Popular Post Channelknight Fadran Posted July 10, 2020 Popular Post Report Share Posted July 10, 2020 (edited) I've decided to finally post some of my writing for my long-fought book series "The Iconar Collective." All feedback is appreciated! Soldiers and Orphans: Spoiler Chapter I - Corrin Third Firelight | Camp Ember, Ivinan Corrin hadn’t the faintest idea of which sword to pick. “We’re leaving in five, Corrin!” Dain called, shouldering his pack. “Hurry up and choose!” Should he go for that tall one? The wide one? Or those two curvy, small ones? “What’s that one called?” He pointed to the biggest one he could see. Dain grunted. “A greatsword. Good luck lugging that thing across the plains. Go for something more versatile.” Corrin kept looking. “I’ve fought with a sword before. Uncle Lars’s. But… I don’t know what kind it was.” “How big was it? What was the hilt size?” “When I was a kid I could fit both hands onto it. As a teen, about a hand and a half.” Dain eyed the greatsword. “Then why in tarnation’s fifth name were you asking about that monstrosity?” “Dunno.” “How long was the blade?” “Probably… I dunno. A little over a meter, maybe?” “Then you’re looking,” Dain picked one of the smaller blades off the wall, handing it to Corrin, “for a longsword.” Corrin took the blade, the weight dipping his arms a little. It wasn’t too heavy, though. “Really? I thought longswords were, well… longer.” “They can be.” Dain sheathed his own sword, which was shorter than Corrin’s, and could only fit one hand on the hilt. “Though eventually you come into the realm of bastard swords, and those are a whole ‘nother story.” “Language.” Dain gave Corrin a look. “Whatever. Let’s get going. No time to lose. You got a scabbard?” “I…” Corrin checked his waist, “no.” Dain sighed, then grabbed a sheath off the wall, throwing it to Corrin. “Put that on. Be ready in five minutes or you’re left behind.” He exited the building. “Thanks for the encouragement.” Corrin mumbled, but Dain was already gone. He set the scabbard at his waist, securing the belt with a quick knot. He sheathed the sword on his second try, then scanned the wall again. Feeling at his pocket, he was well aware of the five small, metal chips that resided within. The sword would cost him one of these, and the armor another three. The chainmail was light and (supposedly) strong, however, so he felt as though it was a good use of his Acquisition Chips. One more, however… what to spend it on? With a shrug, Corrin grabbed a dagger from off the shelf. He grabbed another smaller scabbard, hooking that on his belt and sheathing the blade. He straitened his armor, then stepped out of the building. Dain and the others were there. He didn’t know most of them; three stood chatting by a tree, their gear packed and ready to go. Dain stood by an archer, who haphazardly spun an arrow in his hands. A number of other soldiers stood around chatting in their own groups, making Dain’s squadron, in total, around fifteen or so people. The first out of all these people to greet Corrin, however, was the shadow of a hulking mass known as Garnell. “Aye, there we go!” Garnell slapped him on the back, sending a shockwave up to Corrin’s skull. “You almost had me for a second, lookin’ like a real soldier! Who knew a young townsfolk like yourself would be off fightin’ demons for the Silverclad Enclave, eh?” Dain looked him up and down. “Are you just going to wear that mail on the outside?” Corrin looked down at his armor. “What about it?” “It’s a little… homely.” Dain frowned. “He’s sayin’,” Garnell assisted, “that you look like a fish with those scales shinin’ out in the Airlight sun. Throw somethin’ over that or those demons will see us a mile away. Here! Got this for you.” Garnell thrust a bundle of fabric into his hands. “What’s…?” Corrin grabbed it by the edges, shaking it out into shape. It didn’t take a keen eye to see that it was a jacket of some kind, colored crimson red. “A… coat?” “Official soldier’s uniform.” Dain corrected. “You’re expected to wear that during inspections and when on-duty. Otherwise… I recommend wearing it anyways. They’re comfy.” Corrin turned it around to see the front. When worn, one side would be covering most of the other, buttoned up from waist to chest. The buttons themselves were silver; whether or not they were made of the actual metal was impossible to tell. He slipped his arms through the sleeves, which didn’t quite come to his elbows, then buttoned it up. The collar didn’t choke or bother his neck at all, sitting on his shoulders comfortably. He couldn’t see himself, but from what he could see of his arms, the red complimented the silver-colored chainmail well enough. Garnell nodded. “Now you look like a soldier!” He started, as if suddenly remembering something, then groped about his pocket. “Almost forgot!” He found what he was looking for, pulling out a slab metal shaped like a shield. He handed it to Corrin. “Here ya go. Soldier’s Insignia. Don’t lose it!” Corrin took the metal, looking over it. On the front lay the symbol of the Silverclad Enclave: that of three swords crossed each other in a six-pointed star pattern. Emblazoned over the top of the Insignia was the word “Soldier.” He simply held it for a time. “I’ve never held one of these before… my uncle had one, but I never…” He found himself at a loss for words. Garnell slapped his hand onto Corrin’s shoulder. “You made it, man. You’re a soldier now. You’re in the war. Try not to blow it.” Dain cleared his throat. “And that means it’s time for you to start taking orders. Gear up, men, we’re hitting the road!” Garnell nodded, passing Corrin his pack. It was large—bulky, to say the least—but it held everything Corrin needed for his time in the Enclave, from rations, to money, to a compact shovel for his time in the wilderness. “Throw that on” He said. Corrin did, though it took him a couple tries to get to his feet after stooping down to slip the straps through his arms. Garnell had his own slung lazily over one shoulder, as though the weight was barely a bother. For a six-foot-tall, heavy-built, bulky man like himself, however, it probably wasn’t. Across the man’s back lay a large, double-edged battleaxe, with the blades protected by a carefully-folded set of leather strips. As they began to set off down the dirt paths of the encampment, Corrin asked Garnell, “is fighting… hard?” “It can be.” Garnell shrugged. “You just gotta find ye’ own technique, y’know? For you, that’s dancin’ around, dodgin’ arrows and pokin’ people with metal sticks. For me, that’s yellin’ as loud as I can at the nearest convenient demon while waving my axe around!” “That’s because you have an… intimidation factor.” “Exactly.” Garnell nodded. “Oh, and always be sure to give Arman an offering before a battle.” “But Arman’s a Sunkane!” Corrin countered. “He’s one of those demon-gods.” “Demon or no demon, Arman’s a deity all the same.” Garnell hiked up his pack. “Viterans still have funerals—besides, he’s my Sona.” “You swore to a Sunkane?” “Fightin’ and killin’ things is kind of my deal, Rin!” Garnell replied, calling Corrin by his oft-forgotten nickname. “And like I said, just because he’s Sunken Deep, it don’t mean he’s one of them murderin’ demons. He was around before the war even started.” “I guess so.” Dain, at the front of their company, held up his hand for them to stop. Corrin peeked out from behind Garnell’s enormous figure, trying to spot what had caused the abrupt halt. They had reached the walls of the encampment, where a single tent was stationed just in front of the gates. A tall Silverclad Enclave Acquisition Agent, or an “AA” as he’d heard some other soldiers call them, was talking to Dain and simultaneously checking things off a ledger with a quill. He nodded a couple times, then waved for Dain to move along, turning to the next person in line: Teren, the archer. The AA continued waving people down the line, eventually reaching Garnell and Corrin. He looked to the large, axe-wielding warrior first. “Name?” “Garnell c’Arthur.” Garnell replied. “What materials have you taken?” “Just a good ‘ol leather cuirass and m’ axe.” Garnell patted the weapon on his back. “That’d be three Acquisiton Chips,” the AA looked up, “you got that much?” “Yep,” Garnell fished the three shield-shaped metal chips from his pocket, passing them to the AA, “here y’go.” The AA dropped the chips into a drawer, marking something off on his ledger. “Fighter Class, then?” “Yep,” Garnell nodded, “considered Heavying, but all that plate didn’t agree with me.” “I considered fighting, but all that killing didn’t agree with me.” The AA marked something off his ledger. “Move along.” Garnell scooched to the side, and Corrin stepped before the AA. “Name?” The AA asked. “Corrin. Corrin d’Regai.” “What materials have you taken?” “Um… a longsword, chain mail, wooden shield, and a dagger.” “All five of your ACs, huh?” The AA held out his hand. “I’ll take those.” Corrin placed the Acquisition Chips in the AA’s hand, retracting his arm, which went back to feeling at the pommel of his new sword. “You a Fighter as well?” The AA asked. “Uh… I don’t… know.” The AA looked up. “Hm? Oh, you’re one of the new guys, huh?” “Yep.” “Well… you’re not a mage?” “Tried once,” Corrin replied, “I actually have a Magilex, but I wasn’t any good at it.” “Okay. You’re not covered head to toe in armor, you don’t have a bow, and you don’t have a horse… so unless that sword’s purely ornamental and you plan on using that dagger as your primary weapon instead, you’re a Fighter.” “A Fighter I am, then.” Corrin agreed. “Right… Move along.” Corrin did, putting a little more pace to his step to catch up with Garnell, tapping him on the shoulder. Garnell turned to face him. “What?” “What’s… Fighter Class?” He asked sheepishly. “Oh, Class Identification?” Garnell replied. “Just an easy way to keep track of us soldiers, I guess. Fighters and Heavies in the front, mages and Artilleries in the back, right?” “Right.” Corrin nodded. “So if I’m a Fighter Class… what do I do?” “Oh, uh… well, fight, I guess.” “Where?” Garnell shrugged. “Front lines.” Corrin’s pulse quickened. “What?” “What did you expect?” Garnell asked. “Swordsmen don’t get put behind the spears; ain’t enough reach on those metal sticks. Besides, this is what you wanted, right? Killin’ demons face-to-face?” “I… guess so.” Garnell patted Corrin—albeit quite hard—on the shoulder. “I get it; war’s a hard thing. Just don’t stress too much about it until you absolutely gotta, m’kay?” “Okay.” The last of Dain’s soldiers finished talking with the AA, falling behind Corrin and Garnell. Corrin looked down the dirt road, then asked, “Where are we heading?” Dain answered Corrin’s question out loud—though Corrin hadn’t the faintest idea if his captain had heard him. “Alright, everyone! We’re headed out for the Broken Fields in southwest Ivinan. After the invasion just last week, I’m sure there’s still a bunch of wayward demon squadrons we need to take out.” “Invasion?” One of the soldiers called. “What do you mean, invasion?” “Demons broke through one of Ivinan’s Parallarity Gates,” Dain replied, “and made their way into the Broken Fields. It happens all the time.” “No!” Another soldier called. “No demons have ever penetrated through our Midway armies!” Dain shook his head. “Do you really believe all that propaganda talk?” The soldiers fell silent, though a few started hushed conversations with their neighbors, talking about how demons couldn’t possibly break through Ivinan’s defenses. Garnell poked Corrin in the shoulder. “Did you believe the propaganda?” Corrin shook his head. “Of course not. Midway’s not a big place; it’s not particularly difficult to travel between one Parallarity Gate and another. Besides, Uncle Lars used to fight on the Broken Fields, and he had plenty of battle stories to tell.” “S’ppose you’re right,” Garnell replied, “he was a good man, your uncle.” “He still is,” Corrin said, “I think. Haven’t heard from him in awhile.” “And that… doesn’t worry you?” “Why would it?” Corrin shrugged. “He isn’t anywhere near dying of old age yet, and if something did make him croak, then he’s always told us not to be sad about it. ‘Just keep moving,’ he always said, right?” “Right.” Garnell nodded. “That’s all you can really do in war.” Dain cleared his throat at the front of the group. “Are we all just going to stand here and argue about our defenses or get going and be those defenses?” The soldiers nodded, some with half-mumbled approval, then began walking after Dain, who had begun leaving with the archer, Teren, in tow before the others had even replied. Corrin and Garnell, who were near the back, allowed the many anonymous soldiers a chance to get moving before they followed behind. “So where