A Bright and Shiny Life

As much as I want to spend sunrise finishing the liquifying beam, I don't really have a good place to do so. After breakfast I'm usually on the dorm roof with about two dozen other students all chanting away. There are other places that are more private I could go to, but there's no reason for the effort. No non-suspicious reason at least.

"Oh, that is you Monhal. I thought my eyes were deceiving me." A voice calls from behind me as I finish chanting, causing me to turn and see Lucas Talhal walking up with a confident grin. "I didn't realize we shared a dorm building."

"Me neither," I say, returning something of his smile. "At least I've never seen you at these gatherings."

"Oh, well, I normally do my morning session elsewhere. A um teahouse that specializes in facilitating focus for aspiring mages such as ourselves. It sells food and other services to make sure you're awake enough to properly study, or at least that's the idea."

"Interesting. Is the improvement noticeable?" I say with interest of anything that might improve my training.

"Eh," he makes a wishy washy motion, "somewhat, though it's hard to say if that's just expectation. But that's not really the point. It's more of a filter so that only the right people gather there. I mostly go for the social room, after the sun fully rises of course."

"Sounds appealing."

"Really? I'll have to take you sometime then. Though not for a few days. They had to temporarily close due to some unfortunate family business, or so I understand."

"I'd be glad. Though it would have to be Midweek* or Penday* at least for the first time. I have early morning classes every other weekday."

"Well, they said they'd be open by Penday, so I'll take you then… What class are you heading to?"

"Oh, um, magic theory. With Professor Akhal."

"Akhal… Early morning," he mutters to himself then brightens. "Oh, is that the one Princep Avery is in?"

"…You're well informed."

"Are they as strange as people say?"

"…I'm not privy to such gossip…but yes," I smirk a little causing him to do likewise.

"I've heard they said some strange things in that class. About basic magic theory."

I nod. "Yes, but nothing wrong per se. It's just that I don't think anyone else would have phrased things exactly the same. As if they look at magic from a different perspective than the rest of us."

"Hm, perhaps it has to do with being adopted. After all, going from mere mortal to demi-demi-god is sure to be a disorientating shift. Maybe they picked up a few unique insights along the way."

"Yes… perhaps that's it," I say, not wholly convinced. It's just an impression I have that if their adoption and strangeness are causal, then it's the other way around than he's suggesting.

"Well anyways," I say with a polite smile and half bow, "I'd best be going if I'm to see what other strange behaviour they have in store today. Good day." He returns the pleasantry, and I walk off.

I think the teahouse will be a good thing. Least of all, while he hasn't complained, I can't imagine Marcus is happy about getting up an hour before first light to make my breakfast each morning. Plus, the food will almost certainly be better at the teahouse.

Then there's the potential contacts and, while he didn't explicitly mention it, such places likely have arrangements for private study that might be ideal to learn my less than public spells.

My only issue is that I do like being on my own for a while to mentally prepare for the day. Though from the sound of it, this place may at least be more relaxing than the cafeteria even if it's certain to be much more stressful on my budget.

Well, I'll at least try it out, and even if I like it, I don't have to go every day.

…I didn't see Emily on the roof today. We don't normally talk in the morning anyways since her spot is on the other side of the courtyard, but I do often see her. I was going to look after I finished chanting but got distracted by Lucas.

It's possible that the crossbow ambush wasn't Bart's only plan and she was waylaid on the way home. I'm not too worried though. She's certain to have divined the best route back like I did, and this isn't the first time she's been absent from the roof. Apparently, she uses a more private spot on occasion, which is why she declined to walk with Ser Terry and myself to Applied Divination yesterday.

Even if she did stumble into something though, I'll learn soon enough as I'm certain word will spread if the genius ice mage was found dead in an alley or has gone missing. Still, I'll do a divination for them all when I get back.

I don't pay much attention to the lecture as my mind is on meeting Bart in Preston's sword club later today. Besides, the lesson is review for me. Just going over the different types of impossibility and magic's relation to them and other similar concepts. The only highlight is Princep Avery's normal strange take on things. They declared confusion at the professor's (very standard) claim that magic is limited to contingent impossibilities with the rare and often powerful exceptions of those that violate (or seem to violate as some argue) natural laws.

Professor Akhal reasonably assumed that Princep Avery was confused as the only other category is mathematical/definitional impossibilities. To illustrate, Akhal states that magic is not capable of creating a square circle, to which Avery claimed that they have seen it do just that.

Akhal, faced with the prospect of being charged with lese-majesty by stating that Avery is lying, tactfully moves the subject on.

The strange thing is that if the other princeps, say Vincent, had made such a claim, they would have been doing so for their own amusement from putting the teacher in such a position. But Avery really seems to believe that they've seen such a thing.

The rest of the class provides little distraction from the upcoming club, and my need to know if the crossbow was a deliberate element of Bart's plan to isolate me from my friends, or just coincidence.

