❖ [Audacious] Nothing ever good came from playing things safe, Cawuio-Zast knows this better than anyone. Inaction and passivity result in a stagnating life void of spice. Cawuio-Zast is well aware of the life he would be living if he hadn’t been daring. Now he swears his life by that virtue. ❖ [Adventurous] What lies beyond the horizon? Wealth? That sounds nice. Danger? He could only hope. A new chapter in the legend? Now that is worth dying for. Cawuio-Zast welcomes the dawn of a new day, whatever it may bring. He is unusually fond of bogs and swamps. ❖ [Roguish] Cawuio-Zast is not above breaking the law to achieve his goals although it not usually in a malicious manner. In his mind he is just having a bit of fun. What a boring world it would be if everyone followed the rules all the time. ❖ [Greedy] Cawuio-Zast loves the glint of gold and the feeling of a valuable item dropping on his lap. ❖ [Charitable] Cawuio-Zast was, at one point, the biggest donor to the Grønhalle to the bewilderment and respect of the local Eskandish student body. Money is made to be spent and enjoyed. So although he has made a lot in his endeavors, Cawuio-Zast always seems to have shallow pockets.
C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E
Cawuio-Zast has the stance of a proud, if not a little short, Cazenax. His chin is rarely seen below the horizontal line, not from a need to look at those around him, but simply a matter of pride.
In terms of attire, he does not immediately come off a Cazenax. Some have even mistaken him for a unusually thin and poxy Hegelan on this fact alone. Cawuio-Zast dresses like a swashbuckler, for lack of a better term. His threads mainly consist of custom-made Perrench clothing and not the cheap kind. Although, time spent on the open ocean and in the strangest places known on Sipenta has given them a well-worn feeling.
But the standout feature of Cawuio-Zast is his green skin. This is an unfortunate side-effect of the Festerblood he developed. But he doesn’t look too bad for his condition due to his Mender secondary blood type. He still looks chipper and not diseased by any means.
L A N G U A G E S
Avincian Cazenax Perrench
T H E G I F T
Contrary to his Ersand’Enise contemporaries, Cawuio-Zast learnt dark magic first. Due to this, he is unusually proficient in that school. His following studies were made on a need to know basis. If he saw a need for a spell in his adventures, he would learn it.
The exception to this is the Chemical school from which Zast learnt self-defense spells. He particularly favors the gaze and touch spells.
Base RAS
Augmented RAS
HP
Blood Types
Items
8.4
8.6
16
Festerblood & Mender
Flintlock and 2 daggers
School
Speciality
Tier
Base
Offensive
Defensive
Magnetic
Novice
D4
-
-
Arcane
Luminescent
Apprentice
D5
-
-
Binding
Healing: Medical, Material: Creation
Journeyman
D8
-
-
Chemical
Internal: Disruptive, External: Corruptive
Apprentice
D10
-
-
Kinetic
Novice
D4
-
-
Atomic
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
Blood
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
Temporal
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
Dark
Summoning: Energy & Matter
Journeyman
D8
-
-
Command
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
Primordial
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
Extra
Description
Fruit:
Other:
B A C K G R O U N D
Born poor, weak, and starving in the lowest classes of An Zenui, Cawuio-Zast thought nothing of it when he began to encompass a green rash across his skin. Disease catches up with everyone, particularly those without the spare funds to buy medicines. He would either pull through this plague or perish to it, that was life. Death catches up with everyone one day.
But it persisted, neither killing him nor ever recovering from it. To make things stranger, no one else in Zast’s immediate circles caught the disease either. Even laymen in the study of medicine could tell that this was strange and it drew the attention of Cazanax scholars.
Cawuio-Zast was told that he had Festerblood. He was about to say he knew where he caught that from, before he was promptly informed that it was a mana type he was born with. Due to its rarity and the extra magic capabilities it provided, the young Cazenax was promptly taken away from the slums he called home to the top academy in An Zenui. At the academy, he would study dark magic and be treated for his affliction while being studied in turn.
Zast was not much for books or studying at all really, but he took to dark magic pretty quickly. To manifest anything he wanted from nothing, that was the lap of luxury. Endless opportunity, endless results, a wandering mind could picture anything. It was only a matter of time before he got a genius idea. Zast began to religiously summon items from the VOID with a particular result in mind: a cure to the Festerblood. Tnen day he found it. Zast pulled his arm out of the VOID to find a slice of creamy cheese in his hand. Not knowing the consequences of its consumption, he ate the entire thing immediately.
The next day, Cawuio-Zast woke up completely fine. Aside from the green skin, he felt completely healthy to a state the scholars of the academy could never achieve. Finding new ability and freedom in his cure, the Cazanax took to the nearest ship out of Calanast. The rest is history for the making.
“Did I ever tell you about that duel I had with Snattlejake Rake? A top agent of a mysterious assassin group, I’ll have you know. The man was expecting me to cast spells or something, but I just shot him instead. Only took one bullet. Funnily enough, they’re weak to bullets just like you and me.”
“Did I ever tell you about that time I did a panty raid on a temple of Ahn-Eshiran? There I was, trying to run from a bunch of nuns wielding scythes and, let me tell you, they were gaining one me. That was when I got a brilliant idea, I summoned a tipped-over barrel at the top of a hill.”
“So there I was, dancing on top of this barrel, just trying to stay upright while it keeps getting faster. Meanwhile, I look behind me and then nuns are practically tripping over themselves trying to keep up. Death couldn’t catch me that day.”
M O T I V A T I O N
Cawuio-Zast is out for money, danger, and legacy. Not necessarily in that order.
I N V E N T O R Y
Cawuio-Zast travels light. He has his daggers, his lucky flintlock, and the clothes on his back. Anything else can just be conjured after all.
S T R E N G T H S & S K I L L S
❖Good Eye: Cawuio-Zast is a good-shot. ❖ Charm: Speaks for itself really. But his internal chemical magic doesn’t hurt his odds. ❖ Lucky: Always seems to find himself making it out of dangerous situations by the skin of his teeth. ❖ Gift of Gab: Has a way of getting good deals on things. ❖ Man of the Road: Zast is well versed in traversing unknown destinations.
W E A K N E S S E S & F L A W S
❖ Poor judgment: Never learnt what it means to make a safe decision. ❖ Impulsive: Will do things on a whim constantly. ❖ Criminal: And has the record to prove it. ❖ Vagabond: Should his travels meet him with a bad fate, he has no place to return to and no place to run for safety. ❖ Royal lineage?: He could be the son of King Rouis of Perrence. While it is considered a rumor, this could land him in hot water very soon as he decides between serving in his father’s war or sailing the high seas to create his own dream.
Uncharacteristic to the singer, Leon did not stand out from the crowd during Zenith Upta’s speech. This was partially due to her impassioned speech which demanded attention and because Leon didn’t wish to emit a presence. He was just another student in the crowd.
The speech put into words what the performer was already thinking. War was going to be upon the world at any moment bringing tragedy and loss with it. For all the power of the Zenos and the previous generation before them, they couldn’t stop those tides.
And yet, she urged the next generation, his generation to make a brighter future. What could make them succeed where those who stood before failed? Undoubtedly the people of the past stood here before, they listened to the same speech, and the same thoughts would be considered. Why was anyone here different?
People. If the past was subject to the same environment and conditions, it falls upon the individuals to exceed further than what came before. It would take people who are truly exceptional. They are few and far between, but the world stood upon their shoulders to change it.
Leon as a spectator to Mano e Mano he was… he wasn’t. During a fight that didn’t involve himself, he couldn’t be seen. Among some of the more observant fans of the performer, this caused a few rumors. Was he making a protest against the Trials for the bloodshed seen in Mano e Mano? Was he sick and trying his best to recover between rounds? Was there a secret fling that the singer went to see in his off time? Who was it? What was his or her name?
The truth was that Leon wasn’t trying to make a statement, that was incidental. He simply found the games distasteful and preferred not to watch. Spectating his friends and innocent students being brutally killed for a cheering audience disgusted him.
When finished with his matches, Leon would remark that he was tired and needed rest. Being Sunblessed certainly helped with that excuse; he did need to recharge after all. But it was all to hide his blatant aversion in case that was used against him. Only Kaureerah and Laska knew his true feelings on the matter.
He could understand that the intent was to harden the students to the reality of war. But there was nothing to be gained from bloodshed for something as pointless as this. He did not want to dull his heart to the loss of life. Even if war may force it upon him, he wanted to feel it all if he had to do it.
There was certainly nothing they could do to make him take a life here.
Leon listens to Zenith Upta's speech and considers that previous generations must have heard the same speech and failed.
Leon finds Mano e Mano distasteful and decides not to spectate any games.
The kid couldn’t be older than sixteen. That wasn’t rare for Ersand’Enise students but Leon wasn’t exactly pleased to be matched up against someone this young. His opponent was practically trembling on the other side of the Salt Flats. The amount of fear on display made Leon uncomfortable. Just what exactly had this kid scene? Was it something his team did? Did his visage summon this much terror in the child?
Leon furrowed his brow. Singers & Saints had already won their previous matches. Even if the kid had the ability to defeat him, it would mean nothing. His team had already lost.
And yet he showed up. With nothing to gain, he still stepped onto the Salt Flats looking to achieve… pentad knows what. Or maybe he was just told to go up and he was simply following directions. Leon stood there pondering in silence. The kid wouldn’t do anything he was terrified. Too scared to engage, but too indecisive to just surrender.
Then the performer smiled. His train of thought gave him a brilliant idea. He simply turned his back on the child and walked to the edge of the arena, not stopping until he was out of bounds.
Leon looked back to the child, who had gained ground while his back was turned, then grinned. “I suppose you’ve won.”
The performer turned to the crowd and bowed before promptly leaving the arena.
Leon writhed on the ground, gasping for breath that was just outside his grasp. He was defenceless and incapable of controlling his movements. Pain began to encompass his body. This was the closest to death the performer had ever been.