are we going?” Corrin asked Garnell. “On the way, I mean.” “Well, here we are, leaving Camp Ember,” Garnell noted. “We’ll probably take this road west down to Camp Thunder by the Red Valley Rift and rest up awhile before Dain gets us a mission to do.” “Camp Thunder… by the Red Valley Rift…” Corrin repeated subconsciously. “Does that lead us by Ivinan City?” “That it does,” Garnell agreed, “if we pass by at night, we’ll probably see the lights from the road. Don’t expect to stop there, though.” “I don’t.” Corrin assured him, but secretly he wished they would. He had been born and raised in Draycott, as far east as Ivinan went before the edges of the forest and the ocean; the most interesting place he’d been to was The Wetlands to the north, but then again, The Wetlands weren’t particularly exciting. It wasn’t uncommon for a merchant from Ivinan City or Lochdew, to the south, to show up at the village to deliver news of the war, but it was quite rare even among the local nobility of Neltundic Wood to head so far west. There wasn’t much in that direction; the canyon, The Stretch, the Plains of Glass, and, of course, the Broken Fields, just southwest of Ivinan. Nobody Corrin knew had been to the Plains of Glass, and while many people had seen the Red Valley Rift, few had any interesting tales to tell of it. The Stretch, according to any who had been there, was just a useless… well, stretch of desert. Lars had been to the Broken Fields, of course, but his battle stories were really the only interesting things he said happened there. But Ivinan City… the capital itself… every child dreamt of going there someday, with its sprawling streets lined by merchants selling exotic wares from the other realms, where nobody went poor or hungry even in the worst of times. It was even said that the king himself oft made an appearance, and every child he knew in Draycott knew that their status would instantly rise if they caught a glimpse of him. Corrin wasn’t a child anymore, though. Hardly, in fact; he was nearly an adult, just over a year off. However, there were some parts of a Draycott citizen’s childhood that never really left them. “So how’s the outside world?” Garnell asked, snapping Corrin out of his thoughts. “I’ve been off fighting in the fields for the last year, how’s Draycott? The mayor still his same old jolly self? The blacksmith still grumpy as ever? Has Philip still got his eye set on Medania?” “We elected a new mayor,” Corrin replied, “and Philip and Medania were dating last I knew.” “What?” Garnell laughed. “A new mayor? Who could replace old Herbert?” “The blacksmith.” Corrin replied. “Herbert didn’t even mind; you know how much he hated responsibility.” “Well,” Garnell chuckled, “I’ll be darned. And Philip and Medania are dating?” “She asked him, actually,” Corrin replied, “not long after you left. They’ve been dating for nearly a year now.” “A year? But they’re older than you and me!” “Well, that would explain why I saw Philip hanging around a traveling jewelry merchant and browsing the rings before I left.” Garnell whistled. “Wow.” Corrin let Garnell work his mind around that thought for a moment, then asked, “so what about the war? What’s it like out in the field? Have you fought a lot?” “Nah.” Garnell shook his head. “Most excitement I’ve had were during mock battles back at Camp Ember. We spent most of the time trainin’; speakin’ of which, I haven’t the foggiest how Dain plans for you to catch up with the rest of us before we start killin’ actual demons and not straw dummies.” “Is Dain a good captain?” Corrin asked. “I mean, I met him when I signed up and all, but… well, people act differently in professional settings.” “Is he a good captain?” Garnell chucked. “The best! I swear to yeh, that man can see right through you.” “That doesn’t sound reassuring.” “He doesn’t exploit yeh weaknesses, though. He fixes them. If you’s a coward, he makes you brave. If you’s a weakling, he makes you strong. He gets to know you, too; probably the best way to rally yer troops is to know what they’re like, right?” “Right.” Corrin responded, nodding. He had studied tactics before joining the war; he was no stranger to rallying and the like. “He seems all tough and the like on the outside, but on the inside’s he’s a right good guy.” Garnell stretched as he walked. “Though I guess you could say that about any ol’ soldier from the Enclave.” “I guess so.” “Enough chatter, back there!” Dain called. “We’ll be practicing proper marching for the first stretch of our journey!” Garnell sighed. “Proper. Whatever; I guess we’ll talk later.” “I guess.” Corrin replied. He fingered the pommel of his sword once again, feeling at the hilt and crossguard subconsciously. It was no distraction, though, for the worries that he had just bitten off more than he could chew. Chapter II Spoiler Chapter II - Aurora First Waterlight | Parallarity Gate, Feylore “Here you are, young ’uns,” the driver said, opening the door of the carriage for them, “Parallarity Gate B, Midway. I suppose you can take it from here?” Aurora stepped out of the carriage, blinking at the sunlight. “Um… yeah. You just walk through it, right?” The driver chuckled. “I don’t know; I’ve never left Feylore myself, y’know. I s’spect they got people there to help you out there. You got your passes, right?” Lacy stepped out of the carriage as well; or, rather, leapt out of the carriage, ignoring the footstool that had been put in place to help her down. “Of course we do. Come on, Amy, we have a portal to catch!” “Slow down, Lace.” Aurora chastised, stretching a bit. “We still have to get our luggage.” “Darn it. I don’t suppose we could buy new clothing in Ivinan?” “We don’t have that much money.” “Amy, it’s an all expenses paid internship!” Aurora shook her head. “They don’t pay for souvenirs. Besides, all the good clothing is sold in Ivinan City, and we won’t be anywhere near there.” Lacy huffed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll go grab my luggage.” She turned around to fetch her case, but the carriage driver stopped her. “Don’t worry, young ‘uns, I’ll take care of that.” The driver flipped open the back compartment of the carriage, then grunted as he lifted out one of their trunks. “Oof, what do you have in here?” “Well… everything we own, I guess.” Aurora replied, moving to help him. “Are you sure you got that, sir?” The driver chuckled. “You think that just because I’ve put on a few years I can’t handle a heavy sack? Nah, girls, I’m tellin’ you; I got a dwarven blood in me somewhere.” He grunted as he set the case on the ground. “The real question is, are you going to be able to handle that?” “Easy.” Aurora replied, grabbing one end of the case. Lacy picked up the other. “It’s pretty easy to lift with two people.” The driver nodded, then removed his hat and held it out. “Would either of you be kind enough to leave a tip?” “Oh, uh…” Lacy patted down her pockets, pulling out a single silver crescent. “This is all I have on me. I hope it’s enough…?” She dropped it in his hat. The driver replaced his hat. “It’s always enough, young ‘un. Just a humble carriage driver, y’know.” He nodded to himself. “So you got parents waiting on the other side?” “Oh, we don’t… have parents.” Aurora answered. The driver’s brow sank downwards in pity. “You don’t?” “We grew up in the Feylore orphanages together.” Lacy replied. “Oh, my… so that’s really all you have.” The driver gestured to their case, then quickly removed his hat. “I shouldn’t have asked you for any money. Here, you take this back—” “No, that’s alright!” Aurora interjected. “We’re not poor or anything. Just… frugal.” “I… see.” The driver replaced his hat. “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you two…” “I don’t think there is,” Lacy replied, “but thank you.” “Then I’ll be on my way, then.” The carriage driver pulled himself back up onto his seat, then flicked his horse’s reins and wheeled the creature around. “It’s been a pleasure serving you two; Icona bless you, and good luck in Midway!” With those final words, he was gone. Aurora and Lacy began half-carrying, half-dragging their shared belongings through the crowded Parallarity platform. The gate itself was halfway up the mountain, but the masses of people waiting for passage began all the way down at the foothills. Thousands of stairs spiraled up the mountainside towards the cave at the top, where the Parallarity Gate resided. Having passed a series of arcane tests in Feylore had granted them guaranteed access to and from Midway for their internship; a good thing, too, as the Gate was only open for the day, and if you didn’t make it in time, you had to wait for a month or two before it reopened. The carriage that the Feylore Hierarchy had granted them had deposited them not far from the top, thank goodness; Aurora couldn’t fathom how long it would take the two of them to reach the Gate from the bottom whilst awkwardly lugging their belongings between themselves. Aurora was perfectly content to look around in silence. Lacy, however, had other ideas. “We could’ve gotten out money back.” Lacy said. “From that driver. Why didn’t we?” “Because we’re nice.” “You’re nice,” Lacy replied, “I’m a jerk.” “You’re not a jerk!” Aurora sighed. “For the last time, the only person you’re ever mean to is yourself.” Lacy adjusted her grip on the case. “That’s because I’m a jerk.” “To yourself, nobody else.” “We could keep going in circles, couldn’t we?” Lacy stretched her free arm. “Let’s just get up this darned staircase and then argue.” “Agreed.” They ascended the remainder of the stairs in silence, broken only by the chatter of the hundreds of people climbing alongside them, or the occasional grunt as they struggled to lift the case over a number of obstacles in their way. The stairs grew more crowded as they neared the top, beginning to fill out with traveling merchants, beggars, and campers awaiting their turn to enter the Parallarity. “You have our pass, right?” Lacy asked. “Of course I do,” she replied, patting at it in her pocket, “right here. What, did you think I’d lose it?” “I mean, your reputation with pens back at the orphanage was rather impressive.” Lacy replied. “You even managed to lose one that was sitting right behind your ear.” “In my defense, it was a very slippery pen.” Aurora grunted as they had to lift their luggage over an inconvenient large rock. “And also less talk, more luggage lugging.” “More luggage lugging.” Lacy agreed. They ascended the remainder of the path in silence, but evidently that didn’t take very long, as the two of them bumped right into a tall, elven security guard within just minutes. “Halt,” the guard said, stooping down a little to come to eye level with them, “do you have your pass?” “Yeah.” Aurora fished through her pocket, grabbing a bundle of folded papers and handing them to the guard. “Right here.” The guard looked them over. “Aurora and Lacy… no last names? Ah, you came from the orphanage district. So you don’t have any parents here? Any guardians?” Aurora shook her head. “No.” “Sorry to hear that. I can get you a supervisor to go with you through the gate—” “No, that… won’t be… necessary,” Lacy interjected, “we’re fine on our own.” The guard raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question them. He continued leafing through the papers. “Alright, so I can get you an entrance in… ah, two weeks? Next passing if I pull the strings.” “We have an immediate entry pass…” Aurora patted down her pockets, but found nothing, “Lacy, do you have it?” “Would you really trust me to keep track of something as important as our tuition pass?” Lacy scoffed. “No, but I’ll check.” She rummaged through her own pockets—not a long ordeal, but nerve-wracking nonetheless—and came up empty. “I don’t have it.” “What?” Aurora considered going through their luggage, but then remembered, “oh, no… we left it in the carriage.” Lacy dropped her side of the case. “Are you sure?” “Positive.” Lacy sat down on the case, releasing a massive sigh. “I knew it was too good to be true. Going through the Parallarity, seeing Midway, learning Arcana in Ivinan.” The guard cleared his throat. “Do you… not have your pass with you, then?” “We did!” Aurora yelped. “But we… don’t.” “Could you let us in?” Lacy asked. “Please? Surely we’re on the roster or something?” “There are two people scheduled for immediate entry,” the guard said, “but without a pass, I’m not legally allowed to let you through.” “Please?” Lacy begged. “This might be our future.” The guard raised an eyebrow, then looked around. He leaned down back towards them, then said in a low tone, “Listen, guys, I can’t get you immediate entry, but there are a few people who haven’t come in today. I’m supposed to fill their spots with the next available