---

On the other end of the field, an arrow planted itself firmly into the sand a few feet from its target. If one had traced the origin of its arc, they’d find it lead to a non-descript bow being shakily held in the hands of one Kellen Fraldarius, with little emotion crossing his face as he reached for another arrow from his quiver.

It was a rare thing to see Kellen without his sword. Ever since the return to Luin Village, he had taken great pains to never leave his room without it. Indeed, even now, Kellen felt his balance was off, the familiar weight on his left hip replaced by a new sensation of a quiver hanging off his back. Even the Deer’s House Leader seemed to pick up on the strangeness, a fact that was made all the more alarming by the fact that Kellen had the distinct feeling that Jorah knew next to nothing about him.

In the previous days, Kellen had held onto a vague hope that perhaps, like some of his other classmates, his parents would withdraw him from the school. He had even thought of writing to explain the danger, but had ultimately decided against after his fourth attempt at such a letter had left him with a stomach ache that lasted for a few hours.

After realizing there would be no formal exit from the academy, Kellen had toyed with the idea of running away. He was sure though, that if either the academy or his family found him, he’d be sent back. And there was no way he’d settle down in some anonymous village without walls, where any band of raiders could come by and blow up half of it without the timely intervention of a bunch of students.

Reflecting on his situation, it was clear he only had one option. Survive the year at this academy. Survive the missions, and whatever other dangers – real or perceived – that would be coming his way. This realization, terrible though it was, gave Kellen some sense of uneasy peace. He could try to exert some control over his situation, try to avoid being put in reach of whatever harm seemed to be coming for him.
It was with this sentiment in mind that Kellen had grabbed a bow from the rack, crossing paths with Jorah and earning the aforementioned look. He had kept his eyes towards the ground as he took his position, doing his best to avoid looking at any of the Lions or professors. Jorah’s look had been enough.

As Kellen looked at the stray arrow that had landed a distance from the target, he saw Jorah’s arrows find their targets in rapid order. “Maybe next we’ll shoot apples off heads, eh?” Kellen took care not to let himself be distracted. If this next shot were to fall short, he could see Auberon, Michail, or any other number of people insisting he put this stupid bow down and grab a sword. And if that happened, he’d be back on the front line the next time the school sent them on a “training exercise”.

Finally succeeding in fishing an arrow out of his quiver, Kellen set it against the string. He sucked in his breath as his arm drew the string back, pulling it further back than he had the last time. As he loosed, he felt that familiar sense of blood rush to his head, but it dissipated quickly when the arrow sunk itself into the bottom of the target. It wasn’t nearly as precise as Jorah’s shots, but it was still in his mock opponent, and that was good enough. He turned to his right to look at him. “Maybe not yet.” He said with the smallest of smiles.

Funny, Lienna could have sworn she’d told Auberon not to wake her up at the crack of dawn for some Saints-forsaken training exercise. In fact, she was quite certain she’d made herself clear. Which, of course, begged the question: Why was she up with the sun anyway?

If she wanted to be charitable, she supposed she could admit that it wasn’t really Auberon’s idea to tear the Rose Unit out of bed before the sun was even up. And sure, that knock on her door before the light was probably just Auberon trying to be courteous. But Lienna wasn’t feeling particularly charitable, so it didn’t much matter to her whether it was Auberon or Professor Michael behind subjecting the Lions to this. In this case (and most others), one cocky blond could be substituted for another.

She did try her best to shake the last vestiges of a drowsy scowl from her face as the professors droned on, but chilly in the damp morning air and tired to boot, it was proving hard to stick to her newly-committed-to resolution of trying her best to be pleasant. Hells, she could probably count the hours of sleep she’d managed on one hand, having spent the night tossing and turning, unable to banish the strangeness of her meeting with Tomai from her mind. Try as she might to remind herself that all this “Crest of Indech” nonsense was the result of a broken Hanneman machine and nothing more, dread and doubt still managed to creep into the back of her mind, like icy winter chill worming its way through the boards of an old door. It snuck back up on her even now. The professors wanted demonstrations of ability, but what if that Crest symbol popped up again? What if her classmates noticed—or, Goddess forbid, the faceless chaperone watching over her in her fiancé’s stead—and they dragged her as a liar? She’d be ruined, never to show her face in Gautier again, maybe even arrested the moment she set foot back in Faerghus for the crime of faking her way into a marriage contract with a Count! And “attractive Crest” or not, she somehow doubted her chances of finding an Adrestian nobleman to take her in after nearly impaling their future queen.

Stop it. Everything is fine, she scolded herself, hauling herself out of the spiral she swore she’d tumbled down a dozen times by now. Whatever was going on, it was obviously out of her control, and fretting over it would only make her look more suspicious.

To be strong is to be flexible, she reminded herself, her Oma’s old words echoing in her mind. Be like water. Water always finds a way.

Easier said than done sometimes.

Lienna drew a shaky breath, her throat tight with bittersweet memories as yet too painful to recall—but at least they’d gotten her mind on something else. Blinking away the pricks in her eyes, she turned to her classmates for a distraction, where a diminutive boy in heavy robes was just about to hit his target with something she could only paradoxically describe as “bright darkness”. She looked on in naked fascination as he created the… thing between his hands like it was nothing, and followed it as it shot forth into the target like an obedient beast. She couldn’t help but stare; she’d never seen anything like it! Was that magic? Well duh, of course it was, no earthly thing looked like that. What that was exactly, though, she could hardly even fathom.

The girl she’d traded rooms with—Cassandra? Clarissa!—was next, fabricating a matrix of runes in the air before her as easily as if she’d drawn them there in charcoal. A flick of her wrist was all it took to complete the spell, and her target was bathed in light, Clarissa herself showered in a shimmering glow when it was finished. Unlike the boy’s magic, which in retrospect had an air of malice to it, Clarissa’s felt strangely benevolent. A healing spell, then? White magic? Once more Lienna was taken aback by how foreign it all seemed; she obviously knew on some level that white magic was a thing, but she’d never seen it in person, and whatever the boy had done was beyond her words to describe. By contrast, she had always believed (apparently foolishly) that magic was a command of the elements—her own proclivity for ice, for example, or her Oma’s trick for lighting fires. Not… whatever she’d just watched, at least at any level below the most esoteric of masters. Were these two that much more advanced than her, then, or was this just another example of all she’d missed?

Suddenly self-conscious, it was her turn to demonstrate, and Lienna used Clarissa’s attempt to start a conversation with the boy as her chance to do her bit without the eyes of more refined mages on her. But when she closed her eyes to take a breath, as she’d seen others do, the magic within her barely bothered to stir, and her breath turned into an irritated sigh. It always did this! Fortunately, as she’d seen at Luin, her magic deigned to move when it really counted, but Oma had often teased that her spirit was like a bear—it only bothered waking up when it had a reason to be angry.

Remembering Oma was painful, but if calm focus wasn’t going to help her, then perhaps her thoughts could lead her to something that would. Given the least allowance, it was easy for her memories to turn from her Oma to Hima at large, the harsh, rugged landscape of Northern Gautier, and of course, to Sreng.

Soon enough, the daunting glare of fire raged in her mind, choking black smoke muffling villagers’ screams and shrouding the monstrous forms of Srengese barbarians as they cut and tore their way through the settlement. A familiar flash of anger roared up inside Lienna to meet them, and when she opened her eyes, she set a murderous look on her target as if it were one of those monsters in the darkness coming for her.

In sharp contrast to the careful movements of her peers, Lienna threw her arm unceremoniously out at her target; a thin column of icicles burst out of the ground in response, zig-zagging its way across the arena like a jagged bolt of lightning under the sand. At the other end, the icicles only clipped her target, stabbing up under one leg with such force that they launched the target into the air, spinning until it landed on its side a few feet away. Not content to rest, the column of ice took a hard left and ripped into the neighbouring target, stopping only once the wood was reduced to a grotesque sculpture of frozen splinters.

With eyes as big as apples, Lienna carefully resisted the urge to gasp at the display, straightening her posture as casually as she could as she did her best not to look as shocked as she felt. She didn’t need Tomai’s critique to see the problem: the spell was impressively large and powerful, sure, but it was wild—the only sign that she had any control over the spell was the fact that the ice went forward and not into the line of students beside her. She swallowed self-consciously, suddenly acutely aware how lucky it was that she’d been able to get away from the Luin bandits in one piece—and not accidentally dismember a princess in the process.

Clearing her throat, she looked over to the unfortunate bystander whose target she’d shredded, and it turned out to be the short boy who made the darkness. “...I’m sure they have more targets,” she offered weakly, hoping that the lack of a real apology would make it look like her spell was more intentional than it really was.

---

The advent of actual training at last was a welcome addition to the curriculum as far as Auberon was concerned. Sure, drills in the arena weren't quite as exciting as the mock combat they'd been promised at the training grounds last week, but the battle they were given instead probably left most of the class content with less exciting events for a while. Most of the class didn't look particularly excited, in any case. A lot of them looked asleep, actually. He thought he might've been a bit overbearing when he gave the Lions a remindatory knock on their doors, but evidently sleeping in was a real and present issue; that new Adrestian kid still hadn't even shown up, unless he was so good at hiding in Kayden's shadow that Auberon hadn't even noticed him.

It seemed almost ridiculous that they professors wanted to start with something as mundane as a baseline demonstration of their abilities after the hell that they'd been through in Luin, but he supposed it made sense that none of them got a good look at the class' performance while they were preoccupied fighting for their lives. Auberon wasn't too thrilled he'd be judged on combos first and foremost; the swordsmen might've had a good time, but there were only so many ways he could think to chain axe strikes together before the biomechanics of it all become counterproductive. He glanced over toward Kellen to make a tongue-in-cheek comment about unwieldy weapon users receiving a handicap to start, only to see the boy shuffle off toward the makeshift archery range, bow in hand. Professor Euphemia definitely said to start with their strengths and Kellen definitely had a sword in his hands back in Luin that, if the blood-soaked jacket was any indicator, he knew how to use. Surely a minor chastisement from Michail wouldn't be enough to make someone completely rethink their fighting style. Just because all archers were cowards didn't mean all cowards had to be archers.

Auberon shoved the thought aside for the moment as he grabbed an axe and made his way to the training dummy that had been set up for him. He hefted his weapon over his shoulder, though he kept the butt of the weapon aimed at the target defensively rather than wind back on his hips for an obviously telegraphed power attack. In contrast to Kayden's showy performance beside him, Auberon stayed simple and to the point. He snapped his axe across the dummy's torso, then immediately shifted his weight in the other direction and spun at the waist to drive the haft of his weapon into the side of its head. While his 'opponent' was hypothetically dazed, Auberon raised his axe overhead and slammed it down in a blow that sent splinters flying and vibrations up his arms.

The blond let out a long exhale at a completion of his attack and jiggled his weapon to free the axe head from where it was still wedged in the wood. With his own performance accounted for, Auberon was free to fret over his housemates as he saw fit and his attention drifted back to Kellen's newfound interest in archery. The arrow speared into the ground before the target that the Fraldarius was focused on did little to reassure him, nor did the other arrow that barely struck its mark. Auberon had held out the slightest bit of hope that Kellen was a man of many talents on the battlefield, as versed with a bow as he was with a sword, only to be cursed with a delicate resolve unfit for true combat. Instead, he was greeted with a display that Saint Indech surely wept over.

