough. She bolted back inside, careful not to disturb the curtain too much, and launched herself into the waiting arms of her moon who only chuckled softly and petted her hair like she knew the moon would.

"A nightmare again, my Ellmare?" The moon spoke softly, kissing the top of her head when she nodded. The moon lifted her and she buried her face into the silk nightgown as her moon sung her way back to bed. Flowers and vines grew, blossoming into beautiful roses as they walked, the aroma soothing and calming as she settled into bed. Stars spun from her moon's fingers to hang above her bed and chase away the darkness that clung to her bed. She couldn't help but reach out, curling her fingers into the silk again, sighing happily as the singing started again and the stars swirled above her. Everything would be okay.

So she dreamed. Dreamed of laughter in the maze garden, dreamed of fun in the library, dreamed of her moon and her stars warding away the darkness. But it wouldn't press in tonight. The belt and the man and her parents cowered beneath the radiance of the sky while she played amongst the stars.

~ /// ~

Aaon gasped as he woke, startling himself in the process, heart pounding and gulping for air. He sat up before he even realized he was moving, and was disoriented for a moment, squinting around with blurry eyes at his surroundings. It took a moment for him to remember where he was, and another still to discern what he’d just seen; a tower, a garden, the sun and stars, and Yvaine, all through a young girl’s eyes.

He hadn’t jolted awake tangled in bedsheets and covered in sweat as he had the last time he visited Ellmare, but Aaron felt no less violated for it. He nearly screamed when he realized what had happened, curling his legs up and slamming his forehead on his knees. He tangled his hands through his hair in frustration, as if he were trying to wring the dreams from his very head. Why!? He thought he was done with this!

Salem's eyes shot open as soon as the dream had ended. Hardly a nightmare like before, yet the child's fear and pain lingered inside of him as if it was his own. The sheets felt as if they were made of lead, holding him down as a prisoner in this foreign bed. He wriggled one finger, and then another, and finally was free to move as he sat up with a small smile on his face.

There was an odd sense of satisfaction to this dream. That rare bit of emotion from knowing you were right all along and that you were correct in pursuing something others found outlandish. Salem calmly slid out of his bed, making his way over to Aaron's door and pausing for a brief moment before knocking softly. He didn't dare speak as the blonde mage had warned him about the eyes and ears of the estate, his own currently heightened as he listened for any sign of an eavesdropper.

Aaron’s head whipped up at the sound of a knock, and he all but flew out of bed, tossing his sheets haphazardly aside in his rush to open the door. As expected, Salem stood at the threshold; Aaron grabbed his arm and yanked him inside, closing the door as quickly as he’d opened it.

“Were you just woken up too?” he hissed, voice a harsh whisper.

Salem cocked his head slightly, eyes narrowed in a way that could only say 'what do you think?' His hands found their way towards his hips as he shook his head at Aaron. "Do you really need all the theatrics? I'm sure your hurried response woke half the mages quarter, and if Dora is anywhere nearby she may practically feel your anxiety right now. Quite frankly I'm not in the mood to make out with yet another mage to cover up a story."

Lacking the patience to deal with Salem’s shit at the moment, Aaron shoved his shoulder away, glaring. “Oh fuck off Salem, I’ll be the judge of appropriate reactions here, thanks. And don’t you dare fucking presume to know more about my aunt than I do.”

He paced a little circle on his rug, hands on his hips as he tried to think. This new dream honestly couldn’t have come at a worse time; the last thing Aaron needed were rumours flying around Noila castle that he was crazy - or worse, that he had some kind of connection to a suspected Rebel.

Turning back around, Aaron pointed to Salem, eyes burning in the darkness. “You will not breathe a word of this to anyone until we’re back at the Academy,” he warned, voice barely audible but unmistakably deadly. “In fact, you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone at all, anywhere. Not until I figure this out.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “Fuck.”

Salem sat down on Aaron's bed, watching the light mage pace around as he occasionally threw him death glares. It was funny really, Dora had mentioned how wound up Salem was at the beginning of this break and now here he was calm and watching her very nephew pacing like a man who was about to lose his life. "Aside from Lilie I won't breathe a word. I'd promised her at the Revel that I wouldn't keep these from her, told her I'd been having nightmares after they ended and she practically ripped my head off for not confiding in her sooner. She doesn't know the details of it but she knows I had them, made no mention of you."

“You—” Aaron cut himself off, torn between strangling Salem and throwing him against the wall for being so stupid. Somehow he managed to stop himself from doing either, but the day wasn’t over yet.

“Shut up,” he warned Salem, holding out a hand. He wanted to scream, having to take a moment to arrange his thoughts coherently before looking back at Salem with a look that could cut glass. He put his hands together. Finally, he decided on something he thought would elegantly summarize the situation. “You’re an idiot.”

He left no room for Salem to reply before continuing. “You absolutely will not tell Lilie, you won’t tell anyone because that’s incredibly stupid. You’re under investigation, Salem! For an incident related to mind magic! What do you think your inquisitors are going to think when they hear about you having trouble sleeping? At Revel no less!?” Censoring himself was a pain, but wholly necessary; sadly, it seemed to have been a lesson Salem learned a bit too late.

"Perhaps that I am under an immense amount of stress between being away from my work, my family, having school work, and an investigation, the changing of partners and adapting to a new form of life with someone who is so vastly different from the vampires that my family has back at home. Perhaps they already know because it is clear that they have no issues using magic against the students, manipulating their minds, and twisting their perceptions, or perhaps it is all just coincidental. Lilie is fine she only knows I have trouble sleeping that is all. She was concerned for my well being as my performance slipped both in class as well as during our morning workouts. She, out of anyone, deserves to know the truth or as much as is allowed. Some of us care Starag." Salem’s tone up until this point had been calm and collected. His voice was now cold, sharp, and distant as he rattled on without taking a single breath. His eyes glared daggers at the blonde mage wondering how anyone could be so heartless to those they considered his friends, or if he even knew the meaning of the word.

Aaron had to wonder if it felt nice to be so naive. He prided himself on his self-discipline, though; luckily for Salem, since it was probably the only reason he didn't clock him in the jaw at that last comment.

“You don't get it, do you?” Aaron spat back, “You don't get the benefit of the doubt here. Anyone looking into you is going to hear anything you say out of the ordinary and twist it into something they can use against you, no matter how excusable you think it is. And they will hear. You're a noble’s mage now, Spellman, you have to assume that no matter where you are, no matter who you're talking to, someone is listening in. And all this ‘honesty’ you're so proud of?” Aaron made air quotes around the word, throwing it back in Salem’s face. “It's only going to put more people in harm’s way.”

"Quite frankly it feels as if you're misplacing your frustration. I'm more than aware you wished to put this all behind us but I never once stopped believing that it was a fool's errand to think so. Why else would I have avoided answering you at the Revel? Something like this doesn't just appear out of thin air, dance around for a week and then vanish for no reason. Something is happening here Aaron and the sooner you start taking it seriously the sooner we can figure out what it is. We've both been busy since that night, I know, but you had told me you found something and we never discussed it. I assumed you hadn't wanted it brought up but here it is doing it's own to bring about this conversation once more. So why not take this a bit more seriously this time around unless you want it coming around a third?"