group, but I can clear one of them for you two. It’ll be late tonight, though, during Waterlight.” The guard stands up. He cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “I’m sorry, girls. No pass, no entry.” He winked, then scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to them. “Good luck.” He whispered. Lacy snatched the paper, pocketed it with some impressive finesse, then stood up and grabbed her end of the case. They left the guard, weaving through the masses of people, fey and human alike. Aurora gestured Lacy towards an empty bench along the platform, on which they both sat with a tired sigh. After catching their breath for a second, Lacy pulled the paper out of her pocket and read what had been written on it out loud. “Parallarity Gate Entrance F,” Lacy read, “give this to the man there at Third Waterlight. Signed: Artus o’Carther.” “Sounds like something someone would get in a book,” Aurora remarked, “not real life.” “Cool!” Lacy exclaimed, not to Aurora’s surprise. “Do we get to go undercover? Do we get to wear disguises?” “More likely we just don’t say anything and get to go to the Academy of Arcana in Ivinan,” Aurora replied, “which is our initial goal, remember?” Lacy sighed, then pocketed the note. “Fine, but I don’t fancy the idea of sitting outside during Waterlight.” “It’s not like it’ll be a new experience,” Aurora replied. Lacy sighed again. “I suppose you’re right, of course. I just don’t like the rain.” “Then I recommend we go find some shelter,” Aurora said, “and maybe some food.” “Always you and the food, Amy.” “What? I’m hungry.” “When are you not?” Lacy’s stomach betrayed her, however, releasing a loud growl that probably could’ve been heard for miles. “But I agree. Any of those vendors look interesting?” “You’d best be finding shelter soon, dears.” An aged flatbread vendor woman said. “Waterlight’s coming soon, and my bones tell me it’s going to be a big storm tonight.” “We have shelter,” Aurora lied, “we just need food.” “Why, you don’t want to pay for anything Old Martha’s selling today, dears,” she replied, “it’s all old and crusty; cold, too. Here, you can get some of this morning’s bread for free.” She handed them some bread wrapped in a towel. “Really?” Lacy asked, taking one the towels. “Like I said, it’s all cold and crusty.” The woman handed Aurora a towle. She took it, but it was most certainly warm. “Thank you,” Aurora said, “we should probably get going now; take cover from the rain.” “Of course, dears, and good luck going through the Parallarity Gate!” The vendor woman looked up to the sky, frowning as the storm clouds started to gather. “Good luck indeed.” Lacy left the vendor first, Aurora not far behind. The platform had become gradually less crowded as the day had worn on, and by now they could see just about anywhere around the gate. The platform itself was about two or three hundred meters in diameter, all made of a cement mix found only in Feylore. The platform was built partially inside the mountain, where a large building mostly obscured the Parallarity Gate. Several trees stood tall and proud within their artificial planters; Aurora sat down beneath one of these, Lacy next to her. “You said we had shelter,” Lacy said, “but we don’t.” Aurora gestured to the tree about them. “Tree,” she said simply. “No tree is going to protect us from the rain.” Lacy chastised. “You could’ve at least told that lady the truth.” “She was nice enough to give us free food; I didn’t want to bother her any more than that.” “How do you know she was nice?” Lacy asked. “She probably wanted something.” “If she had wanted something, she would’ve charged us.” Aurora sighed. “You know, there are nice people in this world.” “Yeah, I know.” Lacy counted on her fingers, displaying all but her thumb on one hand. “At least four. You, the driver guy, that guard, and that lady.” “You’re forgetting yourself,” Aurora replied, “you’re nice.” “Only when I feel like it.” “I might actually agree with that.” Lacy laughed, and the two of them fell into silence. Aurora took a bite out of her bread; it was even warmer on the inside, which only made her feel worse about taking it for free. It was good, though, so she finished it even faster than Lacy did; a rare occurrence during most situations. Lacy finished hers soon afterwards, but immediately took to scanning the skies the second she was done. Maybe five minutes later, the first raindrop of Waterlight dropped nearby, followed by a series of others. Soon, droplets were falling through the branches of the trees, and splattering either next to them or on them. As the rains began to intensify, Aurora opened up their case of belongings and removed one item: a waterproof blanket, draping it on top of the case to protect it from the rains. She then sat back against the trunk of the tree, hoping that the crisscross of branches over their heads would be more compact near their point of origin. Lacy scooted back to sit next to her, hugging her knees up against her chest and resting against the trunk. Sooner rather than later, the rains had turned to torrents, splattering down on top of both Aurora and Lacy. “Icona, I hate Waterlight.” Lacy decided, shivering. “So cold…” Aurora nodded in agreement. She had tucked her feet beneath the waterproof blanket that they had covered their belongings with, but that only did so much for her against the downpour. She hugged her own chest, short sleeves leaving her arms bare past the elbows to catch the cold droplets with nothing but skin. The tree did little to protect them. Along the Parallarity platform, people ran left and right for cover. The merchants had put up awnings and tarps to protect their stalls from the rain, while still others unfurled umbrellas to protect themselves from the torrents. None took a second glance at the two teenage girls huddled beneath a tree, holding each other for warmth from the downpour and waiting for Third Waterlight to be out of the cold. Neither Aurora or Lacy needed that, though. They had each other—they had always had each other. And they had never needed anything else. Chapter III Spoiler Chapter III - Dainspeech Second Waterlight | The plains, Ivinan After traveling for what felt like forever—though it couldn’t have been longer than a few hours—Dain had taken Corrin and the other soldiers to a set of large, interconnected tents along the road to the Broken Fields. They did not completely protect them from the rains, but kept them mostly dry nonetheless. Corrin was content with this, but his captain was not. “Look at the state of this place!” Dain was gesturing to a tear in the side of a tent. “They call this place a camp, and it doesn’t even keep us dry!” “Is he always like this?” Corrin whispered to Garnell. “Well, yes and no.” Garnell seesawed his hands. “There are a number of factors that go into his occasional grumpiness. Usually, it has somethin’ to do with his bein’ tired and a lack of quality in the place where he’s supposed to sleep.” Dain turned his eye on Garnell. “Is there a problem?” Garnell laughed. “No problem. Corrin’s just complaining about you.” “I’m not… complaining.” He turned to face Dain, who had raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem, soldier?” Dain asked. “I, uh…” “Speak up so I can hear you.” Corrin cleared his throat. “I, well… don’t you think you’re being a little nitpicky?” Any quiet conversations that had been filling the background silence before were suddenly hushed as several soldiers looked over at Corrin, faces a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and interest. Corrin felt his own fingers tug towards the sword at his side, but he managed to reassure himself that he would not be needing it. “Perhaps,” Dain replied, “but answer me this, Soldier Corrin. In the case that a massive army of demons assault the walls about Ivinan City, and said walls have to hold out for exactly three days before reinforcements from Camp Ember arrive, then what would make the difference between invasion and not? There are no stronger defenses in the Iconar Collective than that of Ivinan City’s mighty barricades, but even the impenetrable can become penetrable if there is but one weakness in them. “Even the smallest crack, the tiniest nesting hole, could be enough to allow the walls to come crashing down in the case that a Decayer manages to strike the perfect spot. It may be nitpicky, Soldier. Perhaps eyeing every mishandled stitch in the fabric of this tent is unnecessary for the purpose it provides, but if the smallest break in your shield there is enough to let one of those denizens of Sunken Deep pierce through your own defenses and cut out your heart on the end of its spear, then I strongly suggest that you patch it up.” With that, Dain left the tent, stepping out into the rains of Waterlight for what reason Corrin could not tell. To Corrin’s left, Garnell was whistling quietly. “Well, well,” he said, “Mareth, how long was that?” One of the spearmen, lanky, sword-wielding, and wearing a purple coat that signified him as a Striker—the rank above Soldier—tapped the table a couple of times, running something through his mind, before replying, “five, I think. Recruited early Third Firelight, its early Second Waterlight… that makes five hours. New record.” Garnell and some of the other soldiers burst out laughing, though the axe-wielding man to Corrin’s left was certainly the loudest. Corrin frowned, unsure how to react. “I’m sorry, lad,” Garnell said, managing to contain his laughter, “We haven’t gotten a tenacious soldier like yourself in ages! Five hours. Icona, it took me three days!” “What in Sunken Deep’s demons are you talking about?” Corrin demanded. “Dainspeeches!” The soldier called Mareth replied. “What you just got was a Dainspeech. Whenever you ask him a question that digs even the tiniest bit under his skin, he’ll hit you full in the face with all the military knowledge his time in the Enclave has given him over the years. Everybody gets one eventually, so we time how long it takes for each new recruit to get their first,” he chuckled a little, “and you just blew the record away like a dead leaf at Second Airlight.” “What was the… previous record?” Corrin inquired, still confused. “One day, seven hours.” Another soldier said. He was tall and thin, with the most angular face Corrin had ever seen. He also wore a Striker’s uniform. Corrin’s eyes, however, were immediately drawn to a large red birthmark just underneath his eye. “To me.” A completely identical soldier—minus the birthmark—frowned. “Um, no, it wasn’t to you, Iolar, it was to me.” “Shut it, Quarden.” “Twins?” Corrin whispered to Garnell. “Twins.” Garnell replied at an equal tone, nodding. He then raised his voice and called, “wasn’t it to both of you?” “I was talking to Dain first!” The one with the birthmark—Iolar—said. “Yes, but I was talking to him before he started.” The other one—Quarden—replied. “So I’m the most likely candidate.” “What were you even talking about?” Corrin asked. “Oh, uh…” Iolar frowned. “Good question.” “Something about science.” Quarden said, tapping his chin. Mareth sighed. “Dain was talking about plants or whatever and how heat made them grow? And then you two interrupted him and talked about photosync or something.” “Photosynthesis!” Quarden replied. “And yes, now I remember. He told us that it didn’t matter what your enemy ate for breakfast that morning, your sword was still gonna cut them up.” “Then we cut him short by correcting him and telling him that we were not, in fact, using swords—” “And, rather, a couple pokey polearms.” Quarden nodded. “Those were good times!” “Then he assigned you to latrine duty for three days.” Mareth recalled. “We asked him if what your enemy ate for breakfast mattered for what left them over the chamber pot.” Iolar laughed. “And then he extended our duties to a week.” Quarden concluded. Corrin blinked. “That… was a story.” “By the time we’re countin’ the minutes until the next recruit’s Dainspeech, you’ll have a few of your own to tell.” Garnell assured him. “Aye, but you gotta meet everyone, though! No reason to be left out just because you’re new; your first Dainspeech is basically your initiation to the group. “This here’s Mareth,” Garnell said, gesturing to Mareth, who waved hello, “fellow Fighter Class to you and me. Almost as reckless as I am! Always gettin’ himself hurt.” “I do not!” Mareth interjected. “Always get myself hurt.” “And your nineteen battle scars?” Garnell asked. “Including the one you managed to get underneath your—” “Okay!” Mareth yelped, “so I’m a little… tolerant of pain.” “I think you’re just crazy.” “To each their own.” Mareth decided. Garnell took that as an excuse to move along the introductions, gesturing at the twins. “Iolar and Quarden. Spearboys.” “Spearmen.” Iolar corrected. “Spearman.” Quarden said. “Iolar here’s just a spear.” “You’ve basically met ‘em already.” Garnell admitted. “Ain’t much underneath the surface there.” “There’s plenty of us underneath the surface!” Quarden countered. “Bones, blood, those muscley things—” “You mean muscles?” “Yeah, muscles.” Quarden replied. “Okay, so there isn’t much of us beneath the surface.” “Speak for yourself.” Iolar said. “I’m basically a genius.” Quarden and Garnell both snorted near simultaneously, the second scoffing, “genius. I’d sooner believe that Corrin was a Channelknight!” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Iolar asked. “I think what Garnell’s trying to say,” Corrin replied, “is that he thinks you’re an idiot.” Corrin expected some rebuke there, but instead everyone inside the tent burst out laughing—Iolar included. Garnell was louder than the others, gesturing weakly at Corrin and saying “you pick up fast, lad!” Corrin frowned. “What?” Garnell patted him on the back—slapped him, really. “You’re gonna fit right in, lad.” “Good to… know.” Corrin replied, still confused. The others stopped laughing, and Garnell continued introducing him to the many soldiers and strikers by whom he was surrounded. “That there’s Teren, Dain’s brother or summat. He won’t actually tell us.” “That’s because you don’t need to know.” Teren replied. He did share some resemblance with Dain, but not a lot. Across his back was a quiver and a bow, and in his hands was one of his many arrows. Garnell, evidently content with Teren’s reply, pointed to another person. “That there’s John, our heavy-armorer. Only guy on the crew with an axe bigger than mine! And here you have Uia. He’s our mage; Water Arcana, mostly. Kent here’s our only cavalry, but that’s okay; you don’t usually find anyone on horseback for in a single squadron.” John was possibly even taller than Garnell, and definitely larger around. His arms were thick and covered in tough-looking muscles. Despite his intimidating demeanor, he seemed nice enough, exchanging in pleasant (albeit short) conversation with Corrin. Uia didn’t speak much, claiming that he was “not good with people” when Corrin tried to talk to him. Regardless, the short, possibly gnomish man wore the white-and-blue robes of a Master Water Mage, so Corrin had reason to respect him. Kent was staring off into the distance when Corrin introduced himself, and barely spoke a word other than “that’s okay” or “I see,” thoughts obviously far, far away from the matter at hand. Apparently, those three soldiers along with the strikers Iolar, Quarden, Mareth, and Teren served as Garnell’s close confidantes within the squadron. There were some other soldiers, but they largely kept to themselves. All of these carried spears, except one, who had a couple handaxes strapped to his belt. “So… four fighters, nine spearmen, two artillery, one mage, one heavy armorer and a cavalier?” Corrin asked, trying to remember everyone’s specialities. “What about rogue class? Infiltrator?” “You been studyin’ the Ideal Squadron things?” Garnell asked. “Aye, that’s right lad. A good squadron’s got mostly spears, with some fighters up front, a heavy-armorer somewhere between the pikes and the swordsmen, an artillery and a mage or two, and an infiltrator. We’ve got most of those, plus a cavalier, but you’re right in sayin’ that we don’t got any rogue on our team. That’s fine, though; not all squadrons are ideal. Icona, most aren’t as good as ours!” “So we don’t reconnaissance?” Corrin asked. “Well, yes and no.” Garnell seesawed his hands. “We generally get a description of what’s going on when we take a mission. Destroy a camp, attack a supply train—that kind of thing. Dain tends to scout out the area before we attack, though, and everything usually ends up fine.” “Is he really that great?” Corrin asked. “Dain?” “Like I said—best in the business.” Garnell cracked his knuckles. “Though he does have his weaknesses.” “And those are?” Garnell chuckled. “It’s not my place to tell you those, now is it?” He yawned, stretching. “You should get some sleep.” A voice said. Corrin looked up, pulse quickening for just a second. Dain had reentered the tent, hair matted and soaked with the rain from outside. His uniform and trousers were equally wet. “Would you like me to dry those off, sir?” Uia asked, wrapping a Clothwand about his hand. “If you don’t mind.” Dain replied. Uia closed his eyes, then after a second, flicked his hand backwards. The water covering Dain’s clothing seeped away from the fabric, floating in midair as a thousand little droplets. Mareth jumped out of his seat—the ground—and opened the flap to the tent. Uia opened his eyes, then swung his arm in the direction of the door, the water launching outside like an stone off of a child’s sling. Corrin nodded. “Pretty good—better than I did back at the Academy.” Uia smiled, looking slightly embarrassed. “I… that’s all I really do around here.” Dain nodded to Corrin. “Soldier. I take it that you’ve been… initiated?” “That he has.” Mareth replied. “Broke the record, too.” Corrin cleared his throat. “My apologies, sir.” “No need for that.” Dain replied. “Questioning your leaders is never to be discouraged, except during one situation.” “On the battlefield.” Garnell whispered to Corrin. “On the battlefield.” Dain said, confirming Garnell’s predictions. Whether or not he had heard Corrin’s childhood friend, he had no idea. “There, its simply your duty to follow orders and stay alive.” “Don’t those occasionally contradict each other?” Corrin asked. “They can,” Dain admitted, “but in the case that your captain’s orders and your own well-being are in conflict… well, that’s when you have to find courage for yourself.” “Stick to your orders?” “Sometimes, its more courageous to disobey and protect yourself.” Dain replied. “But it’s different for everyone.” He cleared his throat. “Everyone, I have an announcement to make.” The collective of soldiers and strikers in the tent quieted down. Dain, however, did not speak yet, instead watching as a wave of anticipation slowly grew. “It’s bedtime.” He said finally. “Get some sleep.” The anticipation broke, and Garnell released one last chuckle. “I’ve been waitin’ to hear that line all night.” “Why didn’t you just go to sleep earlier?” Corrin asked, glancing about for a clear spot to lie down. “With all this racket?” Garnell replied. “Like trying to put out a wildfire with a bellows.” “Half of the noise is your own.” Corrin said. “And half of it isn’t.” Garnell didn’t bother finding a comfortable spot; he simply collapsed where he was sitting and rested his head on his arms. Corrin took the time to spread out a bedroll on the floor, glad to see that he wasn’t the only one—it would’ve been awful it he had gotten strange looks for being the only soldier who tried to keep himself warm while he slept. In fact, Garnell was one of the few that didn’t; he was already snoring, however. Pulling himself into the bedroll, Corrin allowed the day’s memories to flow over each other as his body broke out from the day’s walk. Soon, the barest thought of movement evaded Corrin’s limbs, and the darkness of sleep took him into the unknown. Chapter IV Spoiler Chapter IV - The Parallarity Third Waterlight | Feylore Midway Shivering, tired, and soaked by the rain, Aurora passed the slip of paper the guard had given her to the man at Parallarity Gate F. He wore the same uniform as all the other guards, the one thing setting him apart from the others being his age. The guard considered their note. “So… Cyril is back to his old tricks again, huh? Ah, well, I suppose I’d better let you through.” He took their passes, stamping them then sliding them back to the two of them. “Enjoy your trip through the Parallarity.” He gestured them towards the large stone building that housed the Gate. Aurora and Lacy both thanked him in turn as they passed by the guard’s desk to the Gate building. There was a short line here, but it moved forwards quickly, and barely a minute after entering the line, the two girls found themselves standing before the door of the large, stone, domelike building sitting perfectly dry in the mountain cave. “Half a second, you two.” The guard by the door said. He peeked into the building through a slit in the door. After a few seconds of looking, he opened it for them. “Alright, head on through.” Lacy pushed through the door before it was barely half open, followed by Aurora, who had chosen to be more prudent with her entry. Inside, a single archway stood beneath the light of a few dozen candles, flanked by two men in robes. Both men looked like they had seen many years, and day by day guessed when their last surprise would catch them. “Hello, young ones.” The first man said. “Are you prepared to enter the Parallarity and travel to Midway?” “Yes, please.” Aurora said, shivering in her soaked clothing. “How does it work?” “Simply walk through the gate.” The other answered. “The Parallarity will do the rest.” Aurora and Lacy exchanged a glance, then the younger of the two walked through the archway. She did not reappear on the other side, though. Rather, she vanished from Aurora’s view entirely. Aurora blinked, but didn’t think twice of it. “My turn?” One of the men gestured at the archway in answer. Aurora took an unconscious breath, then stepped through the gate. For a moment, her vision was blank and dark, but it quickly returned, and her breath caught. She was no longer in the torchlit stone room back in the mountains of Feylore. Rather, she was standing within an enormous marble chamber, packed with people of all races from the Iconar Collective. Held up by intricately-carved pillars and hardwood archways crisscrossing the ceiling, with brightstones shedding light on every nook and cranny so that the entire room shone like the firesun, it was a little hard not to stare. Behind her, a stone archway identical to that of Feylore stood, surrounded by a loose circle of marble fenceposts behind which the crowds of people flocked, each person portraying varying levels of annoyance and impatience. Some shot her and Lacy glares, waiting for them to exit the circle and let them go on their way into Feylore. Lacy, who Aurora had barely noticed walking through the gate, grabbed her arm. “Come on!” She said, excited. She gestured to their case of belongings, which she had been awkwardly dragging across the floors without Aurora’s help. “Help me out with this; we’re in Midway!” Aurora didn’t need to be told twice. She picked up the other end of the case and helped Lacy carry it out of the circle and into the crowds. They immediately found themselves in the sea of people, struggling to navigate them and their belongings. Only the occasional attentive person ever made way for them; everyone else remained as tightly packed as a herd of cows inside someone’s closet. After a chaotic and claustrophobic minute or two of pushing through the crowds, Aurora could feel Lacy tugging on her end of the case, pulling her out from between two humans and into an open space. Aurora stumbled a little, then righted herself and looked around to get her bearings. Behind her, the initial crowd of people that she assumed had been filling the entire building stood in a rough circle around the gate, barely filling a third of the room. Here in the significantly less claustrophobic area of the chamber, Aurora and Lacy could easily carry their belongings, able to avoid any person who happened across them. They found a row of benches (most of which were empty), where they took a seat to rest their arms for a minute. “So we’re in Midway,” Aurora said, “but now what? The Arcane Academy is in Ivinan, but how do we get there? Wasn’t there supposed to be someone here to take us to Ivinan? A guide or something?” Lacy shrugged. “I don’t know. I think there was, but…” She gestured to the heavy crowd of people around the Parallarity Gate. “I mean, how are we supposed to find them in that mess?” “We could ask around.” Aurora suggested. Lacy snorted. “Because that would work. ‘Hey, have you seen a person recently? We don’t know who they are or what they look like.’” She gestured at the crowds again. “Because there’s obviously no one here who fits that description.” “Oh, lighten up.” Aurora replied. “We’re in Midway now! Let’s go get some fresh air.” “I thought I was the optimistic one.” Lacy said, frowning. “You’re supposed to be the depressed cynic.” “I’m not depressed.” Aurora said. “Cynical, yes, though.” Lacy stretched her arms. “Right, then. Let’s go.” They grabbed their luggage and made for the exit. The people were slightly more crowded around here, but nowhere near as clustered together as they were around the Gate. Aurora and Lacy could