Shackled Exalted

Emil

The air trembled.

"Ha!"

Emil twisted his left shoulder back. The afterimage of a wooden sword slashed the space where his body had occupied just a second prior. Before he could counter, the sword instantly snapped back towards his chest in a wide lateral swing.

Clank!

Emil raised his blade in the path of his opponent's sword. The weapons collided with a wooden crunch—the oncoming attack parried just inches before it could pierce his skin. Sensing resistance, his opponent immediately stepped back in retreat, not allowing Emil a single opportunity to retaliate.

Not bad.

A faint smile crossed his face. His opponent was heaving with ragged breaths. The hands holding onto the sword was shaking with instability. Sharp jade eyes glared at him, steeled with a burning fury and a vengeful competitive spirit.

Aoife.

The sole princess of the Ardairan royal family stood before him in a sword stance, radiating determination that neared bloodlust. They were in the midst of a sparring match at her behest. Training.

"You can't keep retreating at the first sign of resistance! Press your advantage! Trust your eyes! Don't be scared!"

Aoife scowled at his words. Her bared teeth gnashed into her lips as if infuriated by his criticisms. Her stance suddenly dropped as she pushed off against the ground in a wild charge.

Emil conceited the first strike, stepping back as Aoife's initial attack swiped the air. The follow-up was aimed at his stomach which he deflected with ease using a downward slash. This time Aoife didn't retreat. With a savage cry, she continued her assault with quick, short jabs aimed at Emil's abdomen.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The flurry forced Emil on the defensive. As if finding a rhythm, Aoife's attacks grew faster and sharper with every consecutive swing. Emil's wrist was starting to throb. The integrity of his training sword was starting to falter. The princess's Awakening apparently imbued her body with an abundance of strength. The power dwelling in her new Exalted constitution was slowly being drawn out as her relentless assault continued.

"Ha!"

Emil's sword was forced to the side. The unexpected surge in strength caught him off guard. With his balance suddenly broken, his footing staggered as Aoife lunged with a desperate thrust.

Thwack!

A deafening blow landed. A wooden sword dropped onto the ground.

"O-Owww!"

Aoife was sprawled on the floor, wincing as she held the back of her skull. Tears were shimmering in her eyes. Emil had jumped backwards with a downward swing to cover his retreat. The result was a painful strike right to the top of the princess's head.

"That's my win."

"Y-You! D-Did you have to hit me that hard?!" Aoife protested childishly.

Emil fought the urge to smile. She no longer had the savagery of a warrior like earlier nor did she radiate the majesty of royalty. In this moment, she was acting like a normal girl who had just lost a competitive spar.

"Don't pout. It was just a normal hit."

"T-There's a lump forming on my head, you brute!" Aoife cried, pointing at the glaring red spot that was beginning to swell.

Emil felt a bead of sweat crawl down his neck.

Maybe I did go a bit overboard.

***

The princess was holding a bag of ice to the back of her head. An irate frown etched across her face as she stared daggers at Emil.

"…Sorry," he said sheepishly, uncorking a bottle of ointment filled with a healing salve, "I might have gotten a bit too heated during that sparring match."

"A bit? You nearly took my head off!"

Alright, there has to be a limit to how far you can stretch the truth.

He kept those words to himself, however, not wanting to anger the princess further. Taking a small piece of clean bandage, he poured the semi-viscous salve onto the cloth and gently rubbed it on top of Aoife's swollen lump.

The princess winced at the slight pressure of his hands.

"Be more gentle!"

"I'm trying my best."

The scene was oddly nostalgic. He was reminded of their first meeting in the slums of Lower Dannan, back when he was working undercover for the Nostra crime syndicate in search of a missing Azurite cache. Aoife was inexplicably roaming about in the slums incognito when she found him all battered and burned from his battle against a Desperado. The only difference was that he was the one receiving care during that strange encounter.

A lot has happened since that day.

Now, Emil was unofficially assigned as one of Aoife's guards—at least for the duration of their time at the Academy. The arrangement was decided by Rohan and the witch with explicit approval from the royal family. It was driven by Aoife's Awakening and her desire to enrol into the Academy. Part of his duty involved teaching Aoife how to fight with a sword in order to bolster her proficiency with her Gift.

It was another thing on his plate, but Emil didn't mind the arrangement. It gave him an excuse to sharpen his skills with the sword, which had been rusting since the conclusion of his Steiger training. And as much as he hated to admit it, there wasn't much else he could do at the moment.