Aaron shook his head, the frustration beginning to wear on him. He thought he'd made it clear not to divulge any of those details here, but apparently he hadn’t quite gotten through. “If you're so hellbent, you can pursue that anywhere but here.” He made eye contact, making sure his message got across. “Until then, go back to bed.”

Salem's eyes burned towards Aaron for a moment longer, silence filling the void between the two. Finally a sharp exhaled breath left him and a tension in his chest began to subside. He didn't know what to expect of Aaron when he awoke, but he certainly should've seen this fight coming. Perhaps it would’ve been best to ignore it. Pretend as if only Aaron was now being plagued by these dreams so that it would eat him alive like he so clearly wished it would. He stood up, not saying a word as he made his way back towards his room for the night.

As Salem finished plating his dinner he made his way over to Victor's door and knocked softly. "Hey you mind talking with me for a minute? I wanted to speak to you about my Evenight exercise routine." With that he made his way over towards the living area and sat down on the couch placing his plate upon the coffee table awaiting his partner to join him. He had run out of the altered flavors of blood that he first arrived to school with, but had managed to bottle a bit of his blood with adrenaline, wondering if Victor's hunter side craved that taste most. He poured him a glass in hope's that he wouldn't be eating alone.

Victor was taking his time polishing and cleaning his suit of armor on its stand. Meticulously taking piece by piece off the set setting it on the floor in front of him to slowly brush and polish every edge and crevice. He never intended to use this armor at the school. He simply keeps it in his room to polish and clean when he needs a distraction from his other duties. It wasn’t very hard not to hear his mage in the other room. Salem wasnt that quiet all too often.

The knock at the door did break his concentration for a moment to hear what the boy had to say. Taking a few more moments to finish cleaning the piece he had in hand, the tall vampire slowly made his way to the living area where Salem waited. Victor was wearing comfortable loose clothing like he always did at this time of night. Grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Picking up the glass Salem had poured for him he took a moment to smell the blood like a good glass of wine then drank some of it. “Hmm your getting better at the bottle method. So what is it that you would like to discuss?”

Salem took a sip of his tea, taking the time to blow on a little to help cool it down beforehand. "Thank you. I'm sure I don't need to tell you since you're eyes are more likely to be sharper than mine but, my times have gotten faster, I'm finishing my morning exercises earlier and earlier lately and have more time for idle chat with Lilie or to help her on her form if needed. I believe I've gotten used to this regimen and am in need of either a new addition to it, or an increase in sets and reps so that the work I put in isn't going to stagnate." He took another sip of his drink before taking a bite of his food, letting Victor know he was done saying his piece for now and waiting to listen.

Taking another sip of his drink he listened to his mage speak and then pondered his question, “is that a bit of pride i sense in your voice?” he laughed a bit with a smile on his face. “Finish the rest of the day off and take a break tomorrow. I'll get you a new workout schedule the following day. I'll also add in more advanced combat techniques including ground fighting and the base techniques used with whip fighting.” he took another sip of his drink and swirled it around in his mouth, “i like this flavor. You have been doing good with your courses and training, you haven't skipped on it, and If you were your muscles wouldn't be as defined. The starting whip techniques are your prize for that.” Victor went silent for a moment with a look as if he forgot something, “remind me tomorrow to talk to the new Eve about miss Dionne joining you on your workouts.”

Salem couldn't help but smirk slightly as he chewed his food. It's true he felt a tinge of pride in his advancements. He originally viewed this exercise as a burden, a chore that had to be done in order to keep tensions low with his partner. He did however grow to enjoy them. Not only was it a good way to relieve stress, but it also helped him spend some time with Lilie where they could simply talk without the need of schoolwork. Salem simply swallowed his bite and smiled at Victor. "I appreciate the reward. I look forward to learning how to properly wield a whip as well as the rewarding feeling of gaining a new training repertoire."

Finishing the glass and nodding, “I’m glad you're finding enjoyment in this. Soon you will move to less calisthenics and more into actual weapons training and drills. Hopefully, at the end of the next 2 months we can move into combat tactics and strategies as well as implementing them.” he paused for a moment to gauge his mages reactions before continuing. “After that and you prove yourself. I will allow you to start using your magic with your training. But not until then. You learn the basics first until they are muscle memory then we change them up. Same goes with your magic.”

These rules he had were very important. If you didn't learn the basics with one or the other the finished project is clumsy or lopsided, and ultimately useless. “I don't have a set training for the later parts for you. All i can tell you is it is meant to be flexible and work for you specifically. The last three mages i've trained like this all are unique for their own magic style.” he looked the boy over once more before finishing, “you will get your own whip that i expect you to take care of. We as in together, will design it for you. I will not allow you to use a whip you create with magic until that training phase is complete.”

"Seems reasonable enough. It makes sense to drill in the basics before delving deeper into experimentation. I was taught a similar way back at home, learning how to grow, nurture, and cultivate plants without the use of magic so that I could gain a deeper understanding for they're needs and the fundamentals that way when the time came to learn magic I would already be aware of the nutrients, energy, and needs of what it is I am trying to grow with my own magic. I'm sure we will be able to design a whip of both elegance and ferocity that would work well with my magic when that time comes." Salem leaned back into the couch, looking at his arms and the tattoos on them, thinking about how long it had been since he last spoke or saw his family. "I appreciate you taking the time to speak to me."

“As long as you understand the material. I think i might also ask some of the others if they think their mage would benefit from this kind of training.” pondering the question for a few moments then stood. “The next step for you to practice on your own is trusting your instincts and don't be afraid to fail. When in a tight spot you tend to panic, think about the issue too much, and ultimately freeze or stumble. I can recover from any damage you do, but if you don't do any damage in the first place you won't learn. Remember failure reinforces wisdom.” he headed back to his room but stopped at the door way before talking again. “And again i don't mind being casual talking to you like this in private. In public i do expect you to still use that edicate training you have been getting.” with that he returned to his chambers to start working on the new workout plan and finish cleaning his armor and weapons.

The ride back home wasn’t anything to worry about. Other than it being a long ride north into the Wilderness Mountains to their snowy fortress. One of the things he didn’t miss about this place was the lack of color. A hard place to live that breeds strong people and personalities. His father always liked the architecture of the past, old stone castles meant to look imposing and intimidating. The small city that surrounded it wasn’t much to look at either, the one thing holding this place together being an unbending pride and loyalty to the crown.

Even as you walk along the city roads and gaze up at the dark and depressing landscape, you truly only see half the city. One thing about this place is all the life is underground, more so during winter. Massive tunnel and bunker networks span the city. An escape from the cold and bitter world above, at least down here you could start to see color and vibrant personalities. From the arenas to the city market, the underground city that his father built represents the pride of their family line.

Yet he wasn’t here to play in the arenas or visit his old stomping grounds during his adolescents. No this time Victor was here to see his father and give a report on the happening’s at the school. The large reinforced doors of the castle gates swung slowly open, guards in full armor stood at nearly every entrance ready for anything. The car slowly came to a stop and the count left the warm confines of the car to the brisk air of the mountains. The main doors to the castle lay before him, beyond that a hallway lined with stone statues of hero’s long past, finally ending in his father’s meeting chambers.