A minute earlier…
“I’m sorry I’m late.” Leon rushed past the Singers & Saints on the side lines while trying to get his shirt back on. “I went for a nap and completely lost track of time.” It made for a weird hopping movement as the performer tried to make pace while getting his head through the collar. “So, who are we up against?”
Leon looked back in confusion. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.” He looked back at the entrance to the arena. “Sorry, theres no time. I have to be in there.”
In a blaze of sunlight, Leon shot himself out into the centre of the arena, The Leaning Dyke. The radiance around him eventually faded to reveal his opponent. He was confronted with the image of a monkey. Was it actually a monkey or was it a person dressed as a monkey? Leon couldn’t tell, especially with such a sudden reveal.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Leon dropped to the shaky ground; right on the edge of a steep drop. He clutched his stomach which was caught in the sudden contractions of laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” He kept laughing.
“Hold on, hold on.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” And kept going…
“That costume... Oh, it's golden.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA… HA HA…”
“Oh pentad, I surrender…” He was still giggling. “You got me, oh no...” In the laughter, he fell off the edge. The performer was lucky that he could fly and the current focus to channel it. Then he laughed more, curled over in mid-air.
Leon would later personally apologise to Monkey Time. He meant no disrespect.
“You know, some people would be offended by a fan club like this. I, however, find it personally aspirational.” Leon joked to Kaureerah and Asier as he watched Laska and Talkan engaged in a relatively normal fight. This was one of the only fights he came to watch. He couldn’t help it, the curiosity about the fanatic team was killing him. “I’ve seen you both performing and I think you’re both remarkable. Keep at it and I’m sure both of you can get a fan club named after your undergarments one day. There’s really no need for jealousy.”
By the time it was finally Leon’s turn to take the stage, he was practically brimming with excitement. But his opponent had not shown up yet. He waited a bit, then a while, before starting to get confused. Surely Leon Solaire’s underwear would shy away when the performer himself was ready for them.
After a short wait, someone finally entered the arena. Leon smiled, finally he would get to meet one of the team’s members. Hopefully, they sent out the biggest fan. It would be a shame if his opponent was apathetic to the moment. A man about his age came out from the shadows. Leon’s smile faded a bit as he saw that his opponent was wearing underwear over his pants. Poor fashion choice aside, Leon was still excited.
Then from the corner of his eye, Leon spotted another figure moving toward him. It was another competitor. She was one of the students who fought Talkan and Laska, but with one big difference. She too was wearing her underwear over her clothes.
Leon quickly surveyed his surroundings and his smile dropped as he realised the entire team of Leon Solaire’s underwear was approaching him from all sides with the same choice of dress. They all wore the normal clothes they had worn earlier, but their underwear was on the outside. Then they started sprinting at the performer and Leon’s eyes widened in fear. It was fitting that the fight took place in Zatera Teca. These fans were out for blood.
How could they get away with this? Leon was 70% sure that bringing your entire team to a 1v1 was against the rules. And yet, they weren’t being stopped. They officials of the tournament did not stop it. Had they been bribed off? Leon didn’t have the time to consider these questions because he was also 70% sure that he didn’t want these people reaching him.
Popping into a quick crouch, Leon channelled kinetic to shoot up into the sky. From the fights he saw, the team would have trouble catching him in the air. He would be safe there.
But only a few metres off the ground, he was hit by a kinetic tackle and flew to the ground with his attacker. He was certain that they didn’t have a strong grasp on kinetic. Was this the fifth member of the team or had they been hiding their power for this moment? Leon had no time to consider that question as he tumbled to the ground, only just being able to protect himself from the impact which could have caused serious harm. He didn’t have the extra time to consider the student who was currently on top of him.
‘Oh Ipte, what have I gotten myself into.’
It wasn’t long until the other four students caught up to him. But none of them had thrown a hit. Aside from the tackle, there had been no attempt to harm the singer. Instead, they reached for his pants. A wrestle ensued as Leon, who would rather keep his pants on for the time being, tried keeping them up.
“Oh no no no, not here.” Leon said with a chuckle, the comedy of the situation not lost in him compared to the dour mood of the bloodsport. “Families might be watching, try to have some class here.” A continuous flare of light began to emit from the singer and engulfed the fight. This effectively censored any visual display from the audience, replacing it with a glowing dazzle of sunlight.
The miniature sun proceeds to roll around on the ground. The occasional leg or arm would emerge from it before quickly being engulfed in the light once more. A shoe flew out at one point, observant spectators would recall it as one of the performers.
“How about instead I take you all out to dinner?” It was Leon’s voice with a strange mixture of playfulness and panic. “Doesn’t that sound nice? You, uh, really don’t need to take those do you?”
The sun bounced about five meters to one side, leaving a few of the fanatics behind. But they quickly ran to rejoin the fray. It bounced again in another direction, similarly the students left behind rushed back into it.
This carried on for a while until, in unison, the five members of Leon Solaire’s underwear ran out with their trophy. Raised above their heads, their namesake was held high. They ran out of the arena calling in unison “we surrender!” The piece of clothing in question was white after all. It made for a good flag.
The blaze of luminescence central to the arena slowly faded to show the performer in a pose of having rushed to get his pants back on. He succeeded in that endeavour luckily; no nudity was shown to the audience.
The dumbfounded expression on Leon’s face was brought to a smile of elation. If pulling off a heist like that was what they desired, he was happy to oblige. Perhaps he should have expected such a thing to happen. He just wished they would have asked nicely first.
“I won!” He announced to the crowd practically beaming while he took a bow. No temporal anchors were used, no blood was spilt, and Leon Solaire’s Underwear got what they wanted. If everything worked out like this, perhaps Mano e Mano wouldn’t be so bad. He walked to collect his missing shoe and left the arena back toward the Singers & Saints.
Leon's first three Mano e Mano matches go well. He takes little effort and all three resolve without excessive violence.
Brother Ash comes out, no nonsense, ready to obliterate his opponents. He seizes on the more inviting of the two targets, Kaureerah.
Kaureerah immediately flees.
"Run, fishy fishy fishy!!!!" He began laughing. "Heee heee heee. Hoo hoo hoo. Hah hah hah." Ash turned his gaze to Leon. "You're next, loverboy!"
Leon frowned back at the pale combatant. His energy wasn’t too far from the singer himself, but there was something off about it all. He had the distinct feeling he didn’t want to show Ash it bothered him though.
Leon forced a grin back. "I didn't know ghouls could string sentences together. Makes you a little smarter than you look."
"Oh, and he's a joker too!" The laughing knight wheezed and laughed. "Only took him three minutes to come up with that gem of a comeback, folks!" His face became cold and stony. "You're gonna die here, sparkly boy, painfully."
There it was. The supposed ‘holy fighter’ was seeking to murder him and Kaureerah in the ring. Leon fought back the urge to spit.
"You look sick. Eat something."
Ash licked his lips.
But it was Flint, in truth, who was next. He immediately targeted the fleeing Kaureerah.
She appeared defenceless, having only her lute and a net slung over one shoulder. But Flint's colossal kinetic slam met, instead, with flower petals. Then the petals danced. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Tens of thousands. And they became razor-sharp. "Dence, my loovelies." The arena itself opened up and turned on Brother Flint. He struggled and thrashed and batted thousands of petals away. But still, they cut and sliced him. It was death by a thousand papercuts.
During the distracting spectacle, Leon closed the gap to Brother Ash with a smile. Sunfire in hand.
Ash's eyes widened. "Straight for the jugular, sunshine boy, eh?" Then, Brother Ash simply... disappeared.
Across the arena, from seven different directions, at least, echoed laughter. "You are so fucked, kiddo! Here comes the BOOM! Hehe. Or not." Then, there were five.... or maybe it was seven Brother Ashes everywhere. "Ta-daaaa!" they all shouted at once, spreading their arms, fabulous.
Leon didn’t waste the chance to breathe. "I dedicate this song to an embarrassment of the human form." He took out the Lyre and strummed a cheerful song which caused the mana to surge in himself and Kaureerah.
"Ooooh, you look strong now, Mister Sun!"
The crowd cheers. "HERE COMES THE SUN!"
"You still suck as a musician, though."
"DUDUDUDUUDUUU!" The interrupting crowd continued.
Seven identical light beams leapt out from seven different directions.
Leon directly looks at Ash and smiles.
Did the performer have some secret technique to deduce the correct copy? No. In truth, he just guessed which one was correct and carried confidence in his expression. Even now, he had no idea if he guessed correctly. But he wasn’t about to show that.
Ash's face falls, almost comically so. "Oh by Shune! I am ruined!" he wails. "RUINED"
Leon jumped up and over the correct beam and stayed there, floating mid air. "You missed." He winks at Ash.
"Happens from time to time," Ash yawned.
Flint, unhappy about being ignored, decided to cut in. He went to drop the hammer on the other team's weak link: Kaureerah. His massive hammer swing missed decapitating her by millimetres. Instead, it caught her on the shoulder and she flinched and cried out, stumbling backwards. "Wee heve too end thees soon, Leaun!"
Leon’s heart skipped a beat and his smile dropped. Although he tried repelling the idea, his mind couldn't help but picture the horror if that hammer had been closer. He didn’t want to have to see Kaureerah die.
He glanced at Ash. "Check this out, cretin. It will be the most sun you see in decades."
"Oh?" replied Ash. "Hit me, big boy!"
Leon looked away, took out his spear, and bathed himself in sunlight. Then with his airborne position, dropped on Flint who immediately fled away. But Kaureerah was not about to let him go that easily.
"Marhazannet!" she called. "Boorn een holy fire!" There was a bit of a smirk at appropriating their language against them. A tremendous amount of power was being channelled with the eeaiko at its epicentre.
"Holy words from a fish," said the seven Ashes. "Blub blub." He went straight after her. "Boorn een holy fire!" he mocked then sent a powerful light beam her way.
