Obscene Symphony

The Council of the Night- Universal Horror Inspired RP

Oh I'd enjoy a 30's setting, but honestly either works for me. Thanks for the answers!

The Council of the Night- Universal Horror Inspired RP

Okay! So, since I'm getting very War Council vibes from this concept, is this actually going along the lines of the Castlevania version of Dracula and the setting surrounding him? Also, would you rather we stick to established classic baddies like Franky-boy and the teenage werewolf, or can we make original ones in that style?

The Council of the Night- Universal Horror Inspired RP

This looks really cool, I'd prob be interested. I'll come up with some ideas when I'm not awake in the middle of the night xD

Of Blood and Magic

Varis took his time in the bathroom. The feeling of dirt and grime washing off him was a close second to feeding at the moment though perhaps that could be arranged as well. Treating himself after such an awful experience could only be expected after all. He was sorely tempted to run a bath but Eris would be coming over later and he needed to handle the boy before then. He didn’t want to think about this evening until tomorrow night and Eris would be the perfect distraction, even if he did just listen to his empty rambling about whatever nonsense his dreadful sister was up to. At least it wouldn't remind him of this sad excuse of an exam.

And honestly if Ryner was going to put a Sinnenodel through an exam, Varis would have expected something more scholarly. Using vampires as test components was bad form in his opinion. The whole thing was an insult to every institution of education in the realm. Varis doubted even an Astorio would have put together something so distasteful. Assuming they could put two brain cells together long enough to plan an exam of course. Brutes.

Varis turned off the shower, drying off, and got dressed. Simple clothes this time, just a dress shirt, slacks, and a new pair of gloves. Varis made a mental note to have the boy order him more as he pulled them over his hands and pulled the cover off the mirror to fold it away neatly. He made his way out of his room and into the boy’s, snapping and ordering him to stand immediately. Varis spent several silent moments looking him over, tongue clicking in disapproval with every injury he noticed. He was thorough, moving and inspecting Aaron like he was little more than a mannequin on display, and his hand lingered on the scar before he pulled away with a sigh of disappointment.

“For someone who boasted about their training with a premier member of Princess Nox’s retinue, you lack stamina and fortitude clearly.” Varis gestured at the markings. “Get dressed in something appropriate for seeing a life mage. Meet me in the study. We have some points to review after your abysmal performance tonight.” Varis turned sharply and stalked into the study. He collected the belongings the boy left there and took a seat, pulling out paper and writing instructions on exactly how much care the boy was to receive.

Aaron was still as Varis inspected him, eyes down as the Count prowled, poked, and prodded to his satisfaction. He even resisted glancing over when Varis touched his scar, even as his apprehension from the clearing came roaring back. There he was with the ear again. He sincerely hoped he was just overthinking things, but Varis’ odd behaviour in the clearing and the renewed attention to his scar made him fear that his clone—if that was indeed who Varis had faced inside the skull—had said something he shouldn’t have.

But despite his worry, he couldn’t help but inwardly scoff at Varis’ comment. Lacking fortitude? Stamina there may have been an argument for, but there wasn’t much to be done about the resilience of one’s flesh. If not for exhaustion and his lingering sour mood, he might have smirked as a memory of something Salem told him over the break popped into his head: maybe Varis thought mages could build an immunity to bruising like they could to poison, enduring small injuries to grow immune to big ones.

The humour didn’t quite catch, though, and he simply nodded as Varis left and went to work, relieved that he’d be allowed to receive at least some care for his injuries. Bruises really weren’t so bad, but with his mild dependency on life magic, it felt like they took forever to heal, and that was one inconvenience he really didn’t need to deal with at the moment. His choice of clothes was a bit more casual than Varis’, a thick long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, easy enough to take on and off when the life mage examined him. Once dressed, he took a moment in his mirror to run a hand through his hair, neat enough to look presentable but slightly mussed to Varis’ taste, before crossing the hall to the study.

Varis didn’t look up from what he was writing, only pausing a moment to snap at his feet and continue on. With his mild dependency, seeing a life mage was unavoidable. The boy’s new and upcoming training regime was more important than the lesson a few bruises could teach. Damn Noilas. All of their precious Starags probably had a severe dependency if the boy already developed this much. He supposed it made sense. Can’t have the symbols of good faith and peace looking even a touch out of place although Varis would have preferred more mundane means himself. Makeup was borderline magical when used appropriately and it didn’t come with a nasty case of addiction. Varis finished his instructions to the life mage, signed and sealed it, and handed it to the kneeling mage.

“These are exact instructions about how much magical assistance you are permitted. I have no interest in exacerbating your inability to depend on yourself but after tonight’s poor display, it’s clear you cannot be trusted to maintain your own physical wellbeing. As such, I’ll be drawing up your new training schedule.” Varis turned the chair to face the boy. He considered him for a moment and his next words were more to himself than the boy. “I don’t think I’ve seen you use much other than a sword. Maybe I’ll bring…” Varis trailed off for a moment. If he wanted to make a proper training schedule, he’d need to see all of the boy’s abilities first hand. He jotted down a note on a scrap of parchment he had on the desk.

“I’ll put together a mock schedule tomorrow and the day after you’ll complete the first portion in its entirety. I can adjust afterwards.” Varis decided, facing the boy again. “But for now, I think I’d care to hear your opinion on the events of the evening.”

Aaron took the letter, absently examining the familiar seal as he processed the Count’s words. More time for physical training actually sounded more like a privilege than a punishment; between his duties to Varis and his school responsibilities, the time he could spend at the arena was getting shorter by the night, and he’d noticed an antsy buildup of tension without that regular release. Training with something other than a sword, however, was a different matter. Sure, he did a lot of hand-to-hand and grappling training, and he’d tried out myriad weapons as a child before deciding to focus on the longsword, but he couldn’t claim proficiency in anything else. If Varis expected otherwise, there would surely be another lecture about the inadequacy of the Noila training model in his future.

Being asked his opinion, though, made fumbling around with an axe or a glaive in front of every noble at the Academy sound attractive by comparison. There was never a good way out of it when Varis asked his opinion. It was a plainly obvious trap that he had no choice but to step into, and Aaron had yet to completely master twisting his words so as to be truthful enough not to be accused of lying while remaining innocuous enough that he didn’t draw too much of Varis’ interest.

He liked to think he’d gotten a little better though, and as luck would have it, he had at least one opinion on the exam that he expected Varis to fully agree with, recalling their puzzle with the keys and his experience inside the skull. “I think Her Highness is entirely too fond of introspection, Master.”

“Indeed. Every vampire here has had a century to do so. If it didn’t help them in that time, it won’t do them any good now. However, it seems you could do with a great deal more.” Varis said as he studied the kneeling mage. There was a great deal he was curious about after his time in Ryner’s sadistic challenges. The copy of the boy wilted beneath the same insecurities and frustrations this one barely knew how to hide in the first month of his time here. The boy had gotten better thanks to Varis’ tutelage but nothing wiped away the deep sense of betrayal and uncertainty when your glorious, guaranteed future was ripped away from you by the very vampires you trusted. The thought almost made Varis smile but he kept himself in check. Now wasn’t the time to break character.

“Remind me, boy. What exactly happened with that scar on your ear?” Varis asked pleasantly. “The details escape me but it was a training accident, right?” Varis would give him the opportunity to open up. He had his suspicions the night of the dinner with his Lady that the boy hadn’t given him the full truth and this night confirmed his suspicions. The attack was far too targeted, far too personal, for it to have been a coincidence. Varis hadn’t considered the half truth any further than that evening and even he’d admit it wasn’t really a problem. Just a trump card when the boy got too comfortable.