To say he wasn’t anxious would be a lie. His father always made him feel on edge, like even the wrong word or look could get him killed. With every step that echoed through the polished stone and marble hallway, he could feel the eyes on him, from the maids to the very statues themselves and at the end of the hall sat his father on a stone chair that almost seemed like he never left.

Victor finally stopped walking just before the steps leading up to his father’s seat. With a low bow he looked back up at his father, “Hello father, I have returned from the academy for a short time.”

A gruff ‘Hmm’ was all he got in return as the older vampire shifted in his seat. A glass half full of blood sat on the end of his dark oak and incredibly polished chair looking more like a throne than anything. His dark eyes peered out towards the young count. Physically smaller than victor but forever holding an air of arrogance you would expect from a bird of prey. The elder seemed to simply stare at him for what seemed like an eternity, “Report.”

The simple response was what he expected out the cold vampire. “During my time I’ve only had rumors of red hand activity within the walls of the academy. A few instances of property destruction relating to collars and leashes but nothing more. I am currently following up with a few trails that lead to a small social gathering of mind mages but I have not found anything more.” He paused for a moment to continue. “The events of the night of the revel were all conspired by one exiled vampire looking for revenge. Rynner had wronged her and she wanted to hit her where it hurts. I was the one that executed her.”

Still his father didn’t move to acknowledge anything he said. A female voice came from behind his chair, “he doesn’t seem to be lying Master.” A slender mage dressed very conservative stepped out from behind the chair and took a seat on the floor to the side of the throne. The white haired girl had her hair cut short an inch above her shoulders, blue eyes peering down at him. She was skinny and one would be hard pressed to find any blemishes or marks on her face or arms.

The Ice mage known as Sasha was very familiar to him. The presence of her so close to his father annoyed him but what could he do to save a brainwashed mage. Even if he did he had nowhere to go with her. The daughter of his old mage, Sarah would not be pleased if she were still alive to know who she was attending too. Just another way his father knew how to keep him on a short leash.

“You are dismissed, I expect a full report from your time there to be added to our records.” The old vampire spoke letting Victor leave to settle in.

His father never spoke to him much, only orders no idle chit chat or talks of political strategy. The old man was still just as paranoid as he had left him. Turning in the direction of his old room, Victor only once glanced back towards Sasha. The mage he had to save, but doing so would mean burning his family to the ground. He could only hope that this could be accomplished while she was still alive.

Finding his way back to his old room he found it to be clean and orderly like always. There was a few things here he hoped to do before he went back but for now finishing this report and retiring for the morning seemed to be the only thing on his mind. At least they were kind enough to leave a couple bottles out for him this time. Picking up a pen and gathering some papers at his desk Victor set to work writing down his report.

The next night Victor headed out into the forest. His journey would take a day to get to the destination then he would spend the next few days there. The only thing he took with him was a double supply of blood kept in canteens. With the cold night air there wasn’t any risk of it spoiling over the next few days as long as he kept it with him.

Dressed in his usual attire the sky was just beginning to show stars when he left. The fading light of day only slightly annoying as he journeyed out of the city and into the thick pine forests. There was no trail to follow, no markers guiding his way. If it wasn’t for the many times he had traveled this way so long ago then he would have at least brought a compass. Victor knew where he was going and nothing was going to stop him from reaching his haven, the moons cradle.

The trek there was rather uneventful the only creatures brave enough to come close to him were a pack of wolves. They never came to close, just followed him in the darkness for a little while before going off on their own. All the other wildlife he encountered got one good look or sniff of him and bolted. He was well aware he was alone out this far, the scent of human and vampire had yet to come across him on his adventure. It was finally peaceful, no noise or mark of human or vampire.

The entrance to the haven was easy to miss, they wanted it that way. It looked like a rock slide but moving one of the boulders revealed a path back into the mountain. The damp dark cave was cold as always but he didn’t mind. Traveling further through the mountain he finally found it, scribbles on the walls said so much. Running his hand over them he smiled, notes, quotes, poems, dreams, and memories. All things said and done engraved into the stone like organized graffiti.

Rounding the corner he could see a few familiar things. An old blanket and sleeping bag tattered and faded, a few broken drinking glasses, an old camp stove and a few other odds and ends. The walls here have been dug into making shelves. Sat upon these shelves were dozens of small stone and crystal sculpture’s, some shaped as hearts, animals, the sun and the moon, and a few that look like people the finer details withered away. The sun was completely up now, he could see it shown through some small cracks and holes down the way he came. Victor figured here would be as good of a place as any to set up shop and sleep for the day.

The one thing he did enjoy here was that the days were shorter. Nothing seemed to bother in the night and he was always weary of being followed to this place. It was special for him. He grabbed his bag and approached one of the walls to the cave placing his hand on the stone wall. With a forced sigh the count pushed into the wall seemingly phasing through it leaving no damage or trace behind. He could not hear or see what was around him but he knew where he was going.

This gift that he had, he knew it wasn’t normal his own father saying as much. The threat alone of being destroyed just for having it was enough to keep him silent about it. However, it allowed him to be far more able in his hunting ability and getting into place others could not. For instance, this place he had just entered. The hidden grove in the mountain, the cradle of the moon. Stepping forth into a very strange place.

A small open air cave, inside it was grass, a few small shrubs, and one small tree. The ceiling of this place was simply stars but a peculiar rock formation above almost seemed to cradle the full moon. This place was warmer than the surrounding area and almost a little brighter. A large stone slab that fell off the wall lay to one side of the grove with a small hot spring on the opposite side of the clearing bubbling and steaming away. In the middle under the small oak tree sat a shrine. A small pedestal made of stacked rocks and on top of it a stone figure of a woman. It was not weathered like the others and sheltered by a bend in the tree. Extremely fine detail was put into it, someone put a lot of care into it.

Approaching the small shrine and placing a candle in front of it, Victor lit it and knelt down in front of the candle. “Hello Sarah, it’s been quite a while since I’ve been here now. It would seem that trying to run from your memory only drew me back here.” The smile on his face did not fall as he spoke to the small statue. “I’ve recently been accepted into the Noila academy. You would like it there, it’s not oppressive like it is here. We could have been free.” Another pause and sigh, “I have a new mage now as well, his name is Salem. He is a bright young man that has a lot of similar views that you had, just not that great of a filter. He’s a plant mage with a lot of room to grow if he sets his mind to it and doesn’t think about it too much. His second guessing himself is going to get him in trouble but I’m trying to push him past that.”

“there’s another mage there as well that you would have had a lot of fun with, Lillie looks nearly identical to you and she’s a water mage, and is equally clumsy just like you were. I’m sure you two would have gotten into a lot of trouble. The other nobles are what I expected them to be, Varis is cunning, smart, and patient. You would not like him and I have to be wary of him and his mage I don’t think I can trust that boy to keep anything from him. I haven’t really met the other two yet but I’m sure they will be fun too.” Pausing for a moment to wipe some blood from his eye. “I’ve met Eris a few times, you know that actor you were always gushing over. You called him one of the three vampires you were allowed to cheat on with. Hess’s a little annoying in public but he seems alright in private. One of these days I’ll get around to seeing one of those movies you always liked.”