After Vigil's raid on the Consortium, the Academy had closed off all access to the archives, citing the need to analyze the damage inflicted by the terrorist's intrusion. As a result, his original goal of gaining access to the Consortium had been put on hold. His regular patrols of Azure City over the past month had also failed to produce tangible results. Despite all the damages done by Vigil and the ensuing criticisms, the Council continued to keep the bulk of the Sentinels stationed at the Hidden Laboratories.

As a result, Emil suddenly found himself with an abundance of time.

The past month after the Clash of Dawn had been mostly quiet. He spent this rare moment of respite training Aoife, polishing up his own skills, and preparing for the Academy's examinations.

"Okay, hopefully that should be enough to get the swelling down."

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"You're lucky that I'm not a vengeful princess. This could be considered an act of treason!"

Emil grinned. Despite her regal appearance, it was becoming obvious that Aoife was more childish than she looked.

"Then should I go easier on you next time, Your Highness?"

Aoife made an undignified face. "Stop. It's Aoife. Wow, you're infuriating. How does Anna deal with you all the time?"

"By threatening me with violence."

"I should take some notes from her next time," Aoife said, still fuming, "Where is she anyways? She disappeared after our study session ended."

"Training with Liesel, if I had to guess. They've been quite adamant about improving together ever since they were held hostage at the banquet hall by Vigil," Emil explained as he seized the training swords that had been littered on the ground, "Now that you've calmed down a bit, let's reflect on what went wrong for you during that spar."

Aoife squinted her eyes, pouting as she turned away dissatisfied. Despite her childish reaction, she soon gave an answer.

"I didn't press my advantage hard enough in the first engagement. I retreated too early. And then afterwards in the second exchange, I overextended when I tried to capitalize on you losing your balance."

"Yeah, you were too impatient. I liked that you went for the opening, but you have to remember an opening doesn't mean your opponent is completely defenseless. I had many ways I could have countered. For example, I could have taken your hit with my off-hand to seize back the momentum myself. I could have dove to the ground and struck at your legs instead. This is even more true if we were using our Gifts."

"What should I have done then?"

"Well, your idea was sound. The execution could have been better. But in general, assuming that your opponent is an Exalted, the safest option is to continue applying pressure and extend your advantage. A fight between Exalted is volatile and largely comes down to how much you know about your opponent's Gift and how well you can adapt on the fly. Your assault in the second exchange was almost a perfect example of that. Eventually, I would have had to take a risk to seize back the momentum, or I would have made a mistake trying to keep up my defenses."

"Almost perfect?" Aoife asked, beckoning for an explanation.

"The decision to keep me occupied with quick jabs was expertly done. However, your rhythm and cadence were becoming too predictable. You were too focused on landing a hit instead of observing how I was defending. Right now, your attacks are way too straightforward. Next time, try to weave in feints and misdirection."

"That's a lot of criticism for almost perfect."

Emil shrugged with an apologetic smile. I guess I should pick my compliments more carefully next time.

Aoife narrowed her eyes. "…You liar."

***

After the conclusion of their training session, Emil and Aoife spent the rest of their time together in the campus cafeteria. With examinations right around the corner, the campus was mostly empty. Lectures were paused to give students ample time to study and prepare for the grueling trials that awaited them. The Academy's examination period was an entire week packed with exams after exams followed by a rigorous mana assessment at the end.

For most of the first-years, this week would be one of the most stressful periods of their lives. For Emil, this was just another annoyance that he had to endure to continue his undercover mission.

"Aside from being almost perfect, is there anything else I need to work on to improve my swordsmanship?"

Emil was indulging in the cafeteria's signature pudding, basking in the explosive surgery flavors that accompanied the smooth and soft texture caressing the roof of his tongue. No matter how many times he sunk his teeth into this heavenly creation, he could never get bored of this wonderful synergy of flavor and texture.

"Emil," Aoife groaned, impatient at his silence.

…Can you at least let me enjoy my sweets in peace?

He reluctantly retrieved the spoon from his mouth and gave Aoife's question some thought. To be honest, there wasn't much more he could teach her when it comes to fundamentals. Aoife had been surprisingly quick on the uptake, absorbing his lessons like a sponge and replicating his instructions accurately after just a few tries. She was nimble on her feet, flexible, and her body was shockingly in sync with her mind. Combined with the strength supplied by her Awakening, she already had a solid foundation reminiscent of a warrior's physique.

She might be a natural.

Or maybe this was an effect of her Awakening? The phenomenon was still not well understood, but there was a common pattern of Exalted having their constitutions transformed into a more compatible vessel for their Gifts. Once he awakened Bulwark, Emil immediately noticed his improved tenacity and resilience. He also found himself with a stronger tolerance to heat and better resistances against burns.

It was very possible that Aoife's talents with the sword was induced by her Awakening.