Leon turned on a heel then flipped between Kaureerah and the arcane lance. For a moment, it looked as though the singer's cape batted away light itself. “I’m not going to just let you do that.” Leon retaliated with an arcane lance of his own.
Ash laughed at it. "Weak," he taunted, "very weak." He batted the attack away as if it were nothing. "You don't understand the powah of the dahk side!"
This was bad. Leon couldn’t help himself but be on the defensive. Time wasn’t on the singers’ side. He could only hope that, whatever Kaureerah was doing, she had what they needed to win it.
Flint went after Kaureerah, hoping to break her charging attack. Kaureerah swiftly dodged, continuing to charge her attack.
"Looking kind of glowy there, fishsticks!" Brother Ash teased. "Lemme help you with that!" Another arcane lance was sent the eeaiko’s way.
Leon looked to defend Kaureerah, only to see that she had withstood the attack on her own. "Eye cen hendle eet aun my oown." She replied to Ash. Leon also took note and a cocky smile returned to his face.
Taking advantage of Leon being distracted, Flint rushed him with another powerful hammer swing. On short notice, there was no way to stop or defend from the attack so he flew upward to avoid the attack.
"Die," the eeaiko said simply. A gargantuan pillar of fire descended from the heavens and struck Brother Ash. And all the other Brother Ashes. The sky itself ignited in tremendous flame.
Ash tried to flee, he wasn’t so lucky. The sanguinaire was incinerated and plummeted to the ground on the verge of death.
Leon was in awe of the display. He turned to Kaureerah surprised at her power. It was a moment of relief in a nail-biting fight; the tide had finally turned. "That's hot..." He remarked simply. The pun was not lost on him and he let out a sigh of relief. Was it the most appropriate thing to say? No. But he was swept up in the moment. Kaureerah’s eyes were wide in a mixture of rapt wonder and horror. She nodded.
Ash writhed on the ground trying to heal himself back up. His efforts were meagre at best. Flint rushed to heal his teammate, leaning over the gravely wounded Ash.
Kaureerah’s eyes widened further. She looked shell-shocked. To hit him with that much power and still have it not quite kill him.
Leon’s heart sank a little as he realised their efforts so far would be erased if Flint was successful. The RAS the performer had was depleted and it was only going to deplete further. If this heal went through, it would spell certain loss for the Singers & Saints. And more importantly, death for himself and Kaureerah. Ash was strong and he wouldn’t be kind after this.
Leon shook Kaureerah out of her stupor. As much as he wanted to linger on the moment of peace, now wasn't the time. "Throw the net!"
She nodded, snapping out of it, and tossed the imbued net. It sailed through the air. Flint tried to defend but it was… not enough. The net landed atop him and constricted almost immediately. Flint's eyes glazed over. He stood, listless.
It was no time for Leon to linger on victory. Ash was still there and it was only a matter of time before he could get back up.
‘It would be easier to finish him here’ Leon thought. ‘Killing him would be easier than taking him out of the arena at this point.’ It was the safer option and the price of failure would be a slow death for himself and Kaureerah. He couldn’t bear to watch that. Perhaps he should just…
No. He shook his head. Why did such a thought come into his mind? He was Leon Solaire, he was the Sun King. He was the one who differed from generations past to bring peace. To take a life here would only make him more of the same. No matter the risk, he would not fail here.
He looked squarely on the fallen Ash. Bathing his arm in sunfire and dashing to grab the sanguinare. In a golden blaze of glory, Leon sparked across the arena. Burning him, dragging him, and taking Ash just outside of the arena where his head splashed face-up in the water.
Leon sniffed and looked at Ash, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Smells like loser." Then a shit-eating grin stretched along the performer's face. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the trials."
Then, it was Kaureerah's turn. "Yoo knoow whaut? Yoo're smellee too. Teke e waulk aut end cool auff!"
With that, Flint stumbled and nearly tripped. He marched right into the water and, the moment that he touched, he snapped out of his stupor. Thrashing, spitting, and splashing, he treaded water.
Leon looked back to Kaureerah with a fond smile. Despite his fears and doubts imagining the worst, she was safe. He was really glad she hadn’t been harmed.
Meanwhile, outside of his view, Ash sunk beneath the waves. Ash did not reappear, temporally anchored back. He could be seen standing there at the edge of the arena, moments later, perfectly healed. He bowed his head in a solemn salute and marched off.
Without delay, Leon ran up to Kaureerah and hugged her with enough strength to lift her from the ground "Hahaha, we won!" His voice was almost breathless.
"We.... deed!" She wrapped herself around him and kissed him. "We aur sooo good. Lyke... reelly good. We shoould doo thes maur auften."
Leon kissed back with equal energy. He saw the beauty in the two pairing up and would love to do it again. But he didn’t want to see her die, to see anyone he cared about die pointlessly for a cheering crowd. He despised the thought. "I couldn't agree more,” he lied.
Leon was a practiced performer with a practised smile and his face did not betray his bothered state of mind. "But for now, face the crowd. You are the star of this show after all."
"We Aur," she exclaimed, "end aulso soo cheesy," she added in a whisper.
"We are? Well, then you won't mind me doing this."
Leon lifted Kaureerah onto his shoulders using Kinetic and paraded around the lush arena in a quickened pace. He was fully celebrating the victory.
"HERE COMES THE SUN!" The crowd cheers. "DUDUDUDUUDUUU!"
Leon & Kaureerah fight Covenant's Ash and Flint. Leon initially takes a confident offensive, but quickly turns to defense as he fears seeing the death of someone he cares about. With the extra protection, Kaureerah unleashed a charged attack which almost decides the fight on its own.
For a moment, Leon considers killing Ash in fear of what the sanguinaire will do if he's able to recover. He shakes it off in the confidence he is strong enough to take the more difficult but non-lethal way of winning.
Leon was counting on spectacle for this fight. Singers & Saints had already lost to Teatro 4-0. To truly win the hearts of the audience, he couldn't let his opponent just walk out and surrender. Not yet at least.
He took the stage with pride and confidence in his step, saluting the audience, and tossing his cape to soar into the cheering crowd. The singer had the lyre on his back and a bouquet of red roses in one hand.
Where the Sun King was a radiant ray of joy and hype, Ariadne appeared plain and unremarkable barring the massive sword-spear she carried over her right shoulder. The facade of normalcy had long since been lifted after the first few fights of the tournament - they knew this girl was an appropriate match for the unstoppable force of the sun itself.
And continuing with the trend of complete contrasts, such an agitated and gay audience had the near-elder sanguinaire feel a tad out of place - maybe even a bit stage shy? She had been a reclusive researcher for a large portion of her bloated life, after all. An awkward wave with a half-risen arm signalled her entrance into the game.
Then, a mild sonic bubble to serve as filter - one that simply lowered the vacarm surrounding them to manageable levels - in the arena took form with Ariadne in the epicenter.
"How do you deal with all the cheers and eyes on you? It must be an astronomical amount of pressure to perform! And distracting. Actually, when I think about it-" she scratched her cheek, eyes peering toward the stands where previous teams sat. "It's impressive most of these young adults could even fight properly. I'm a little jealous, I must say, of you and your ease!"
Leon took a bow of respect to his opponent. Although he hadn't seen her fight yet, others in his team had let him in on the danger she posed. Considering the two could be seen in equal standing, it put the performer in an awkward position. If he were to simply surrender as planned, it would look like a decision made from cowardice, not protest.
In short, he needed to take the upper hand first and create a spectacle in the process. Once he got Ariadne in a defenceless position, it would be easy enough to toss his hands aside and surrender. This was the final event of the Trials after all. A grand closing act of mercy in this bloodsport was exactly what he needed to carry his message to its conclusion.
"I wouldn't count yourself out so early, I hear you are quite impressive." He smiled and waved to the crowd, inviting their calls. “You get quite used to the crowds really, but it takes a little time I must admit. There is a time to shut them out and a time I rely on them to bring me up."
"If only I could be a fan of this audience." He remarked in a quieter, disappointed tone.
"Hmmm." Ariadne paused and cooked a response in her mind - a mind usually vivid and scholarly-oriented but now bogged down by social pressure. "I don't see an audience like this too often. Getting enough of them to practice would be difficult, I'd reckon." she answered in a manner that almost sounded like an excuse. "Are you feeling anxious too? To face someone who is supposedly quite impressive." she canted her head whilst awaiting an answer.
She looked to the audience to find what her opponent had meant. Whether it was through her own experiences or social ineptitude, she just couldn't quite grasp the implication. "I think this audience is about as good as that concert the other day. They want to be entertained, and I'm sure they have been so far!" The spear over her shoulder was lifted, spun and planted onto the hard gravel before her. "I think this is the part where we agree to a grace period, yes?"
"You misunderstand me. The crowds, the cheers, these are things that bring me life. Like any concert crowd, this should fill my heart all the same." He remarked while wistfully gazing over the crowd. Then he turned his attention back to Ariadne, searching for eye contact. "It's what they are here for that unsettles me."
"Yes, let's have a grace period." Leon agreed and then continued. "If circumstances were different, I would rather dance with you under the moonlight. A radiant night would suit your paler skin after all. But instead, we are here to spill each other's blood meaninglessly for entertainment. It is a perversion of what I love."
Ariande furrowed her eyebrows at the Sun's envoy's response. It appeared to genuinely confuse her. Their eyes met, and her's were wide with barely anything readable in them. "It unsettles you that blood is the spectacle over music, dancing and sex?" and then she thought about it for a moment as she began to draw from somewhere, even smiling at the charms of her opponent and the carefully chosen adjectives. "I suppose the tenets of Eshiran fit you less than the crowd I'm from. But it is not impossible to marry the values of Ipté and Eshiran in a battle with stakes." These emotionally veiled eyes began to narrow, just a little, as she recalled a pleasant memory. The growing joy in her eyes and expression was palpable. "A friend of mine did it quite well. Maybe we should strive to do the same?"