But that wasn’t the case for the clone. No, no. The clone could have burned out his eyes, could have taken his writing hand, burned the tongue out of his head, could have attacked any of the instruments of abuse Varis preferred but instead, the clone made him match with an injury from a passing training accident. And since it meant nothing to Varis other than one of many other scars, it was important to the boy and Varis wanted to know why.

Eclipsing the comment about introspection, Aaron’s stomach turned at the mention of his scar, his worried suspicions from the clearing suddenly coming true. Should he just come out with it? Technically, he already had; everything he’d told Varis had been factually true, after all. It just… wasn’t all there was to tell. But why was Varis so interested? The full truth might hold some power in his hands, but even Aaron didn’t know how much—Varis couldn’t possibly predict that. And why did he suspect that he’d lied, anyway? What had that clone told him?

No, no, he needed to stop running away with his thoughts. The clone may have said something, but it didn’t necessarily have to be anything new. If the clones worked on their subjects’ insecurities, it might have dug into the events preceding the accident, when he’d felt utterly helpless in the face of his mother’s illness. There was no need to panic.

“Yes, Master. Sir Bordeleaux raised his rapier just as I lunged for an attack, and I failed to dodge it. The blade was blunted, but the force still tore through the cartilage and ripped my ear in half.” He confirmed, running a finger over the bumps of the scar. “It happened while my mother was ill, if you recall. I was scared for her and angry that I wasn’t allowed to see her, and the distraction made me less attentive in training.” There, those cliffnotes were true enough, and avoided the lame excuse he’d made last time. “May I ask why the sudden interest, Master? If it bothers you, I’ll be sure to keep it covered up until it can be fixed.”

“Stop fidgeting. There's no reason to while you’re being addressed.” Varis scolded, considering the boy’s answer carefully. While at first glance his response was acceptable, Varis was likely the only person outside of the Noila family to know it was still a sidestep. A good one too. Varis appreciated the sacrifice of personal comfort for the sake of establishing trust. Clearly, the boy had more than a quarter brain. Varis shook his head and unlocked one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out the records Aaron relinquished to him near the beginning of his service.

“I’m sure you recall handing this to me, yes?” Varis asked rhetorically. He flipped them open, looking into his medical records. “We already know you personally intervened to keep this mistake of yours out of public view but looking through this…” Varis ran a finger down the extensive list of injuries and started reading them off. “Fractured rib—Training Accident. Broken nose—Training Accident. Three broken fingers—Training Accident.” Varis put his foot under the boy’s chin and forced him to meet his unamused stare. “Clearly, your trainer had little care about your physical wellbeing through this ordeal and I doubt he took responsibility for each of these. All of these injuries are probably just a long testament to your ineptitude and that one would have been no different if it was on here since it could clearly be fixed.” Varis slammed the folder down on his desk and snapped forward, grabbing the mage’s chin roughly. Varis’ eyes darkened as he stared the boy straight in the face.

“The one thing I am unable to criticize you about is your infallible sense of responsibility. You accept your mistakes and you try to learn from them even if you end up failing worse. Better than most mages I’ve met, honestly. So either, you are about to clarify my misconception about your singular redeeming quality or you are keeping something from me.” Varis snarled, fangs bared. “Leaving out details is just a lie of omission and I will not tolerate lying.”

Fuck.

Aaron’s mind burst into expletives when Varis grabbed hold of him, mostly aimed at himself. Of course Varis saw right through him! His excuse the first time had been asinine—why would he hide a training injury to protect Lucan if Lucan injured him far worse each time they trained without fear of discipline? It was stupid. He was stupid! He’d been appalled at first that no one back home ever confronted him about the scar, always chalking it up to the fact that it was hidden under his hair. After five years of only ever having to explain it as an “accident”, he didn’t have a solid story put together—truth be told, back then he’d barely bothered, expecting anyone who pressed any further to already know what happened and just bracing for the consequences. But how had he never thought to shore up his story once he changed households? Stupid!

His first instinct was to lie again, but even if he wanted to risk drawing even more of Varis’ ire, it was pointless. The Count could probably feel his quickening pulse under his fingertips; there was no way out now. He could throw himself on his sword and beg forgiveness—Varis admitted he was good at that—but a nagging sense of guilt made him hesitate. But what choice did he have? For the umpteenth time he felt torn in two, weighing his former loyalties against his current ones, heart only quickening as the consequences of telling the truth and the consequences of lying vied for the title of worst-case scenario.

As the precious seconds he had to deliberate ran out, Varis’ hand on his chin and the sight of his fangs only added to his burgeoning panic. Suddenly it was as if he was back in that training room with the Count’s fingers wrapped around his throat, fangs bearing down on him, black eyes burning like some wicked creature and on instinct, Aaron snatched his face from Varis’ grip, stumbling back.

The image disappeared when he broke contact and Aaron shook his head, running a hand over his chin and around his neck, and took a steadying breath, settling himself back where he’d been on his knees. “I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, the impotence of his lame little apology not worth completing.

He dropped his head, defeated. “You’re right,” he admitted. “What I told you was true—that’s precisely what led up to my injury—but it wasn’t everything.”

His next words caught in his throat for a moment, held back instinctively like bile, but Aaron forced himself to continue. He’d lost this little battle. That much was clear from the smug look on Varis’ face.

“My injury was an accident,” he reiterated. “I lunged into Lucan’s sword without thinking and tore my ear in half. But I barely even noticed; the pain was somewhere off in the background, and I just wanted to reset and go again. Lucan tried to stop me—apparently there was a lot of blood—but I wouldn’t listen, and eventually when he wouldn’t attack me, I charged at him instead.”

The images of what happened next flashed through Aaron’s mind again, disjointed, broken pictures that didn’t quite tie together cleanly, but this time he was prepared for them. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened next. It happened so fast—I think he hit me, and I remember going down and then up again, and punching, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor and Lucan had his hand around my neck, about an inch away from tearing my throat out with his teeth. I can’t believe he didn’t kill me.”

A wave of potent shame washed over Aaron, just as it had the night it all happened, and he paused to let it settle before continuing. “The life mage on duty was Lucan’s stepmother. Apparently I’d lost a fair amount of blood, alongside a number of worrying injuries Lucan gave me. In her haste to heal me, she didn’t mend the ear very cleanly, hence the scar.” Despite knowing Varis had already seen it, he moved his hair away to expose the scar, clearly hastily reassembled from the puckers and bumps, and not quite perfectly realigned either. “I begged her to keep everything off the record, and she agreed. She didn’t see what happened, and if anyone found out…”

He didn’t bother finishing that sentence; he was sure Varis knew perfectly well what consequences could be in store for a vampire who almost single-handedly ended the Starag line.

He shook his head, mostly to himself, and lowered his head nearly to his knees. “I am sorry for lying, Master. I don’t expect forgiveness, but know that what happened that night was my fault; none of it would have happened had I not pushed Sir Bordeleaux to the brink like a petulant child. Please don’t let it colour your opinion of him.”

“Don’t beg on behalf of another vampire. It’s pathetic.” Varis wrinkled his nose in disgust. This information was interesting. Nearly ending the Starag line? Best scenario, he would have been stripped of his position and sent away with the rest of his family and worst scenario, he would have had a wonderful view of the next sunrise. Having the information could unlock an interesting avenue for some of his side projects but for now, he had a larger issue to deal with.