"Kellen, as much as I admire your attempt to build a well-rounded skillset, maybe stick to what you know for now," Auberon called, somewhere between patronizing and helpful. He'd be deep in the cold, hard ground before he allowed a Fraldarius under his charge to squander a talent for swordplay like some Saints-forsaken Daphnel fencer that only duels for sport.

Though, if Kellen's performance was embarrassingly underwhelming, Lienna's was the exact opposite. Since his conversation with Michail, Auberon hadn't given a second thought to the garden of icy barbs strewn with the tattered viscera of hapless bandits that greeted them on their return to the carriage, but the image rushed to the forefront of his mind as he saw Lienna seemingly explode out of the corner of his eye. For once, he was honestly speechless. She ripped through her target - and then some - like it was nothing; the fact that she had the audacity to stay behind in Luin was honestly impressive. If anything, everyone but her would've been in danger had she come along.

"Like that," He continued once he managed to tear his eyes away, "Impress me like that, I know you have it in you."

---

@ThatCharacter

---

Last night had been the best sleep Imogen had since the incident at Luin. Ever since her talk with Chi, Imogen felt as light as a feather; restless still, but channeled into a more positive "can't wait to do things!" instead of the desperate "have to do things" that plagued her as of late. Her to-do list for the day was already brimming with more enjoyable tasks: ask Professor Mik all about Caius; attempt to sneak up behind Professor Mal; find out what kind of Crest superpowers everyone had.

She arrived at the arena with a spring in her step and an infectious energy that made the not-so-morning people she passed by glare crankily as they sipped their coffees. Imogen addressed everyone with her usual cheery greeting, although there was little time to socialize before the professors began today's activities. Early morning training! It was like being back home with Caius again. He liked to take her on a hike up the mountains right before the sun rose, when the air was crisp and sometimes biting, and there they practiced until her stomach protested its hunger.

Imogen automatically reached for one of the training swords but stopped short, looking at her bare hands in contemplation. She looked around for Iz, trying to remember how amazing she fought before her thoughts trailed off into how she had manically beaten up that last mage. It probably wasn't a good thing to ponder, and she had enough decency to look sheepish in the off-chance one of the others' ability allowed them to read her thoughts, but it felt good letting loose like that. Without her sword, she didn't have to worry about proper stances and correct form.

Her hands balled into fists and after one more second of hesitation, Imogen skipped over the sword and rummaged through the weapon chest for gauntlets that fit. The added weight took a second to get used to, and she took another moment to do some practice jabs. She grinned. Something about this felt right, as though she was writing with her right hand her whole life only to discover she was naturally left-handed instead. The tiny sensible part of her worried that trying out a new weapon during their first assessment would mean she'd fail. But the professors did say to get their preferred weapon, and she was certain this was hers now. Besides, it had little spikes all over the knuckles. Those were like tiny swords, right?

By the time she made her way to her own dummy, a couple of the others had already begun their demonstrations. Imogen paused to watch the magic users, distracted by the sheer awesomeness of it as usual. Clary's has become her favorite to watch. Something about the burst of light and the way it faded into a shimmering glow, like little fireflies scattering in the wind, made her feel like she was back at home. And plus, it cemented in her mind that Clary was an actual saint.

When she finally stopped being distracted, Imogen faced her dummy with a determined grin. "Okay, I'm going to attack you now," she announced and nodded to herself as she pretended it responded with its permission.

Imogen started with a basic combo: jab, cross, hook, uppercut. Then a roundhouse to finish the set. The dummy held up too well for her liking, torn and shredded where her attacks landed with a slight tilt now after her kick connected, but nowhere near as damaged as she hoped. Although briefly disappointed, she wasn't discouraged in the slightest, considering it growing pains.

One more time! Imogen pounced on the target, channeling the wild energy she had back in Luin. She wrapped herself around the dummy and positioned herself so she was perched upon its wooden, makeshift shoulders. Then she let loose a barrage of punches, along with a war cry because she swears that adds more power to each of her strikes, until the dummy's head snapped and was knocked clean off.

Imogen hopped off and picked up the fallen head to assess the damage she'd done. "That was fun!" she laughed, making the dummy nod in agreement.

---

A group evaluation. Splendid. Auberon would’ve likely voiced his critiques without Michail’s instruction anyway, but doing so in front of a group felt a little too close to public humiliation for his tastes. He’d be lying if he said the professor scrutinizing their every word while he devoured a pastry wasn’t a bit disconcerting too. But where to start? The blond trailed his gaze across the assembled Lions. Lienna and Kellen both had glaring flaws, but after a whole day of Professor Malathice’s unenthusiastic admonishments, he had to assume she understood by now. And if Kellen didn’t know what he was doing wrong already, he was an idiot.

That left Derec. Who… Auberon really had no comment on. His style was odd but not ineffective; unless Michail expected him to lead some pretentious defense of strict adherence to codified dueling manuals and the predictably dull combat style that entailed, he was at a loss. Would a simple ‘good job’ suffice for the exercise? No, probably better to save the nice comments for last.

After a few moments of silent deliberation on his part, Auberon sighed audibly. “Alright, I’m gonna address the wyvern in the room.” His head snapped toward Kellen, though his expression was more confused than condemnatory, “I know everyone has to start somewhere, but what was that today? You walked out of Luin covered head to toe in blood that wasn’t yours - you don’t do that on a fluke; I know you’re not incompetent.”

Of course there would be group feedback. Kellen looked around at the assembled Lions, his gaze lingering over his professor. Lysander had come knocking on his door based on a report Michail had written, and Kellen was sure that any information that came out of this conversation would also find its way to the school counselor. Thankfully, he had at least some time to prepare for questions like these from Auberon.

“Uh.” Brilliant start. Kellen took care not to let his chin drop. “I wanted to… round out our capabilities.” This seemed the best approach. “I think we could all benefit from someone who can provide support from a distance.” He thought for a moment about turning Auberon onto Lienna with a comment about her reliability, and his eyes crossed hers for half a moment, but he didn’t dare act on the idea. “The-” He shuddered slightly. “The blood was mostly Imogen’s handiwork.” Kellen kept his composure, but didn’t want to re-litigate Luin any further. If he had any say in the matter, he’d never talk about it again. He was not hopeful about his chances.

Auberon’s eyes lidded in disbelief as Kellen provided his explanation. Really, he expected the blond to believe that he was a charitable and tactically-minded soul that was merely trying to fill in gaps in their formation because he would be a liability anywhere on the battlefield? He could only imagine the uproar if word got out that one of the mighty Shields of Faerghus had been outclassed by a little girl from Nowhere, Leicester and then spent the rest of the fight holding back tears.

“The best way to be a team player, Kellen,” He stressed with irritation simmering in his tone, “Is to play to your strengths and make them work within the context of the group. You made it sound like you don’t want to, you’re just filling a niche. I think you’re just a coward who got spooked by that bandit.”

He threw his hands up in mock surrender after he finished his point, “If I’ve misjudged and this is what you really want, I apologize and wish you the best. But you need to figure out how to shoot like a nobleman before we end up in live combat again, not a conscripted peasant whose only job is to volley aimlessly off into the distance.”

A dull sort of tingle ran up Kellen’s spine as Auberon laid into him. He had anticipated this sort of response, but not the words that would come out of his own mouth shortly thereafter. “Oh, come on. If I’m a coward, you’re a religious zealot who’ll be lucky to survive a year.” There was a venom and an edge to the words that sounded foreign as they fired out of his mouth before he had a chance to consider the consequences. He paused for half a second, considering the ramifications of his behaviour, but his better angels went unheeded. “If you expect me to apologize, I -- I’m not going to. You can convince yourself that you’re untouchable, but I nearly lost an arm and Derec--” He pointed at his fellow Lion. “Would have likely suffered worse if Isolde hadn’t gotten involved.” He noticed his voice had grown in volume, and tried to take it back down, taking his glare off of Auberon to look at Lienna. “Honestly, you were right not to go.”

“And Derec is still trying where you just gave up,” Auberon hissed, mindful of Kellen’s attempt at reining in his volume but still unwilling to defuse the situation. “Isolde too, and she’s about as resolute as one of those Adrestian flowers that dies if the soil isn’t perfectly maintained.” No disrespect to the girl herself, but if she could handle it, surely Kellen could. Besides, if he wanted to step back outside and see who was really untouchable, Auberon was happy to oblige.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, I just want to know what in Saint Cichol’s name your thought process is. If you’re just-” He hesitated on the word momentarily. ‘Scared’ was the term he’d liked to have used, but that wasn’t conducive to the discussion. “-worried, then that’s what training is for. Break that fear and become the battlefield terror your family is known for.”

Not for the first time, Kellen cursed his family name. It wouldn’t be true to say he hadn’t hoped to live up to the title of Shield of Faerghus, or at least be recognized in his own way. That hope had spurred a sixteen year old noble to join a war camp. That hope had just about cost him his life, and would do so again and again if he continued to let it fester. “It’s not- It won’t work. I’ve tried.” There was no anger in his words now, and his face turned down towards the ground. “I’m trying something else now.” His face was set as he looked up.

Not particularly interested in critiquing her peers (and not having watched them enough to have any idea what to critique them on), Lienna had been content to stay quiet. Luck was on her side when Auberon and Kellen immediately started going after each other, and she was shocked to hear Kellen speak so harshly; she didn’t think he was capable of much more than a whisper, let alone such cutting words. Content to watch the action, she helped herself to a pastry from the tray and let the two boys tear into each other, sitting back to enjoy the show.

Unfortunately, the climax of their conflict was short-lived, and what she thought was going to end in a fight was just turning into a pity party. Come on, Kellen, where was that fire from before? Auberon was pulling his punches, but he looked about ready to swiftly end anything Kellen started. But once more, Kellen shrunk away; it was not to be, and she didn’t have the patience to sit through this meeting if it turned into some kind of unbearable sympathy circle.

Openly rolling her eyes, she finished off her pastry and straightened up, glaring ice at the both of them. “Are you boys done?” she demanded. “Honestly, I think you were both idiots to rush off to Luin and risk your lives for strangers, but since you did, you’re going to have to learn to man up and live with it.”

She turned her glare on Kellen. “Kellen, stop feeling sorry for yourself. It’s disgusting. And even if you really do want to be an archer, you’ll be more likely to hit your teammates in the back than the enemy the way you shoot. You’re a swordsman, live with it.”

“And you,” she looked sharply at Auberon, crossing her arms. She wasn’t sure what that “religious zealot” comment was about, and honestly Kellen kind of deserved what he was getting, but she couldn’t let Auberon get off scot-free. “If you want to be a leader, then start acting like one. Bickering like a child with your subordinates and calling names when your authority gets challenged isn’t going to earn you anyone’s respect.”