That somewhere was the VOID, and the quantities she drew matched what Ciro could siphon. "You do know why they're making us do this, right?" She asked as the sonic bubble hardened even more to conceal their voices from eavesdroppers. "In the very near future, many friends and peers will be doing this for real. Total keepsies. What better way to initiate them than a white exam like this one?" A cynical chuckle escaped her. "Tell me, why did you surrender this match? You had a chance, even if slight."
Leon narrowed his eyes. It unsettles you that blood is the spectacle over music, dancing and sex? Did she not see a problem with that? It was a certainty that those three were worthy of spectacle. Bloodshed was to be feared and only quietly respected. He charged, getting the final grasp of manifestation magic he needed to go back to max.
"Eshiran is something we will all have to embrace in the coming weeks. I'm not blind to that fact." Leon replied sharply, his emotions shot through his considered façade. "But when we do it for real, I will feel the weight of those actions as they need to be felt. I wish not for my heart to be dulled in the crucible of this mockery."
"But as you can see I have yet to surrender." Leon tossed the bouquet into the sky, littering the air above with roses. "Shall we begin?"
"Yes, we shall." As the bouquet launched into the air, Ariadne ascended from her meditative position with the shaft of her massive weapon seized and lifted from the ground. The air became literally tense with some of her hair, and even Leon's, rising in response to the sheer power she emanated and her focus oozed out.
What befell the Sun King, however, was nothing electric but a massive gust of air aiming to blow him out of the arena from the get-go, coming from a single rapid swing of her spear.
It came out quickly. Even with Leon expecting an attack, it still caught him off guard. He jumped above the gust in a flip, barely escaping the attack, then stayed floating in the air. He channelled a spark of darkness to empower an arcane lance heading Ariadne's way. Leon would be cautious against others, but she could take it, he could see that.
Ariadne used the earth itself to block the attack, raising a reinforced set of walls between herself and the beam. They completely shattered spitting out a cloud of dust and out emerged ... Nothing! Where did she go?
Leon searched for her, eyes widening. Panic was beginning to emerge in the singer's heart. Slowly but surely he was starting to fear that he was outmatched. Speed, power, grace, in a combat scenario he had seen nothing like this before. Ash from the match before would be the closest, and Leon and Kaureerah’s victory was a matter of luck there.
Balls of light appeared around the arena, shining beams all around as if they were searching for her. And then, at the very top of the upper limit of the arena, the beams converged to reveal the Sanguinaire. "I can put on a show too." She grinned with half-lidded and foxy eyes. The tension in the air rose. Her spear heated up until orange. She pointed her spear right at the Sun King. "Here comes the sun!"
Leon's heart skipped a beat. The scene before him was beautiful. It sent mixed messages when he had the knowledge she was trying to kill him. Then the shock caught up.
A gargantuan bolt of lightning befell the Sun King. Leon fled away, just out of the attack’s reach. Below the roses hit the ground, four of the buds exploding into prismatic flames. It missed both of the contenders but it sure put on a show. The straightforward approach wouldn’t work, she outmatched him. He needed to be more clever about this.
"Fantasia!" Leon called and then froze in space.
Ariadne squints at the 'frozen' Leon, and like she did with her opener, attempts to shove him out of the arena after appearing back down onto the arena.
It went right through. "Huh." She looked around, and so did the decorative lighting she had created.
From the crowd, the cape he had previously thrown fluttered in a fan’s hands then flew back toward the arena. Once it got a few meters into the boundary. It also froze in time.
Then a few seconds later, an additional cape appeared in front of Adriande. A bright light cracked through the seamed collar, revealing the location of the fifth and final marble.
Flashed! Ariadne was blinded! "Ack!" she stumbled back, her idle arm made to cover her eyes.
To further the audience's confusion. A third cape emerged from the second, moving back toward the frozen first with unnatural sluggishness. The image of Leon also began moving toward the frozen cape. When he touched it, the cape began moving at a flying pace until it met with the sluggish one and both disappeared.
Then, Ariadne swung her weapon. A swing laced with the dark energies of the VOID right where she believed Leon to be. She missed.
Dispelling the illusion with a flash of light, Leon appeared directly in front of Ariande with a smile. Then went for an empowered kick to try and knock her down.
Ariadne is pushed back back, taking a hit on her flank. Her spear is jabbed into the gravel under her feet to slow her ejection until she stops near the border. Using some mix of chemical and arcane, the sanguiare wiped her eyes and was brought back to clear vision
Leon's smile dropped. What kind of monster was he dealing with? That should have been enough to knock her out and looked as though it had barely scratched her. That was his ace in the hole, that was his avenue to win, and she simply endured it. With every second his power was fading, he wouldn’t get an advantage like that again.
She pressed her hand on her shoulder and rotates her neck while eyeing her opponent. ]"Robbing me of this spectacle's sights. Most unkind."
Leon pulled out the Lyre of Ipte-Zept and played a desperate song to protect himself.
Ariadne smirked - a rare show of nuanced emotion. "I see. Alright."
"I think perhaps we could take a breather." The amount of energy Leon used so far left him panting.
She spins and twirls her massive spear as she lowers herself to one knee and made the surface of the weapon rest upon her lap. A heavily electrified palm then brushed over the sleek metal as she began to empower the manas within.
She was growing more powerful while Leon faded. By the end of her charging, she looked as though she was stronger than when she entered the arena. In short, despite Leon’s efforts, he had achieved nothing. It was only a matter of time before Ariadne could pressed her advantage. He had no choice but to surrender. He could just exit the arena and throw the match as he had planned. It would be the smarter thing to do…
No!
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Leon didn’t accept it. He was Leon Solaire, he was the Sun King. He learnt from Ash that for every obstacle he couldn’t break through, there was a dagger to be pointed at the neck of someone he loved. It was not a matter of whether he was capable of defeating her, it was simply that he must. No matter the risk, he would not fail here.
This woman was a killer, he could see it in her eyes, feel it in the power she wielded against him, sense it in the power she channeled. In this woman, he saw someone who could take everything he loved with ease. He needed to know that he could win this fight.
Leon slowly took to the air, playing a cheerful song which surged to increase his power. The uplifting tune was contradictory to his emotions. He was desperate, he needed to end this now and he wouldn’t have the power to do so if he wasted another second. Now was the time for a gambit, he needed to channel everything and put it all into one attack.
Leon grabbed the Sun King mask from around his waist and put it on. He stashed the Lyre back onto his back and took out the prop spear instead.
Ariadne hummed and waited while she regenerated her wounds. Patiently. Her untouchable opponent was cooking something up. And she was dying to see it.
Taking to the top of the arena, the sun itself made an appearance. Leon exploded into a boundless sphere of light from which some of the spectators needed to shield their eyes. Miniature beams of sun gradually rain down upon the arena. Harmless but breathtaking.
Ariadne tried to flee but it was too late. The sun descended.
Leon with spear in hand, dropped onto Ariadne bathed in enough sunfire to make Shune blush. It was a beautiful and terrifying display of sheer power.
Ariadne readied her spear, charged with copious amounts of electricity and the wielder swollen with energy. "Here comes the sun." she hummed while bracing herself. The tension in the air she had been causing had become visible sparks to the naked eye, dancing about as the rays of light befell the arena and the audience. If Leon's goal was a light show, his partner most certainly obliged, even if accidental.
She thrusted her spear as the Sun King's impact was imminent, causing a gargantuan explosion of energy and lights. The two fighters were swallowed by it, leaving the outcome a total mystery as smoke took the place of light and flames seconds after.
They first saw Ariadne, her attire burnt and legendary spear cracked. Her hair looked absolutely atrocious and partially burned too. The near-elder sanguinaire was panting from the sheer exertion with her weight put entirely on the damaged spear she had planted into the ground.
When the afterglow faded, they could then see Leon some distance away. His clothes were a little singed and the tip of his prop spear had crumbled. But the performer himself looked unharmed. Ariadne had not taken the opportunity to hurt him.
Leon had done some serious, visible harm to the sanguinaire but she was still standing. That was everything. Leon had used everything. He was equally exhausted as his opponent but she would come back from this. This was the best position he had, he needed to take it while he could...
"I wish we could have danced instead." Leon let out in a shortened breath. He threw his spear aside, turned, and began walking toward the arena's edge.
Ariadne tilted her head to the side as her body progressively healed once she had caught her breath. "At the very least," she called out as he turned his back on her. "Go through with your strategy, and salute our wonderful audience." There was still the sonic bubble, and the smoke hadn't entirely cleared, leaving what they were doing to be at least somewhat blurred to the crowd. She offered her hand with a cheeky, almost complicit, grin on her pale and bloodied visage.
Leon turned back to Ariadne, thought for a second. This woman was powerful, terrifyingly so. But did she ever even mean him harm? He smiled sheepishly, then went to take her hand. "I suppose we should do it together. For someone who is uneasy with crowds, I must admit you are showing more grace than I."
Both of them held hands, and they faced their crowd - or at least the side that was the loudest. The sonic bubble went down. "I must confess as well, I sort of forgot they existed. I'm still not comfortable." she chuckled. "Good game, Sun King." and with that, they bowed to the cheers of many, many fans.
"It is only a matter of time. You'll come to love them because they love you." Leon remarked. "Good game, Ariadne."
"I surrender." Leon announced to the crowd. But undoubtedly, Ariadne had done well to take the wind out of his sails. Leon's plan hinged on the fact that he would be able to show mercy. But at no point was he able to realize that. In the end, she had shown more mercy than him. She was displaying mercy even now. That wouldn't escape the notice of a few spectators.
Regardless of his intentions, whether or not the crowds could notice over the spectacle, there was lethal force behind his attack and it was only a matter of luck that Ariadne was strong enough to defend it. In that moment, he had forsaken any sense of pacifism and embraced Eshiran for a cheering audience, all without her laying a finger on him.
The young man who left the arena wasn't Leon Solaire, wasn't the Sun King. Wasn't the one who differed from generations past. Neither his fears nor his conscience was clear. He was the boy simply known as Leon, who finally failed to become the things he wished himself to be.