“As for my opinion of him, it certainly has been colored. A vampire who allows a mage of all things to disrupt his control is a disgrace to our kind.” Varis sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. “I think now we need to deal with a more pressing issue. This is important information for me, your current master, to have and you thought it acceptable to keep it from me. Why?”

Aaron raised his head when reprimanded, but kept his eyes on the floor, his posture defeated. How could he feel any different? In one fell swoop he'd incurred the ire of one vampire and tarnished the reputation of another, all because of the years-old stupid actions of a hot-headed teen. He wasn't sure how many times he'd wished nothing that night had ever happened, but he was certainly adding to that number now.

Varis’ question was expected, but unwelcome nonetheless, especially knowing he'd never find the honest answer acceptable. But there was no point in lying now, and Varis would probably see through any attempt to anyway.

“I wanted to protect Sir Bordeleaux, Master,” he answered simply. “Since it was my fault and nothing similar ever happened before or since, I convinced myself there was no need for any of it to come to light.”

“I don’t think I need to remind you that your loyalties no longer lie with the Noilas or, by extension, him. Your skills, your experiences, your knowledge are all bound to the Sinnenodels now. Keeping secrets, no matter how slight you think they may be, is unacceptable behavior for someone of your pedigree.” Varis shook his head in disappointment. Keeping secrets from your betters was quite the offense and frankly, he’d let himself believe the boy was above that. Clearly some retraining was in order. “As your punishment for that, you’ll have a new set of lines starting tomorrow. I’ll have the parchment ready for you when you wake up. Hopefully, another thousand and a half will drill it through your thick skull and we can put this behind us.”

Varis considered where to move the conversation to next. He hadn’t expected something of this magnitude to come to light but he certainly wouldn’t waste it. It made him wonder what else this boy had floating around inside his skull. Maybe he should have a mental mage examine the boy’s head before he learns to resist it. Varis scowled at the thought and shook it away. Even he found that distasteful, as useful as it was, and he had no intention of turning into her. He didn’t need magic to control his mages. “See, had I known this tidbit of information, perhaps I could have used it to avoid being set on fire in that challenge. Your copy had the audacity to use sunlight to chop off my ear in the exact same place and set my hair on fire. Now, I’m being gracious enough not to hold that against you but I did not have all the tools to defend myself in that situation. Consider that next time you think something doesn’t need to be brought to my attention.” Varis leaned forward again, frowning thoughtfully.

“What I am interested in was the choice of venue. I was in some sort of marble building with a statue of Landar Starag and the names of his wife and children on the walls. Did you have any insight into what that might have been?” Varis asked. Here was a wonderful chance for the boy to redeem himself. Varis had no clue what that was meant to be but clearly the place was significant to the boy so he was offering him a chance to start being truthful.

Aaron stiffened, taken aback. Set on fire!? All this time he'd been worried that the clone had simply said something it shouldn't have, or given Varis a distorted impression of him, but to attack him with sunlight? Despite knowing the clones had advanced magical prowess, somehow the possibility had never crossed his mind. Sure, it was a combat scenario—at least, it had been for him—but in retrospect, the real challenge seemed to be overcoming the insecurities dredged up by the clones, or whatever such inane introspective exercise the Princess intended. Plus… he couldn't really picture Varis fighting, so he supposed the possibility of injury never crossed his mind. No wonder he'd seemed especially testy when they were leaving the clearing; surely being so sorely betrayed by someone supposedly loyal to you would put anyone in a foul mood.

Of course, as with every conversation with Varis, the worst was yet to come. If he’d stiffened at the mention of a sunlight attack, he was outright petrified at the description of the venue, disguising his shock behind a pensive expression. He usually didn’t like to speak—or even think—ill of the royal family, but had Princess Ryner lost her mind? He doubted she personally oversaw the illusion made for each student, but she hadn’t thought to tell whichever mages were in charge of that challenge not to include illusions of extremely secret and illegal tombs on royal grounds?! Far be it from him to chastise the Princess, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel like a letter to her office was in order about that. With luck, it was just an oversight, and not some dangerous game.

And once more, he found himself at a crossroads. It was like he lived at those lately. Back home, Aaron had never considered himself a man of many secrets—in fact, aside from his singular secret about that incident with Lucan, he would have called himself an open book—but his time with Varis so far felt like one deceitful sidestep after another. Was this just how it felt to be a Sinnenodel, weaving one lie after another until you lost track of the truth? Or was he just so used to an environment where none of his knowledge was unique that he’d forgotten how much sensitive information he was privy to?

Truth be told, he was tired of secrets. If it were up to him, he’d tell Varis about the mausoleum and everything else he was keeping from him, if only so he could finally clear the fog from his head and act without worrying about what was being revealed to who. But it wasn’t up to him, was it? His secrets—some of them, at least—related directly to the royal family, so surely they weren’t truly his to reveal. But, as Varis rightly said, his loyalties didn’t lie with them anymore. Moreover, it was Princess Ryner herself who chose to put him in Sinnenodel care; surely she’d considered the consequences, right? Surely she knew that giving him away (especially to the Sinnenodels, of all families) also meant giving away anything inside his head?

“I grew up around depictions of my grandfather, Master. There are several on the castle grounds, especially in the mages’ quarters. Was there anything else of note nearby?” he asked cooly, scrambling for time. Ugh, why would Her Highness put him in this position?! This wasn’t just about loyalties to the Noilas or the Sinnenodels, this was personal. That mausoleum was precious to his family, as well as highly illegal and top secret, hidden even from most of the castle staff. Only the royal family, his family, and a few select guards even knew it existed, and if word got out that it did… he didn’t even want to think about it.

“No, not that I recall. I was busy avoiding sunlight.” Varis replied dryly. Interesting, interesting. Varis quite enjoyed that reaction but he wouldn’t push this issue yet. No, no. He’d have his talk with Ryner first and then he’d come back to it. Varis smiled, amused at the boy, and continued past the location issue for now. “Which is far more interesting than some dusty representation of your unwavering devotion to your family. I have to admit, experiencing your betrayal and discovering your lie have shaken my faith in your devotion to the Treaty’s primary tenet. If you truly don’t know this place, then it’s likely just a representation of what’s most important to you.” Varis paused to consider that.

“And one could argue that it took your loyalty to Landar’s legacy and manifested it. But then, you disgraced that legacy and attacked a vampire unprovoked in front of him which makes me think it was symbolic of your devotion to your family instead.” Varis continued musing, snapping his fingers as a thought occurred to him. “Which means, you care for your family more than your duty. Especially since you destroyed that Landar statue at the end and I talked you into killing yourself.” Varis waved off the last statement as meaningless.

“But, it’s all just idle speculation of course. I’ll be discussing the magicks employed with Ryner tomorrow and we’ll revisit the subject after she gives in to the various charges I’ve levied against her for facilitating an attack on a noble heir.” Varis said, turning to the desk and writing on the scrap piece. “Discuss location development in challenge. Now I won’t forget and we’ll both get to find out why it picked that place of all places once and for all.”

That his clone killed itself was shocking, but it paled in comparison to Varis’ mention of the Treaty. Aaron was accustomed to all sorts of demeaning, belittling, and humiliating comments and tasks from Varis, but doubting his devotion to the Treaty? That may have been the most insulting thing he’d heard come out of Varis’ mouth. Inwardly, he bristled, but he was careful not to let his displeasure escape, especially considering the position he was in. Hopefully it was a combination mistake and jab rather than a genuine observation, and he could at least help to clear it up.