easily push through, and after a short struggle trying to push open the doors, they broke into the outdoors. There was no rain out here; why would there be, in a land without the Dayseasons? No Firelight, Waterlight, Earthlight, or Airlight to be seen or heard of here. However, despite the lack of rain, small particles still fell from the sky. In front of the two girls, a pack of people wearing some expensive-looking clothing frowned at the skies and unfurled some umbrellas; or had a servant do it for them. The less wealthy simply ignored the downfall of the white, snowlike particles. Around them, children grabbed at the flakes, rarely succeeding in their attempts. While she had heard the stories, Aurora did frown at the particles. They weren’t snow. In fact, they smelled of quite the opposite; smoke. Lacy grabbed Aurora’s arm, tugging on her sleeve. Aurora turned to Lacy, but she wasn’t looking at her. Lacy pointed off into the distance, pointing to a massive black cloud. No, not a cloud. A plume of smoke. “Is that—” Aurora asked, not that she needed to be answered. Lacy nodded. “The war.” For a moment, they just stood and stared. Though they had to be miles and miles away, Aurora could’ve sworn she that she could’ve seen the hail of arrows, blasts of fire from the mages, and heard the battle cries from humans and demons alike as they clashed sword on sword in the thick of the battlefield. “You don’t think that’ll be us in a few years, do you?” Lacy asked, interrupting Aurora’s thoughts. “Mages on the battlefield?” Aurora frowned. “I sure hope not; all that looks pretty chaotic.” Lacy sat down on their case. “Well, even if that happens, we have to become mages first. Which means, first and foremost, we have to get to Ivinan. That was supposed to happen after a certain few people came to take us there. However, their lack of presence here makes me paranoid about if we’re ever going to get to Ivinan, become mages, and possibly join the army.” Aurora blinked. “Well aren’t you a little pessimistic?” Lacy nodded, sighing. “You’re right. I’ve got to be more upbeat, don’t I?” She cleared her throat, falsely deepening her voice. “I’m sure that those certain few people are only a few minutes away from dragging us to mage school in Ivinan and drafting us into the military! We just have to be patient.” Aurora laughed. “Very nice.” “Aurora?” A voice called. “Lacy?” A rushed-looking woman wearing a mage’s robe ran forwards, eyes locked on the two of them. “Is that you, you two?” Aurora looked to the woman. “It’s us.” A look of relief flashed across the woman’s face, her hand leaping to her chest. “Thank goodness! We’ve all been worried sick.” She rushed forwards, offering her free hand. “I’m Geniora, Master Arcane Mage. I’ll be your Earth Arcana instructor at the Academy.” “Really?” Aurora asked. “Like, they sent an actual Master to get us, and not some servant?” “Of course!” Geniora smiled. “You children may very well be the future of Ivinan and the Iconar Collective. Besides; we don’t have servants.” She turned to leave, beckoning them to her. “Come, now! You were supposed to be in Ivinan and on your way to the Academy hours ago. We haven’t a moment to lose!” “See?” Lacy said, getting up and grabbing one end of their case. “I told you that we should’ve been optimistic.” Aurora laughed, grabbing the other end. They carried it awkwardly after the mage, until Geniora turned around and frowned. “Oh, allow me to get that.” She picked it up and slung it over her shoulder, and despite the loose sleeves of Geniora’s robes, Aurora could clearly see the lines of powerful muscles barely straining to lift such a heavy load. “Follow me, you two. The sooner we get to Ivinan, the better.” Geniora led them through the streets of Feylore Midway. Lining the cobblestone walkways were buildings big and small; mostly taverns, inns, and shops, but a few houses stood as well. Merchants called for people to buy their wares, which they had brought from realms across the Iconar Collective—the finest metalwork of Drakefell, medicines from Vitera, even empty Soulcages from Carnon. “You there!” One merchant called, pointing to Lacy. He did not stand before a shop, or even behind a vendor cart. He carried a large backpack, but as far as Aurora could tell, that was the only thing he had on him. “Could a beautiful young lady like yourself be interested in one of my handcrafted flutes?” Lacy shook her head. “No, sorry.” “We don’t have any money on us.” Aurora told him. “I never said I wanted money.” The merchant replied. “If wealth was only determined by crescents, then this would be a sad, dark world.” “We should probably… go…” Aurora said, awkwardly sliding away from the merchant and towards Geniora. Lacy followed her, eyes still on the merchant. “We’ll meet each other again.” The merchant said. Aurora raised an eyebrow at the strange remark, but for some reason she found herself nodding, and somehow believing this stranger. As they left, she could hear the strange merchant laughing quietly to himself. “What do you say, Icona? Channelgirl or no?” Chapter V Spoiler Chapter V - Omens First Earthlight | The plains, Ivinan As the other soldiers breathed quietly in the state of sleep (exempting Garnell, of course, who was releasing a loud series of snores), Dain sat on a stool, sharpening his blade. His whetstone scraped against the blade, shaving off rust, dirt, and oddity stains that could’ve come from anywhere. The rains had ended just minutes ago; and his inability to fall asleep led him to want to do something. So he sharpened his sword, sitting on a stump, staring aimlessly into the distance. You did as I asked, yes? The voice asked him. Dain sighed, then set his sword down. “Listen, Forse… I don’t know what you want.” What I want is inconsequential, it said, it is the path that the Iconar Collective must tread. I asked you to recruit the boy for your own benefit. It’s as simple as that. “You know, for a god, you’re awful at lying.” Even my own powers can only see so far into the future. What I see is the boy becoming a great asset to your squadron. Perhaps there is a greater reason behind his recruitment, but for now, I can only see so far. “A great asset, huh?” Dain replied, picking up his sword and continuing to sharpen it. “It’s about time you gave me something useful with all your magical fortune telling. I swear an oath in your name, join your little demon cult, and it takes you five years to get me something as useful as a great asset?” It didn’t reply, to Dain’s frustration. He continued sharpening his sword. Scraaape… Scraaape… Ping! Dain looked down, sighing as he realized that his whetstone had struck against his crossguard in his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t even seen it coming. He blew off some metal dust that had fallen there, then grabbed an oiling cloth and began cleaning around the tiny scrape. It didn’t take long, and even though there was still a small indent in the crossguard, Dain didn’t bother to clean any longer. He oiled his blade, then slid it back into its sheath at his waist. He stood up, but before he could walk back to the conjoined series of tents, Garnell woozily got up and stumbled out into the forest. Dain didn’t look twice at him; he knew that Garnell would be getting up to answer nature’s calls any second now. After Garnell was out of sight, Dain began whistling a tune—and just seconds later, a songbird started mimicking it. Dain looked up at the bird, observing it for a few seconds, then slipped into the nearest tent and took a seat on a small barrel of weapon oil. On the wall, a coat hung out to dry from the Waterlight rains. Dain winced for a second, and then watched it tumble off its hook onto the ground. Whoever it belonged to—hopefully they didn’t mind their uniform dirty. What a curse. Dain thought to himself. Knowing all this. You chose it. The voice replied. A few minutes later, Dain looked up and was unsurprised to see Garnell returning from his trip to nature’s latrines. He held up a hand to greet him, making the gigantic man jump. “Oh, Dain!” Garnell said. “Didn’t see you there.” He laughed to himself a little. “I s’ppose you saw me comin’ a mile away, huh?” “Not quite a mile, but I knew you were coming.” Dain replied. “Yeah, I guess. Also… I never had a chance to actually thank you for recruitin’ Corrin.” Garnell said. “He’s been wantin’ and workin’ to be a soldier ever since his parents were killed by demons.” “Same old story, then?” Dain asked. “Same ol’ story.” Garnell replied. “Even he gets that.” Dain nodded, partially out of understanding, and partially out of respect. Most soldiers that joined the Enclave wanted to avenge a loved one, often a parent—but most didn’t understand that everyone else was there for the same reason. It wasn’t so uncommon to have a soldier holding his life’s struggles higher than everyone else’s despite the fact that they weren’t any worse than the next person; so someone who understood that they weren’t the only one was a relief, when they could be found. “Is he a good person?” Dain asked. “He’s got fire—and I can respect that—but on a personal level, is he…?” “If you’re askin’ if whether he’s a self-centered, uncarin’, demon-style jerk, then yes. Yes, he is a decent person.” “You know what I mean, Garnell.” Garnell chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. I don’t know how he is in a fight, but he works hard, tries to protect other people, loyal as sin; you don’t find his type on every recruitment board.” “Does he follow orders well?” Dain asked. “Just out of curiosity, of course.” “Of course.” Garnell echoed, chuckling. “Also, no idea. I’ll tell you what, though; he can give them like an angry parent. We always won whenever we played soldier as kids, and I’ve never seen him lose a game of Arcala to anybody except his own uncle.” “So a strategist, then?” Garnell shrugged. “I don’t know how well stick-and-pinecone battles translate to real war, but yeah, I suppose he is.” “So a great asset to the team, huh?” Garnell frowned. “Yeah… I guess you could say it like that.” Dain nodded. “Nice… well, we’d best be getting some sleep, then.” “Yup.” Garnell yawned and stretched. “‘Night, Dain.” “Goodnight.” Unfortunately, sleep meant dreams. It wasn’t that Dain wasn’t used to them—rather, he could usually tell they were coming even before he fell asleep—it was that he wasn’t particularly fond of them. His first few were normal; well, as normal as dreams could ever be. Snowball fights with Garnell, for one, which was rudely interrupted by a fifty-foot-tall demon. Then, he and Teren were standing back to back, wielding fire pokers at an onslaught of flower-creatures craving human blood. This shifted to him falling endlessly into the Red Valley Rift, grabbing at thin air to try and stop his fall. Then, his dreams became more coherent. In this distance, an army of people of from every realm—humans, dragons, and dwarves fighting alongside each other, the fleekers and vampires defending each other. Dain couldn’t see who they were fighting against, but he didn’t need to; he’d killed those creatures of filth a thousand times—and with none other than the literal king of demons, Calamitous Oblivion himself, fighting at his side. Dain swung around instinctively, yanking his sword from its sheath at his side and slashing through the air. Just as he did, a scream pierced the air, and a birdlike creature fell to the ground, neck cut clean through by Dain’s blade. “Excellent form,” Calamitous Oblivion, king of demons, said, “have you been practicing?” Dain didn’t reply, rather growling and turning to face a group of hairy, spider-like creatures. All their legs, save two, were on the front of their bodies, so that they almost looked like a walking mop. They hesitated, out of reach from his blade, until one reared back and jumped at him. Dain sliced it out of the air, then moved his blade to guard his chest as a second jumped mere moments after. One after the other jumped at him, and he mercilessly slew them all. Just behind those, a human with glowing black eyes charged at him, holding a sword in a fashion that could only mean harm to Dain. However, the human’s skills were lacking, and Dain cut him down with ease. Aside from the spider-creatures and bird monsters, the most abundant of his adversaries were corrupted people. Behind him, he could hear a similar battle originating from the demon king. As much as Dain wished he didn’t have periodical dreams with the Calamitous, it was nice to have a suitable warrior behind him. Once, he had run away from the demon king, and after a corrupted dwarf had smashed his chest in with a massive hammer, Dain had woken up in a cold sweat, an awful aching in his chest where the dwarf had