With the confidence built from the previous round, Leon takes to his fight with Ariadne.
Leon proceeds to lose on a basis of pure strength. Then he fails to make an impact when he uses trickery. Both have little effect against the sanguinaire.
Leon considers surrendering and throwing the match as Singers & Saints planned. But then he decides against it. Instead, fueled by a mixture of ego and fear from the previous match, he uses his ultimate attack. Something that could quite easily kill any normal person.
Leon fails to defeat Ariadne. Losing both the match and the moral position he had taken during the trials in the process (even if the majority of spectators hadn't taken note of the latter)
Carmillia paced back and forth in her student dorm. Now and again her steps were made with enough force to bend the rug. A few of her hairs were out of place, annoyingly swaying past her vision. She moved a hand to get them out of the way; it wouldn’t do much for long.
The girl rarely experienced this level of distress.
Across the table patiently sat the cause of her stress. The Book of Belthagor. At first, she had scoured its contents voraciously. With every page, a new vision of herself standing atop the world. What a fantasy it was, how alluring was every word that see read. But she was sober now.
She could feel the books pull even now. Slowly drawing her back into its grand design. It was like the magnetism of lust; at least how she had heard the feeling described. Just one more page, one more night of exploring the pages. Even the use of internal chemical magic needed to be used to dissuade herself from the thought.
Carmillia would have once thought herself a dunce for attributing such power and sentience to a stack of dusty pages. But there were no doubts in her mind now. She held a long, spiteful gaze squarely on it and wondered if it was looking back.
So far she could put together the following:
The book had a consciousness or entity inside of it It can offer great power It is more than likely malicious
Great power is an intoxicating thing. The mere promise of it can drive people to madness; often disregarding common sense and assessment of risks. Carmillia was ashamed to admit she had been lured by the book's promise as well. If she were to obey the book and do its bidding, she could see herself being unstoppable. It was an alluring vision, but not without its risks.
For one, there was no way she could hold this entity to account once it had achieved its goals. Carmillia was likely much weaker than it and there would be nothing she could do if it simply didn’t keep to the agreement. She had been on the other side of that deal before, it was easy enough to do.
Secondly, what type of life would she lead if she continued this path? There could be great things lying at the end of the path. But she could equally foresee continual and inescapable servitude to an entity greater than her. No matter the benefit, if that was the result, she would rather die.
Finally, what of the opposition? When you try to take anything in life, there is someone to kick back against it. Carmillia struggled to think of the forces of good rising to oppose whatever this book was. It sounded like a sickeningly trite fairytale; one she would have disregarded if she wasn’t aware of the book’s power.
The vacuous smile of the coward Leon Solaire flashed into her mind shedding doubts on the competency of this opposition. But they weren’t all incompetent like him and Carmillia wouldn’t fare well if she was caught on the losing side of that conflict.
Great power is an intoxicating thing. But in a sobered mind, Carmillia could see the costs and risks ahead of her. She felt clarity in finally seeing that, no matter the promise, it was a poor deal.
It was a devil’s deal; a deal made to sound appealing with daggers hidden in the consequences not immediately apparent. She had given others a devil’s deal before. She considered herself a fool for not recognising the book offered the same.
She wondered if the book could read her thoughts. If it could, it was too late to mask them now.
‘There is no need to toil about things. I still intend to hand you over to someone who will help. Whatever you intend to do, the turmoil it causes will help me fashion a staircase for myself…’
Madness. She must be going mad. The sooner she can get rid of this book, the better.
Carmillia took the book and stowed it away on her bookshelf. Perfectly hidden in plain sight. It would stay there until she found someone willing to pay for it. Even if it offered a poor deal overall, great power is an intoxicating and valuable thing. Some poor fool would pay plenty for it.
Dear Dorothea,
It has been some time since we have seen each other on the Lorentine Queen. As time has passed, I have come to realise that my actions could be perceived negatively. I didn’t intend to abandon you. In spite of everything, I hope you are doing well and I wish to make an apology.
I understand you have been looking for a certain rare textbook. It can be hard to find some of the older tomes around the academy, even if it's Ersand’Enise.
I have the book in my possession and, while I am reluctant to give it away, I am willing to trade it for a lenient exchange. You could consider it my conscience catching up with me.
My current address is 29A Mariani St. To assure a reasonable hour, would 3:00 HE this Victendes suit? I look forward to your visit.
My best wishes, Carmillia Carbonneau
Carmillia sat politely across the dining table from Dorothea. It was a relatively calm and relaxing environment. A vase of flowers sat neatly in the centre and everything was cleaned to be spotless. This was the typical environment the girl was accustomed do. But extra effort was made for the meeting.
This wasn’t to say she was unprepared quite the contrary; Bernhard and Flavius were hidden nearby in case of any unexpected events. Carmillia didn’t believe it would come to that. But Dorothea had been unpredictable in the past, they were simply insurance.
Additionally, the book couldn’t be found in the room. It was instead hidden in a nearby room. Easy enough to fetch if the deal went ahead, but difficult to snatch and take off with in case of a heavy-handed negotiation tactic from her former friend.
“It's good to see you are doing well Dorothea. I understand that the last time we saw each other may give you a different impression of me, but I do mean that.” She spoke with a reassuring smile, intentionally adding an apologetic tone to her voice. “Could I get you something to drink? Or would you prefer to skip to business.”
Dory put her elbow onto the table and leaned on her hand. “You know, a drink does not sound too bad.” She radiated a relaxed aura, knowing full well that it might either be a trap or an unequal deal. “I am quite surprised you wanted to trade that book. Certain people have advised me to do it through violent means.” She swung her free hand around loosely. “But that is no fun, the art of the deal feels much more rewarding for both parties, does it not?”
Carmillia stood and walked to a nearby cabinet; taking out two glasses. Then back to the table on which sat a pitcher of red wine that was prepared beforehand. “Through violent means?” She laughed in a disarming manner “I didn’t think you would hold a grudge that strong.” Carmillia acted as if she assumed it was a joke; not the threat she knew it to be.
She handed Dory a glass, there was a generous serving of wine in both. Carmillia sat down but was delayed from sipping the wine in favour of talking. “I suppose if those are the two options I would agree. The art of the deal is more reliable and speaks better for the long-term plans of both parties.”
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. If I was the me from back then, I would’ve definitely still held that grudge.” Dory swung the glass slowly around, letting the wine swirl. “My people died due to the mismanagement of everyone. The selfish desires caused them to become schluckodil food.” She paused as she stared the Perrench woman in the eyes. “But I no longer care anymore. It is but old blood that has already dried up.”
She smiled warmly towards the other. “I would much rather have a friend in you than an enemy.” Dory proclaimed as she moved to a more serious sitting position. “Now then, shall we get to the dealings at hand?”
Carmillia took the first sip of wine of the two, paused politely to process the Feskan’s words, then returned a warm smile of her own. “I supposed we should” she responded promptly. “Although, I’m afraid old blood may be a relevant factor in the exchange. I’m under the assumption that House Hohnstein still holds some reputation in Feska. Am I correct?”
“We don’t hold the same prestige we used to but we still hold some power within Feska.” Dory replied cautiously. “Why is it that you ask such a question?”
“The matter is quite mundane really. I wish to open a good trade route in Feska and hopefully Kerremand as well.” Carmillia let out a sigh and swirled her glass. “Unfortunately, increasing tensions have made the prospect quite difficult as of late. So the favour of a reputable house would be quite beneficial to me if any conflict was to break out.”
“A trade route? Now that is something I could assist with. If need be I could even try to convince house Hohenfelter for a route into Kerremand.” Dory leaned further onto the table. “But any dealings around Feska will go through me or my associates. In return, I shall ask less in return than any other Feskan noble will. How does that sound?”
Carmillia for only a moment narrowed her eyes, then smiled. “Less isn’t something that makes for clear bookkeeping. But that is a small matter to me and we can work out the split at a later date. What I am more curious about is your associates. I would hope that our trade isn’t subject to overly invasive inspection.”
Dorothea raised her eyebrow before she laughed. “Well, it all depends on what you wish to trade. My folks do not like unregistered goods, you see. It makes the paperwork more annoying to deal with once it’s discovered.” she winked Carmillia’s way. “But all you need to do is tell me what it is and I will pull the strings when deemed necessary.”
Carmillia took a pause, sipped her wine again. “Weapons and medical supplies mostly. Nothing too contraband; certainly not in a time of need for them.”
“But I suppose having an ally in high places could help with issues at the borders.” She let out a calm smile. “As you said, we are valuable to each other as friends. Not as enemies.”
“Spoken like a true merchant.” Dory’s grin went from ear to ear. It seems it has been a while since she had any mercantile deals thrown her way.
“Those things could easily be written off. Although if you wish to trade weapons and medical supplies we need to make sure we deal with both factions, lest we ruin our neutral status.” She took a good sip out of the glass. “And who knows. If the business proves to be profitable enough I could grant you some land.”
Carmillia matched Dory’s smile, stretching out from the calm and composed expression before. The two girls seemed to have an understanding, dealing with both factions had been the plan from the start. “That's a kind offer. Some land of my own is a nice thought. I would say that we are almost at an agreement.” Then a pause.
“However, there is one more thing. I would like to commission a couple of ships. While I have enough of my own, a couple of Feskan make would be better for business.” She took a good sip of wine herself. “If that is agreeable to you, the book can be yours.”
“A couple ships? Now that does not sound unreasonable.” Dory finished her glass on one final sip. “How many ships would you like? And what kind of ship do you wish to have?” The Feskan began to visualize the potential costs in her head. “Now, was that all? For if it is we could solidify the deal.”
Carmillia finished her glass shortly after then set it aside. “Yes, we can solidify the deal. Two boats should do and they don't need to be flashy. But fast would be appreciated. We can work out the details at a later date.” She detailed in a formal tone. “I'll bring you a contract in the next few days, with the details of the book left out of course. Upon signature of the agreement, the book will be delivered to you within an hour.”