A short pause while a light breeze twisted and twirled the steam off the hot spring. "I really do miss you. I wish you could still be here, maybe then our lives could have been different. I will keep my promise to you, both of them. I will protect your daughter, even if right now I’m doing a horrible job. And I will burn my family to the ground. It’s just going to take a little bit longer.” He sighed and stood with a smile. “I love you Sarah, you will always have my heart. You were the only one who could ever warm it.”

With that he found a spot to sit in the middle of the opening taking out a canteen and placing it next to him. With a few deep breaths he began to meditate. Pushing the thoughts of his past back into the depths of his mind, he began to go over what Ryner had taught him the night she tore his arm off.

Students were politely required to leave the Arena shortly after their class, barely enough time to train before guards ushered them out. Dracion himself stood out front the building, standing watch for those idiotic, or suicidal, enough to attempt to ignore the Princess’s word. A few did attempt, nosey students and a faculty member shape shifting in an attempt to scour the inside for why Princess Ryner would need the Arena for herself. No exceptions, the campus wide notice had said.

Except for one.

The Astorio dorm received a long winded missive from Princess Ryner detailing her disappointment in the count’s actions during the first self defense class. Students were meant to teach and support each other and that included respecting the physical limitations of his mortal classmates. Princess Ryner requested Count Victor’s attendance at the Arena that morning and suggested he ought to wear something he wouldn’t miss. It wasn’t an optional summons.

Ryner stood in the middle of the sands, hands clasped tightly behind her as she waited with her eyes closed. Her hair was done in a tight spiral braid and pinned so it wouldn’t move and she wore a short sleeved athletic shirt and shorts, an unusual choice for the Princess. The sand glittered with sixteen glass bottles of blood half buried in the sand. A mage stood at the edge of the Arena, the woman dressed in Noila finery with a chair next to her.

Victor arrived to the stadium doors five minutes early in his normal attire. He seemed to hesitate at the door as he glanced at the mountain next to him. A simple nod was all he gave the man as he handed him a small leather pouch and stepped inside. Inside the pouch contained what he had been working on for the last few days. As an apology, the count had carved the instructors likeness into a block of ivory with the same stance he had at the door. The earth mage was carved staring down at a faceless humanoid shape buried to its shoulders in the ground.

The large doors closed heavy behind him while he stepped up to the arena sands and the princess that stood in the middle. Victor approached the sands with purpose stopping at the edge and kneeling in front of her, a tradition that he was unsure if the other vampires still practiced it had been sometime since he was in the presence of the queen or one of her daughters, “Your Highness.” speaking in his usual montone before standing straight. “I apologize for my transgression, I should not have assumed that my father has spy’s here.” he glanced around at the bottles of blood and the other human for a moment then back to her, “I believe I will be paying for that mistake in blood.”

"I doubt I need to chastise you over the blatant disrespect you showed a fellow student and my Arena Master earlier this week. You will not behave in that way again." Ryner turned to face the Count, her face blank but her eyes pitch black. "However, I noticed an interesting detail in my report. "An enemy gone but not forgotten; an enemy that forged the treaty we follow…" I can only think of one enemy you are referring to but I'll admit I am confused. Those issues were solved far before your time so perhaps you can enlighten me. What can a hunter hope to teach of a fight he never saw?"

“The Strigois clan was always tasked with the most dangerous missions during the war. We were not the most popular because of our unflinching loyalty to the crown.” Slowly he took his jacket off, folding it neatly and placing it on the side of the ring. “Our old records detail Lycan’s without edit or redaction. Records that few are able to access. Depictions of the beasts, their habits, the way they move, how they hunt, entire books dedicated to their pack tactics and how to apply those same tactics and fighting skills to our own hunting methods.” slipping off his shirt and again folding it slowly revealing yet again his painful past. “There is even a set of armor in your armory that i'm sure you're aware of, bearing the seal of lord Pierion. There are two or three sets of that armor in existence for obvious reasons.” placing the shirt on top of his jacket and slipping off his shoes.

“That armor is made to look and move like they do. With the help of some willing but dramatic guards and a good illusion mage one could very easily reenact how dangerous they are. A good reminder to those vampires and students who have forgotten the reason why the treaty was struck in the first place.” pulling off his family sigil from around his neck. The urge he had been quelling all day seemed to be getting the best of him he took a moment longer to pull out the small flask from his jacket and take a small swig from it. After he put it away and he was satisfied with the organization, he stepped into the ring with her.

“Excellent. You’ve read scrolls and books and other scholarly endeavors, pieced it all together, and produced some facade of a wolf.” Ryner reviewed, dryness seeping into her voice, her eyes evaluating Victor’s scars. “Congratulations. You’re dedicated; commendable if it wasn’t so poorly guided. Obsession with an enemy come and gone, pursuing a singular goal of reminding people why a treaty exists through the inane resurrection of ghosts and fear. Typical Astorios. No wonder your family was granted a place in their House.”

“This nonsense stops today. I will not have you terrifying my students with your fixation when I highly doubt you’re prepared to handle one. Mages and vampires alike were consumed. The monsters were bothersome at first, little more than a nuisance. But they multiplied so fast. They adapted to our hunts, learned to shift only parts of themselves or in the blink of an eye, and they ate us. They would devour us in minutes.” Ryner approached Victor, looking up at him with deadly intent as the horrors of memories playing in her mind’s eye cause a few twitches at the corner of her lips and her voice steadily grew louder into a booming crescendo. “They infected those we fed on, sickening us, crippling us, and then turning on us. Your safe spots, your dusty tomes, your practice are nothing compared to what we went through to combat them. I was there, I ripped their beating hearts out of their chests, I watched mage and vampire alike torn to shreds over and over and over again. I found and bled and killed, killed those I feared, those I trusted, those I loved, because nothing was right, nothing was what it was, nothing was as it seemed, and you have the audacity to walk into my territory, manipulate my people, hurt my students, in the name of horrors I saw and lived? This isn’t a punishment, Strigoi. I’ve called you here to educate you. The Council has granted me special permission to teach you the old methods of blood manipulation through the ancient ways. Training that hasn’t seen the light of night in centuries. The ways Lord Pieron taught us shortly after we turned. Of course, these bottles would have been mortals but it all works the same.” Ryner didn’t give Victor the time to react. One moment she was yelling at him and then next her fingers were shattering his shoulder and tearing his limbs off with cold, calculated, and practiced movements before kicking him across the sands like he was little more than a paper ball. Victor’s blood decorated the Princess now and she absently wiped a bit off her face with her clean hand and brought it to her lips, tongue darting out to taste it.