hit him. Since then, he had stayed near Calamitous Oblivion—though reluctantly. The companionship with who he considered his worst enemy hadn’t always protected him, but he didn’t want to take any chances. “Say, this battle isn’t as bad as the others, don’t you think?” Calamitous Oblivion said. “Remember last week’s? I got my arm cut off then.” “No more than you deserve.” Dain replied, scowling as he cut up a flock of the bird monsters. Calamitous Oblivion stabbed at a spider monster. “Now, that’s not very nice. I had an actual battle to lead that morning, and I had to put it off just because I couldn’t move my arm! I lost no shortage of ground to the Silverclad Enclave that day.” “Good.” After a moment of silence—as silent as a battlefield could ever be, that was—Calamitous Oblivion spoke up again. “You know, I don’t enjoy these dreams any more than you do.” “Who says you’re actually here?” Dain ducked beneath a wide-swung sword. “You’re probably out killing good men in Central Midway right now, and not even thinking about it.” “That’s not true. I’m currently asleep, and for good reason. One of those soldiers managed to stab me in the arm awhile back, and I’ve been healing up since. That soldier died honorably.” “Says you.” Dain spat. “You’re just a mindless killer. You made that up; a monster like you wouldn’t remember any one soldier they killed.” “I remember all of them.” The Calamitous replied quietly, not for the first time. “No less than you deserve.” “So I’ve been told.” The demon king sighed. Dain ran a corrupted fleeker through the chest, then said, “I swore to kill you. I swore under Carnon’s name that I’d kill you.” “Pleasant.” “And if I didn’t, I’d be there with the person who did.” “Fancy seeing a Silverclad Enclave captain there in the palace of Sunken Deep, watching and cheering on some challenger opting for position as Calamitous. Would that solve your problem, Dain? You think watching me be beheaded and replaced with an even more powerful demon would end this war any faster? Hm?” “As if you wanted this war to be over.” “I admit, my position as Calamitous is rather supported by the current military squabbles between our nations, and ending this war one way or the other wouldn’t exactly secure my position of power. Regardless, I don’t delight in killing, so perhaps one day you will watch someone run me through the eye with a spearhead, and while I finally get a break from all these voices in my head, you could say ‘I told you so.’” “I hate you.” “So I’ve been told.” “I hate this war.” “I’m not partial to it myself, as I just stated.” “Then why am I dreaming about both?” “Ooh, that’s new.” Calamitous Oblivion cut in an arc with his sword. “I honestly wonder that myself. Perhaps your hatred Forged a Spirit Bond or something? Not that I’m an expert on these things—I can barely Decay—but I have learned a thing or two from those who can.” “Can’t I just wake up already?” “You think I don’t want to? Dreams are dreams.” Dain sighed in frustration and anger, then cut through a group of corrupted humans. I am going to kill you, Calamitous Oblivion, Dain growled to himself, I swore that on Carnon—I swear it. Chapter VI Spoiler Chapter VI - Lacy First Earthlight | Ivinan Midway Lacy yawned loudly as they ascended the tower. As she stretched, her fist hit something squishy; what was that? “Ow.” Aurora said. “Watch your stretching, Lace.” “Sorry.” Lacy stretched downwards to prevent herself from hitting anyone else. “Been a long night, y’know? Getting a free shower, courtesy of Waterlight; hiking through Midway, courtesy of Ivinan; and now climbing up this massive tower, courtesy of—” “—Your own free will.” Aurora interrupted. “You wanted to come up here, remember?” “It sounded a lot better before my legs started protesting.” Geniora, who was walking just behind them, laughed. “Believe me, all this will be worth it.” “It had better,” Lacy replied, wincing as her legs burned against the strain. Her eyes grew steadily heavier by the minute, and she found herself dozing off; while walking. Every inch of her body protested against the strain of either climbing the stairs or staying awake all night. “Are we close to the top yet?” Aurora asked. “My legs are tired.” Your legs are tired? Lacy complained to herself. She didn’t say it out loud, though. Ahead of her, the other people climbing the tower had stopped. Lacy released a sigh, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. “What’s the matter, Lacy?” Geniora asked. “A few minutes ago you were desperate to see more of Midway, and now you’re trying to sleep on a stone wall?” “She gets like this whenever she’s tired.” Aurora replied. “She uses every last bit of her energy until she suddenly collapses without warning.” “My body just doesn’t tell me when I’m tired until it basically wants to die from the strain,” Lacy added, yawning and shifting her weight against the wall to find a comfortable position, “it’s really annoying sometimes.” “Well, don’t fall asleep quite yet; it’s almost our turn up the ladder.” “Ladder?” That was enough to get Lacy to open her eyes. “Of course there’s a ladder.” “Calm down, it’s only a few steps to the top.” Aurora replied. “What’s the view like? Is it like the view over the eighth Verar from the seventh?” Geniora blinked in confusion, then chuckled. “I’ve only been to Feylore twice, and never to the main city.” “Really?” “Yep. First time to get some supplies, second time… also to get some supplies. Those elven merchants sell an awful lot of Arcane equipment, considering the scope of our magic.” “Can’t trust… domestic product.” Lacy added drowsily. She didn’t know what it meant; she’d only heard some adult higher-ups talking about it. Geniora did not respond to Lacy’s comment except for an amused snort, before announcing to her that the guard was beckoning them up the tower. At this, Lacy pushed herself off the wall with her shoulders, arms wrapped around her chest. She pushed open her eyelids, but they still hung dangerously low. Aurora grabbed Lacy’s arm, pulling her to the ladder leading up into the main tower. And she calls me impatient, Lacy thought. Aurora’s eagerness, however, was not unfounded. As Lacy pulled herself up the last rung of the ladder—with no shortage of protests from her limbs, of course—she almost found the strength to gape. The view was stunning, she had to admit; not that she ever doubted it would be. There was no roof or curve to the top of the tower—it was almost a square, to say the least. Below her, the city streets of Ivinan Midway sprawled about in a mesmerizing pattern, twisting left and right sporadically. To the sides of these streets, buildings fought for every inch of empty alleyway space, often leaving barely enough room for a rat to hide from the Airlight dust storms—if there had been any Airlight dust storms to be heard of in Midway. High above the surface of the realm, the orange-brown glimmer of the Earthlight moon shone off the thousands of buildings, gleaming across windows to leave red splotches in Lacy’s vision. Outside the all-encompassing walls surrounding the city, Lacy could barely spot the distant tower that the demons from Sunken Deep hailed from. According to the stories, no one had ever successfully penetrated and climbed the tower to the Parallarity Gate since the war began. Speaking of the war, Lacy could very clearly make out burning fires, and the smoke marking them. While the Earthmoon may have flashed in her eyes across the windows, it certainly couldn’t provide enough light to give her a good view of the clashing armies. She tore her eyes away from the fires, glancing again at the city streets. Brightstones were few, and the only light other than the glow of hearthfires through windows was the occasional mounted lantern and doorside torches. By this light, she could make out the tiny forms of humans scurrying about like mice under an owl’s gaze. Even at this hour, merchants and peddlers pawned off their wares to anyone unfortunate enough to come within view. Beggars held out hats and cups, while vagrants stood together in groups, warily eyeing anyone who drew near—the living giving life to the city, and— And… Zzzzzz… “Lacy!” She jolted awake as Aurora shook her arm. How long had she been asleep on the turret? She didn’t even remember falling asleep… or being asleep. To make matters worse, she didn’t feel rested in the slightest. “Wha… what?” Lacy rubbed her eyes. “Demons? Where?” “We need to catch the Parallarity Gate before Second Earthlight. That means leaving now.” Lacy nodded groggily. “Alright. Where’s… the portal?” “That way,” came the detached voice of Geniora. Lacy only now realized that she was yet to open her eyes… could that be why she couldn’t see anything? She did crack an eyelid when Aurora began tugging her—gently—away from the turret. As she was led towards the ladder, the only thing she registered was the concerned look shot in her direction by a guard. Before she could respond, she found herself unconsciously climbing down the ladder—her body even forgot to protest this time. How nice of it. There was a calming rhythm to climbing down the stairs; step, weightless, bounce. Step, weightless, bounce. She barely caught herself as she leaned over and threatened to fall. “Lacy, are you okay?” Aurora asked. Lacy replied with a groggy nod. “Yeah… if I could just… sleep a moment.” “No time for that, I’m afraid,” Geniora said, “we have a little more than half an hour to catch the Parallarity Gate and our ride to the Academy.” “Well… lead on, then.” Lacy felt her eyelids drooping again, and she held them open with all of what little strength remained. She must have failed to open them at some point, because she hit her foot hard on the floor where she thought the next stair would’ve been, the step, weightless, and bounce rhythm rudely broken. Geniora pushed open the door to the streets of Ivinin Midway, and gestured the two girls out of the tower. Aurora tried to brace up Lacy with her arms, but she stubbornly remained on her own two feet. She did rest her head on Aurora’s shoulder, though. As they walked through the streets, Lacy took up a new rhythm—Step, step. Step, step. Step, step. Her shoes made a satisfying click and clack against the cobbled pavement. Even with the occasional uneven stone, the pattern of step and click combined with her head sitting comfortably against Aurora’s shoulder nearly put her to sleep again—it actually might have, because they had arrived at the Parallarity Gate far sooner than she had anticipated. “Here we are,” Geniora said at last, breaking the peaceful night’s silence as well as Lacy’s walking rhythm, “Parallarity Gate to Ivinan. Not long until we can catch our ride back to the Academy and get some sleep.” Lacy only caught the words she wanted to hear: ‘not long,’ ‘ride,’and ‘sleep.’ She grunted weakly in acknowledgment. Aurora led Lacy to a row of benches while Geniora started showing passes and whatnot to a guard. There was no beat; no rhythm, but there was a comfortable shoulder for her head to rest on. She blinked out, unknowing, at the castle-like building that enshrined the Parallarity. Some—rather, many—soldiers stood guard here, all under the three-sword banner of the Silverclad Enclave. They looked almost as tired as she was. Her eyes fell closed, and her mind drifted off… “Lacy!” She closed her eyes tighter. “Lacy!” Aurora repeated. “We’re going through the Parallarity now.” She pushed her eyes open just enough to see, then accepted a hand from Geniora to pull herself to her feet. Aurora led her without a word through the Parallarity, and Lacy barely noticed the split second of nothing before she found herself in a large chamber, open to the sky. While she didn’t take the time to count them, there were at least a hundred soldiers standing to the sides wielding a variety of spears, swords, axes, and the like, with equally many archers on a number of upper floors leaning on the banisters or oiling bowstrings. “How… close are… we?” Lacy asked. “Just a little under a mile to the stablemaster’s hut.” Geniora replied. She didn’t have the strength to cry out ‘a mile!’ in protest, but she was under the impression that the others had heard it anyways. The mile passed faster than she expected, but it still took its time. Her feet were hurting now, and every step plagued her sore appendages until she was loath to take another. There were no shortage of settlements along the long-trodden road, most of them tents but with a few wooden or Arcane-earth buildings in between. These and the occasional campfire were the only sources of light on the road; not that she was complaining, though. The encampments continued until Geniora selected one tent that seemed no different than the others. To the