Without delay, Carmillia stood and approached the Feskan with hand outstretched to conclude the deal.
Dory stood up to stand in front of the other and shook the Perrench woman’s hand. “That sounds like a plan.” Dory’s eyes glistened with excitement. “To a bright future between both of our endeavors.”
Carmillia replied with a smile. “Agreed.”
Only a few hours after Dorothea left, Carmillia found herself reflecting on the exchange. It didn’t go her way, but business was rarely a matter of total success. Especially when the other side could kill you with ease. Dory had become far stronger than the girl who collapsed feebly on the Lorentine Queen.
But Carmillia wasn’t scared when thinking back on the exchange. Instead, she felt a fondness for the Feskan, a very rare feeling. Was it because she actually liked Dorothea or simply because the girl had become more like herself? She didn’t bother to dwell on the feeling. There was no point to fondness. It was a waste of time. She had a future to consider.
Compared to allying herself to whatever was in that book, wartime trading was a far more reliable business if given the connections and probably more profitable too, in a monetary sense.
Since the war was stopped, Carmillia had spent the last year preparing for what would inevitably occur once more. The continent would be plunged into war anytime now and the merchant girl was fully prepared to take her cut of it. Ships, trade routes, and various supplies for desperate soldiers who would pay a gold bar just for something to eat.
Weapons and food were a standard and easily profitable product. But the true wealth was in medical supplies. Many armies tended to undersupply themselves when they had a Binding mage to take care of them. After all, what need is there for physical supplies when healing can be magically conjured?
But for main standing armies, the binding mages were hardly the same standard as Ersand’Enise. The good healers tended to be focused on the nobility and those who could afford the service. No, the main forces had the chaff of the binding mages. Binding mages that are easy enough to pluck out with a crimson hand. That was where the true money would lie.
It was a disreputable business. But Carmilla has the measures in place to make sure the profit can be stored safely and securely. Unlike Dory, unlike Leon, unlike people, gold was reliable and had a habit of working in your favour if you knew how to work it.
That left one last loose end. Carmillia Carbonneau. Without a doubt, the girl's own name would be all over this. Both on contracts and on the lips of her conspirators. She certainly couldn’t trust that Dorothea would remain a faithful ally.
Carmillia of House Carbonneau. The orphaned girl who became a self-made success as a merchant and a criminal. Some people might be inclined to take pride in such an accomplishment on its own.
If need be, she could discard it all. What is the worth of a name and a face if it keeps you from the success you have rightfully taken?
She walked to the window and looked over Ersand’Enise once again. A familiar tingle of electricity crept up her spine again. She let it roll through her. There was no magic, no outside force in this feeling. It was sheer excitement. She knew the feeling well.
So much to do and so many things ripe for the plucking.
I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you may be. I have been having a wonderful time at the Trials. Being able to reunite with old friends and make some new ones in Ersand’Enise has been a wonderful time. I met a Hegelan named Talkan. I went out drinking with him and my trials team. What a fun night. Although, I’m sure he was watering down his drinks. Because he seemed sober the whole night from what I can recall.
Another was a girl named Roslyn. I could tell she was a nice girl and had a kind heart. But she was rather troubled by some recent events. I think you can already guess how I helped her. That ragu recipe you gave me when I first left for the city. I have to thank you for it, it really does help every ailment.
Lastly, I met an Eeiako named Kaureerah. I first saw her at a concert of mine when she started singing during my performance. I’ve never had someone do that, at least, not with a beautiful singing voice like hers. I think you two would make for good friends. I do plan on bringing her to the caravans at some point. I will warn you that you may need to pay extra attention to what she is saying. But it is always sweet.
It has been a wonderful time over here. But, to my regret, it isn’t the reason why I’m writing. I’m not coming back to the caravans Nonna. Not for the time being at least. I can’t ignore what is going on in the world while I have the ability to change it.
Today I split up a fight between two boys. One was of a noble birth while the other seemed common. The worker boy had rushed the other but quickly began losing the fight. I was glad I could stop it before it got too bloody. The noble boy planted the worker into the ground with kinetic magic and ran.
I asked the common boy, his name was Baccio, why he had fought the other. He told me that the noble had killed his father. There was a big marketplace fire here within the last year and apparently, he was one of the ones responsible for it. I asked him why he didn’t tell the authorities, he said he did. I asked him why nothing had happened, and he spat. Then I asked him why he would fight when he had no chance of winning against a mage. He asked me if he had any other choice. I couldn’t answer him, Nonna.
I have always avoided fights. I always thought that no matter the situation, there was a better option than fighting. But at that moment, I couldn’t stick beside my beliefs. The reason I left Ersand’Enise was because I didn’t want to fight in pointless wars and bloodshed. But maybe they weren’t pointless and maybe the reason I left is because I didn’t have a reason to fight. You all would be safe no matter what I chose, so I could pick the easiest option.
But I don’t know how long I can choose that. I’m not blind to what is happening around me. There are refugees here fleeing a distant but approaching war and I can see another one for Revidia on the horizon. I’m afraid that life on the road will quickly come to a halt if that happens.
I hope you can down upon us and see the peaceful caravans living how they please, just as you remember them. I have a reason to fight and that is for you. I won’t become a killer, I refuse to take a life. But I will fight for peace here so that I can one day come back and know that I have done all I can to keep us safe.
With love forever, Leon
Dear Doge,
I hope this letter finds you well.
I have returned to Ersand’Enise. I apologize for my rudeness in leaving. But I needed to do it. You provided me with the origins of my birth and I simply went to find them. But that is beside the point of this letter.
I wish to see the approaching war stopped. In the hopes you carry a similar sentiment, I simply ask you. What do you wish of me?
Reliability is not something I can promise. But I seek peace and I won’t stop until I see that fulfilled.
I do not wish for anything from you. I am happy with all I have, I wish for nothing of personal gain.
You need not promise me anything for I cannot promise anything in turn. But this does not mean I can't be of use. Give me a direction, a way to stop the tides of war, and I will pursue it relentlessly.
So with that in mind, I ask you once again. What do you wish of me?
Leon rubbed his sore cheek which had just been pinched by the Nonna. She was impressed with the pizza, as he was certain of. But did she have to express it in such a physical way? Stupid question, the answer was yes.
He was a bit behind the leaders in the race. His fame, even with the Sun King persona, was a double-edged sword. He got fantastic deals on premium pizza ingredients but lost time and energy when the crowd swarmed him. He couldn’t keep his pace; it's not as though he could simply push them away.
Singers and Saints were still in a good position after the first inning and Leon was in no mind to slack about. He ran to the portal immediately and jumped through to tag in Ayla for the Plunge.
But that wasn’t the end of the race for the Sun King. No, it was just the beginning. He had an ulterior motive; to run the rest of the race alongside the teams and make sure every team completed it. The Trials were for fun after all. It wouldn’t be fun to be eliminated from them.
Mushroom Maze
Leon had not expected to be using his magic this way, ever. When he came through the portal, someone had grown a dense wall of mushrooms right outside the entrance. He was sure that the Trial runner would have more foresight than this; it had to be cheating.
He spent the time doing slow controlled burns of the fungi and he was there a good while doing it. The leaders of the race had long since run out of view and by the time he made any strong progress destroying the blockade, only the lagging teams had yet to arrive.
It would be a while until Leon could catch up to spectate his team at this rate. But he reminded himself of his goal and carried forth.
Leon lost himself in the maze and stumbled across a contestant lying face-up on the ground with a half-eaten mushroom in their hand. The student only had their hands visible as they were mostly concealed by a large oversized green robe. Despite their state of twitching on the ground, the hood still hid their face generously.
Leon thought about revealing their face but then remembered his rule. If someone has gone to these lengths to hide their face, it's because they are horrendously ugly. Best to keep their veil in place. It is the moral thing to do.
He hoisted the twitching body onto his shoulder determined to rescue them from the maze.
“What are you doing? Fool! I was spectating the future!” The student piped up in a gravelly and hateful voice while being run through the maze turbulently.
“You can thank me later,” Leon replied with a jovial tone. “You aren’t done with the race just yet.”
Lost City
Chaos greeted Leon as he entered the Lost City. Some great big thresher was spinning and thrashing around destroying everything. What made it extra terrifying was that he rode a leftover Perrench thresher with a dud fin. There were too many close calls to count. But there were also too many students with calls too close. Bodies of students knocked out and knocked off their threshers floated in the sub-aquatic city.
A kinetic mage who was painted green from the Green Meanies, a mage dressed like a lion mascot from Indomitable Lions, a foolish mage dressed in full plate armour from the Knights of Justice, and what looked like an Ersand’Enise guard all rode on the back of Leon’s thresher. He tried bringing them back to consciousness as they waited out the thresher rampage.
Afterward, he returned them to their threshers to continue the race.
Invasive
Leon had a great time running around in the hot bamboo forest. Plenty of sun is all he could ask for.
There was no great distance to travel on this one. All of the teams ran around the same area, so he had plenty of ability to catch up to the front of the pack, despite how far back he was.
He caught up to Laska at the last minute following just behind her as she jumped through the final portal. The Singers and Saint had come first. Victory was theirs.
In his excitement, Leon ripped off the Sun King mask and slam-dunked it into the ground. He revealed to all of the spectators that this mysterious figure was the famed performer all along. What better time than on the victory podium for the Dragon.
Leon was not humble in victory. After finishing a brief victory dance, he ran up to Laska and hugged her. “You did so well I could kiss you.” He didn’t. He made no indication of attempting it either. He instead releases the hug. “That is a victory worthy of song. I’ll need to go get the others immediately.”
But it wasn’t immediate. He instead basked in the glow of victory a bit longer, then dashed off to find the rest of the team, turned a corner, and then just about passed out from exhaustion.