Lienna let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She said it, she swore when she left Hima that she was never going to be anyone’s caretaker again, and she was less than thrilled about suddenly becoming the Blue Lions’ babysitter. This had better be the first and last time.

Letting her hands fall to the table, she looked between her housemates, unamused. “Anyone else need to get something out of their system before we can get this over with?”

Kellen felt more words start to rise up in his throat, but he pushed them back down. They wouldn’t make him feel any better. He gave a small shake of his head.

“This isn’t about authority, it’s-” Auberon started, then let the statement go with a huff. Whatever, he’d made his point. Kellen was acting stupid, they’d established that, no reason to keep harping on it. “Fine, we should get back on track anyway. Who wants to go next?” Since his pride was clearly too wounded to pass fair judgement, apparently. Lienna couldn’t agree with him and then accuse him of pointless nagging in the same breath. Or was she the only one allowed to complain?

Sweet merciful Goddess, Derec was truly naive. Here he was, thinking that keeping his head down would be easy with a group like this, but he never thought it would be this bad! He was completely clueless on the group dynamic, and for some reason, the entire interaction surprised him. Sure, Kellen choosing another weapon did get him curious, but he didn’t think it was cowardly. Auberon was zealous, but that passion shined through in fighting. And Lienna had power, but chose not to use it--and for good reason, as she must have known she didn’t have much control over it. So, then why was there this tension all of a sudden?

He looked over at Michail, who was perfectly content with eating. Their professor made his stance clear: he was an observer, and it was up to them to figure things out on their own. For once, Derec wasn’t surprised at this, but what could he do? As Michail caught his gaze, however, there was the tiniest movement of his head before he devoured his next sandwich. Derec’s stomach dropped; even if it was an innocuous gesture, he knew exactly what it meant.

‘You should say something.’

Derec’s hands left his lap and rested on the table in front of him, his mind whittling away at ideas. Should he just take advantage of the silence and move on? He could, but something Lienna said bothered him a little.

“Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, but I don’t think Luin was a mistake,” He suddenly said, unable to hold himself back on that much. Even if he had ended up losing an arm, he would never have regretted going. “But I won’t linger on that topic. I’ll get us back on track.”

He resisted the urge to look at Michail for approval, instead trying to remember what he saw. “Honestly, I think we’re in trouble compared to our classmates,” He ended up admitting, though he didn’t hesitate when he put it out there. “At the very least, almost everyone had the basics down. But our mage and archer aren’t at the same level as everyone else. There’s only so much we can do if our backline can’t support our frontline.”

He didn’t have much to say about Auberon because...well, he looked fine, and Luin proved he already knew what to do. The problem was, unfortunately, with the other two. “We can’t have an archer that can’t aim, and we can’t have a mage that doesn’t have their magic under control. So we should focus on improving that,” He decided to handle Kellen first and foremost, if only because he knew very little about magic and was pretty sure Lienna was going to throttle him. “If you’re going to switch your weapon, then I think you have a lot of training to do. The princess consort doesn’t seem like the type to put much effort, but even she hit her target. We mustn't fall behind our classmates, so I’ll expect to see you in the arena a lot more going forward.”

He then dared himself to look at Lienna, a thought coming to mind. “Are you self taught as well?” He ended up outright asking.

“Oh, really? And here I was thinking it would be a good way to keep the enemy on their toes,” Lienna shot back venomously. So much for peasant solidarity, apparently. But what kind of a dumbass comment was that? She wasn’t blind, she obviously knew she needed to work on her control. That was why they trained, to refine their skills. It wasn’t like she decided to pick up black magic for the first time in her life today, like Kellen with his awful attempt at shooting. Honestly, putting the two of them on the same level was nothing above insulting.

Crossing her arms once more, she reminded herself that she’d just put an end to a petty squabble, and after all that training she didn’t have the energy to start a new one. She let out a sigh, her anger simmering down a bit as she listened to Derec’s question. Right, she seemed to recall someone saying that Derec looked self-taught. She had to wonder why he was so uncharitable in his evaluation if he was in the same boat, but forced herself past the issue to answer him.

“My grandmother taught me,” she said simply, though her gaze slid away as she considered how to explain the second part of her answer. “But she… wasn’t around very long, so I mostly practiced on my own, yes.” ‘Struggled and cursed when she froze the fireplace instead of lighting it’ would have been more accurate, but her housemates didn’t need those details. “Why? I have a real tutor now, problem solved.”

Derec’s complete agreement and support of everything Auberon said should’ve been a sorely-needed boost to his mood, but unfortunately, it was tempered with the bitter knowledge that they were the laughing stock of the Rose Unit at the moment, which was frankly what pissed him off to begin with. Self-taught explained a lot of the unorthodox movements he saw on Derec’s part, and he didn’t know the first thing about black magic but he was fairly certain it wasn’t quite that chaotic most of the time.

“That explains a bit. I have nothing against unorthodox techniques if they work, but I think you should both start by studying up on the formalities of your respective fields,” Auberon offered, “If for no other reason than to predict what your opponent will do.”

Derec was cut off by Auberon, though he let him say his piece. Once he finished, he ended up looking down at his hands. “He’s right. I’m self taught, too,” He decided to explain himself and remembered what Michail had told him when he had asked for a personal evaluation. “Believe me, I understand. When your back is to the wall and you have no one to rely on, nowhere to go, technique doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is your own survival, so you use every bit of limited knowledge that you have to scrape by. The only thing that matters is that you live.”

His knuckles were white as his hands balled into fists, unpleasant memories threatening to surface. After a few seconds, however, he seemed to remember himself, shaking his head. “Sorry,” He muttered an apology as he lifted his gaze to meet Lienna’s. “Our problem is that we’ve only ever had to think of ourselves. But we’re part of a team now, so we have to remember that we’re not on our own anymore. We have people we can rely on.”

In truth, he wasn’t really sure if he was telling Lienna or himself that. Either way, it applied to both of them.

Auberon’s comment was equally stupid - what did he think they were here for if not to learn from real teachers? - but it was Derec’s piece that got Lienna’s attention. His words had truth to them, and she could tell they came from experience, an experience the nobles in their house probably wouldn’t understand. And his emotions were clearly genuine, even if he wore them on his sleeve like a vulnerable idiot. But at the end of his speech, Lienna only felt more vicious and resentful than ever.

“We?” she repeated derisively, glaring daggers at the red-haired boy across the table. “Our problem, is it? We’ve only ever had to think of ourselves?”

Her jaw worked violently as she tried to fathom what Derec just said. Oh, he just knew everything didn’t he? “We’ve only had to think of ourselves”? If fucking only! That would have been nice: after nearly a decade of being the head of the house, putting food on the table, sleeping in shifts to make sure her lunatic grandmother didn’t wander into the woods and starve to death - and all with no help from the very same sorts of villagers that these saviour-complex idiots would rush to rescue at the drop of a hat - was thinking about herself really so much to ask? The life Derec described would have been a blessing to her, a far cry from the hell she’d been living with the breathing corpse she called her Oma. After all she’d done to pull herself out of that life, where the hell did he get off telling her that suddenly everything was okay?

“Speak for your Saints-damned self, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snapped at Derec, standing from her seat and moving to leave. “I’m done.”

Michail was about to take a drink, though he stopped himself as Lienna stood. “Sit back down, the group hasn’t completed their task,” He told her.

“I have,” Lienna shot back, spitefully waving Michail away. Unbeknownst to her, some ice had formed on her hand, and a few small shards flew off and stabbed into the table as she went.

Goddess above, Lienna had no business accusing Auberon of being childish when she was ready to leave the class entirely over Derec’s choice of stupid peasant aphorism. The blond gave a hollow sigh and stood from his chair, ready should he be forced into actually pursuing Lienna. “And we haven’t. In fact, the only person you’ve commented on was Kellen. I believe the exercise was for you to evaluate the entire group. Sit down, I shouldn’t have to passive-aggressively parrot your comments about childish bickering to make my point.”

Lienna was on the other side of the table by the time Auberon spoke up, and she sincerely wished looks could kill because that would have been much less of a mess than staking the blond through the heart with an icicle. “Fine: Coward, Egotist, Idiot,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at Kellen, Auberon, and Derec, respectively. “And I swear to the Goddess Auberon, if you come over here and try to stop me I’ll tell my fiancé you forced yourself on me.”

Auberon wrinkled his nose in vague distaste. That lie would last all of ten minutes against anyone that had spoken to him, but the fact that she even tried was insulting. Not to mention he was about as terrified of Count Francis “Traitor” Gautier as he was Jorah, but he could save such animosity for the battlefield if this mysterious bastard heir ever gained enough traction.

“Alright, everybody’s tempers are flaring and this is going nowhere. I think we all need to take a minute and pray to the Goddess for patience or empathy or whatever else you prefer to quiet the negativity in your heads,” Auberon announced as he sat back down, “We can all take swings at each other in the arena tomorrow, but this is supposed to be about reflection and growth.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Lienna scoffed. “Hate to tell you, but the Goddess doesn’t like me.” With that she turned on her heel and left the classroom, disappearing into the courtyard.

“How- wha-” Auberon sputtered incredulously as Lienna made her way across the room. “You have a Crest!” He finally forced out as she crossed the threshold of the doorway, too stupefied to do anything else. That had to be the weirdest blasphemy he’d ever encountered.

Kaira chased after Lienna, stopping at the door and calling after her. Michail let out a hum, though he continued eating, uninterested. Derec ended up letting out a sigh, dismayed. It looked like he accidentally got down to the heart of the problem, didn’t he? Well, discovering problems was just the half of it. He had absolutely no idea how to solve this, and if Lienna wasn’t even listening to the professors, then she wasn’t going to give them the time of day, either.

He looked at Auberon and Kellen, frowning. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” He asked.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Auberon mumbled, “I’ll drag us through here on faith alone if need be.” He shot a quick glance in Michail’s direction. The lack of intervention wasn’t entirely surprising if he intended for them to manage themselves, but he could at least do them the decency of dismissing them after that. “Anyone here need to throw a punch at me, or can we move on?”

Derec definitely noticed the lack of intervention on Michail’s part, but he wasn’t sure if Auberon noticed what he did. Before, while staying out of it, Michail still looked at them. Now, he was entirely focused on his breakfast, and a dread suddenly ballooned in his chest. Even if they were just arguing before, at least they were doing it as a team. But now that Lienna was gone, they weren’t together, so it didn’t matter what they did from here on out.

He shook his head at Auberon’s question. “I’m actually not a big fan of fighting if it can be avoided,” He admitted quietly.

Kellen stared down at the small piece of ice lodged into the desk, watching it melt slowly. This had deteoritated quicker than he had expected, and while he was more than happy to blame Auberon for it, Lienna hadn’t done much to help. Nor had Derec, or himself, for that matter. He looked at the two Lions still in the room. “It’s not worth it.” He muttered. He had received the message, loud and clear, from his housemates.

“Glad to hear it,” Auberon responded humorlessly, “Maybe we can resume after she cools off. If either of you need me in the meantime, I’ll be in the cathedral.” He looked to Michail and pointedly cleared his throat to draw the man’s attention away from his meal. “Professor. Are we dismissed?”