“I can’t say I know how the arenas were generated, Master, but regarding the clones, I think I have a few ideas on what they were generated to do.” He offered. “My exchange with Max’s clone was… well, I’d call it disturbing. When I didn’t respond to its insults and started insulting it back, beyond the ranting about strength and weakness I told you about in the clearing, it talked about killing vampires. It seemed to think killing me would prove that it was powerful enough to kill…” he paused a moment to recall the names, “... his master, Princess Ryner, and anyone else who supported our system, I believe. Not in those words, mind.”

“Judging by that, I came up with two theories,” he continued, counting them off on his fingers. “For one, I thought the clones might be exaggerations of the outward personality of whoever they were reflecting. In Max’s case, it would be easy to take his obvious disdain for vampires and blow it up into something approaching rebellion.” He counted off one. “For the other, I think it’s possible the clones are designed to present the test-taker with whatever would set them off the most. With me and Max, the two could overlap; I can see how an outside party could think Max’s distaste could be exaggerated to murder, and of course, the idea of rejecting our system and murdering Her Highness would certainly shake me.” He shook his head pensively. “But given what you’ve described, Master, I think the latter is more likely. I would hope I wouldn’t need to say this, but I don’t think even an outside observer could think I’d ever hurt you, though a proctor could easily imagine that betrayal from a mage and an attack with sunlight would anger the heir to a noble House.”

He looked back up to Varis. “Did my clone do anything else that might shed light on that, Master?”

“You mostly talked gibberish.” While the boy explained his theories, Varis pulled out a piece of paper and wrote them down so he could see how close he was to the mark. He’d bring it with him tomorrow when he had his meeting with Ryner. “You talked about Yvaine and Ralmevik. You thought I should have something to do with them but frankly, I’d rather set myself on fire than be in a room with a Marivadli and until Salem’s dreams, I’ve never heard of an Yvaine in my life. No matter. I’ll be taking the issue up with the Princess tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your analysis of the test and your opinion of the evening’s events.” Varis didn’t comment but frankly, he disagreed with the boy’s thoughts on the matter. How the copy targeted his comments and insults, over things he very well knew neither Ryner nor the mage knew, was far too direct and focused to be developed by some casual observer. That either meant their privacy had been invaded, which means Varis would need to thoroughly check his room before he changed every time, or…

Varis fumbled the pen he was holding for a moment as something hit him. There were only two vampires who knew some of the things the copy said: himself and his Lady. Neither of them would divulge that information, even with the threat of death, because of how badly it would destroy the family’s reputation. Yet despite that, the copy knew. Which made the realization hit him like a semi-truck.

Ryner got in his mind.

“Enough about the test. I’d like to discuss the sullen silence I returned to after the challenge.” Varis changed the subject but he’d clearly lost some of his earlier composure, rattled by even the possibility. “While I understand Eris’ mage is withdrawn and painfully unaware of the social niceties of his new position it does not give you an excuse to ignore him. You’ll likely be in close contact with him regularly so you may as well maintain a working relationship with him and communication is important to that. Do not let it happen again, understood?”

Yvaine? The woman from the nightmares? Aaron grew pensive just as Varis did, wondering why on earth that name would show up in the trial. Maybe the clones were based on the people they copied, but not only outwardly? That would be another invasion of privacy added to the growing pile, but not unexpected. But Ryner had told him to keep that name and all other information about the nightmares under wraps as a matter of national security—how could she be so careless as to let one of her proctors use it as an element of the exam? Theoretically, any other student could have ended up with his copy, and then be wandering around with sensitive information thrust into their head. And why would the clone mention it anyway? It wasn’t as if it was a sore spot for Varis; like he said, he’d never heard the name before.

A movement in the corner of his eye broke his focus; Varis’ gloved hand nearly dropping his pen. That was odd. Small as it was, Varis didn’t make mistakes like that. The subject changed quickly, and while Aaron was happy to let it, it only emphasized that little hiccup. Or was he just being paranoid? No, the change in Varis’ tone was more than just coincidence.

“Understood, Master,” he acknowledged with a short bow, letting the strangeness pass. If Varis wanted to share whatever shook him, he would have, and Aaron was sure any prodding would not be taken well. “We did talk a fair bit before you returned, but I’ll endeavour to make more of an effort.”

Obscene's Scratchpad

Hider

Varis took his time in the bathroom. The feeling of dirt and grime washing off him was a close second to feeding at the moment though perhaps that could be arranged as well. Treating himself after such an awful experience could only be expected after all. He was sorely tempted to run a bath but Eris would be coming over later and he needed to handle the boy before then. He didn’t want to think about this evening until tomorrow night and Eris would be the perfect distraction, even if he did just listen to his empty rambling about whatever nonsense his dreadful sister was up to. At least it wouldn't remind him of this sad excuse of an exam.

And honestly if Ryner was going to put a Sinnenodel through an exam, Varis would have expected something more scholarly. Using vampires as test components was bad form in his opinion. The whole thing was an insult to every institution of education in the realm. Varis doubted even an Astorio would have put together something so distasteful. Assuming they could put two brain cells together long enough to plan an exam of course. Brutes.

Varis turned off the shower, drying off and got dressed. Simple clothes this time, just a dress shirt, slacks, and a new pair of gloves. Varis made a mental note to have the boy order him more as he pulled them over his hands and pulled the cover off the mirror to fold it away neatly. He made his way out of his room and into the boy’s, snapping and ordering him to stand immediately. Varis spent several silent moments looking him over, tongue clicking in disapproval with every injury he noticed. He was thorough, moving and inspecting Aaron like he was little more than a mannequin on display, and his hand lingered on the scar before he pulled away with a sigh of disappointment.

“For someone who boasted about their training with a premier member of Princess Nox’s retinue, you lack stamina and fortitude clearly.” Varis gestured at the markings. “Get dressed in something appropriate for seeing a life mage. Meet me in the study. We have some points to review after your abysmal performance tonight.” Varis turned sharply and stalked into the study. He collected the belongings the boy left there and took a seat, pulling out paper and writing instructions on exactly how much care the boy was to receive.

Aaron was still as Varis inspected him, eyes down as the Count prowled, poked, and prodded to his satisfaction. He even resisted glancing over when Varis touched his scar, even as his apprehension from the clearing came roaring back. There he was with the ear again. He sincerely hoped he was just overthinking things, but Varis’ odd behaviour in the clearing and the renewed attention to his scar made him fear that his clone—if that was indeed who Varis had faced inside the skull—had said something he shouldn’t have.

But despite his worry, he couldn’t help but inwardly scoff at Varis’ comment. Lacking fortitude? Stamina there may have been an argument for, but there wasn’t much to be done about the toughness of one’s flesh. If not for exhaustion and his lingering sour mood, he might have smirked as a memory of something Salem told him over the break popped into his head: maybe Varis thought mages could build an immunity to bruising like they could to poison, enduring small injuries to grow immune to big ones.

The humour didn’t quite catch, though, and he simply nodded as Varis left and went to work, relieved that he’d be allowed to receive at least some care for his injuries. Bruises were far from the end of the world, sure, but with his mild dependency on life magic, it felt like they took forever to heal, and that was one inconvenience he really didn’t need to deal with at the moment. His choice of clothes was a bit more casual than Varis’, a thick long-sleeved shirt and black jeans, easy enough to take on and off when the life mage examined him. Once dressed, he took a moment in his mirror to run a hand through his hair, neat enough to look presentable but slightly mussed to Varis’ taste, before crossing the hall to the study.