Sofia Gabriella Valier, a young girl of modest nobility, felt like crying. For reasons beyond her grasp, her parents had packed their estate in the Revidian countryside for a newly built manor in Ersand’Ernise. As if the crowds weren’t enough, their new home was situated in a section called Mudville that certainly lived up to its name. Her father must have been out of his mind, on the assumption he had any choice in the move.
She bumped between an apathetic stranger and an apathetic stranger who lacked teeth, neither taking notice. Sofia longed for the long green fields of her old home, the one she had been at all her life. She missed the farmhands whom she had come to call friends after finally overcoming her anxieties, missed the chestnut mare she raised from a pony into her most reliable companion. Now she could only think about how much her father made over the sale.
And yet, that wasn’t why her tears were beginning to well up, no. She had lost sight of her parents in the commotion of the Mudville town hub. It was a scary enough concept for any nine-year-old girl to go through, but she had only been in Ersand’Enise for a week and had no clue how to find the way home.
Any calls were lost to the wind, drowned by constant commotion. The people paid little notice to her. Her status meant nothing. Did they not care about a lost girl on the verge of tears? For the first time in her life, Sofia Gabriella Valier felt truly alone.
She listened out only to receive the distinct sounds of a hammer on anvil. Two to be precise. The cold heartbeat of a place she very much wanted to escape.
A sudden flash of light from above caused Sofia to shoot their gaze skyward. It had not been a flash of light but rather a golden flare and one that was growing by the second. She had to avert her gaze, not just because of the flare’s candescence but also because of its position close to the sun. A mix of her existing fears and temporary blindness had her frozen in place while the others around her fled.
The thud of a blade stabbed into the dirt as the dazzling flare landed not two metres away from her. With a quick look over her surroundings, the people who had once filled the town square had made a makeshift circle of ‘safe distance’ around the pillar of light. As if they all suddenly agreed that a solid ten metres was enough to evade anything that was about to happen. It was just her left to be judged by the alien presence.
“HA… HA HA HA!” a mirthful laughter carried throughout the town square and cut through any chatter in the surrounding circle. While it sounded human enough, the power was far from it. Perhaps to a practising mage, it would be apparent the voice was amplified. But neither Sofia nor most of the crowd were.
The chime of a great, big bell rang and the pillar of light pulsed outward, quickly disproving the ten-metre safety rule as the light engulfed everything in sight. Many tried to run but could never escape it on foot, let alone having to push through the gathered crowds. But not a single person was harmed. It instead filled them with a comforting warmth that soothed the masses. They no longer looked on in fear but curiosity as the flash dissipated.
Sofia was the first to see the figure beyond the shimmering wave. A spear stood with its tip planted into the earth, rising at least two metres to a hand that gripped the very end. The figure was performing a one-handed stand to a combined height of about four metres.
Before she could make out any features, it released his grip and flipped downward. Its foot collided with the spear in a kick sending it spinning upward. The short acrobatic show ended with the figure, now clearly a masked man, having landed and the spear sliding gracefully into the holster on his back next to a lyre.
Landed wouldn’t be the correct word, Sofia thought, because despite making similar motions, he was still floating a few feet off the ground.
The masked man certainly encouraged the imagination in the way he dressed. His golden spear shone behind large, flowing robes of yellow silk with highlights of orange and black. Despite the quantity of fabric, it hardly looked like it weighed the man down. They instead looked weightless, as though the rules of gravity need not apply to them.
But the most distinguishing feature was a gaudy sun mask that covered most of the man's face down to a bit below the nose. His mouth displayed a large, toothy grin. It looked as though the man could burst into laughter again at any moment.
“AH HA HAAAaaaa!” Still floating, he reclined into a laid-back position as he surveyed the crowd. “Please, please there is no need to fear.” The man announced in a regal address. “The apology is mine! I have travelled long to be here.”
“I come from the great belfry in the sky that counts each day. I seek to win the trials, so in this city, I shall stay.”
“I am the Sun King, he who looks over all. And I serve you people, or so I recall.”
Admiration and anxiety were both rife within the crowd. Everyone looked upon this ‘Sun King’ enraptured, some with joy and others with fear. Sofia was the latter on both accounts, which did not escape the monarch’s notice. She froze when his attention on her caused him to lose his smile.
The Sun King had made the decision to grace the ground with his feet and close the distance between himself and the lost girl. “A girl with no friends, no family can be ever so lonely.” He continued to address the crowd but then turned directly to her. “How would you like your very own pony?”
The smile returned to his face, but the confidence and honesty in his voice gave it a disarming quality. There was no way he could be hiding something like a pony given his bombastic entrance. She felt silly; she still hadn’t wiped away her tears from earlier. But Sofia believed him, at least enough to nod in reply.
“I am only as good as the people allow. Please, everyone, start a clap… … now.”
There was a short moment of silence before one person started clapping. Then another started and another until only Sofia left yet to join. Once the rhythm of the claps picked up, Sun King put his hands together, one on top of the other. It seemed to be an innocuous and small gesture, but even someone uneducated in magic like Sofia could see incredible energy converging between his palms.
Another flash of light flared out, signalling the group to stop. The Sun King held out his hand upon which pranced a palm-sized pony dressed in a royal purple mane. It trotted in a circle to the distant sound of the anvils.
Clank clank… … … clank clank… … …
Trot trot… … … trot trot… … …
Sofia was shocked in pleasant surprise. She had never seen a horse like this, or one even five times its size for that matter. But she gratefully accepted the Sun King’s gift anyway, letting the pocket pony jump into her own hands.
“She’s yours now, this stellar mare. So treat her well and give her care.” There was a calming conclusiveness to his words.
And just then, all the day’s events caught up with the poor girl. More had happened to her in just the past couple of hours than in her entire life. At least it felt that way. She dropped to her knees and let the purple mare down to rest upon them. The time was well due for her to get some rest as well if only her parents could find her. But she lacked the energy to keep searching for herself.
The Sun King continued some grandiose speech to the crowd, but her focus was on the little horse. “Please, please there is no need for applause now. You may save it until after I win the trials.” He carried on, outside of her focus. “If you made bets already catch up with your bookie. I wouldn’t want any of you to make poor financial decisions. What king would I be then!?...” And he carried on.
“Sofia? Sofia!”
Sofia looked behind her to see that, because of the commotion, her parents were able to find her. She allowed herself a smile as her ordeal had finally come to an end.
The Sun King gave a parting smile to the reunited family. And then, with another blast of light, he was gone again.
Day 1 ◈ Time: Night ◈ Weather: Thunder, Lighting, and Light Seraphi ◈ Location: Harold's Academy, Main Ballroom ◈ Participants: Arthur Everwood, Sylvia Copeland @LuckyBlackCat
Arthur watched from far above as the other students got into action with a retreat to the hallway. He assumed that the more senior students would fly out to fight the Ni-Seraphi. After all, many had been training to deal with that threat.
But the seconds went by with no one flying up to join him. Those were precious seconds in a situation where time was scarce.
Arthur hadn’t paid much attention to the safety presentation of ESP. In truth, he had little idea of what it was supposed to look like. Too many possibilities were playing out in his head. Are they all just retreating? Or are the senior students out there in need of help? he thought. He didn’t remember seeing them leave. But maybe there was a different way that was out of his sight.
The uncertainties played over in his head. While an obvious choice to someone familiar with the protocol, Arthur wasted seconds deciding what to do. And seconds were precious.
"Let's go!" Sylvia called from below, snapping the teen out of his turmoil. The situation became clear. There was no front assault, no flying out to fight these monsters, and the only thing to do was run and survive. But by this point, he was the furthest from the hallway by strides.
Arthur began to notice the horrific shrieking coming from above him. It was reminiscent of a wounded owlette, but coming from a cluster of larger bodies gave it a far more frightening quality. Arthur could see the pupa already coming in from above. They readied to attack. Some were far too close for comfort.
An ordinary student may have frozen up in fear. But an odd calm and certainty washed over Arthur. He had been in this situation before. Sure, the pursuers were different, but he had needed to break into a quick getaway plenty of times over. If anything, the creatures’ visible bloodlust and disregard for self-preservation could work in his favour.
Dive.
Arthur committed his entire force to flying downward head first. A combination of his will, winds, and gravity helped him pick up speed quickly. As he checked back, he saw that he was creating some distance between himself and the pursuing pupa. He slowed to maintain the current gap. If he went too far from the pupa, they may lose interest.
Obscure.
With a twirl of the wrist, the napkins orbiting the teen began to peel off. With a larger surface subject to air resistance, they shifted back behind him and suddenly sped up again to maintain a small distance behind. As commanded, they swirled into a circular formation behind him and created a shroud.
The pupa could no longer see him clearly, but he couldn’t see them either. The next move depended entirely on faith.
Turn.
Like a well-practised move, Arthur made a sharp turn away from the quickly approaching ballroom floor. The turn was so close that the sides of his unbuttoned jacket scraped the ground before he pulled up to a safe distance.
Behind him, many of the pupa were not so fast to react. Many of his pursuers plummeted straight into the ground. He could only hope that they would stay there. There wasn’t any time to slow down and check.
Moments later ◈ Location: Academy Hallways ◈ Participants: Arthur Everwood, Sylvia Copeland @LuckyBlackCat, Leah Clearwater @vietmyke
As Arthur approached the entrance to the hallway, he was still flying far too fast. It would be a collision course with the other students if he didn’t act now. He pulled up into a standing position, letting the drag pull him back with his suit and mask. The latter finally gave in and flew off his head to be left in his wake.
It should have been as easy as placing his feet down and transitioning into a final sprint through the door. But he was going too fast; he had done too little to slow down. When his feet hit the ground, Arthur tumbled instead. He fell forward into a clumsy roll that ended with his back thudding against the floor, barely inside the hallway.
The doorway sealed behind him almost immediately after. The smile of relief spreading across his face soothed the pain shooting up Arthur’s back. He was just happy to be alive. None other than Leah Clearwater had saved him. It almost made him feel bad about the trouble he caused in House Eusebia last year.