Michail stopped mid-chew, finally looking back up at them. He swallowed and cleared his throat, though he ended up taking a drink before deciding to speak. “Hm, I think we were supposed to go back to the arena after this,” He mused, though he put down his drink and looked at his remaining trio. “Guess there’s no point in carrying on. Run along if you want, but I skipped breakfast so I’m gonna devour the rest of this food.”

Auberon unenthusiastically grabbed one of the pastries Michail hadn’t gotten to yet. There was more to this disaster of an exercise? The Goddess saw fit to test him today and evidently he had been found wanting. Skipping class wasn’t going to do him any favors either, as much as he would’ve liked to vacate the area promptly and start fresh tomorrow.

“I guess I’ll be here, then,” He corrected to the other Lions.

Kellen contemplated standing for half a moment, but ultimately didn’t act on it. He didn’t say anything, reaching out a bit too quickly to grab a pastry so that he could busy himself. He was ready to go back and fire some arrows, more out of spite than in pursuit self-improvement.

---

---

Clarissa quickly assembled a small plate of cookies and a cup of tea from the refreshments and snacks left near them. Maintaining a stable runic composition while increasing the rate of production certainly took a toll on her and she was grateful for the break. She’d failed more than once but failure was the mother of success and she had no doubt that with a little more practice, she’d find herself closing the gap Professor Malathice noticed at Luin between her Heal and Nosferatu. She let out a pleased hum as she nibbled at one of her cookies as she waited for everyone to settle.

In the meantime, she considered the assignment. Her Housemates were an interesting lot but one thing held true: they certainly got along much better than the other Houses. Her eyes wandered over to the Blue Lions, their conversation dissolving into a mire of petty insults and childish tantrums with no regard to the others in their vicinity. But she supposed that, if Lienna was any indication, most of them were uncomfortable in their situation, thrust into a role where excelling meant admitting personal failure and shortcomings, and their vastly different experiences and personalities meant they would need to learn to trust that everyone had each other’s best interests in mind rather than looking to tear each other down.

“Group evaluations! What an exciting exercise.” Clarissa broke the Deer’s silence, no doubt due to the close proximity of food. “I suppose there isn’t any point in delaying this and I hope we can all recognize we’re here to grow as a Unit, as a House, and as individuals and that anything said is intended to reflect in the manner that Professor Michail said: constructive.” As she spoke, she pushed her tea and cookies to the side, folding her hands in front of her and she considered each Deer seriously.

“Jorah, I don’t remember a time we weren’t in each other’s lives. I’ve seen you practice with your bow until your fingers bled, I’ve raced you down widing cliffs and through treacherous forests on horseback much to our fathers’ chagrin, and I’ve discouraged your ignoble behavior for as long as I could recognize it. I’m certain one ear is longer than the other purely because of how frequently you give me reason to pull it.” Clarissa joked briefly. “You certainly have a grasp on practicing with your bow and Professor Machail already extolled your quick thinking and your leadership potential but your greatest area for growth isn’t on the battlefield, in the arena, or on the back of a horse. Rather, it’s in the lengthy meetings leading to the battle, discussing layouts and logistics. It’s in the library, pulling references and studying enemy tactics of old in preparation to meet them on the field again. You excel when you’re in the moment; pressure and excitement, the good and the bad, push you forward, keep you on your toes, but its when its quiet that you lose focus, that your mind wanders, and you feel the need to poke and prod until you’re satisfied, distracting you from important lessons and information that could save your life and others in the future.”

“Isolde, before now we barely had an opportunity to meet. I don’t recall that you ever made a formal debut but I’m pleased that the Goddess has granted me an opportunity now. Your actions on the battlefield, from your technique to your bravery, spoke volumes of your character: determined and dedicated. You saved a man’s life when you made the decision to join us and even though I do not know him well, I’m grateful there is one less ghost to haunt us.” Clarissa paused for a moment, considering how to word her next statement. “But you lack overall conviction and it shows. You shroud yourself in your isolation, clinging to it like a comfort blanket, and you wear indecision like a second skin. Your inclination to hesitation hinders you on the battlefield and there may come a day that it may cost you more than you’re willing to part with. The only true remedy for that is deciding who you are and what you want and forging ahead with all your power.”

“And finally, Imogen. You’re a wild card, reckless and unpredictable, and endearingly straightforward even if I’m not quite sure I understand your thought process sometimes. It makes you a wonderful ally in tough situations. Your instincts are reliable and oftentimes that can be the difference between tragedy and success.” Clarissa had the least to say about Imogen, mostly because the extent of their history was Garreg Mach. Clarissa knew little about Imogen and her background and she felt a flicker of regret that she banished with the resolve to get to know her Housemate better, even if it would more than likely result in a headache. “That being said, there is a reason why so many people have dedicated their time to studying and analyzing these situations. Skirting by on instictint alone may serve you well in the beginning but it’s only with careful consideration that you’ll be able to overcome the greatest challenges. Learn to balance the two and I have no doubt that you'll find that not even the sky isn’t your limit.”

If it were up to her, all classes would be like this one.

Imogen thrived when she wasn't forced to sit for hours on end, listening to the professors talk about strategies in the battlefield instead of practicing it. Or worse, having to pay attention to which rich or powerful house did this or that and remember how they screwed over their people. Spending the day training was fun and seemed more like play than learning, especially as she began experimenting on her new choice of weapons. Caius had more than once tried to make her understand the concept of her sword being an extension of her arm, but the idea never clicked. With the gauntlets – well, her hands were actually extensions of her arms so it made more sense.

Getting to train with Iz was a plus, as well! After watching her demonstration, Imogen all but hounded her fellow deer, begging to learn some of her techniques. Sure, it was enjoyable going crazy and letting loose on the targets, allowing her instincts to take over and guide each strike. But Iz looked really, really cool doing her attacks and she wanted to look like that too. And, uh, there's probably some practical reasons to learn some proper techniques too.

Imogen ended up eating a lot of Iz's time, although she hoped their training session wasn't too one-sided. There were times when Iz seemed to be holding back, for no reason she could discern. Imogen tried pushing her past this invisible line Iz seemed to have drawn for herself, but she knew not to prod too much, too soon.

Not too long after, Professor Mik called them back for a break. Although the others seemed to welcome it, the tolling of the bell brought upon a sense of dread for Imogen instead. She would have much preferred spending another five hours training with her gauntlets than have to face Professor Lys after class. It was no use letting him know she was as broke as the recently beheaded dummy (may he rest in pieces)—the professor had been adamant about her paying for the damage she caused. That meant she had to figure out how to scrounge up some gold after class because she was certainly not going to ask Caius to send her any.

Instead of dismissing them, Professor Mik led them to the Black Eagles' classroom, and there Imogen had experienced her first miracle: she was actually grateful for a quiz. Her meeting with Professor Lys has been delayed and she gets to fill her plate with pastries! Plus, the quiz didn't seem all that difficult at all. Not like those written tests with questions so long, it was a struggle just trying to read it all the way through.

As was often the case, it was Clary who got the Deer started. Her evaluations were comprehensive, so much more thorough than Imogen would have ever thought to do. Imogen tried her best not to drift away into her daydreams, but she did slip for a moment as she thought that Clary would be a good professor and imagined her in Professor Mik's place.

"Aw, thanks," Imogen said through a mouthful of lemon cakes, after listening to Clary's assessment of her. The critiques she made were ones she had heard before, repeatedly, but she sincerely took them under consideration. "I promise I'll try! Sometimes, it's just hard to slow down, y'know?"

After inhaling another mouthful of pastries, Imogen stood up and gestured to herself. "Okay, me next!" There was a brief pause as she tried to collect her thoughts, and she looked almost silly glaring up at the ceiling as she recalled each Deer's demonstration.

"Clary, I love watching your magic! It's so sparkly and it makes me feel all warm inside. I also think it's wonderful how you can save people in a battlefield instead of just hurting the enemies. Um," Imogen paused, realizing she was more gushing than evaluating. She wasn't knowledgeable enough about magic to pinpoint any flaws in her spellwork, but she supposed she could bring up things she noticed before. "You take really good care of others, but you need to think of yourself too. In Luin, you rushed in to save Professor Euphie and that was really brave and you saved her life! But you could have also gotten hurt, and if that happened, a lot of people would have missed out on your amazing healing. When something like that happens, you can trust us more to have your back!"

She turned to Jory next and grinned. "You're like the main character in the stories I read, Jory! Always swooping in at the right time to save the day. You're like bam, arrow in the eye! bam, arrow in the chest!"—here, she mimicked nocking an arrow and loosing it for effect—“You seem to always know what to do… oh, except when you're mad or annoyed! I noticed that before. Like with Princey! At one point, I thought you were going to hit him instead of the enemy. Maybe don't do that in the future?" Imogen wasn't entirely sure what her point was; maybe something along the lines of being more patient with your allies? She knew she would have the hardest time trying to critique him when she was always in awe of the things he did.

For Iz's turn, Imogen gave her a hug before stepping back. "Iz, you're the best! I learned a lot from you in that short time we practiced. Like how I can flip someone twice my size if I use their weight against them—I definitely want to try that out." She spotted Aubie across the room and wondered if he'd let her try on him. He was probably a whole foot taller than her; he'd be great practice. "I keep telling you this, but you need to realize just how awesome you are. Look, I watched you fight once and now I want to be just like you. I know you worry a lot and you overthink things. Maybe we can work on that together? Clary says I don't think enough, so maybe we can find a way to even it out." Imogen laughed. It was almost like Iz had an anti-Dogberry, one who warned her about everything, even if it wasn't something dangerous or concerning. "But honestly, I think it'll help if you tell that mini-Iz on your shoulder that's worrying about everything to shush every now and again. I can teach you that, I have a lot of practice."

The bell signaling the end of training took its sweet time, but Jorah was grateful to finally hear it; dogged professors and poor company aside, there were only so many ways to shoot a stationary target before the exercise got pointless. By the end of it, he was looking up wistfully at birds flying overhead, wondering how much trouble he’d get into if he shot one of them down instead of the targets.

The news that their next task was debriefing and not breaking for lunch was disheartening, but the blow was softened by the spread of food laid out before them as they found their seats. After having to skip breakfast just to drag himself out of bed in time for training, Jorah was sure his classmates could hear his stomach growl. He wasted no time digging in, assembling a small pile of danishes as well as a few things he didn’t recognize, including what looked like a knot of bread dough with salt and cheese on top that he made a mental note to ask about later. He’d have thrown his feet up on the table if they weren’t seated on benches - hm, maybe that was on purpose.

There were a few blissful minutes of silence at the Golden Deer table before the conversation began, punctuated by the soft crunching of crispy pastries and the rapidly escalating drama at the Blue Lion table. Jorah would have been happy to listen and enjoy - man, sounded like Auberon was a little less proper than he let on when one of his housemates disappointed him - but Clarissa soon put an end to that. She introduced their meeting like a member of the Roundtable listing the issues on the docket for the day, and Jorah had to smirk; her father would have been proud to hear her talk like that, even if it made her sound about twenty years older than she was.