If that's the case, then maybe it's best not to restrict her to a specific sword style.

"…If you're lacking ideas, then perhaps I can experiment on my own? I've been thinking about trying out different moves and footwork."

"Not yet. Not until you can land a hit on me with just the fundamental moves," Emil said, "Like I mentioned before, you're currently too straightforward with your attacks. We'll fix that by getting you more practical experience. From now on, I won't be conceding the first move anymore."

"W-Wait—"

"It's the perfect opportunity. I've been neglecting to train your defense lately. We'll remedy that going forward."

"…Darn."

"I know you have a brother who is deeply passionate about the sword, but don't be drawn in by his flashiness and splendor. Fundamentally, fighting with a sword is about striking, parrying, and evading. It doesn't matter what you do exactly as long as you can perform those three actions perfectly."

"Are you sure you're not still bitter that Rory stabbed you in the back?" Aoife teased, sticking out her tongue.

Emil scoffed. "Hardly. Compared to the kinds of injuries I've sustained, Rory's attack is pretty low on the severity list."

Aoife was suddenly silent. Emil took the rare opportunity to indulge in another spoonful of his pudding.

That bastard did get me good though.

Even if Emil was vindicative person, there wasn't much he could have done to retaliate. After his cowardly move, Rory had been forced to withdraw from the Academy due to controversy. Aoife was here in his place to represent the royal family instead. The last time that Emil had heard of him, Rory had been confined within a mansion in the Rosales province. Allegedly, he was undergoing strict training and punishment from the Lionhearts to ensure that he would not humiliate the royal family again.

"Emil," Aoife suddenly broke the silence, "Are you...happy with your current position?"

Position referred to his role as a Steiger Cleaner. Naturally, Aoife had become aware of his real identity following her rescue from Vigil. Given that she was a member of the royal family, she had a right to know about his affiliation with Steiger.

"Happy is not a word that I would ever associate with them," Emil said honestly, "The relationship is purely transactional. I do jobs for them. They help me keep my family alive. That's all there is to it."

He, of course, didn't mention how the witch was effectively holding his life in her hands. As a patient brought back to the brink of life by the Bestowed Project, Emil needed periodic blood injections to keep his bodily implants stable. It was a twisted relationship. One that he didn't dare escape from.

"I see."

Aoife's eyes suddenly grew sullen. She watched him with her striking jade eyes. A strange glint of resolve radiated from the pair of green jewels.

"Then, if one day, I gained enough power and wealth in my hands," she asked, "Would you think about serving me instead?"

***

In the end, he left the question unanswered. There was no point entertaining the thought of an unrealistic future, especially when the present was already so uncertain.

Emil retreated inside of his dorm as evening arrived. He sat down on the side of his bed, embroiled in tumultuous thoughts. It was always like this whenever he found himself alone without company. He hated it. It made him feel helpless, being aware of just how little control he had in the grand scheme of things.

Am I happy?

His mouth curled into a bitter smile. Was there anyone that could be happy with the organization that subjected them to immense torment under the guise of training? Could anyone harbor anything else but hatred when forced to do heinous things against their will?

Those were his honest thoughts, but Emil couldn't help but feel conflicted. At the same time, Steiger gave him a second chance at life. The work provided by the organization allowed him to drag Mia and Raz out of the slums—a task that would be nearly impossible on their own especially with Raz's condition. And even if it was a lie, Steiger allowed him to live a student's life. A life that felt like a distant dream after the downfall of his family.

Steiger gave him innumerable scars, but it also bestowed him many opportunities.

…This is why I hate being alone in this damn room.

He let out a heavy breath, pushing down these conflicting thoughts. There were more pressing things to worry about.

His confrontation against Vigil flashed in his head. It was nearly a month ago, but he could still remember each battle with vivid clarity. His loss against Melody. His inability to get past the swordsman named Nagi. His helplessness before the enigmatic man named Kleine.

Since then, he had been training like a madman, desperate to close the gap.

He clenched his fist.

Next time, I won't lose.

He stood up, reaching for his night gear, ready to do another patrol of Azure City. With the Consortium currently locked up, Emil had no other options but to find a way to get information from the remaining Hidden Laboratories.

Gaps in the Sentinel's patrol schedules. Staff members on campus that might have been involved in any of the research. He even tried to use his status as a finalist of the Clash of Dawn to entice potential associates of the Hidden Laboratories to reach out to him.

Nothing was working.

Emil's patience waned. His growing frustration over the lack of progress was slowly driving him insane.

Right as he was about to escape out of his window, he heard wings flapping in the distance. A raven suddenly perched itself on his windowsill. In its talons was a small parchment.

I have news, It read.

It was from Petra.