Day 1 ◈ Time: Night ◈ Weather: Thunder, Lighting, and Light Seraphi ◈ Location: Harold's Academy, Main Ballroom ◈ Participants: Arthur Everwood
"Listen carefully. The Hunting Melody of the Ni-Seraphi is exactly what you are hearing now. This is not a drill. Those monsters are here and will be at our doorstep any moment. Do what you can to prepare. We're initiating ESP. Remember your training. You know what to d--"
In Arthur’s mind, the reality of a Ni-Seraphi attack was theoretical. The whole concept of ESP wasn’t something he would actually have to engage in. But now with the explosion and the ballroom’s music abruptly giving way to that horrid melody, Arthur was in a panic.
He sat up after being knocked off Grumble’s chair, his pastry snacks scattered around him. Everyone also seemed to be in a panic after a quick survey of the area.
In his theoretical version of a Ni-Seraphi attack, Arthur could support the frontlines but would choose to stay back. It wasn’t his war, none of this was a fight he would choose, and he wasn’t going to throw away his life so freely. But that was just a dream of a perfect world, one where he could choose not to help and things would end up fine.
Reality was much more cruel.
Arthur’s stomach sank as he spotted a group of first-years starting to take to the skies. He recognized a few of them from tutoring flights. Had they lost their minds or just misunderstood what they were supposed to do? Their reasoning didn’t really matter to Arthur because they had no business taking on the Ni-Seraphi.
They had some capabilities in combat and perhaps together that gave them the confidence to even attempt such a thing. In a few years, maybe they could make a difference. But as it stood they had the tell-tale signs of first-time flyers, barely able to take on a breeze alone last five minutes against a real enemy.
As much as Arthur would have liked to kick back and watch it all work out in the end, he could see students younger and less experienced than him rising to the occasion of an early death sentence. It wasn’t something he could just sit back and let happen.
Theory meant he didn’t have to think about the people who fall in such a conflict. Reality meant knowing them, having spent hours with them. He couldn’t have inaction weigh in his conscience like that.
He stood up and shook off the pastry crumbs that littered his suit in the blast. A gentle breeze gathered around him as if limbering his aeonhart for the fight ahead. All of his abilities were about gathering motion after all, a wind-up process took negligible vitesse but let his power add to an existing but ever-shifting flow as opposed to creating one out of nowhere.
Using his hands as anchors of concentration, he positioned them in front of him with the left directly in his line of sight and the right pointed toward the crowd below. His right hand rose gently causing a pile of napkins to erupt from the food table to join a steady orbit around him. His left hand fell violently and the first years in the distance became unsteady in an instant. Their struggle to stay in the air resulted in them quickly descending with Arthur using his remaining concentration to prevent free fall while he flew up to talk.
“If that's all it takes to knock you out of the air, there is no way I’m letting you out of the ballroom.” Arthur lectured from above. “Listen to the Illuminaires, don’t do anything stupid.” The hypocrisy of words were lost to him in the moment.
Kaspaan and Arthur
Day 1 ◈ Time: Night ◈ Weather: Thunder, Lighting, and Light Seraphi ◈ Location: Harold's Academy, Main Ballroom ◈ Participants: Arthur Everwood, Kaspaan Mustaven @Deja
The glee and suspense of the evening simmered into a haunting song. It brought the hairs of his nape up to attention, unnerving in its ambience. It had caused enough of a disturbance to halt the dances in the ballroom, and the weather had worsened. It dawned on Kasp that this was because Grumble was gone. That thought was shot out of his head when Grune and her warning bellowed through the halls. Kasp felt a shiver run down his spine, something he almost never did, his heart loud in his ears as well. This was not a drill alright, he could spot huge visages in the distance being shadowed by militant lightning. Ana spoke before him, directing her flock like a good Illumnaire would. Seeing Raffaella be taken under protection was enough to entice his bravery forth. His fists clenched, then froze into limbs of spite. With a short glance to his own House leader, perhaps with a bit of uncertainty, he crouched down and then lept off into the night air with a frozen wisp of wind in his wake.
He'd barely cleared the horizon of the ballroom before a gust of wind forced him to end over end in a descending tumble, Kasp flailed about. He quickly caught himself and glared up where he thought a daemon might be frostycuffs ready.
"I don't think you should go either, Kaspaan." Arthur advised from below. Compared to his tone with the first years, this held more respect for his classmate's abilities. "This isn't combat practice."
"Yeah, you're right. Should we round up all the others?" Kaspaan spoke hurriedly with the tune of the night slightly unnerving him. His flight prowess was slower than most but the ice condensation dragged him down. He looked down at the hurried crowd of first years and their peers and Illuminaires protecting them. Yes, they needed to be more defensive at the moment. "Lead the way, We need to help out where we can, You take a Daemon class yet? They'll be Larvae out n about ready to strike..."
"Rounding up the others is good. Try to keep the first years safe, don't let them get hot-headed." Arthur looked down at the crowd below. He grew some new respect for the Illuminaires who got everything under control. "Larvae could slip by the frontlines, they'll need you for that."
Answering Kaspaan's assertions, Arthur did not lead the way. Instead, he floated in place.
Kaspaan looked down at the crowd and then back to Arthur visibly flustered as this was not what he had been expecting as his first Emergency Safety Protocol. Then again, that's why it was in place. He tried to think back to his lessons and recalled with a worried furrow that Grune might be hurt right now, or Professor Grumble even. He floated down near the ground where the assembly was as he spoke.
"Alright, I'll go help the tikes, but what about the others?" Kaspaan strained to say under a bravado grimice. The uncertainty affected the boy more than he care to admit.
"Leave that to me." Arthur said back with a sudden grin of confidence. But it posture betrayed the quick facade.
Arthur floated nervously waiting to support the approaching frontline.
Kaspaan's barely got to the ground before the shrieks of demented Larvae could be heard over their broodmothers' song. His fist were now firm bricks and he drowned out the drone by grinding his jaw, perhaps that would steady his nerves. Kasp didn't have the best eyesight so we failed to notice the true scale of the beasts out in the Endless. He did spot Fasha however, and his other dance partner of the evening both fulfilling their leadership roles. This was confidence in real form for the young noble so he gave his own shout.
"Alright first years on me I need eyes so I can smash n bash!" He didn't have to hold back for fear of reprimand now. He was almost giddy when he frostly spoke to the small crowd of younger children and teens milled in his wake. One even spoke up, a shaven-headed boy with rather bright eyes and a forked tongue, "I taste them, they are close Kaspaan! Real close!"
Upon entering the Ballroom, Arthur was enticed by the music immediately. He walked along the second floor in a soft waltz and took in the sight of the students in flight. Tonight, they were to dance among the stars themselves.
And to think Arthur was going to pass this up with the rest of the Willow Gang. Not that Monty made a particularly good case to avoid it anyway. When he began some pearl-clutching speech about keeping to the prestige of high-profile events, Arthur immediately made up his mind to disregard the order.
He often found himself forgetting that much of the group had enough money to buy out his hometown if given the whim. Speeches like that brought him back to the same obvious truth. Many Willow gang members only cause trouble because they see themselves above the consequences. Wealth, power, prestige, almost all of them were born with it and use that fact to justify how they act. Although he was part of the gang, Arthur felt a wall of separation because of this fact.
It wasn’t to say he disliked the group. On the contrary, he would have never joined if there wasn't something in it for him. But he wondered if Monty had considered that Arthur wouldn't see any invite to those upper-crust dances.
Petyr Nostradé was the odd one out in this assessment. At first, Arthur had assumed he was like the others. He carried himself in a manner and discipline that radiated higher class society of some sort. On the contrary, Petyr is an orphan of common origins. One might think humble beginnings would provide some connection between the two. Yet that commonality had never formed into much. Petyr didn't wear his heart on his sleeve, and his lack of obvious motive to join made him feel like the most distant member of the group, at least to Arthur anyway.
Arthur’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted as he saw Mrs Grumble float out of her chair ahead of him. A look of concern was pretty clear on her face and she seemed to be taking caution in making her flight seem inconspicuous before she took off into the night sky. Arthur knew a quick and stealthy escape when he saw one.
She probably left the stove going.
Almost instinctually, he quickly scanned the area for any other teachers and supervisors. But none could be found. It seemed the academy was putting their trust in Grumble to look after this thing, which was a humorous idea to Arthur. As much as he liked her, Grumble wouldn’t be the first person he would call if he were to supervise the ball.
As he got closer, the haphazard way she let her knitting equipment drop felt out of place. Grumble tended to be more particular about her chosen craft.
She must have really had the stove going he thought dismissively.
Still, the only teacher looking after the ball had suddenly slipped into the night without a word to anyone. Certainly, this could mean trouble if the wrong kind of students were to take notice of that fact. Why, if her rocking chair of supervision were to appear empty, it would mean chaos for Minerva’s precious event. A good student couldn’t let that come to pass.
What the students needed right now was a symbol of authority and discipline to show them all that the event was under control. And it was a grand coincidence that a reputable member of the academy such as himself was here to fill those boots.
Leaning over the rails, Arthur gave a gesture resembling a music conductor toward the food table below. With a raise and flick of his hand, a group of select pastries danced to his commands. They flew up in a swirling line, tumbling ungracefully in the winding current that drew them higher and higher toward him.
Trusting in his ability to do the rest of the work, he leaned back again and fell into a lounging position on Grumble’s empty throne with his legs hanging off the side.
“One, two, three…” Arthur quipped to himself as the pastries fell into his lap one after the other.
He furrowed his brow. There was supposed to be a fourth pastry just behind them. He quickly scanned to see where it ended up but got his query quickly answered as it landed squarely on his face. His abilities weren’t the well-oiled machine he liked to think they were.
Arthur chuckled as he cleaned his face and began digging into the snack. A few bites to eat and he would be in the perfect mood to dance.
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