His smirk didn’t stay long, though. It did morph into a warm smile as Clarissa regaled the adventures of their youth, then a confident grin as she - perhaps unwisely - stroked his ego further by lauding his combat prowess. But it faded into a contemplative frown as she got to what must have been the point of her bit: his shortcomings. Jorah wasn’t a man who couldn’t take criticism, not by a long shot - hells, he was usually the one doling it out to himself, often to the laughter of tavern folk and wenches. But that was precisely the problem. He didn’t disagree with a single point Clarissa made; in fact, he’d suggest she skipped over a few important shortcomings that would similarly affect his ability to lead and command to any effect in the real world. He knew his flaws better than anyone, he’d be the first to admit it.

The problem was that his father didn’t seem to know them. Sure, the man could never be faulted for being too kind, that was certain; after all, Jorah could scarcely call his father’s smile to mind, but he could probably draw his scowl from memory. But no matter how the Duke lectured him on his wrongdoings, the man never seemed to see the point. Jorah wasn’t a leader. He never would be. Clarissa hit every nail on the head: the research, the meetings, negotiation, diplomacy, it was all as unnatural and foreign to him as flight to a fish. But Duke Riegan couldn’t accept that. That was the whole reason he was even here. His father had it in his mind that all of his son’s shortcomings, everything holding him back from being an excellent Duke and leader someday, were just the result of laziness and childishness. As if Jorah had a strong leader hidden away inside him that he hid from his father out of spite.

Jorah hid his scowl with another bite of his bread twist, seething as he chewed. The animus at the next table was probably no help, but it was hard not to feel resentful. Clarissa knew perfectly well why none of the things she mentioned meshed with him. She knew - or at least, she should have known - that leadership wasn’t something he was capable of. His father should have known too, but Jorah had long given up on getting through to him. Sure, adventure called and the responsibility sounded much too heavy for his preference, but it wasn’t just his flights of fancy that drew him away. Goddess above, he almost died in Luin because he froze when he should have been aware. He was lucky he didn’t get anyone else killed. He had no mind or patience for strategy, no cunning for negotiation, no brain for matters of economy or finance, nothing. Not to mention that no matter what his father fantasized, his Crest was more curse than blessing - the very same gift that could have made him a skilled negotiator was probably going to get him killed the next time he wasn’t so lucky. But Duke Riegan would push him into those situations again and again, vainly hoping they’d make a responsible nobleman out of him, heedless of the potential cost. He had a perfectly good, smart daughter to train up instead, but no, he couldn’t just accept that Delia was better suited for the Duke’s chair than Jorah was. She had all the qualities he lacked, more like Clarissa than him, but their father’s damned pride wouldn’t let him see that.

Jorah was largely deaf to most of what was said after that, staring daggers at his danishes until Imogen mentioned his name. Her antics lightened the mood, at least, and her energy pulled at him like a puppy eager to play, and very difficult to ignore. He had to chuckle - if a little coldly - at her mention of the Prince. So the others noticed that, eh? Good, he hoped the Prince noticed it too. Jorah offered Imogen an innocent shrug; he’d accept her advice, but go against it anyway. If the Prince had the nerve to put Clarissa or any of his housemates in danger again, he planned to finish what he wanted to start in Luin and take Princey out of the fight himself.

Imogen finished up, and it took a second for Jorah to realize that the expectant gazes around the table probably meant that he was up next. Hm. He suddenly realized that he had no idea what any of them did all day. Welp…

“Ah, right,” he said quickly, buying a little time by clearing his throat and sitting up in his seat. “Uh… I’ll… second what Imogen said,'' he suggested, finding a thread at last. He looked at Clarissa. “She had a point; your healing is valuable, but - yes I know it’s me saying this and that’s funny but - don’t go off being reckless. See, if you’re reckless, then I can’t be reckless, and that just isn’t going to fly.” He gave Clarissa a wink, although he did decide to be serious for one second. “I’d also say make sure to worry about your housemates first. If someone from another house wants to go and get themselves killed, don’t put yourself in danger to stop them.”

Glancing around the table, his eyes landed back on Imogen. “Imogen, uh… your… enthusiasm is great, but you don’t need to decapitate everyone to take them out. You can hurt more people with one punch each than fourteen on the same dead guy, right?” Goddess in heaven this was weird. See? This was why he didn’t want to do this. Jorah vainly hoped someone would see this disaster and transfer leadership of the Golden Deer over to Clarissa, but something told him the donation his father made to make this happen wouldn’t go down that easily.

Finally, he tried his hand at Isolde. “Isolde, I’d go with the other two here. You’re brave enough to volunteer to rush into battle, and even fight while you’re there, but a stiff wind won’t take down everything. Your technique is good but if you’re not fighting with some gumption, you’re gonna die.”

He gave a less-than-proud smile to the group and quickly returned to his food, hoping they could all put that embarrassing display behind them. Maybe word of it would reach his father and he’d realize this was a lost cause, who knew - Jorah was just eager to get out of this awful “leader” skin suit and get back to doing something he was actually good at.

---

Michail’s suggestion was a sound one. He was a fair duelist, but he needed less flourish and more finish, even in practice rounds. Kayden made sure to keep that in mind as he strode into his guild’s classroom, taking his regular seat since it was in the center of most of the other Eagle’s seats anyway. It would be a poor show to deliberate in their own classroom, and he found he was quite interested in speaking with the other students. As the servants came, Kayden took a mug from one of the tray’s as one of them sauntered by. He crossed his legs and leaned back, the prince just beginning to speak before he took his taste of the drink, until his mind caught up with him. Were all of the Black Eagles present? Something felt off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Rudolf sauntered in and collapsed into a seat next to Kayden. Four hours. Four. Whole. Hours. Casting that same spell over and over and over again. His one reprieve was that the spring heat of Gronder hadn't quite reached the peaks of the Oghma Mountains yet. Well, the icicles that kept popping up around him probably helped too, but the threat of being skewered might've induced more sweat than it prevented.

The next part of the class didn’t sound any more enjoyable. Sure, he got to sit down, but evaluating the future rulers of his nation would’ve been a daunting task even if he knew anything about them. He hadn’t watched either of their performances, and they probably never realized he even attended training. Maybe they’d forget he was there if he kept his head down well enough.

Unfortunately, he was also hungry, and the food that had been served only looked more appetizing on an empty stomach. Rudolf reached in for a sandwich as unassumingly as he could, only for his chair to creak quite noticeably. The boy’s face sunk into a flat glare, though not aimed at anything in particular, and he wordlessly turned his attention to his lunch in hopes no one would put him on the spot immediately.

“Oh, right. Sorry, Rudolph, I forgot about you.” Kayden remarked curiously, brow furrowing. “That seems to happen a lot…”

The Prince hailed over another servant with a sandwich, thanking them and taking one eagerly. Getting up early hadn’t bothered him too much, but hurrying through whatever breakfast there had been wasn’t optimal to him. He tried to not be irritable, however. Even if he thought their time would be better spent discussing their rival guild’s talents rather than their own. With a shrug, Kayden let it go. This would like as not have it’s merits as well.

“Rudolph, I’ve only spoken to you very little, but let’s start with you. You seem very much like the watch and observe sort. Start us off, if you would. Tell me what you think of my performance, and then I’ll tell you what I thought of yours, yeah?” Thankfully, he had already had Rudolph on his radar earlier this morning. Kayden was nothing if not sharp, even if he lost himself in his own ego sometimes. He had made sure to keep watch, so what better time to talk?

Rudolf winced as he was addressed, then perked up a bit to meet Kayden’s glance. He wanted to say he was used to being forgotten, but that would likely be interpreted as fishing for pity rather than a matter-of-fact statement. They really needed to have a conversation about his Crest when there wasn’t a Crestology expert looming overhead, waiting to nitpick all the half-truths weaved in with his explanation.

He had larger concerns anyway. What did he think of their performance? Nothing, really. At least not to the extent that he had paid attention, anyway. Those girls said Kayden was a show-off to the point of idiocy, but he couldn’t exactly say that outright to his future liege. Besides, he did better than Rudolf could. Veronica was a topic he didn’t want to broach with a ten-foot spear, but even with her usual… Veronica-ness, she was miles ahead of that one kid that the tall blond kept critiquing - err, was still critiquing, judging by the glares he could see being shot across the Blue Lions’ table.

“You were both… fine,” Rudolf mumbled anticlimactically, “Kinda showy, I guess. N-not that that’s inherently a bad thing. Um.” His voice trailed off and his eyes sunk back down to his lap.

Veronica had taken her seat without a word, occupying herself with a drink in an effort to avoid talking. She was still greatly heated from interacting with the stupid Deer from Deidru, and while she assumed she would eventually calm down, her mind had become clouded with the thought of wringing that moron’s neck. First, she’s nearly assassinated by the Lion, now this! Honestly, the academy experience was hurriedly turning into one of the more stressful times of her life, and not for the reasons she thought it would be.

She tuned into the conversation as Rudolf spoke, the only thing stopping her from scoffing being that she was emptying her glass. Placing it down, she leveled Rudolf with a disapproving look. “We’re supposed to be giving each other constructive feedback. Don’t hold back on account of the difference in rank,” She stated. “What have you to say about our techniques? Our stances?”

“Uh. Nothing?” Rudolf offered awkwardly, “They looked fine to me. You hit the target, so…” Was there more to archery than that? “And His Highness looked… superficially impressive. I mean, it could’ve been actually impressive too! Err- I’m really not good at this.” The boy quickly stuffed his sandwich back in his mouth to avoid digging his hole any deeper.

Useless. While she didn’t say the word out loud, her stare made it obvious. After a few seconds of staring, she simply let out a sigh. He wasn’t going to produce anything productive. Fine. “Superficially impressive is best left for ceremonies and demonstrations, not in battle,” She ended up taking one thing she agreed with and adding to it before giving Rudolf her attention once again. “I believe your magic lacks intent. You cast it simply because that was what you were told to do, there wasn’t any effort put into it.”

Rudolf offered no defense, and simply kept his attention on his food. She was right. Hypocritical and lacking any amount of introspective ability, but right. He guessed she really had been paying attention, then. The feeling wasn’t as pleasant as he would’ve hoped, but if Veronica had noticed, Professor Malathice definitely would. With luck, he was one horrible battlefield mistake away from being sent home in shame.

Kayden kept his lip buttoned for the moment, trying to give Rudolph some room to speak, which he supposed only let Veronica swoop in. Honestly, he didn’t know if he could have done much better, seeing as how Rudolph somehow managed to consistently escape his notice and he spent most of his time trying to avoid Veronica, even in the arena training. But he had managed to catch a few things, like his fiance’s manner. “She’s right Rudolph, taking the initiative is important. You’re a Black Eagle, you can do impressive things if you try.” He encouraged, and decided to turn to Veronica to continue. “And you need to stay calm and keep your ego out of the training area.”