Varis didn’t look up from what he was writing, only pausing a moment to snap at his feet and continue on. With his mild dependency, seeing a life mage was unavoidable. The boy’s new and upcoming training regime was more important than the lesson a few bruises could teach. Damn Noilas. All of their precious Starags probably have a severe dependency if the boy already developed this much. He supposed it made sense. Can’t have the symbols of good faith and peace looking even a touch out of place although Varis would have preferred more mundane means himself. Makeup was borderline magical when used appropriately and it didn’t come with a nasty case of addiction. Varis finished his instructions to the life mage, signed and sealed it, and handed it to the kneeling mage.

“These are exact instructions about how much magical assistance you are permitted. I have no interest in exacerbating your inability to depend on yourself but after tonight’s poor display, it’s clear you cannot be trusted to maintain your own physical wellbeing. As such, I’ll be drawing up your new training schedule.” Varis turned the chair to face the boy. He considered him for a moment and his next words were more to himself than the boy. “I don’t think I’ve seen you use much other than a sword. Maybe I’ll bring…” Varis trailed off for a moment. If he wanted to make a proper training schedule, he’d need to see all of the boy’s abilities first hand. He jotted down a note on a scrap of parchment he had on the desk.

“I’ll put together a mock schedule tomorrow and the day after you’ll complete the first portion in its entirety. I can adjust afterwards.” Varis decided, facing the boy again. “But for now, I think I’d care to hear your opinion on the events of the evening.”

Aaron took the letter, absently examining the familiar seal as he processed the Count’s words. More time for physical training actually sounded more like a privilege than a punishment; between his duties to Varis and his school responsibilities, the time he could spend at the arena was getting shorter by the night, and he’d noticed an antsy buildup of tension without that regular release. Training with something other than a sword, however, was a different matter. Sure, he did a lot of hand-to-hand and grappling training, and he’d tried out myriad weapons as a child before deciding to focus on the longsword, but he couldn’t claim proficiency in anything else. If Varis expected otherwise, there would surely be another lecture about the inadequacy of the Noila training model in his future.

Being asked his opinion, though, made fumbling around with an axe or a glaive in front of every noble at the Academy sound attractive by comparison. There was never a good way out of it when Varis asked his opinion. It was a plainly obvious trap that he had no choice but to step into, and Aaron had yet to completely master twisting his words so as to be truthful enough not to be accused of lying while remaining innocuous enough that he didn’t draw too much of Varis’ interest.

He liked to think he’d gotten a little better though, and as luck would have it, he had at least one opinion on the exam that he expected Varis to fully agree with, recalling their puzzle with the keys and his experience inside the skull. “I think Her Highness is entirely too fond of introspection, Master.”

“Indeed. Every vampire here has had a century to do so. If it didn’t help them in that time, it won’t do them any good now. However, it seems you could do with a great deal more.” Varis said as he studied the kneeling mage. There was a great deal he was curious about after his time in Ryner’s sadistic challenges. The copy of the boy wilted beneath the same insecurities and frustrations this one barely knew how to hide in the first month of his time here. The boy had gotten better thanks to Varis’ tutelage but nothing wiped away the deep sense of betrayal and uncertainty when your glorious, guaranteed future was ripped away from you by the very vampires you trusted. The thought almost made Varis smile but he kept himself in check. Now wasn’t the time to break character.

“Remind me, boy. What exactly happened with that scar on your ear?” Varis asked pleasantly. “The details escape me but it was a training accident, right?” Varis would give him the opportunity to open up. He had his suspicions the night of the dinner with his Lady that the boy hadn’t given him the full truth and this night confirmed his suspicions. The attack was far too targeted, far too personal, for it to have been a coincidence. Varis hadn’t considered the half truth any further than that evening and even he’d admit it wasn’t really a problem. Just a trump card when the boy got too comfortable.

But that wasn’t the case for the clone. No, no. The clone could have burned out his eyes, could have taken his writing hand, burned the tongue out of his head, could have attacked any of the instruments of abuse Varis preferred but instead, the clone made him match with an injury from a passing training accident. And since it meant nothing to Varis other than one of many other scars, it was important to the boy and Varis wanted to know why.

Eclipsing the comment about introspection, Aaron’s stomach turned at the mention of his scar, his worried suspicions from the clearing suddenly coming true. Should he just come out with it? Technically, he already had; everything he’d told Varis had been factually true, after all. It just… wasn’t all there was to tell. But why was Varis so interested? The full truth might hold some power to him, but even Aaron didn’t know how much—Varis couldn’t possibly predict that. And why did he suspect that he’d lied, anyway? What had that clone told him?

No, no, he needed to stop running away with his thoughts. The clone may have said something, but it didn’t necessarily have to be anything new. If the clones worked on their subjects’ insecurities, it might have dug into the events preceding the accident, when he’d felt utterly helpless in the face of his mother’s illness. There was no need to panic.

“Yes, Master. Sir Bordeleaux raised his rapier just as I lunged for an attack, and I failed to dodge it. The blade was blunted, but the force still tore through the cartilage and ripped my ear in half.” He confirmed, running a finger over the bumps of the scar. “It happened while my mother was ill, if you recall. I was scared for her and angry that I wasn’t allowed to see her, and the distraction made me less attentive in training.” There, those cliffnotes were true enough, and avoided the lame excuse he’d made last time. “May I ask why the sudden interest, Master? If it bothers you, I’ll be sure to keep it covered up until it can be fixed.”

“Stop fidgeting. There's no reason to while you’re being addressed.” Varis scolded, considering the boy’s answer carefully. While at first glance his response was acceptable, Varis was likely the only person outside of the Noila family to know it was still a sidestep. A good one too. Varis appreciated the sacrifice of personal comfort for the sake of establishing trust. Clearly, the boy had more than a quarter brain. Varis shook his head and unlocked one of the drawers of his desk, pulling out the records Aaron relinquished to him near the beginning of his service.

“I’m sure you recall handing this to me, yes?” Varis asked rhetorically. He flipped them open, looking into his medical records. “We already know you personally intervened to keep this mistake of yours out of public view but looking through this…” Varis ran a finger down the extensive list of injuries and started reading them off. “Fractured rib—Training Accident. Broken nose—Training Accident. Three broken fingers—Training Accident.” Varis put his foot under the boy’s chin and forced him to meet his unamused stare. “Clearly, your trainer had little care about your physical wellbeing through this ordeal and I doubt he took responsibility for each of these. All of these injuries are probably just a long testament to your ineptitude and that one would have been no different if it was on here since it could clearly be fixed.” Varis slammed the folder down on his desk and snapped forward, grabbing the mage’s chin roughly. Varis’ eyes darkened as he stared the boy straight in the face.

“The one thing I am unable to criticize you about is your infallible sense of responsibility. You accept your mistakes and you try to learn from them even if you end up failing worse. Better than most mages I’ve met, honestly. So either, you are about to clarify my misconception about your singular redeeming quality or you are keeping something from me.” Varis snarled, fangs bared. “Leaving out details is just a lie of omission and I will not tolerate lying.”

Fuck.

Aaron’s mind burst into expletives when Varis grabbed hold of him, mostly aimed at himself. Of course Varis saw right through him! His excuse the first time had been asinine—why would he hide a training injury to protect Lucan if Lucan injured him far worse each time they trained without fear of discipline? It was stupid. He was stupid! He’d been appalled that no one back home ever confronted him about the scar at first, always chalking it up to the fact that it was hidden under his hair. After five years of only ever having to explain it as an “accident”, he didn’t have a solid story put together—truth be told, back then he’d barely bothered, expecting anyone who pressed any further to already know what happened and just bracing for the consequences. But how had he never thought to shore up his story once he changed households? Stupid!