“One week after our turning, Lord Pieron would take us out into the wilds and tear us apart limb from limb, tossing our broken bodies in random directions. Anything that touched the ground was gathered up and burned and he moved onto the next limb. It took months at that age to regrow a limb.” Ryner tossed Victor’s missing arm up and down, much like Varis with the egg he always brought to treaty law before she held up her hand, signalling Ella to hold, and dropped the limb. She tore her own limb off with stoic indifference, now matching Victor, but blood didn’t fall. Instead, the blood that should be dripping from her wounds shot out like cables and hooked back into her shoulder, dragging the detached limb back into place and she rolled the damaged shoulder with ease. She picked up Victor’s arm and gave Ella the okay. “This is an advanced technique but I’m sure with all your skill and experience, it should only take you a year or so to catch on. The blood bottles around are for you to replenish if you need to. Of course, I won’t stop your training but that’s a problem you’ll have to consider. There are only two guidelines here. Attack my mage and I kill you on the spot. If your missing limb touches the sand, it will be set on fire immediately.” Ryner’s smile was razor sharp as she tossed the limb straight up in the air. “Lets see if you can get past me, Strigoi.”

He didn't speak while the princess picked his beliefs apart and gave him a lesson on the war. He was foolish, he knew this, to try and convince someone like her why he was the way he was. Giving him a history lesson he had heard time and time again, obviously being so relaxed about the subject at hand was not the proper approach after all he wasn't at home anymore.

He didn't see it or feel it at first he was just suddenly rolling across the sand to the other side of the arena. Laying there for a few moments as she continued to talk about her training with lord Pieron. The throbbing pain in his shoulder made him very much aware of what had happened. With his other hand instinctively holding his shoulder where his arm had once been. The council gave her permission to teach him this blood technique? So she got permission to do this to me? A few realizations in his mind made him just so much more aware of how dangerous this was going to be.

Victor watched as she tore her own arm off and was admittedly amazed at what happened next. No blood or sign of pain just this blood control which nearly negated the need for limb regeneration or surgical reattachment. Glancing to the bottles around him and back to her, there was no more question now. He knew he was in for a serious fight with an elder vampire. A fight he hadn’t been through since his own father would fight him and nearly destroy him.

The last mention of the rules made him shift his stance, the look in her eyes said only one thing to him, one thing he was used to seeing the reverse of. For the first time in a very long time he found himself being the prey and he was staring at his hunter. The Astorio was quite aware that he couldn't beat her, even at his best she would still win every time.

Victor shifted his stance and let go of his shoulder, eyes turning black, muscles tensed, all of his senses on point as he readies himself for his own slaughter. Just because she could easily overpower him doesn't mean he won't try his best. “My price to pay.” the only whisper that escaped him while he waited. When she finally tossed his arm he waited just a few moments before he bolted towards the princess. Keeping his posture low while attempting to get behind her. The lack of an arm made him expose his bloodied side of him in an attempt to better protect the arm he still had.

Ryner watched, her stance relaxed. Her only reaction to his statement was a lifted eyebrow but otherwise she ignored it. Her face was emotionless as he rushed past her, taking a moment to look up at the falling limb and shrug, before she slotted herself against his back, wrap her hands around his stomach, and flipped him backwards into the ground, releasing a second before he made contact to roll out of the throw and pop back onto her feet. She gave him the out as she instead used him as a springboard to jump up and grab the limb, tossing it back the way he came. And just for good measure, she slammed her foot into a nearby bottle.

“That’s where Perion would kill a person just to horrify us.” She informed Victor and nodded at the flying limb. “I’d fetch that quickly, unless you don’t want your arm back.”

Again it seemed to take a moment for him to recuperate from the sudden attack. The princess definitely outclassed him, faster, stronger, more durable, and more experienced. If this wasn't training he was sure she would kill him without a second thought probably before he even knew what happened to him. He glanced momentarily at his limb before returning his gaze back to her. What she had been taught and what she had been taught was definitely harsh but that was what one should expect from lord pierion.

Kneeling for a moment longer Victor launched himself back and up toward his severed arm. Catching it in the process only to look back at the princess to throw it at her head. He was using it as a distraction, a move he knew would cost him that limb. With the limb halfway to her he lunged at her, using his powerful muscles to propel him through the air. He was sure this wasn't going to end well but he had to try to go on the offensive eventually. After all, he was aiming to strike her with his momentum and his good shoulder and fist into her stomach.

Ryner gave him a flat look as the attack connected but otherwise didn’t react. She moved less than half a foot back in the sand before grabbing his head and slamming him face first into the sand. She put her knee right in the middle of his back, pressing hard. She weight far more than she looked, a mountain in the body of a woman, and very little would move her once she decided to move. She yanked his head back so he could watch his dismembered limb hit the sands.

The mage at the edge of the sands, Ella, had been watching stiffy as the gruesome show played out, but her focus did not lapse. The arm had just barely brushed the sand when it burst into flame, cremated in an instant and leaving behind only a plume of putrid smoke and a small pile of ash.

“This is a survival exercise, Strigoi. Attacking a werewolf head on without everything in working order would have ended in your death even if you managed to kill the damn thing. Stop thinking with your damn muscles. Outlast your opponent. We don’t get tired, Strigoi. Werewolves are many things but they are still mortal.” Ryner lifted him from the ground and flipped him,just to slam him back on the ground. “I’ll place nice this time.” Ryner got her hand around his right knee and tore his lower leg off before tossing him across the sands again. “This time, get your body back or I may very well end up killing you.” She tossed it straight up in the air again, resetting the game.

The princess was nothing like anything he had ever faced. An immovable object one moment and an unstoppable force the next. Even with all his might she barely moved, didn't even seem phased by his strike. The realisation of this just cemented his fears more and more about how powerful she truly was and how much she was holding back. More than likely she could predict his moves, see him moving at full speed as if it was a slow jog, pick apart and deduce his fighting style with no issue. She was an elder, elders did not just hide away. power and age grow hand in hand.

Victor didn't even see her move more than one step back. One measly step back was all she did and suddenly he was being flung around like he weighed literally nothing. Pinned with no other option he watched and waited to see what his punishment would be. A scolding and the loss of another limb, or at least half a limb. His lower right leg was gone in nearly an instant and again he found himself flung across the ring.

Picking himself up with his one good arm to his knees, his eyes scanning for his lost limb.

“I may very well end up killing you”

Her voice echoed in his head. A stern and unforgiving warning. Staying true to his ‘i can survive anything nature’ all he could do to say in return as his eyes locked onto his lost limb, “Tis but a flesh wound.” as he lunged towards his severed limb. This time however he was aiming to land away from her in a roll and attempt to land near the broken bottle of blood so that he may be able to use some of it to try and use this technique she briefly showed him.

Reliving the ass beating of a century really makes you think about your life and how far you have come. Yet he wasn’t here to relive that night, he was here to train. The technique she had shown him was very advanced and like she said, old. This would not detour him. This ability would be very useful in the times to come. He had practiced before on his own time but this time it was different.

This time he had the rest of his break to practice. Nothing and no one would be here to bother him, he didn’t have to worry about school, classes, his mage, or other prying eyes. Out here he was very much alone. This was exactly the way he liked it.