Kayden might be showy, but he wasn’t actively antagonistic. “Even if they’re in other guilds, these are fellow students. Showing up Jorah or acting like you’re better than everyone else isn’t beneficial to anyone except your ego. I know some people here think I’m an asshole, but I’m trying to make sure that’s a mistake rather than the truth. You should too… As for your shooting, good job.” The last remark was lightly said, as if an afterthought. “I didn’t do as well I wanted. I don’t remember the form I was taught at court, but that’s what training is about, yeah?”

The Empire will likely quake when they marry, he thought sardonically.

The air got a lot colder around the table as Veronica looked directly at Kayden. Her gaze was empty yet sharp. A small smile formed on her lips as she took a fork, deciding to take a piece of fruit.

“I am better than everyone else here,” She stated outright. “Would you rather I hold myself back? Or should I lower myself so my classmates don’t feel bad about themselves?”

Kayden took a poise that would have suited an Emperor, staring at her back with all the surety he had. “I would ask you to be diplomatic, as an Empress would be.” He declared flatly. “Lienna I can understand. But unless someone gives you real reason to be abrasive, try to see it as... practice for when we’re married and you’re dealing with someone at court.”

“If I ever have to deal with that monkey in court, then I’ll make sure I am not around,” Veronica muttered, crossing her arms.

Kayden silently wondered if he could invite Lienna to court if the matrimony went through without a hitch. “Fair enough. And good job, both of you. All of you,” he said to his team. “If the Blue Lions meeting is any indication, we’re a step above the others so let’s keep at it.”

Rudolf opened his mouth to protest, but as Lienna stormed out of the room, whatever point he was about to make died in his throat. Okay, they were doing well comparatively. No thanks to him, of course, but they were doing well. The blond Lion’s mention of Crests left a sour taste in his mouth, which led him to shoot an apologetic glance in Kayden’s direction even if the prince probably had no clue why. As much as he hated to admit it, his House Leader being unable to contact him unless Rudolf himself initiated it was unproductive and detrimental.

“Um. Your Highness? We need to talk later. Privately,” Rudolf muttered, then frowned. That sounded weird. Or conspiratorial. Oh Goddess, what if Veronica thought he was plotting something against her?

Kayden raised an eyebrow curiously, and gave a nod. “Of course,” he said. He wouldn’t be much of a leader if he didn’t meet with his team members whenever they wished to discuss something. Subtly he glanced Veronica’s way to gauge her reaction, but kept his real focus on Rudolph. Whatever it was, he was certain she would be interested, unless she felt it beneath her to notice. “Let’s meet once the professors are done with us, wherever you feel is best.”

Veronica was all too aware of the noise happening at the Blue Lions’ table, mouth slightly ajar in a gleeful grin as she watched Lienna leave. No, she stormed out! Whatever happened, she greatly approved of it, her mood improving immensely. She wasn’t able to catch exactly what happened, but she’d be sending the finest drink to the redhead’s room at the first opportunity. She didn’t normally approve of such a ruckus, but if it meant an inconvenience to that bitch, so be it.

She turned back to the conversation to catch Kayden staring at her, at which point she raised a cup to her lips to buy herself a minute. “...yes, of course,” She said simply, clearly not having heard what the two were talking about and choosing to feign ignorance.

---

Everything hurt.

Rudolf didn't dare voice the sentiment for fear of a reprisal of the professors' 'just dodge it next time' nonsense, but it stood. Everything hurt. His hands were scraped from falling and countless little welts dotted his skin under his uniform where a wooden weapon had forced him to his knees - or worse. Thankfully he'd figured out pretty quickly how to reduce Professor Malathice's attacks enough that they left a mere tingly numbness rather than outright injury. The boy was slumped against one of the pillars encloistering the arena, bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat in complete disarray and mouth gasping futilely as he waged a war of attrition against the thin mountain air and the blackness that crept in on the edges of his vision. As it stood, the young Lord Bergliez looked poised to suffer the first military defeat of his career. Maybe he'd get lucky and crack his skull open when he inevitably fainted, then they could finally send him home.

Unfortunately, the Goddess was rarely so kind, and Rudolf remained conscious and mostly-upright to wallow in his torment. He grew briefly hopeful when the nurse spoke up, only be recommended a sauna. He didn't need to be naked in front of his classmates, he needed a doctor! Still, a hot bath did sound nice. Maybe he could slip in after everyone was done. No, wait, he promised to meet with Kayden later. Then... maybe he could slip in without anyone noticing. As long as he kept quiet and didn't wince too hard when he moved a sore area, nobody would even notice the bony little pipsqueak hovering in the corner. Unless they did notice him for once and accused him of being a pervert that was sneaking around to peep on people. It was simply too risky. He'd just have to go back to his room and wait until he caught his breath enough to manage a healing spell for himself.

But that bath sounded so inviting. Against his better judgement, Rudolf lingered behind as the rest of the class made their way up to the sauna, just long enough to quiet his breathing to the point where it wouldn't give his presence away. The pallid teen then peeled himself off the wall and trudged up the stairs as he willed his exhausted legs not to give out. Rudolf nervously hovered in the doorway of the changing room, mentally plotting out how to minimize his interaction with servants - any of them could've been a mole assigned to watch him, and he really didn't want to be seen without clothes on. Once he figured his Crest was in full effect and no lingering eyes came to rest on him, he shuffled inside and began slowly removing the sweat-drenched layers of fabric from his body as inconspicuously as he could. He remained tense as he worked, ever fearful that an unexpected finger would jab into his ribs or one of the new tender splotches that now adorned his skin, already darkening into fresh bruises. Fortunately, his classmates were either less perceptive or more polite than his siblings, and Rudolf quickly swiped a towel to cover his princely parts and shiftly escaped into the bathing area unharassed.

The public bathing area. Where he was still very much at risk of being spotted. He clung to the wall for cover as he inched toward the corner of the pool that seemed like it would receive the least traffic, then slowly let himself down into the water, careful not to disturb the surface too much and draw anyone's attention. Once submerged, any pretense of deliberate movement or furtive grace evaporated as Rudolf practically melted into the water's embrace. He curled up to hide as much of his exposed body as he could and sunk down so that that water line rested just below his nose like some kind of insecure alligator. Crimson eyes darted nervously around the room, though each time darting back down to Rudolf's knees in embarrassment when he caught a direct glimpse of someone else's naked form.

Okay, he was in. Now how was he supposed to get out?

---

---

Well that certainly hurt.

Kayden had recieved a few bruises on the training yard during his sword drills, but his master-at-arms had always done his best not to wound Kayden deliberately. This was another matter. It felt like he had been thrown back into Luin, five against one just like last time. Well, he supposed he couldn't grow without a bit of a tough lesson. The thought didn't help him feel better, but it kept him moving as he walked out of the training yard and up the stairway into the sauna. Immediately he felt the steam in the air when he crested the stairs, and it helped ease him just a tad. His sinuses began to clear a bit, and he felt like he was back at the Imperial Palace Sauna at home. This one might not be as clean or well run, perhaps. But it was very nice to know it was here.

In the changing room, he stripped off his dueling clothes, already stained from the ground. He sighed and let it drop off of him, setting them on a bench before collecting a towel. He thought the day had gone well for the Eagles so far, at least considering how poorly it could have gone. Everyone seemed...relatively stable. A bit off, but he thought the entire team took their criticisms well, and did good in the training yard. Even Rudolph, though it looked like he still got pretty banged up. Professor Tomai had been the worst in Kayden's opinion. He wasn't used to magical attacks, to say the least.

Stepping out of the stall, he made his way to the public bath. A private bath appealed to him, but he wanted to be sociable and get to know his fellow students. Walking in, he just noticed Rudolph sliding into the water. Had there been a group he likely would not have spotted him, but as it were he was alone for now. He wondered just how many might join them in a bit.

"Well met, Rudolph." Kayden bade him with a grin, heading over to step into the bath around 4 feet away from his guild-mate, the hot water immediately sending a cascade of relaxation over his limbs. He was glad the water was slightly murky with scents and likely some salts to help keep the water warm, made things less awkward. Kayden splashed a bit of water on his face and then fully submerged himself for a split second to wet his hair, before resting his arms behind him on the ledge. "You did well today. Veronica too, though let's keep that a secret as much as she can. With her fucking ego it's not good to add to that pile of arrogance."

He shook his head, pondering the day until he realized his friend was...mostly submerged like some crocodilian. He must have been uncomfortable. Kayden had never been insecure like that, and a part of him realized it was due to his own ego. Well...sometimes that sort of thing served a purpose.

Saint’s taint, when did it get so hard to breathe?!

Seriously, the prospect of dodging attacks didn’t seem that daunting when he first heard it. Sure, Jorah wasn’t known for his monastic dedication to combat training or anything, but his number of physically demanding hobbies kept him in more than good enough shape for a few flips and dodges, and maybe even a bit of style along the way. Easy peasy—or so he thought.

But unlike his painfully boring morning of plinking at stationary targets and gossiping like a handmaiden with the lady to his left, Jorah knew something was off after the first few dodges. In what felt like no time at all, he was panting; by the time he’d usually expect to start getting tired of flipping and rolling, he was desperately gasping for air. What was that about? It would have been embarrassing were many of the other students not stuck in the same shitty boat, but it still didn’t make any sense to him. He’d been climbing trees and balconies since he was a kid, jumping piers and dancing with sailors almost as long, and hells, he’d even volunteered the occasional few hours of labour loading ships at the docks—albeit usually having to withdraw before he got the chance to stow away on one of them. Point being, he was a quick, endurant young man—so why did dodging a few hits feel like cartwheeling up a mountain? He heard one student grumble about “mountain air” in passing, but he didn’t know what that had to do with anything; if anything, he would have thought that an escape from the hot, humid air of Derdriu would have made breathing a little easier. But it must have had something to do with it, because there was no way in the seven hells he was that out of shape after only two weeks.

And if he was, he blamed that week-long carriage ride getting here.

Whatever the reason, by the end of the onslaught Jorah was sore, beat, and seriously wondering why on earth an archer needed to know how to avoid a hit from a lance. Seriously, if enemy soldiers ever got close enough to catch him with a jab, didn’t his army have bigger problems? Seemed like it might be a better use of time to rehearse his shameful begging for his life, but apparently there was no helping it.

Any other grumblings floating around in his head were put to rest as soon as Kaira recommended a visit to the sauna, which Jorah was both thrilled to learn existed and disappointed to find out they weren’t co-ed. He’d have to figure out a way to get around that sometime—a sneaky midnight visit with Kaira, perhaps, if she was feeling particularly rebellious and knew the schedule for the nighttime guards—but at the moment, even a perfectly innocent soak sounded like manna from heaven for his burning lungs and aching bones.

It wasn’t until he was peeling off his sweat-and-sand covered uniform in the changing room that Jorah realized just how much dust he’d picked up in the arena, and an exploratory finger-comb revealed a fair amount of sand stuck in his hair as well. Sighing, he took a moment to unwind his many braids, and let his long, straw-coloured hair fall down his back as he wiped his face clean of its usual paint, which was already starting to run.