His first instinct was to lie again, but even if he wanted to risk drawing even more of Varis’ ire, it was pointless. The Count could probably feel his quickening pulse under his fingertips; there was no way out now. He could throw himself on his sword and beg forgiveness - Varis admitted he was good at that—but a nagging sense of guilt made him hesitate. But what choice did he have? For the umpteenth time he felt torn in two, weighing his former loyalties against his current ones, heart only quickening as the consequences of telling the truth and the consequences of lying vied for the title of worst-case scenario.

As the precious seconds he had to deliberate ran out, Varis’ hand on his chin and the sight of his fangs only added to his burgeoning panic. Suddenly it was as if he was back in that training room with the Count’s fingers wrapped around his throat, fangs bearing down on him, black eyes burning like some wicked creature and on instinct, Aaron snatched his face from Varis’ grip, stumbling back.

The image disappeared when he broke contact and Aaron shook his head, running a hand over his chin and around his neck, and took a steadying breath, settling himself back where he’d been on his knees. “I’m sorry Master, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, the impotence of his lame little apology not worth completing.

He dropped his head, defeated. “You’re right,” he admitted. “What I told you was true—that’s precisely what led up to my injury - but it wasn’t everything.”

His next words caught in his throat for a moment, held back instinctively like bile, but Aaron forced himself to continue. He’d lost this little battle—that much was clear from the smug look on Varis’ face.

“My injury was an accident,” he reiterated. “I lunged into Lucan’s sword without thinking and tore my ear in half. But I barely even noticed; the pain was somewhere off in the background, and I just wanted to reset and go again. Lucan tried to stop me—apparently there was a lot of blood—but I wouldn’t listen, and eventually when he wouldn’t attack me, I charged at him instead.”

The images of what happened next flashed through Aaron’s mind again, disjointed, broken pictures that didn’t quite tie together cleanly, but this time he was prepared for them. “I don’t remember a lot of what happened next. It happened so fast - I think he hit me, and I remember going down and then up again, and punching, and the next thing I knew I was on the floor and Lucan had his hand around my neck, about an inch away from tearing my throat out. I can’t believe he didn’t kill me.”

A wave of potent shame washed over Aaron, just as it had the night it all happened, and he paused to let it settle before continuing. “The life mage on duty was Lucan’s stepmother. Apparently I’d lost a fair amount of blood, alongside a number of worrying injuries Lucan gave me. In her haste to heal me, she didn’t mend the ear very cleanly, hence the scar.” Despite knowing Varis had already seen it, he moved his hair away to expose the scar, clearly hastily reassembled from the puckers and bumps, and not quite perfectly realigned either. “I begged her to keep everything off the record, and she agreed. She didn’t see what happened, and if anyone found out…”

He didn’t bother finishing that sentence; he was sure Varis knew perfectly well what consequences could be in store for a vampire who almost single-handedly ended the Starag line.

He shook his head, mostly to himself, and lowered his head nearly to his knees. “I am sorry for lying, Master. I don’t expect forgiveness, but know that what happened that night was my fault; none of it would have happened had I not pushed Sir Bordeleaux to the brink like a petulant child. Please don’t let it colour your opinion of him.”

“Don’t beg on behalf of another vampire. It’s pathetic.” Varis wrinkled his nose in disgust. This information was interesting. Nearly ending the Starag line? Best scenario, he would have been stripped of his position and sent away with the rest of his family and worst scenario, he would have had a wonderful view of the next sunrise. Having the information could unlock an interesting avenue for some of his side projects but for now, he had a larger issue to deal with.

“As for my opinion of him, it certainly has been colored. A vampire who allows a mage of all things to disrupt his control is a disgrace to our kind.” Varis sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair. “I think now we need to deal with a more pressing issue. This is important information for me, your current master, to have and you thought it acceptable to keep it from me. Why?”

Aaron raised his head when reprimanded, but kept his eyes on the floor, his posture defeated. How could he feel any different? In one fell swoop he'd incurred the ire of one vampire and tarnished the reputation of another, all because of the years-old stupid actions of a hot-headed teen. He wasn't sure how many times he'd wished nothing that night had ever happened, but he was certainly adding to that number now.

Varis’ question was expected, but unwelcome nonetheless, especially knowing he'd never find the honest answer acceptable. But there was no point in lying now, and Varis would probably see through any attempt to anyway.

“I wanted to protect Sir Bordeleaux, Master,” he answered simply. “Since it was my fault and nothing similar ever happened before or since, I convinced myself there was no need for any of it to come to light.”

“I don’t think I need to remind you that your loyalties no longer lie with the Noilas and, by extension, him. Your skills, your experiences, your knowledge are all bound to the Sinnenodels now. Keeping secrets, no matter how slight you think they may be, is unacceptable behavior for someone of your pedigree.” Varis shook his head in disappointment. Keeping secrets from your betters was quite the offense and frankly, he’d let himself believe the boy was above that. Clearly some retraining was in order. “As your punishment for that, you’ll have a new set of lines starting tomorrow. I’ll have the parchment ready for you when you wake up. Hopefully, another thousand and a half will drill it through your thick skull and we can put this behind us.”

Varis considered where to move the conversation to next. He hadn’t expected something of this magnitude to come to light but he certainly wouldn’t waste it. It made him wonder what else this boy had floating around inside his skull. Maybe he should have a mental mage examine the boy’s head before he learns to resist it. Varis scowled at the thought and shook it away. Even he found that distasteful, as useful as it was, and he had no intention of turning into her. He didn’t need magic to control his mages. “See, had I known this tidbit of information, perhaps I could have used it to avoid being set on fire in that challenge. Your copy had the audacity to use sunlight to chop off my ear in the exact same place and set my hair on fire. Now, I’m being gracious enough not to hold that against you but I did not have all the tools to defend myself in that situation. Consider that next time you think something doesn’t need to be brought to my attention.” Varis leaned forward again, frowning thoughtfully.

“What I am interested in was the choice of venue. I was in some sort of marble building with a statue of Landar Starag and the names of his wife and children on the walls. Did you have any insight into what that might have been?” Varis asked. Here was a wonderful chance for the boy to redeem himself. Varis had no clue what that was meant to be but clearly the place was significant to the boy so he was offering him a chance to start being truthful.

Aaron stiffened, taken aback. Set on fire!? All this time he'd been worried that the clone had simply said something it shouldn't have, or given Varis a distorted impression of him, but to attack him with sunlight? Despite knowing the clones had advanced magical prowess, somehow the possibility had never crossed his mind. Sure, it was a combat scenario—at least, it had been for him—but in retrospect, the real challenge seemed to be overcoming the insecurities dredged up by the clones, or whatever such inane introspective exercise the Princess intended. Plus… he couldn't really see Varis fighting, so he supposed the possibility of injury never crossed his mind. No wonder he'd seemed especially testy when they were leaving the clearing; surely being so sorely betrayed by someone supposedly loyal to you would put anyone in a foul mood.

Of course, as with every conversation with Varis, the worst was yet to come. If he’d stiffened at the mention of a sunlight attack, he was outright petrified at the description of the venue, disguising his shock behind a pensive expression. He usually didn’t like to speak—or even think—ill of the royal family, but had Princess Ryner lost her mind? He doubted she personally oversaw the illusion made for each student, but she hadn’t thought to tell whichever mages were in charge of that challenge not to include illusions of extremely secret and illegal tombs on royal grounds?! Far be it from him to chastise the Princess, but Aaron couldn’t help but feel like a letter to her office was in order about that. With luck, it was just an oversight, and not some dangerous game.