Starting with something simple, scratches across his hand. Enough to draw blood but with no lasting damage. This exercise would be the start, holding in the blood in his cut. This was a warm up after all, the more damage he did to himself the faster he would learn. Next came taking fingers, then hands, feet, arms, and legs. It didn’t matter how long it would take him this is what he would have to do.

Not just that but after he was sure he was familiar with this ability, Victor had a few ideas about how he could possibly push it. Why else would she have taught him this if she did not expect him to push the boundaries every time. He could control blood with this, but not just blood. Reattaching limbs meant limited control of bone and muscle.

The counts plan was simple, after getting a better feel for the blood control he would attempt to step it up. First trying to move where his heart is located, then move on to attempting to control blood outside of himself somewhat like how a water mage moves and casts spells. Then after that look more into changing muscle and bone structures. Hopefully with this he can give himself some sort of spiked growths similar to that of a punching dagger perhaps. Maybe reinforce the muscle he already has to make himself stronger in a pinch. Then ultimately even giving himself some sort of large bat wings.

The last thought made him smile. How intimidating would that be to be able to sprout wings? He laughed at his own strange ideas. Even if he was able to something like that, it would take years or even decades to do. Even armored bone plates would be a stretch.

Then there was always the danger of experimenting with things like this. Getting the council’s approval alone was one thing, but if they knew he was technically experimenting on himself? That could earn him a quick demotion and investigation. He would have to keep this a secret until he had viable proof or answers for them. For what he was thinking of doing he doubted even racking up his possible injuries or deformities to training would help sway their minds on the subject.

Victor will not let this stop him however, it’s just one more thing to keep practicing and keep quiet. Maybe his other ability could be used to further this one. Whichever choice he was to make he was well aware that the rest of his stay here was going to be extremely painful. with that, the tall vampire began his training for the next few days. stopping only to sleep while the sun was up and eat, before he knew he had to go back and return to the academy.

Human psychology class had been cancelled for the day and instead assigned them the task of viewing their partner's first day in the Spell Theory Lab. The point of the exercise was observation and evaluation; learn to identify when your mage was struggling or insecure so a vampire could smooth over any potential problems before they festered. Watching mages learn to separate an instinctive part of themselves would present an opportunity to note the physical tells of their frustrations without the distraction of serving.

Each Spell Theory Lab boasted a viewing area as comfortable as Affinity Masteries, several full couches a step above a row of chairs and side tables that lined the edge. Unlike the other, this viewing area was set back into the wall rather than protruding out over it and a glass pane separated the vampires from the mages. Most of the class had filed in by now. Most of the vampires took the couches, more interested in themselves than their mages as they discussed the various rumors flying around about the recent murders. A few sat at the edge, watching with interest as the mages made their attempts. One, a woman with red hair braided neatly and pinned in a coil on her head, took a quick photo with a subdued chuckled and tapped out a message on her phone. Once she was done, she sighed to herself and tucked the phone away as she watched the group below.

Captivating an audience was what Eris lived for, and today was no exception. He did want to check in on the kid after everything he went through to get him his stuff, but right now, he needed to work. During the break, he worked with the princess as promised and managed to keep the talk of murder to a minimum outside of the academy. That said, he couldn’t do too much inside of it. What he could do, though, was turn the tide where he wanted it to be. And what better way of absolving the guards’ incompetence by blaming someone else?

Honestly, it was too easy. A suggestion here, a gasp there, Eris was all too happy to stroke the fires. Rumors were handy so long as you knew just what to say and who to say it to. He had to admit that he had really outdone himself this time, but really, at some point he would have to spread the misery away from the Eves--someone was going to start thinking he was biased or something. By the time he was done, Eris had to actively suppress his grin. Wherever Mariette Eve was now, she was going to be remembered for being responsible for the entire fiasco.

Once he was sure that the rumor mill would get the rest of the work going, Eris parted from the group and strolled over to the glass. He squinted down at the armor-wearing mage of his, almost rolling his eyes at seeing who his partner was. What a coincidence. He’d worry that Alderman was going to stab him at some point, but eh. Stress-induced outbursts were easy to write off.

At least he didn't have to sit through another overview of human psychology. Getting back on the good side of the instructor to make up for the few times he was late seemed to help. Victor had noticed several instructors that seemed to treat him different since that night on the rooftop. They were subtle in ways he wasn't expecting, a casual hello here or a respectful greeting there. Perhaps it could have been something else and he was just now realizing that they were doing this. Just another thing he was unsure of.

He did hope that Ryner would at least attempt to do what he asked, telling her that as far as he is concerned nothing happened that night and she doesn't owe him anything. However, he did mention that if she could get this investigation with his mage over quicker it would help him out. He noticed Salem does better when he doesn't stress as much.

The room to the observatory was quite busy today, everyone seemed to be talking all about the recent happenings and murders. Rumors and misinformation abound through all the giggles and hushed whispers. The only familiar face’s in this room he could see was a redhead, that he couldn't quite remember why she was familiar, and Eris. He wasn't quite sure why he had a distaste for the actor, he knew that Eris was an actor but never really saw any of the movies he was in.

Choosing to at least be civil, the count chose a spot next to Eris and peered down toward the mages below. He could clearly see his mage and Eris’s mage wearing what looked to be armor, “your ability for fashion and getting others to look good in anything always impresses me.” Victor thought he should start off with a compliment, he could have more awkward silences at another time, “I’m sure without it he would look like he was wearing a tin can.” he spoke the last part with a smile but didn't look up to Eris as he talked.

If Eris’ eyebrows went up any higher, they’d probably disappear into his hair. Victor Astorio in the flesh and deigning to speak to him? Actually, this was probably the first time they’ve spoken to one another without anyone else around, or at least, the first time the count approached him. The current excuse for conversation was because their mages were paired together--he forgot that Flower Boy had been reassigned to the Astorio--but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate the compliment.

Feliks had outdone himself as always with Maxwell looking like a proper mage that just forgot to comb his hair. That was probably going to be the best he could get unless it was a formal event and it honestly just wasn’t worth the hassle.

“He’s still a work in progress, but he’ll get there,” Eris replied, deciding to turn his attention to the hulk of an Astorio. “And how goes it for Spelman? Has he finally adjusted to life as an Astorio mage or does he continue to chafe?”

The vampires reaction made him smirk slightly, he only had to glance over at him once to see his surprise. This was a bit out of character for him after all. “He's doing alright. As long as he keeps up with his physical training and courtesies classes.” again Victor glanced over at the actor, he honestly wasn't the best conversationalist but at the very least he could try.

“I have been meaning to thank you for keeping an eye on him during that unfortunate night.” he spoke softly while turning his attention back to the mages below. “At least now the council will take care of that vampire. No negative psychological effects from your mage after that night either?” His question was genuine. Seeing blood and gore brothers even some vampires and can have lasting effects on humans as well.

Even if Eris could read the little grump's mind, he was pretty sure the only thing he would see was his usual disdain for vampires and focus on magic. He was almost dismissive of the question, but Astorio had a point. Ugh, he was going to have to check on the kid, wasn't he? Maybe he didn't need to, he could approach the topic cautiously, and if he was told to fuck off then he would know things were fine and that would absolve him of any responsibility. Perfect.