side of this, several horses rested peacefully alongside one another. They looked so peaceful, asleep without a care in the world. She felt her eyes falling closed again as she imagined herself sleeping on the ground… “Lacy…” She had managed to fall asleep standing up? How was that her first thought after waking up? And why was it that she had fallen asleep so many times but didn’t even remember sleeping? This was a cruel world she lived in. Geniora was gesturing her to a carriage just a few feet away; Aurora had already climbed in and was making herself comfortable on the cushioned seats. The driver looked annoyed but well-rested, not unlike the two horses hitched to the front. With all the energy she had left—not much—she pulled herself into the carriage and took the seat opposite of Aurora. When Geniora entered, she left Lacy to keep her side to herself. “Everyone ready to go?” The driver asked. Aurora and Geniora replied in confirmation, but not Lacy. She had immediately collapsed onto her cushioned bench, and her hands had barely enough time to brace up her head before she passed into a well-earned deep sleep. The state of dreams wasn’t kind to Lacy tonight, however. Who are you, child? A voice asked her. Are you the one I seek? Are you the one who, for so long, has avoided my gaze? “Uh… what?” Do not listen to that one! Another voice said. He will corrupt your soul and claim your mind. You are not safe when he is near. “This is a weird dream.” It needn’t be. The first voice replied. If you join me, I can grant you all the power in the world. “But that other guy said that you would… like, eat me, or something.” He has marked you, child, as I have. Lacy couldn’t tell which one said that, though; it might’ve been both of them combined. Suddenly, both voices were silenced, and she found herself in a field. It was dark, with only the Waterlight moon tracing overhead. It couldn’t be much later than First Waterlight, which meant it should have been raining. The fact that it wasn’t could only mean she was in Midway; or that whatever part of her brain was in charge of dreaming had forgotten to rain. Being in the fields of Midway, though, she was suddenly aware that this was where the bulk of the war was supposed to be taking place. Sure enough, as soon as she thought of that, she could hear cries and metal on metal. She turned around, and watched as massive armies clashed against each other. She expected to see the banners of the Silverclad Enclave versus those of Sunken Deep, as she had been taught in the orphanage by both her teachers and the older children, but rather saw the flag of Ivinan raised in line with all the others: Feylore, Vitera, Drakefell, Sunken Deep, even Carnon. They fought against foes she could not see, and didn’t want to see. Her attention and gaze were drawn elsewhere, however. Two figures fought alongside each other on a hilltop, defending one another from an onslaught of monsters. She felt… drawn to them. Compelled. She found herself running up the hill towards the two, unable to make out their features. With a gasping breath she crested a hill, and as she looked up to see their faces— “Lacy!” She snapped awake. “Ah! Evil!” Aurora blinked. “That was an unexpected way for you to wake up… but we’re here now.” “Here, where?” “The Academy of Arcana, of course.” Geniora replied. “Welcome to magic school.” Chapter VII Spoiler Chapter VII - Betting on Swordplay Third Earthlight | The plains, Ivinan “Breakfast!” Dain called. Corrin poked open an eye, then sat up, finding that he was the only one still in his bedroll. In fact, his bedroll was the only one still on the floor. The occasional backpack lay strewn about here and there, but all of them were packed up and ready to go. With an annoyed grunt, Corrin pulled himself out of his bedroll, then rolled it up and roped it in place. He slung it onto his backpack, missing the knot the first time and having to go back and redo it. With that, he stood up and stretched, then left the tent, heading outside. Sitting about on logs, stumps, or even just the grass, the dozen-strong squadron of Dain’s ate their breakfast. Dain himself had prepared it, and was serving it to the last few soldiers who were unlucky enough to be backed up in the apparent meal line. Corrin fell in behind the last of these, and sooner rather than later, he was being handed a plate with eggs and sausage; not something he expected from army rations. “Someone looks like he had his beauty sleep.” Dain noted. “Sorry, sir.” “Nothing to be sorry for. A soldier’s sleep schedule is an acquired trait. However, once we reach Camp Thunder and get training, you will be expected to get up early.” “Understood.” “Now go eat some breakfast.” He nodded towards Garnell, Mareth, Iolar, and Quarden. “The strikers have taken a liking to you… that’s a good thing. Means you’ve got more cred than the other soldiers.” “Sir?” Dain leaned in, lowering his voice. “There’s a lot more to status in the army than rank, Corrin.” Corrin nodded, a gesture that was returned by Dain, who dished himself a plate of food and left to sit next to Teren and Uia. Corrin took his own plate to a spot between Iolar and Garnell. “There you are.” Mareth said. “I was wondering if a fox had gotten you.” “It’d take more than a fox to kill Corrin,” Garnell replied, chuckling, “a wolf, maybe.” “I lost to a mouse, once,” Corrin added, trying to deal himself in on their conversation. Iolar frowned. “You… fought a mouse?” “It got the jump on me. Got a big, nasty bite on my ankle.” “And you were, what, five?” Corrin laughed. “I was twelve.” Mareth raised an eyebrow. “And Dain expects you to be some great swordsman or something? If you can’t kill a mouse, then how about a demon?” “Well, you guys will have my back, right?” Quarden nodded. “That’s right, we will. No guarantees, though. Sometimes we let the new guy get stabbed so he can get a taste of what it feels like.” “We do?” Garnell asked. “I mean, uh, yeah, we do.” Iolar sighed, picking at his sausage. “Welp, there goes the scare tactic. Yeah, we’ll have your back, no worries. Do be careful, though. It’s Garnell and Mareth’s jobs to be idiots and get themselves hacked to pieces.” “Hang on, you knew Garnell, right?” Mareth asked. “Like, as kids?” “That I did.” Corrin answered. “We grew up together.” “Like brothers!” Garnell added. “Brothers with a foot difference in height, different hair color, eye color, skin tone, personality, parents, and hobbies.” “And rank,” Quarden said, “which reminds me… we can order you around, Corrin.” “Only in a battlefield situation, though.” Corrin corrected. “When the captain deems fit to split the squadron, the strikers lead their respective soldiers to follow the captain’s orders but in their own fashion.” Quadren blinked in confusion, and Garnell chuckled, “I told you, he knows just about everythin’ about this here Enclave.” “I’m still on his knowing you as a kid,” Mareth said, “like the time with the mud and the neighbor’s wall?” “Did Garnell tell you about that?” Corrin asked, then frowned as Garnell made a cutting motion across his throat, silently asking him to be quiet. “The time where… we basically covered the neighbor’s walls with mud and had to scrub them off for two hours when they found out?” Garnell sighed, while Mareth and Iolar laughed and put their fists together. Garnell grabbed a small bag from his pocket, then dealt both of them two silver Crescents. “Did you guys… make a bet on me?” Corrin asked. “That we did,” Iolar replied, fingering his new crescents, “and glad we did.” “I’m not glad we did,” Garnell replied, “because now I’m forty crests poorer. Speaking of which… Quarden, you were on my side, so you owe me two silver.” “Fresh out of cash, man.” Quarden replied, then pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and scraped something onto it with a pen. “I’ll take your next stable duty?” “Acceptable.” Garnell took the paper, then cut one of his sausages in half, then shoveled one end into his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “In any case, Corrin, we make bets on just about anything. For example, I won a gold from both twins last night when I predicted you’d break the record.” “It was so ludicrous.” Iolar said wistfully. “And also, we had our reputation to uphold as the biggest troublemakers in the squadron.” Quarden added. “I had the offer to join in, but I figured if Garnell was betting so much on you, he knew what he was doing.” Mareth said. “Which reminds me… we’re fresh out of bets, now. How abouts we make another one on the new guy? I’m betting thirty seconds.” “One minute,” Iolar said. “Fifty-five seconds,” Quarden decided. “What?” Corrin asked. “What are you guys doing?” “Sooner or later, Dain’s going to test your skill. He’ll pull you out into the fields and take you on, one-on-one.” Mareth replied. “You’re not expected to win; he just wants to see how long you last, so we’re betting on that.” “A minute thirty.” Garnell said. “How much in the pot?” “I want my gold crescent back,” Iolar said wistfully. He dropped a gold crescent onto a stump. “I’ll throw in my next week’s desserts.” Quarden said, writing another note and adding that to the stump. It read 3 Desserts. -Quarden. “Latrine duty,” Mareth decided, writing a note of his own. Latrine Duty. -Mareth. Garnell reached into his pocket, then pulled out his remaining Acquisition Chip. He dropped that into the pot, getting a series of appreciative nods from the others. “Five minutes.” Corrin said, dropping a gold crescent onto the stump. The others fell silent, each giving him a look in turn. “What?” He asked. “Uh, this is… us, betting on… you.” Mareth replied. “Yeah, and this is me betting on me. I bet I can last five minutes.” Garnell chuckled. “You think you can last five minutes against Dain?” “I’ll make it five minutes, no less.” Corrin added. “I don’t win if my bet’s closest; I only win if I last five minutes or over. But—” He said, interrupting Iolar before he said anything. “But, if I win, I want first pick over an extra Emblem in the case that there are ever extras from a mission. I’m assuming those would be abdicated to you, so the next you get goes to me.” There was a short silence, until Mareth spoke, “I haven’t got a problem with that.” He signed another note, reading To Corrin: One extra Emblem. -Mareth. The others agreed with varying degrees of eagerness—the twins happily signing a note, and Garnell warily writing his own. Soon, there were four more notes sitting on the stump. “Now all we have to do is… wait until Dain duels me?” Corrin asked. “I don’t think that’ll take too long.” Quarden replied, gesturing over his shoulder. Corrin looked behind him to see Dain approaching them, sword in plain view. The captain cleared his throat. “Based on the pile of mismatched oddities on this stump, I’m assuming that the others told you what—“ He cut himself off, then frowned and bent over, picking up one of the slips of paper that abdicated an extra emblem to him. “Did you deal yourself in?” “That I did.” Corrin replied. “For how long?” Dain asked. “Five minutes.” Mareth replied. “He expects to survive for five mintues.” Dain blinked, looking at Corrin. “A little overconfident, are we? I bet these kind strikers wouldn’t mind if you lowered it by a minute or two.” “As a matter of fact, we would,” Quarden replied, “and I doubt he’d want to, anyways.” Corrin nodded. “Yeah, I don’t want to. Should we get started?” The corner of Dain’s mouth twitched. “I don’t see any reason to wait. Should we move out to the field?” “How many battles are actually fought in the field?” Corrin asked. “Better we do it here, where there’s actual obstacles to look out for… like stumps, tents, and people.” Dain nodded. “Fair enough.” He unsheathed his sword. “Teren, you timing us?” The archer held up a small pocketclock. “That I am.” Corrin unsheathed his own sword, feeling at the hilt. There was good traction on the leather, and the pommel counterweighted the blade perfectly. “What’re the rules for winning?” Dain grasped his sword in front of him with both hands. “One hit.” “Anywhere?” “Anywhere. That’s all it takes to bleed out and die on the battlefield, right?” “Right.” Corrin unslung his shield, sliding it up his left arm. “Shields are allowed, right?” “Anything’s allowed. There aren’t any rules about what you can or cannot use to kill a demon—or what you can or cannot use to keep a demon from killing you. Count us down, Teren!” Teren held up three fingers, then lowered the first. “Three…” “Good luck!” Mareth called. “You’ll need it.” “Two…” “But not too much luck.” Iolar added. “I do still want those crescents.” “One… Go!” Dain lunged, and Corrin barely avoided the blade by stepping to the side. Dain immediately cut towards