And once more, he found himself at a crossroads. It was like he lived at those lately. Back home, Aaron had never considered himself a man of many secrets—in fact, aside from putting on the occasional brave face and his singular secret about that incident with Lucan, he would have called himself an open book—but his time with Varis so far felt like one deceitful sidestep after another. Was this just how it felt to be a Sinnenodel, weaving one lie after another until you lost track of the truth? Or was he just so used to an environment where none of his knowledge was unique that he’d forgotten how much sensitive information he was privy to?

Truth be told, he was tired of secrets. If it were up to him, he’d tell Varis about the mausoleum and everything else he was keeping from him, if only so he could finally clear the fog from his head and act without worrying about what was being revealed to who. But it wasn’t up to him, was it? His secrets—some of them, at least—related directly to the royal family, so surely they weren’t truly his to reveal. But, as Varis rightly said, his loyalties didn’t lie with them anymore. Moreover, it was Princess Ryner herself who chose to put him in Sinnenodel care; surely she’d considered the consequences, right? Surely she knew that giving him away (especially to the Sinnenodels, of all families) also meant giving away anything inside his head?

“I grew up around depictions of my grandfather, Master. There are several on the castle grounds, especially in the mages’ quarters. Was there anything else of note nearby?” he asked cooly, scrambling for time. Ugh, why would Her Highness put him in this position?! This wasn’t just about loyalties to the Noilas or the Sinnenodels, this was personal. That mausoleum was precious to his family, as well as highly illegal and top secret, hidden even from most of the castle staff. Only the royal family, his family, and a few select guards even knew it existed, and if word got out that it did… he didn’t even want to think about it.

“No, not that I recall. I was busy avoiding sunlight.” Varis replied dryly. Interesting, interesting. Varis quite enjoyed that reaction but he wouldn’t push this issue yet. No, no. He’d have his talk with Ryner first and then he’d come back to it. Varis smiled, amused at the boy, and continued past the location issue for now. “Which is far more interesting than some dusty representation of your unwavering devotion to your family. I have to admit, experiencing your betrayal and discovering your lie have shaken my faith in your devotion to the treaty’s primary tennant. If you truly don’t know this place, then it’s likely just a representation of what’s most important to you.” Varis paused to consider that.

“And one could argue that it took your loyalty to Landar’s legacy and manifested it. But then, you disgraced that legacy and attacked a vampire unprovoked in front of him which makes me think it was symbolic of your devotion to your family instead.” Varis continued musing, snapping his fingers as a thought occurred to him. “Which means, you care for your family more than your duty. Especially since you destroyed that Landar statue at the end and I talked you into killing yourself.” Varis waved off the last statement as meaningless.

“But, it’s all just idle speculation of course. I’ll be discussing the magicks employed with Ryner tomorrow and we’ll revisit the subject after she gives in to the various charges I’ve levied against her for facilitating an attack on a noble heir.” Varis said, turning to the desk and writing on the scrap piece. “Discuss location development in challenge. Now I won’t forget and we’ll both get to find out why it picked that place of all places once and for all.”

Mention of his clone killing itself was shocking, but it paled in comparison to Varis’ mention of the Treaty. Aaron was accustomed to all sorts of demeaning, belittling, and humiliating comments and tasks from Varis, but doubting his devotion to the Treaty? That may have been the most insulting thing he’d heard come out of Varis’ mouth. Inwardly, he bristled, but he was careful not to let his displeasure escape, especially considering the position he was in. Hopefully it was a combination mistake and jab rather than a genuine observation, and he could at least help to clear it up.

“I can’t say I know how the arenas were generated, Master, but regarding the clones, I think I have a few ideas on what they were generated to do.” He offered. “My exchange with Max’s clone was… well, I’d call it disturbing. When I didn’t respond to its insults and started insulting it back, beyond the ranting about strength and weakness I told you about in the clearing, it talked about killing vampires. It seemed to think killing me would prove that it was powerful enough to kill…” he paused a moment to recall the names, “... his master, Princess Ryner, and anyone else who supported our system, I believe.”

“Judging by that, I came up with two theories,” he continued, counting them off on his fingers. “For one, I thought the clones might be exaggerations of the outward personality of whoever they were reflecting. In Max’s case, it would be easy to take his obvious disdain for vampires and blow it up into something approaching rebellion.” He counted off one. “For the other, I think it’s possible the clones are designed to present the test-taker with whatever would set them off the most. With me and Max, the two could overlap; I can see how an outside party could think Max’s distaste could be exaggerated to murder, and of course, the idea of rejecting our system and murdering Her Highness would certainly shake me.” He shook his head pensively. “But given what you’ve described, Master, I think the latter is more likely. I would hope I wouldn’t need to say this, but I don’t think even an outside observer could think I’d ever hurt you, though a proctor could easily imagine that betrayal from a mage and an attack with sunlight would anger the heir to a noble House.”

He looked back up to Varis. “Did my clone do anything else that might shed light on that, Master?”

“You mostly talked gibberish.” While the boy explained his theories, Varis pulled out a piece of paper and wrote them down so he could see how close he was to the mark. He’d bring it with him tomorrow when he had his meeting with Ryner. “You talked about Yvaine and Ralmevik. You thought I should have something to do with them but frankly, I’d rather set myself on fire than be in a room with a Marivadli and until Salem’s dreams, I’ve never heard of a Yvaine in my life. No matter. I’ll be taking the issue up with the Princess tomorrow. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your analysis of the test and your opinion of the evening’s events.” Varis didn’t comment but frankly, he disagreed with the boy’s thoughts on the matter. How the copy targeted his comments and insults, over things he very well knew neither Ryner nor the mage knew, was far too direct and focused to be developed by some casual observer. That either meant their privacy had been invaded, which means Varis would need to thoroughly check his room before he changed every time, or…

Varis fumbled the pen he was holding for a moment as something hit him. There were only two vampires who knew some of the things the copy said: himself and his Lady. Neither of them would divulge that information, even with the threat of death, because of how badly it would destroy the family’s reputation. Yet despite that, the copy knew. Which made the realization hit him like a semi-truck.

Ryner got in his mind.

“Enough about the test. I’d like to discuss the sullen silence I returned to after the challenge.” Varis changed the subject but he’d clearly lost some of his earlier composure, rattled by even the possibility. “While I understand Eris’ mage is withdrawn and painfully unaware of the social niceties of his new position but it does not give you an excuse to ignore him. You’ll likely be in close contact with him regularly so you may as well maintain a working relationship with him and communication is important to that. Do not let it happen again, understood?”

Yvaine? The woman from the nightmares? Aaron grew pensive just as Varis did, wondering why on earth that name would show up in the trial. Maybe the clones were based on the people they copied, but not only outwardly? That would be another invasion of privacy on the growing pile, though not unexpected. But Ryner had told him to keep that name and all other information about the nightmares under wraps as a matter of national security - how could she be so careless as to let one of her proctors use it as an element of the exam? Theoretically, any other student could have ended up with his copy, and then be wandering around with sensitive information thrust into their heads. And why would the clone mention it anyway? It wasn’t as if it was a sore spot for Varis; like he said, he’d never heard the name before.

A movement in the corner of his eye broke his focus; Varis’ gloved hand nearly dropping his pen. That was odd. Small as it was, Varis didn’t make mistakes like that. The subject changed quickly, and while Aaron was happy to let it, it only emphasized that little hiccup. Or was he just being paranoid? No, the change in Varis’ tone was more than just coincidence.