Either way, at least the count was a little more grateful than someone who would not be named that only ended up snipping at him. As if he didn't have his arm twisted enough! It was almost not even worth it, but it wasn't like he could undo the night. "I couldn't leave him by himself," Eris admitted. "The dorm was lively with him and the Starag kid accompanying my mage. They're like peas in a pod." A very annoying trio of peas, but that wasn't the point. "Hopefully Spellman felt comfortable. He was polite enough, but a little stiff the entire time. Thought he would be a little more relaxed since Alderman is one of his partners for Treaty Law, but given what happened...it's understandable."

“Like myself politics will always be a touch and go subject for him. His ability to think idle chatter amongst the upper echelons of nobility is just that will get us both in trouble.” a slow sigh escaped the Astorio, that was the truth after all neither of them did well in those subjects. The difference being Victor knew when to keep his mouth shut. “It's not always the funnest thing to do, pry into their emotions. But just the simple part of asking can go a long way sometimes. Even if it’s just fake caring.” he seemed to be speaking from experience on the subject.

Victor sought to change the focus of the conversation slightly, “How's his training coming along? Metal mages are very useful and dangerous. Some say even as dangerous as a light mage.” he was curious to see if the actor was doing anything out of class for his mage. Keeping them focused on school could sometimes alleviate stress and other emotional factors in other places. But he could only assume it depended on the mage.

Both of them were bad with politics? Well, that pair was screwed. Eris looked up at the ceiling before focusing on Victor, perching his chin on the palm of his hand. You could only fake something for so long, but that wasn’t any of his business. “He has a vendetta against the world; I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up at the top of his class out of sheer spite,” Eris mused. “He’s getting a hang on some footwork and practicing with the Starag has helped.”

Tapping his knee, he decided to ask, “And what of yours? I’ve noticed some improvement in muscle definition...looks like he’s on his way to Brawnsville.”

A smirk crossed his lips as he listened to Eris talk about his mage, “at least you won't have to worry about will power. I’m sure Varis can give you some tips on how to focus that vendetta to be constructive.” he was aware of the friendship between Eris and Varis but wasn't entirely sure to what end that friendship went. “Yes he is doing well. Keeping up with his scheduled workouts and diet.” Victor pondered about going into further detail for a moment, deciding that a little more about him wouldn't hurt.

“I require all my mages to have a good amount of strength and endurance. My job and by extension their job, is not easy. It's tiring, sometimes boring, and almost always uncomfortable.” he took a moment to glance around again before continuing. “That and it helps with their stress relief, confidence on and off the field, and looks.” The Astorio seemed to be pondering a question and how to phrase it. “Tell me your opinion on something and I don't mean to be rude. What movie would you recommend someone watch if they have never seen any of yours?”

Eris raised an eyebrow as he spoke. Who knew the Astorios cared about looks? Then again, from the stuff he's heard, there certainly are vampires who are interested in their mage's physical appearances intimately. Maybe this Astorio was one of them. Well, he was succeeding if he was trying to make Flower Boy more presentable, but short of chucking out the entire closet, he wasn't sure how far he would get.

At the next question, he sat up a little, fingers tapping his knee. "Probably The Blood War. It's still my most successful film to date," Eris admitted, flicking some hair out of his eyes. "If you don't mind the bastardization of Landar Starag's tale and inaccurate information with some entertainment magic, it's a pleasant watch," He said fondly, letting out a sigh. "The war scenes were some of my favorites."

“Thank you, I haven't seen a film in quite a long time. Maybe I'll have Salem get something like that going for one of his rest days.” pausing again for a moment looking down at their mages he smirked with an absolutely wicked idea. “If you would like, I can have Salem get Max after schools done for the day and put him through some of his exercises. I'm sure he would hate it.” the count couldn't help but snicker at the very idea of seeing that one go through them. “We don't do any hands on combatives unless we are in the arena. All we do is a lot of strength training and some defensive tactics. Mostly just for learning forms.”

“You can try, but…” Eris trailed off, already acutely aware of how much he hated sparring with Sunny as it was. “I can’t guarantee he’ll go along. He isn’t a big fan of any of the mages in his group.” Flower Boy and whoever the other one was were the only mages Alderman interacted with because he had to, though if there were others, Eris had no idea.

Instead, he decided to turn it around. “You’re awfully interested in mages, aren’t you?” The blond asked, eyeing Victor warily.

“My interest is training, that's what I was told to do before I came here. My father, Vincent Astorio, doesn't believe that anyone here can properly fight.” not technically a lie but not the entire truth either. “That and since I can't physically encourage them here, seeing them suffer even a little by this makes my night. You have to enjoy the little things sometimes.” The count couldn't help but smile remembering Salem's first few days with the workout schedule. “But in that case, I'll have Salem invite Max but I won't make him if you're not worried about it.”

That was a lot of effort all things considered. Eris’ expression remained neutral as he looked back down to the pair, closing his eyes for a moment. It wasn’t that the count had nothing to offer, but it was awfully kind for an Astorio to just offer something for nothing in return. When he opened his eyes, he stared at Victor long and hard, as if trying to read his face. He straightened up as he crossed his arms.

“I suppose we take what we can get,” Eris said dryly, unconvinced. “Do as you please. I’ll assume you expect little in return considering who we’re talking about.”

“I hope you don't take my suggestion without payment as an insult, i do believe i could get something out of it from you. It's just I don't believe that I will get anything out of this for a while. With that being said, if he does happen to save your ass at some point and if someone asks where he learned to fight. Perhaps you might say he learned it from a certain Astorio.” Victor let that last part sink in for a moment seeing that the class time was running out. “I do not wish to be a headhunter forever.” at least this time he wasn't lying. Perhaps working as an instructor like that would give him more things to do with the occasional head hunter job would at least change up his routine. “I hope you have a good evening Eris, I'll let you know what i thought of the movie.”

The blonde's lips tightened in a straight line, looking completely unamused by the statement. Really now, the count was either psychic or arrogant. Eris was not in the business of owning anyone anything, if Alderman decided to go along with whatever the hell the Astorio count offered, that would be squarely on his own shoulders. Eris wasn't stupid enough to owe any Astorio anything, and even if it was trivial, he wasn't going to let his guard down for anything. He let out a polite laugh, standing from his seat and casting a wary eye over the count.

"You do that and whatever else you want. Good evening," He said, promptly taking his leave of the conversation.

Watching the other vampire slowly become annoyed at his antics with a smile on his face. Victor couldn't wait to see just how much of this gets back to varis. This also helped him realize that being completely blunt with his suggestions probably wasn't the best way to go about the whole favor thing. Still so much to learn.

Classes for the day had finally ended and Victor only had one stop to make before retiring for the night. A visit to the new Eve was in order. He wasn't too sure about him and almost forgot he had to talk to him today if it wasn't for Salem reminding him. At least his mage was good at that, he knew enough to text him these reminders and that the vampire wouldn't answer. If he did it would simply come out as gibberish anyways. Cell phones and technology are still something he has to learn about more to use them correctly.