Wrapping a towel around his waist was almost an afterthought, and it was quickly discarded when Jorah sank gratefully into the bath, dunking under the water to loosen some of the sand in his hair before settling comfortably on the bench. The steaming water was almost too hot for him, burning his face and pricking at his skin, but he savoured the feeling, letting the heat seep into his muscles and cook out the pain and stiffness in his joints. He didn’t bother noticing his company until he was well and truly settled, and only even opened his eyes when he was quite comfortable leaning his neck on the edge of the tub. Looked like he didn’t miss much; it was just Prince Suicide and some other student in the bath house so far. He briefly wondered whether Auberon make an appearance, or if a communal soak was too risqué for a proper young nobleman of Faerghus. Did Faerghus even have bath houses? Hot springs, maybe? Surely they had some way to escape the cold; otherwise they'd probably all just kill themselves.

In the meantime, Jorah wasn’t super enthusiastic about striking up a conversation with Kayden—especially since every damn time he looked at the Prince he could only see the moment he put Clarissa’s life in danger just to show off, something so stupid even he himself had never done it—but the other boy didn’t seem too keen on talking (unless his Crest allowed him to breathe underwater) and judging by the vague yet insistent vibe of nagging embarrassment in the room, letting silence hang was probably just going to make everything more awkward for everybody. It actually took a second for Jorah to realize that, unless Kayden was an exceptional actor (which he wasn’t), or the mostly-submerged boy was entirely emotionless (which Jorah doubted), that niggling insecurity was coming from the red-eyed boy himself. He supposed it matched the weird underwater seating, but it still earned the boy a strange look nonetheless; his tension almost felt like it was coming from another room, and it was weirdly difficult to pinpoint, as if he was throwing his voice.

Jorah would have to get a handle on this vibe weirdness soon enough. Something kind of similar happened with Kaira, too; maybe the whole monastery had some kind of weird emotion obfuscation spell on it or something.

Anyway, it ended up being Kayden who broke the silence, indirectly reminding Jorah that the nervous kid was the new Eagle student he kept forgetting and also bringing up a subject that was too juicy to ignore, whatever his distaste for the Prince.

“Oh, yeah, quite a prize you got there,” Jorah commented tastelessly, unable to resist a jab. “Pretty to look at, for sure, but she’d do a lot better with her mouth shut, don’t you think?” He chuckled quietly, trying to wind his wet hair into some semblance of a bun. “Are Adrestian women all that bitchy, or is it just the highborn ones?”

---

Interacting with: @Hero

Oh dear Goddess, was this what was in store for them every time they visited the arena? Clarissa felt what little enthusiasm she had left ebbing away at the thought. She’d found herself gulping down air early in the exercise, the burning in her lungs arguably as awful as the Professors’ sadistic beatings. She’d been confident at the beginning; after all, she sparred with her father regularly, she was no slouch of an equestrian, and no one could claim she idled around long enough for the occasional sweet to find any serious purchase on her and here she was, leaning against the arena wall, struggling for breath as if she’d never lifted a finger in her life. She’d read about the effects of mountain air, how it became more difficult to breath the higher up you climbed, but dear Goddess, she’d figured they’d spent enough time to have acclimated! Between the ever present chill and the burning in her lungs, Clarissa believed that one of Jorah’s crude expletives could best capture the essence of her feelings at the moment.

Fuck!

She could feel her blood pumping where Professor Michail landed blow after blow after blow without concern or care. The man moved like lightning and Clarissa wasn’t sure she actually learned anything. How could you learn how to avoid something you couldn’t even see coming? At least Professor Malathice had the decency to warn them and guide them through the process and she was ever so grateful that her House’s leader had mercy. Clarissa may have still struggled to anticipate Professor Euphemia’s blows but at least she couldn’t still feel the sting of them. Who in the world believed Michail made a reasonable Professor? Between his indolent attitude and lack of restraint, the man was a brute through and through.

Clarissa all but sobbed in relief at Professor Simeon’s suggestion. A hot bath would soothe the aches and help ease the mountain chill in her bones that she could never seem to chase away. She’d always known she’d disliked the cold but learning that it returned the sentiment was an unwelcome discovery. She trudged across the arena, unconcerned with anything other than putting one foot in front of the other without the exhaustion pulling her face first to the ground, and was more than happy to bid the arena grounds goodbye as she passed through the gates.

Once she found her way to the sauna, she practically threw herself into a shower, intent on cleaning herself quickly as possible so she could soak in the warm water for longer. The first time she’d come to the bathing area, she’d been hesitant. Of course she needed to bathe but it felt particularly indecent to be as open as this space suggested. She’d never been interested in exploring public bathing like this offered and she’d never come across anywhere that demanded she did. As the only option however, it wasn’t like she could turn it down. The first week had been awkward and even now, she still felt the twinge of indignation but frankly, she needed some form of relief and the open bath was so inviting.

As soon as she found herself clean, Clarissa passed into the next room and took a deep breath. The scent of eucalyptus in the warm air already had the tenseness in her muscles loosening and she barely paid any attention at all to the others in the room as she sunk into the bath. The relaxing drag of moving water immediately started soothing away the aches and she let out an appreciative sigh, eyes closed as she leaned her head back against the side. She soaked for a few quiet minutes, listening to the sound of the waterfalls in the background, before fully submerging herself. She came up shortly after, massaging she fingers through her hair as she took a moment to look around.

Three others shared the bath. Two girls she vaguely recognized vaguely from around the grounds and one she knew far better: Veronica Berenike von Gerth, future princess consort of Adrestia. Despite her early decision to do so, Clarissa had yet to find an opportunity to introduce herself to the Prince’s bride-to-be. And while this was frankly a subpar opportunity, it was an opportunity nonetheless! She just had to grab the wyvern by the horns and deal with the unusual circumstances. How in the world was she ever going to explain to her family that her first one-on-one meeting with the future princess consort was in a public bath?

"Goddess above, today proved more challenging than educational, didn't it? I wished I could say equally but considering Professor Michail's lack of instruction, I'm not certain I can." Clarissa laughed, offering Veronica an easy smile. "We haven't been formally introduced. Clarissa von Edmund, heiress to the Margravate of Edmund. I'd offer you a curtsy but I believe my body may seek vengeance if I demand much more movement from it."

Lienna didn’t pay much attention to where she went after she stormed out. She didn’t want to hole up in her dorm, where she felt less and less truly alone by the day, and neither did she have the patience for the cathedral, even though it might have been the only place on campus she had any hope of being left alone. She just wanted away, turning this way and that, through courtyards and alleys, until she was in a part of the monastery she no longer recognized, and thoroughly turned around. No matter; let whatever snake her fiancé hired weave his way through the buildings too. He probably needed some exercise anyway.

Any hope that the walk might calm her down was dashed as every step remained just as hateful as the last, Derec’s stupid words echoing in her head over and over again. Our problem is that we’ve only ever had to think of ourselves. Where on earth did he get the idea that they were even remotely the same? And where did he get off calling her selfish?! Selfish! Years of freezing, working her fingers to the bone, sleeping in shifts to keep the ghost of her grandmother from haunting the rest of Hima, years of villagers conveniently looking the other way, years of missing meals so Oma could eat, only to have her throw the food on the fire to kill an imaginary demon or some other of a million stupid imaginary Saints-damned things—but oh, she was selfish. She had to think of herself, obviously – no one else did – but to dare say that was her only concern until the highborn saviours of the Rose Unit came down with flights of angels to lift her out of her torment, to give her someone to rely on – give her a break! If anything, hadn’t she earned a little selfishness by now? Hadn’t she paid her dues? She did her duty, and then some; she owed absolutely nothing to anybody. She, Lienna Orhneaht, she alone dragged herself out of Hima, she crafted a new life for herself, no one else. No one ever bothered to help her before, and she didn’t need some naive idealistic “fellow peasant” to tell her she needed anybody now.

But no matter how many times she repeated it, no matter how many times she reminded herself that she’d earned this long-awaited chance to put herself first, Lienna didn’t feel any better. In the moments when the anger ebbed away, and all those quiet moments when she was left alone to her thoughts, all she could think of was the painful set of her Oma’s dying expression; her hands, thin and delicate as icicles, clutching the blanket with all her frail might; how her grandmother’s final, ragged breath was the sound of her own salvation. It was twisted and wrong, she knew it; deep down she knew it. But she still pushed it away, saying there was no crime in moving on, even if she never really believed it.

But there was no going back.


The grounds were virtually empty at this time, as most people had either gathered in the cafeteria for food or were visiting Lady Arianthe at the Cathedral. There were a few people simply hanging around and the occasional guard on their patrol, but almost everyone couldn’t help but notice the fuming Lienna. None dared approach her, simply casting curious glances before returning to their business.

The only exception to this was one pegasus trotting his way through the grounds with his rider holding his reins. The blue haired woman openly stared at Lienna, albeit she wasn’t nearly as cowardly as the rest. Smiling to herself, she jumped onto the pegasus, kicking its sides with her heels and leaning back as said winged beast took to the sky. She flew in a few circles, observing her, though eventually she would land right behind her, letting out a whistle to catch her attention.

“The Rose Unit is supposed to have class at the training grounds,” Chionne stated, her statement contrasting her expression of amusement. “Is there any particular reason you aren’t there, young lady?”

Lienna jumped at the whistle, realizing too late that her cheeks were damp with tears. She didn’t turn toward the voice behind her, instead hastily wiping her face before straightening up. She didn’t recognize the voice; whoever was talking to her wasn’t one of her professors, which made her care a lot less about a bit of chastisement. How did she even know who she was or where she was supposed to be, anyway?

Whatever; it didn’t matter. Lienna didn’t give the stranger the time of day, simply folding her hands and resuming her walk as if she didn’t hear her.

Clucking her tongue in mock disappointment, Chionne brought the pegasus forward to properly block Lienna’s path. Looking the girl up and down, her gaze lingered on her head for a moment before she met her eyes. “You’ll end up receiving disciplinary action if you choose to avoid your classes,” She informed her, though her voice was more informative than anything else. “Why aren’t you at the arena?”

Lienna jumped when a white beast materialized in front of her, stopping in her tracks and stumbling back a few steps from the flurry of fur and feathers. The thing was a horse with wings, and it seemed just as startled as she was, making noises and pulling at its reins at the sight of the white-haired girl before it.

It took a second of her heart thundering in her ears for Lienna to remember that this was probably a pegasus; she vaguely remembered folk tales about the pegasus knights of the Holy Army, but of course she’d never seen one of the beasts in person. Apparently they were just as big and flighty as normal horses, if not more so; she took a few extra steps away from the monstrous thing as it grew ever more uneasy, wary that it might trample her if it decided to bolt.

Whatever thin thread of patience she had for being badgered (and not to mention, startled) quickly snapped, and she glared sharply at the woman. “Do you even know my name?” she spat, turning on her heel to walk in the other direction. The nerve of this woman; Lienna didn’t care if she was a teacher or a guard or what, how did she even know she was ordering around the right person? She’d never seen this flying menace in her life.

Chionne had to prioritize calming down the poor pegasus first and foremost—for whatever reason, it didn’t like this girl at all. She ended up having to get off, stroking its mane and shushing it. While it wasn’t nearly as fidgety as before, it was still highly wary of Lienna, going so far as to take several steps away. Letting out a sigh, she figured she could leave it be for the moment, deciding one problem was a little more important than the other.