How do I think he'll act if it was deliberate? No trace of guilt or shame – we're too alike for that. So, what should he be feeling? Fear, a little bit. Someone attacked his operative last night, and he doesn't know who. There should be a persistent low level of… well, maybe not fear, but worry over plans thwarted and mysterious new foes regardless if I was considered. If I was considered though, then that worry should spike when we interact.

So that's the plan: I'll act normal and see how worried he is around me.

So, naturally, when we meet, he has no detectable worry at all. In fact, he seems completely normal. I have no idea what this means, other than he's more capable at hiding his thoughts than I am of detecting them. It's alarming, as I've grown accustomed to discerning emotions from minute facial twitches and other subtle clues of body language, but to see nothing where something is expected casts doubt on the ability in general.

Or, I suppose 'nothing' is a bit of an exaggeration. There is warmth in the friendly smile he gives upon seeing me that seems genuine.

"Malichi! Good to have you with us. I did want to meet again before our law class together."

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"Me too," I smile obliviously. "I apologize for leaving in a huff, but I didn't want to be in the way of the romance brewing between you two."

"Between me and… Ser Terrance?" he asks with equal measure of confusion and repulsion.

"Yes… was that not what was going on? Forgive me, I must have misread the situation." I lie very smoothly with a knowing smirk. Inspired even. It's not enough to convince him that I simply don't know what's going on between them to be safe. No, I need to convince him that I have completely the wrong idea and am not likely to change it. An idea that lets me continue being friends with both of them until one finally decides to bring me in on things. It also helps that he seems rather flustered at the thought of getting with his mortal enemy, and so is distracted from examining me.

Still, I can't help but feel that despite my gods given lying abilities that he has instantly seen through my pretense and perfectly constructed his own mask of confusion to let me think I've succeeded in my ploy. But I can't progress thinking that way, so I don't.

"No, I see the reasoning. He does have a tendency of getting in the way of things." He looks at me as if I am one of those things. Perhaps Bart likewise would have recruited me were it not for my association with his enemy, though I get the sense his reasoning is very different from Ser Terry's. More understandable maybe.

The club, as Preston claimed, is much more laid back than most, though still a little bit more intense than the other one I was eyeing. It operates on the assumption that anyone here should already have someone teaching them technique and physical conditioning can be done by oneself. The only thing the average academy sword fighter might lack is a pool of skilled and varied sparring partners, so sparring is the entirety of the club.

For the first-years it starts with everyone sparring with each other at least once. I lose a lot. There are more than twenty first year students in the club, of which I beat three and draw two. Of the three that I beat, only one is from superior sword technique, the rest are from forcing them out of bounds either through subtle positioning or just rushing them before they were ready at match start.

I actually force a few others out of bounds, but the rules are more forgiving than in the entrance exam. The person who crosses over first doesn't lose instantly, but can't win so long as they remain out. The best they can do is draw by hitting their opponent without getting hit. Whereas double hits result in the one who stayed in winning, and they have a little more time to hit back than usual.

Naturally, my two draws were from forcing my opponent out only to be immediately skewered without getting a hit in of my own. It's not like they're all squires and pages either. Besides the mundanes with militant backgrounds like Bart (or rather parents with militant backgrounds for most besides Bart), there are even a pair of fellow mages who prove themselves more skilled than me.

In fact, the only one I beat outright without forcing them out of bounds first is a mundane with no training whatsoever and got in purely on academic skills. They're taking a sword class because being a student here grants the right to wear a sword to all who do not already have it, but they wouldn't feel confident doing so without training. They're in the club because they thought it would help them in class and for fun.

I console myself saying that I would have a much better chance against everyone in the field with access to all of my tricks, but stop myself knowing how dangerous such thoughts are. These aren't the commoner mundanes I've been killing across the empire and beyond who have limited experience, infrequent boons and seldom any formal training.

No, these people are – for our age – the best in the world. They may not be the best at this particular thing, as those mostly go to other sword clubs, but they are among the best in something. Underestimating them in any circumstance may be fatal.

Once everyone has sparred everyone else, we're free to select our opponents. Most of the best fighters of our year go over and ask the older students for spars, to which they graciously agree. I spot Vanessa Vynhal and consider going over, but she, and the people around her, are very good.

I think I've been using Ser Terry subconsciously as my standard of excellence for those of his path, but a majority of students remain squires up until the last two years before graduation. She however has clearly crossed that threshold and moved well past it as she is currently fighting against two others (both of whom I would guess to be knights) and holding her own in a flurry of steel (the upper classmates apparently use blunted metal swords instead of the wooden ones we get).

Obviously, she has more demands on her attention than she can satisfy right now, so I head over to Bart and Preston instead (Ligryn didn't show up today). Which, I suppose was the reason I came here in the first place. We have a few spars between us, but I exhaust myself before they do and so just watch them for a few matches sitting on the side.