The tall Astorio was wearing his normal casual loose fitting clothes but still looked proper for his position. Well-groomed hair, no wrinkles in his clothes, and his black boots kept polished. He made his way up the steps to the Eve dorm and hoped he hadn't beaten the other count here. With a couple loud knocks on the main door he stepped back and waited. Hands clasped behind his back.

A minute or so passed before the knock was answered by Benjamin. To see the Astorio count in place of the expected mage was a surprise. There was no reason he could think of to expect such company, but that didn't mean they couldn't be cordial. He did straighten up slightly, a little amused by the first person on campus that was slightly above eye level for him, and gave the count a slight bow of the head.

“Good evening, Count Astorio,” Ben said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Victor politely returned the bow to Benjamin noticing it almost looked like he was thinking it was someone else at the door. “Good evening to you as well, Count Eve. I seem to have yet to meet you in person. I wanted to do that and discuss something with you pertaining to our mages.” This wasn't a meeting that was being watched too carefully and Victor was forgoing some of the formalities for the sake of conversation and well just being his blunt self.

Ben could not quite help the conscientious expression that came on at the mention of their mages; as he feared, his mage was far too trusting. That was neither here nor there at the moment, however, and far be it for him to be rude. He took a step backwards from the door, extending his arm in a gesture to invite the count in.

“Do come in,” Ben said. “It will be just the two of us with no one to attend, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh not at all, I do prefer it that way.” He spoke with a smile and a nod following Ben’s gesture inside and to the living area. The place was rather similar to his dorm. The layout was similar but some of the things they had here were different. Finding a comfortable chair in the living area and waiting for the other to join him he continued.

“So you are aware this meeting is not for any particularly bad reason. Simply explaining a few things that have happened or are happening that started before you arrived here.” Victor spoke plainly but didn't want to add any anxiety or stress to the conversation.

Reasoning’s were often subjective, but for the moment Ben would have to take his word for it. He took a seat himself, attentive yet relaxed as he listened. He supposed in the absolute worst-case scenario, he would simply have to brace himself. A multitude of possibilities went through his mind, ranging from the count taking offense to something Lillie may have carelessly said, or worse, that she had caught his interest.

“Do tell,” Ben invited him to speak openly.

“First, I should start off with a video or rumor you may or may not hear or see while you are here. This prompts me to apologize for any future issues my actions may have caused.” he paused for a moment. He knew quite well what it could mean to have one count apologize to another.

“When I first got here I wasn't in the right mindset for this school, the Astorio schools are... tougher.” taking a moment to phrase that word correctly before beginning again. “During our first sparring match I may have gotten a little out of hand and threw her out of the ring. I can assure you that Ryner was quick to adjust my attitude.” Again he paused for a moment but wanting to continue to let the count absorb the information that he had for him he went on.

“The next thing after apologizing to her, she asked me to help her train. At the time her vampire was not around to assist her. She is very skilled with a blade and can very well handle even the Starag boy. The training I am talking about however is physical conditioning and some hand to hand defensive skills.” again he paused to let it sink in and give Be some time to ponder this.

“By how she acts around particularly male vampires she doesn't know I can give an educated guess that she has had an unfortunate encounter with another male vampire earlier in her life. This is what I am sure is one of the reasons why she asked to come along with my mage when he's doing his training.” another pause before making his final statement.

“So in short, I am here to ask for your permission for her to continue training with my mage. Salem does exceptionally better when she is around and it gives him someone to talk to where I would not be able to relate. It is also from what I have seen improved her self-confidence and from my experience with water mages. Having this type of training helps them with their spell casting and control.” Victor could only hope that he explained that in the right way without coming off as demanding or dangerous to her. Salem would be quite sad to learn she would not be joining him any longer.

That was unexpected. Lillie had mentioned an incident in the arena, but Ben never would have guessed that she referred to getting tossed around like a ragdoll. Upsetting as it may be, however, it was in the past, and if it was neglected to be told, then clearly it was not thought of. No harm, no foul. Or so Ben hoped, at least. He was a little surprised to hear of her skill with the sword; he assumed it was for show, but perhaps it was because he couldn’t really imagine seeing someone so small being very effective.

Whatever the reason, Victor vouching for her did paint her in a different light in his eyes. His assumption at her prior experience did make some sense of their previous interactions: how she shrank away from his touch, how nervous she was speaking to him. He wondered what could have happened, although he very much doubted he would get a straight answer if he asked. But he would have to find a chance sooner than later. Absolving that particular issue would help particularly with her shakiness in etiquette.

Ben said, “I must disagree on the result of the unfortunate encounter; she has personally told me she has yet to have a proper conversation with Countess Marivaldi due to that same fear.” He figured that at the very least he could inform him of that, even if it made her weakness glaringly obvious. “Her fear of vampires is greatly concerning. But I am glad you’ve seen to it to step in where her previous mistress would not. For that, I thank you. I see no reason to discontinue so long as it is in Miss Dionne’s best interest. And I believe prohibiting her from spending time with her friend would end poorly.”

“Yes I agree it would end poorly for both of them. If there is anything you think I should touch on please let me know. Otherwise, I will leave it up to her to report how she's doing to you. Thank you for clearing that up with me, with whatever sparked her fear it would not be my place to interject further. If she does tell me anything more, I will be sure to let you know.” Victor gave a polite nod at the end of his sentence.

At the very least he was relieved to hear that she was talking to her vampire about some of the things troubling her. Taking a few more moments he decided that it was wise to at least clear up a few things about himself that differ from other Astorio just in case the Count was worried. “And so you are aware of how I treat mages, I'm not like other Astorio. I do care about my mage and others, as long as they are willing to work with me and improve themselves. I do not like seeing wasted talent.”

A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. Ben was relieved to see that he wasn't alone in his mage treatment, and if the Marivaldi lived up to her family's reputation, then it meant the majority of the nobles' representatives successfully held a modernist point of view. He would have liked to express himself as much, but he would let assumptions run wild for the moment, if only to keep the snake off his back a little longer.

"How admirable," Ben replied. "Rest assured you will see no opposition from me. I promised Her Highness that I would do my best to uphold the peace between the four nobles. A large part of my focus while I'm here will be molding my mage for the future, but otherwise I expect a quiet four years."

“I do hope for some peace as well my job within the council can be chaotic sometimes.” Victor stood with a sigh and smiled, “it was a pleasure meeting you but I do have to get back to my dorm. I'm afraid I didn't catch your first name.” admittedly this was a little rude but he didn't look too carefully into the other noble’s and their lives.

Ben tried not to be surprised, but he supposed it was his own fault. He stood as well and offered his hand as an apology. “Forgive the lack of introduction, I am Count Benjamin Pierce Eve,” He replied. “The pleasure is all mine. I look forward to any future interactions.”

“Victor Strigois Astorio, I enjoy the more informal greetings anyway. Let’s you see people in a different light so to speak.” He shook the counts hand with a firm grasp and gave a slight polite bow in return. “As do I, I’m sure we will work well together when we need to.” a simple farewell as the count slowly strolled on towards his dorm.