It took a few long strides, but once again, she placed herself in front of the girl. “I don’t think you carry enough clout to pull that line,” Chionne couldn’t help but point out. “Even if you’re the Queen herself, when you’re here at Garreg Mach, everyone’s treated the same. It’s the entire point of the Church—’we’re all equal under Her love’ or whatever they spew at the Cathedral every Sunday.”

Deciding to try another approach, Chionne placed her hands on her hips. “You don’t look too happy, so I’m going to assume something happened. Was it Michail?” She asked. “He’s an idiot, but he usually means well. Though I can’t say I agree with his teaching methods. The whole ‘throw them into the lake to teach them how to swim’ thing sometimes backfires.”

Lienna rolled her eyes. Was everyone around here so far up the nobles’ asses that they couldn’t imagine anything outside of a highborn pissing contest? “If you know my name, then use it; I’m not your servant,” she spat condescendingly, resenting having to explain such a simple childhood concept to someone who dripped in smug self-assuredness, “and if you don’t know my name, then this is definitely none of your Saints-damned business. Goodbye.”

She turned once again and tried to leave, much less than disinterested in the woman’s attempt at “relating” to her.

“Well, that’s what I get for trying to be amicable,” Chionne quietly chastised herself. Letting out a sigh, she returned to her steed, giving it a soothing pat. “What has you so bothered all of a sudden?” She asked him, narrowing her eyes.

The pegasus remained steady. She was a little surprised, though she supposed he wouldn’t be easy until he was far away from the student. Before she would leave, however, she figured she may as well offer a token warning. “I don’t recommend walking around alone, there's been something strange happening. People feel like they’re being watched and then suddenly go missing. We’re looking into it, but if you care about your own well being, you should head back to class or at least stay in your room.”

While resolute to end their conversation there, that last remark stopped Lienna in her tracks. “What?” she gasped, not much louder than a whisper. Fear, stronger than it had any right to be, seized her heart; every moment she felt eyes on her since arriving smashed back to the forefront of her mind, and although she insisted to herself that it was only paranoia from the knowledge of her fiancé’s chaperone, the icy hand around her heart never loosened its grip.

She slowly turned back to the pegasus woman, although she kept her distance, wary of the pegasus and the ominous warning both. “That’s impossible,” she insisted, more to herself than anyone. Her brow furrowed with unease, and her fingers wound themselves tightly in the hem of her sash, unnoticed by Lienna. “How could that happen?”

Chionne stopped stroking the pegasus’ mane and turned to her, frowning at the sudden change. “Has word not gotten out yet?” She wondered out loud, though she figured it was too late to take back. “Granted, no one from the academy has gone missing yet, but it’s been happening in town, so it’s not a stretch to think that people here could be in danger.”

Lienna searched a pillar nearby for answers, and coming up with none, she crossed her arms resolutely, shaking her head. “No, Garreg Mach must be better protected than that,” she insisted, although she didn't feel too sure in her words. That one lunatic had made it all the way into the middle of the monastery before being caught, hadn't he? But surely they'd increased security since then – the entire Knights of Seiros couldn't all be morons. Monastery or not, with all the valuables doubtlessly hidden in the cathedral and elsewhere, Garreg Mach must have been a fortress. Unless…

“When did that start? Maybe we brought back someone bad from Luin,” she reasoned. If they deserved the credit they got, then anyone wanting to do harm to the monastery or anyone in it surely couldn't get past the Knights; they would have to be welcomed inside. Right?

“That would’ve been convenient,” Chionne couldn’t help but lament. “Then the targets and motive would be clear. I believe the first person went missing on the first day—she was a milk maid that had come to work at the cafeteria. When she didn’t show up, we discovered that she had last been seen confiding in a bishop that she felt she had been watched. Four more have disappeared since then, from different professions, but all from town.”

Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. “The Officers Academy is likely the safest place considering the importance of their attendees and how close it is to the church. But again, it’s better to err on the side of caution,” She reiterated her warning.

Lienna felt the blood drain from her face as her flimsy, desperate theory was disproved, and she couldn't help but look around, searching the shadows for any sign of life. That horrible feeling of eyes on her clawed at the back of her psyche, but she forced herself not to panic; it was nerves, nothing more. Still, she felt distinctly uneasy, especially as she noticed how exposed the courtyard was – and how many alleys, doorways, and corridors lined its edges.

Suddenly much keener on following the pegasus woman’s advice, Lienna scoured the courtyard again, then the tips of the buildings beyond it, trying to find her bearings. Fortunately, the cathedral rose high above everything else, and its spires were always visible to the north. If she got there, she could find her way back to the Officers’ Academy again.

“Thanks,” she muttered absently, though her focus never left her destination; forgetting the woman, she only made a wide berth around the pegasus as she set a course for the cathedral.

“Do you want an escort?” Chionne asked.

Lienna slowed, considering the woman’s offer, but that foreboding sense of unease wasn’t quick to leave her at the idea. On a flying beast that was eerily quiet, a bird’s eye view of the monastery… it would be pretty easy to snatch people and fly off into the darkness, wouldn’t it?

“I’m fine,” she murmured, not quite turning around. She left it at that, taking up a quick pace toward the cathedral – wherever possible, with her back to the walls.

---

That was the first time this year that Lienna felt relieved at the sight of the cathedral, though she used it only as her landmark to get back to the arena; if she got too close, the dizzying heights would give her something entirely new to worry about. Her anger was long gone, but she would have preferred it over its replacement: A nagging uneasiness that picked at the edges of her mind like fingers at a scab. She felt like a teenager in Hima again, jumping at birds, seeing shapes in shadows and figures in the trees; Oma’s turn for the worse had brought with it a whole host of new fears and anxieties of its own, and Lienna was disturbed that the feelings she thought she’d discarded so long ago were crashing back into her life.

She didn’t go back to her dorm; the thought of being alone there was a little too daunting for the moment. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the cathedral back to the arena, though when she arrived, she found only the nurse woman, Kaira, who pointed her toward the “sauna”. After Lienna’s brief look of confusion, Kaira explained that it was a public bath and steam house of sorts. The description reminded Lienna of a sheltered hot spring; there were none in Hima, but a day’s walk to the west had one frequented by the elderly for its rumoured healing properties. She had no idea if that was true, but the few times she’d gone, she remembered enjoying it; for a young girl raised in near-perpetual winter, the almost overwhelming heat of the hot spring had been a luxury she treasured for years after, revisiting the memory anytime she needed to banish the cold from her mind.

With how she was feeling, the comfort of a small, warm, sheltered place sounded like just the reprieve she needed. With some difficulty she found the place and slipped gratefully inside, more than happy for the close walls and the dense, wet heat that started working at her tension before she even saw the water. The place smelled nothing like a hot spring – no, this was pleasant – and the scent was somehow cool in her lungs, however that worked. She changed and showered quickly, noticing for the first time how dusty she was just from practicing magic in the sand, and wrapped a towel around herself to pass into the next area.

She heard snippets of conversation through the wood slat walls, and turned the corner to find the bathing room sparsely populated. However, it was lush with plants she’d never seen before, the air heady with steam and pleasant, unfamiliar scents. Lienna slipped into the bath as far from the other occupants as she could manage – noting with distaste that the Princess was there, although Clarissa seemed to have engaged her already. But they were far from her concern as the water slipped over her skin, wrapping her in sweet smells and almost unbearable warmth. It almost burned, but she soaked up the heat voraciously, as if she could store it away for the inevitable cold times ahead.

She sunk down to her chin and closed her eyes, senses momentarily overtaken by the bliss of it all. This was even nicer than the warm baths she could take at Count Francis’ castle, and at the time she thought that was the pinnacle of luxury. If not for the promise of home and fortune back in Gautier, she wasn’t sure she’d ever leave.

But her peace didn’t last too long, and irritatingly soon, those unwelcome fears crept back into Lienna’s mind. Uneasy once again, she pulled her knees up to her chest, just barely cresting the water, and opened her eyes to scan the room. The steam and scents almost stung this close to the water, but she was suddenly acutely aware that any frond of any of the room’s foreign plants could conceal something, that there was only one way in and out of the sauna and that there’d be no escaping if someone came and blocked the exit—

Dammit, Lienna caught herself, glaring daggers at her reflection in the water. Come on, you’re not a child anymore.

---

Goddess above, Auberon swore he spent more time on the ground than he did on his feet. So much for armored knight certification; he'd never get back up with a million steel plates on top of him. Other than that paltry revelation, he couldn't really say he found the session informative or even helpful. The class got batted around for a few hours; that wasn't a lesson, it was a sink-or-swim mess that taught the drowners nothing and gave the floaters minimal experience.

Well, there was likely something to be learned in there somewhere, but the blond was certainly too frustrated to notice it, and that was before he'd been thrown on his ass a few dozen times. At least actual sparring against a superior opponent gave him a chance; this drill didn't leave any room for anything more than the minor relief of a lucky block. A less virtuous soul might've at least drawn some petty satisfaction from Michail barreling his way through Kellen once or twice, but Auberon found only bitter reminders that his housemates were fucking stupid. Acting stupid. Whatever.

As if the Goddess herself had heard Auberon's misgivings, the class started toward the sauna at Kaira's suggestion. He couldn't find fault with it; he was far too tense that entire time, which meant he was far more tired than he should've been and on the cusp of flaring his Crest on the next unfortunate soul he accidentally bumped in the hallway. More than once he'd unwittingly sent a servant off-balance with little more than a brush of his hip when he was stressed as a kid, let alone an actual shoulder check in a crowded passage. But surely, if the blessed spas of Garreg Mach couldn't calm him, nothing could.

Auberon lingered under the fountains meant for rinsing off well after he'd dislodged any lingering dirt from the arena floor in hopes the water flowing over him would distract him from his thoughts. It didn't; he simply replayed the most prominent hits he took on an unilluminating loop in his head. With a shake of his head, Auberon tore his gaze away from the bare wall of the shower and departed for the public bath in search of a proper distraction. He almost turned around when he was greeted with Jorah and Kayden's derogation of Veronica, but he supposed he didn't really have any other choice of bathing partners. He certainly wasn't going to sit in a sauna with Kellen right now.

The blond impassively continued into the room and slipped into the pool politely away from everyone's gaze. It was tempting simply to not engage, but then he'd just be running simulations in his head again, albeit with nicer décor and that strange-but-pleasant scent that lingered in the air. Auberon let his eyes wander in hopes he could still latch onto a distraction, taking in the decorative plants and weird shadow next to Kayden that he swore he saw in the periphery of his vision, only to disappear when he actually looked over. That whole area was hard to even focus on, now that he thought about it. Probably a trick of the steam; one of the servants must've dropped in a fresh stone over there before Auberon entered.

"This place needs a mosaic of Saint Cethleann," He mused absentmindedly rather than voice his opinions on Adrestian character flaws, "To watch over the weary and remind Jorah not to covet another man's wife. Or is that perhaps improper for the men's bath?"

---

@Obscene Symphony@POOHEAD189