“Understood, Master,” he acknowledged with a short bow, letting the strangeness pass. If Varis wanted to share whatever shook him, he would have, and Aaron was sure any prodding would not be taken well. “We did talk a fair bit before you returned, but I’ll endeavour to make more of an effort.”

Of Blood and Magic

Despite the tension in the car from Varis’ festering, the ride back to the dorm was mercifully silent, and afforded Aaron a rare moment of relative peace. Now that he was no longer preoccupied with forest obstacles, challenges, or an iron vice on his arm, an aching tension behind his eyes was apparent. Even considering his existing headache, it was clear that the spell had taken a toll, though he was honestly just glad he’d been able to keep it up. He hadn’t anticipated any issues with it, sure, but it was still a marathon of a stamina test (not even counting everything else they’d had to deal with) and he could only imagine how much angrier Varis would be if he’d buckled and dropped the spell halfway through.

He held back a sigh. Not as if succeeding with the spell was going to bolster him at all tonight. With how angry Varis had been at the mere concept of the practical, let alone its execution, Aaron had fully expected to bear the brunt of the Count’s frustrations tonight no matter how well he performed. Now, though, there was an errant sigh and an unfortunate human weakness to having the daylights squeezed out of him working against him as well, not to mention whichever other misdeeds Varis would conjure up to satisfy his vexation. Aaron wasn’t stupid; he had no doubt that there was some merit beneath his many, many scoldings, but anyone with eyes could tell that Varis also used him like a stress ball just as often.

But there was no use dwelling on it. Aaron had been done with tonight since the moment he woke up, and while the puzzles in the forest had started out as a nice distraction—it was actually pleasant to work together with his master for once, and get the chance to do his job as an aide rather than an ornament—they had quickly become the night’s foremost headache, leaving the mage feeling a type of violated he was all too familiar with.

Despite knowing what was waiting for him, finally arriving back at the dorm was a relief. At least he was out of the cold. Aaron followed silently as Varis tore into the dorm, offering a silent bow in response to his orders before Varis took off to his room. Aaron swore he heard the faint sound of tearing when the door closed, but paid it no mind, instead stopping off in the study to leave Varis’ belongings neatly on his desk before making for his own room. Dirty clothes went to the hamper and he was quick into the shower, turning the water as hot as he could stand and allowing himself a moment to savour the warmth—after all they’d been through tonight, he was confident Varis would take a few extra minutes as well, giving him a little time to himself. The water helped soothe his aching shoulders, though the welts where Varis had been holding him remained tender. They’d be even more tender tomorrow, he was sure, unless Varis allowed him to see a life mage and rid himself of such unsightly bruises. A look in the mirror when he got out revealed the damage in full: while he was still a little flushed from the heat, there were clearly red and raised spots all over his shoulders, and of course, some very recognizable handprints on his arms. Some were even just beginning to darken. Something else Varis could criticize, no doubt.

He didn’t tarry long, though, and finished his routine promptly; he’d had enough post-shower lectures that he was pretty quick at the process by now. As Varis ordered, he didn’t bother dressing (nudity barely phased him at this point, a convenient development even if he wasn’t sure how to feel about it), instead making sure his bathroom was tidy before taking his place on the floor at the foot of his bed, ready to get this all over with.

_@Achronum

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron took a sidelong glance at Max’s belongings—the lighter was self-explanatory, but he struggled to understand what Max could do with those little strips of metal that he couldn’t do with his vambraces—before the other attendant returned with his own items. Aaron’s watch was the only thing of his he got back, seeing as he’d left his phone at the dorm, and was innocent enough; conversely, whatever Max had been planning was certainly more discreet than the tale of blatant cheating told by Varis’ pen light, compass and map.

It took almost all the patience Aaron had left not to roll his eyes again. The tantrums and the attempts to lean on the Princess he expected, but did Varis really have so little shame that he’d try to sneak all this through the security check? The sore spots on his arms made it clear that Varis was no great fan of being blinded, fine, but Aaron would have thought the Count would at least try to appear to tolerate it, seeing as the alternative was the possibility of rumours flying that a Sinnenodel needed to cheat to pass a test.

Putting his watch back on and tucking Varis’ things into his coat, Aaron turned his attention back to Max, letting out a humourless laugh that sounded more like a huff than anything. “No, no, I think I’m safe from that particular form of torment,” he only partially joked, opting to leave out the part where he doubted Varis would ever feel the need to use him as an example for anything. Or... not a positive one, anyway.

He looked over to the cars waiting nearby, and back to Max for a moment, deliberating. As much as he wanted to think those illusions were simply exaggerations meant to shock and provoke, there were still things he wanted to ask. But not here; that was better left for a rare moment of privacy, if he ever gave in to his curiosity at all. There were too many ears around, and Aaron was confident that neither he nor Max were in the mood for a reluctant heart-to-heart about inner demons and vampire murder at the moment. Not that there was even much chance of getting an honest answer out of the other mage, anyway.

Suitably discouraged, Aaron cleared his throat. “Well, enjoy your night off, I suppose,” he lamely concluded, nodding to the other mage and setting off for the cars before Varis could beat him there.

_{@Scribe of Thoth @Achronum}

Of Blood and Magic

Aaron’s trip out of the forest was as much of a trudge for him as it was for the vampires. Fatigue and cold gripped him in equal measure, and every step lowered his mood from shaken and apprehensive back down to where it had started that evening: thoroughly unamused. The same spiteful thoughts that this test was a farce, unnecessary, and an egregious invasion of privacy swirled in his head as he walked until he tired of them, choosing instead to focus on the placement of his feet and the clues to get them the hell out of the woods, all the while setting his jaw against Varis’ harsh grip and his own burgeoning headache.

The forest’s edge was a relief, if a double-edged one. That was one trial done with, but he knew another one awaited him back at the dorm. Therefore, significantly less welcome was the news of an upcoming night off. He knew it would hardly be a night of repose for him if Varis had any say in the matter, and judging by the vampire’s literal quakes of rage, Aaron was pretty sure he would have preferred the escape of classes to whatever would be ordained for him in their absence. He was grateful, at least, that he wasn’t as mud-caked as the vampires were in Ryner’s presence; next to them, the dirt on his shoes and probably deposited by Varis on the back of his coat could almost be overlooked. He usually would have been mortified nonetheless, but either his own sour mood or some lingering spite over having his head picked through as a part of his exam quelled his usual modesty.

He stayed silent when Varis handed him the Eve medallion and waved him off, offering only a bow to him and a nod to the Princess before setting off for the tent. Only when he knew the vampires’ attention would be elsewhere did he allow himself to reach up and massage his temple, with the consequence of catching Max’s shit-eating grin.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Nope, that was new,” he answered flatly, rolling his shoulders. Damn, he could already feel the sore spots where Varis had gripped him. Right, excellent, he was going to be peppered with bruises after tonight, too. How could he forget.

Arriving at the tent, Aaron handed the attendant his tokens: the Eve medallion from the digging puzzle and the coin from the skull. “And what about you?” he shot back at Max, crossing his arms as the tent attendant fetched his and Varis' confiscated belongings. “Since when are you all buddy-buddy with Eris? I don’t think I heard you utter a single snide comment to him that entire time. If it didn’t freak me out so much, I’d be tempted to congratulate you.”

_{@Scribe of Thoth @Achronum}

The Night Shift - Supernatural Horror Gas Station Simulator

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