Bart wins every match. Which is odd because Preston did better than him in the tournament. Three more matches and they finally call it quits and head over to me.

"Hey," Preston says to me, "I have a question. How come I always beat you, but you seem to do better against Bart than me?"

"I do?" I ask, a little surprised.

"Yeah, well, you last longer anyways."

"Eh," I make a wishy washy motion, "I guess we have similar approaches to fighting."

"Meaning?" he presses.

"Well, we both focus on positioning combined with tempo disruptions to gain advantage. I'm faster than Bart so I can set things up or deny him his tactics while keeping out of reach. However, you're as fast as me and much better with pure technique so you always get me before I can set anything up. Bart on the other hand, while not as good as you with technique, is better than me and can survive against you long enough to set up a trick. Sometimes positional, usual tempo."

He looks at me as if I'm being condescending. "I know about tempo disruptions."

"Bart's very good at making you think you know about them, while still catching you with them when you least expect it."

He ponders this a little. "Yeah, I guess. He is rather good at trickery."

"You overcomplicate things, Malichi," Bart interjects. "What you say isn't wrong, but it isn't the root. Our friend Preston loses to me in spars because there are no stakes. Because he is not ruthless in them, whereas I am maximally ruthless at all times."

Preston scoffs. "And if I was ruthless, I'd beat you?"

"Yes," Bart says without hesitation. "Do recall beating me during our team fight."

"Yeah, but I had a buffer then. It didn't really count." Preston objects.

Bart shakes no. "Incorrect. We had already eliminated that mage by the time we fought. You bested me with your own power."

"…Oh yeah… I guess that is how it happened, wasn't it," he says as if he had forgotten.

"Yes," Bart presses, "because you had stakes, and when you have stakes you're nearly as ruthless as me."

"…I don't know about that… You're pretty ruthless."

"Thankyou." Bart speaks with an awareness that his response will be seen as comedic, but a belief that it should not be.

Preston shakes his head. "Yeah, maybe, but… I don't know. I don't really think ruthlessness is the secret to fighting better. There has to be something of recognizing the courage of your enemy and respecting them. I mean, that's the knightly way, right?" He glances my way for support.

I raise my hands defensively. "Hey, don't look at me. Mage, remember? Besides, I got new rules put in place because of my stunts. I'm hardly the one to urge tactical restraint. Follow your path as you think best, just know you're in the minority here. Besides, I also think you get more ruthless when there are stakes. You took a hostage against me, remember?"

"I did?" he asks, confused. "That doesn't sound… No wait, I remember now. I did, didn't I? I had forgotten. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Bart says. "You also misunderstand me, I do recognize my enemy's courage and respect them, which is why I will always do everything I can to beat them, and expect them to do the same for me. That is the only way a fight can be fair – maximal effort and maximal cunning." I nod in agreement both of his statement and about Preston's apology.

"So glad to see my cute juniors haven't changed," Vanessa says having snuck up behind us. Despite the frantic energy of her spars, she's hardly broken a sweat and her long hair, tied in a loose tail, is barely ruffled.

"Ser Vynhal." I nod respectfully, though find myself smiling at her sudden appearance.

She smiles back. "Please, call me Vanessa. They may have granted the title, but I don't want to think about having to be a knight until I have to. Graduation at the very least."

Preston, confused, speaks. "If you don't want to be a knight, why did you choose the path?"

Vanessa laughs. "Oh, I want to be a knight, I just don't want to be a knight." She laughs again at the resulting confusion but explains. "I love moving like one, but the responsibility they saddle you with? Ugh. I'm jealous of you mages on that point. Your standing in the hierarchy doesn't progress with your power until much later." She is of course looking at me for the last part.

"Right…" Preston says as if her statement were the most distressing thing imaginable.

She laughs and places a finger against his forehead and gently shoves it back as if saying 'don't overthink' but instead says "I do love it when all the cute juniors congregate. You're a nice contrast to your friends, whom I oddly didn't see any sand throwing from."

"I did a little against Bart," I protest, "but I figured the others would complain even if it isn't explicitly forbidden."

She laughs. "Which it is now, by the way, for the entrance exam. Among other things. Thanks for making those rules even harder to memorize. But if you want more 'ruthless' fights you can always ask your opponent for an informal bout without rules."

I smile, self scoffingly. "Don't you know? I only win by exploiting the rules."

She laughs, inwardly this time. "Ah yes, the perpetual dilemma: avoid the rules or pervert them. I know it well. Anyways, I just wanted to welcome you to the club. I thought it would be a good fit for you, and meant to invite you, but it kept slipping my mind. Oh well, you're here now. Do keep writing me of all your troubles."

"So you can laugh?" I state.

"So I can laugh," she agrees then turns and walks away.

We wait for her to exit the training grounds and then a bit more just in case before Preston finally thinks it safe to speak ill of her. "I don't think I like her," Preston states simply.

I look at him baffled that we could have such opposite reactions.