him, though, a strike that he hit aside with his shield. He took a step backwards, putting some distance between himself and Dain. The captain took a moment to fix his stance, then took another swing at Corrin, who avoided it with relative ease; that had been a testing blow, not one actually intended to hit. So he can attack, Corrin thought to himself, but he doesn’t have a shield… Can he defend? After Dain struck again at him, Corrin hit the sword aside with his own. He twisted it in a wide arc, hoping to disarm his foe. He pulled Dain’s blade far from his body, then prepared to stab at his now-exposed chest. Dain, however, twisted to the side, and suddenly it wasn’t Dain who was exposed, but rather Corrin. Dain pushed Corrin’s sword towards the ground, then slashed at Corrin’s chest; a strike he barely deflected with his shield. Okay, yes, yes he can defend. Corrin mentally noted. And his reflexes are fast. “Not bad,” Dain said, holding his sword before his chest, “you almost had me there, but you left yourself wide open.” “Shield.” Corrin said simply, then stabbed at Dain. His sword was knocked aside, and when a similar strike came at him, he had to take a step back to avoid the blow. Dain continued slashing at him, though, forcing him backwards to remain out of reach. Soon, he found himself backed up to the tents, still stepping back. “Do we want to… you know, leave the tents alone?” “If we say they were damaged during a training exercise, they’ll be okay with it.” Dain attacked from above, and Corrin mentally chastised himself as he instinctively defended himself rather than attacked Dain’s exposed body. “And yet…” Corrin grunted as Dain knocked his sword aside and he barely dodged a strike. “You were complaining about a tear in the tent last night?” “I wasn’t complaining about the person who put it there, but rather the person who neglected to fix it.” Dain stabbed at Corrin again, then ducked to the side as Corrin counterattacked. “Not bad… in fact, I might even say good.” Dain continued pushing at him, and Corrin was forced to spin off to the side to keep himself from being pushed into the tent. He nearly tripped over a stump, but caught himself and struck wildly to prevent Dain from taking advantage over his stumble. With a grunt, he attacked with a powerful blow, getting a first step backwards from Dain. He continued pushing Dain backwards, until he heard a groan from Quarden—evidently, he had survived for at least a minute. Attacks were traded back and forth for a while without comment, except for the occasional ‘impressive’ from Dain. The soldiers unassociated with the bet had taken notice by now, and were watching intently. Mareth was looking more and more nervous by the second, eyeing the pile of notes, crescents, and pride until he finally released an exasperated sigh; a minute forty-five had been passed, and Garnell was the last striker with a chance at the pot. “It seems they underestimated you,” Dain noted, “and I as well.” He blocked a strike at his right, which he returned with a similar attack. With a quick jab to keep Corrin at bay as he took a step back, he said, “I underestimated you quite a bit, it seems—though I wonder if you can possibly win that pot of yours.” By the time the three minute mark was called by Teren, Corrin was covered in sweat. Dain had broken a few beads, though not nearly as many as Corrin. By four minutes, Corrin was dodging more often than defending, trying to spare his sword arm the strain of deflecting blow after blow. He held his sword in a vertical defensive position across his chest, and used his shield more often than the blade. “It seems as though I’ve got you,” Dain said, breath hardly rough or panting, “your strength is dwindling.” “I only… have… a minute.” Corrin replied. He was forced to deflect a strike with his sword arm; Dain had found his weakness, and was now exploiting it. He took a step backwards, then another, and another. Dain was pushing him, and he didn’t have the strength to push back. I need to buy myself time, Corrin thought to himself, I need a distraction. With a deep breath—he wasn’t taking any other kind at this point—he began to feel at the energy coming from the Earthmoon. He remembered his days at the academy; Fire Arcana required strong will and energy. It became more powerful during Firelight—but Earthlight wouldn’t weaken it like Waterlight tended to. He felt the warmth from the Airsun reflecting off the Earthmoon, then Forged a Spirit Bond to it. Heat could become fire—but to use fire, he needed to provide a path of energy that led to his target. He let his energy flow through him, then out towards Dain, who was preparing to strike. With a path of energy created, he pulled on the heat he had Bonded to, and with a punch of his fist summoned a massive burst of fire— A weak spout of embers emitted from his hand, burning out long before they ever reached Dain’s face. The captain did refrain from attacking for just a moment, though, blinking in confusion at the tiny plumes of smoke that marked where the fire had once been. Then, with an annoyed growl, he stabbed at Corrin’s exposed self. Corrin stepped backwards, but tripped over a log and fell hard onto his back. Dain began to strike downwards, but just before his sword connected— “Five minutes!” Teren called, a proclamation that was beautifully punctuated by Corrin’s grunt of pain as Dain’s sword clanged hard off his chain mail and the good-sported cheers from the strikers who lost the bet. Dain held out a hand, which Corrin gratefully took. After Corrin had gotten to his feet, Dain chuckled. “Well, consider me impressed. I haven’t met a swordsman of your skill since… well, since a very long time.” He seemed thougthful, concerned, and maybe just a little bit… angry? Not angry at Corrin, but rather someone else; someone who had bested him in a duel, perhaps? “I picked up a few things from my uncle,” Corrin said, hoping to break Dain out of a possibly painful memory. Dain shook himself out of thought. “Evidently you have. Anyway, don’t you have a bounty to collect?” “That I do.” Corrin sheathed his sword, and removed his shield from his sweaty offhand. With that, he took a few steps towards the pot on the stump, and began grabbing the various notes and coins, as well as Garnell’s acquisition chip. The other strikers chuckled lightly to themselves as he did so, shaking their heads in disbelief. “Man, Corrin, I knew you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good.” Garnell said. “What were you doing when I was gone? Practicing fourseason-six, every day of the year?” “I did spend a healthy portion of my time training,” Corrin admitted, stacking the notes. “You’re going to have to teach me a couple things,” Mareth said, “you did some stuff I’ve never seen before. What was that twisty thing you did with Dain’s sword? The one where you poked out your elbow?” “Callier Deflect,” Corrin recalled, “you use the natural stability of your elbow joints to keep an opponent’s sword from moving. I modified it a little, and used the shoulder to put in some movement.” He pocketed the crescents. Mareth nodded. “Nice. Very nice.” He turned to the twins. “You guys have been uncharacteristically quiet. Is your pride too ruined to talk?” “Yeah.” Iolar replied. “A little.” Quarden added. Mareth shot Corrin an apologetic shrug. “They’ll be better before you know it. They just don’t lose bets that often.” “Quarden lost three today.” Corrin pointed out. “Well that’s not very nice,” Quarden said, feigning offense, then patted him on the back and chuckled, “I like you… and I think you’re going to fit in here just fine.” “I second that.” Iolar said. Mareth nodded and gave him a thumbs-up, to which Garnell laughed, “Well, Corrin… if these folks think you’re in, then you’re in. Welcome to Squadron Seven.” Chapter VIII Spoiler Chapter VIII - The Arcane Academy First Airlight | The Arcane Academy “This is your room.” Geniora said, nodding to a door. “Feel free to make it your home during your stay here. Your classes begin in two days, but there are some optional study sessions before then. I’ll have somebody bring you a schedule and the weekly event flyer in a little while. ‘Til then…” She turned and smiled at the girls. “Make yourselves at home.” Aurora smiled back. “Thanks for everything, Geniora.” “Don’t thank me yet,” she replied, “you’ll still be taking my classes, and I’m less agreeable when I’m teaching.” “We can manage a grumpy teacher.” Lacy said. “Compared to the Head of Orphanage back in Feylore, you’ll be a breeze.” “I sure hope so.” Geniora opened the door for them, then turned to leave. “See you later, girls. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” “You too.” Aurora replied, then took a step towards the room and barely dodged Lacy as the younger girl darted in first. “Whoa!” Lacy said, an exclamation roughly echoed by Aurora. “This is a better room than our last one, ain’t it, Amy?” Aurora had to agree. Looking around, her mind began unconsciously comparing this room with the one at the orphanage. This one was smaller, yes, but the last one had held a good ten people, while this only had four beds. Speaking of the beds, these were curtained and well-kept, as opposed to the creaky straw mattresses that they had to sleep on back in Feylore. Lacy had taken immediate notice to these, and collapsed on one, which bounced slightly under her weight. “This is comfy!” Lacy decided. “I could fall asleep right now.” “You know, for once… I might agree with you.” Aurora sat down on her own; it crushed beneath her weight, cushioning her in a way she did not expect. “Whoa. You weren’t kidding.” She looked down at their luggage, which Geniora had set in their room for them. “We’re supposed to unpack, but… maybe a short nap would be fine.” Lacy was already breathing steadily, and unconscious. Aurora shrugged, then lay down on her bed. She didn’t expect her fatigue from the night’s travels to crash over her so fast, and the sweet succor of sleep washed over her without mercy. She had a dreamless sleep, and woke up to voices. Her fatigue was gone, replaced with the slow mind of the still half-sleeping. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, to the reaction of a voice she couldn’t pin a person to. “Oh hey, you’re awake!” Aurora blinked a couple times to see a very freckled face in her own. The person this face was attached to backed up, revealing the entirety of the smiling girl. She had curly red hair, deep blue eyes, and a bubbly personality about her. “What’s your name? I’m Tara.” “Oh, uh… Aurora.” She held out a hand, which was shaken very ferociously by the redhead. “You can call me Amy, if you want.” “Oh, are we doing nicknames? In that case, you can call me…” She hesitated, frowning, “Hmm, I guess I don’t have a nickname. Not enough room in my real name for one, huh?” She smiled again. “Well, if you can’t call me by my nickname, then I won’t call you by yours. I’ll just stick with Aurora, mmkay? It’s settled, and definitely not because I think your actual name is way cooler than your nickname.” “Uh… sure.” “Great!” She clapped her hands once. “We’re gonna be best friends now. Is that okay with you?” “I have… no problem with that.” Aurora replied, a little reserved. “Sorry if I’m a little overbearing. I talk really fast when I get nervous, which is always.” She giggled. “Well, most always. Ooh! You’re an elf! You’re from Feylore!” “Well, half-elven.” Aurora tapped the side of her head. “Was it the ears that gave it away?” “No, it was the clothes you’re wearing. They’re Feylore-made by working-class hands, sixth Verar, made for the citizens unable to provide clothing for themselves. I could tell you weren’t gnomish based on your face shape, and no high elf would be wearing that.” She gestured to Aurora’s getup, which consisted of basic trousers and a brown shirt. “And yes, the ears were a dead giveaway.” Aurora blinked. “Well… that was impressive.” “I failed my Foreign Realms test the first time, so I had to retake the entire class. After I passed the second time with a perfect score, I remember everything!” “Everything?” “Well… everything they taught me, anyways.” She stopped for a second, then glanced over Aurora’s shoulder. “Oh hey, your friend’s awake!” Lacy was, indeed, stretching and yawning as she sat up on her bed. He hair was a mangled mess, but she looked well-rested; not an inch of red under her eyes. “Who’s…” Lacy gestured to Tara. “This?” “I’m Tara.” Tara replied, smiling. “What’s your name?” “Um… Lacy. Aurora calls me Lace, but I don’t like that name.” “You don’t?” Aurora asked. “I’ve told you this many times. I just assumed you called me that to spite me.” Aurora shook her head. “No…” “Well, anyways.” Lacy held out a hand to Tara, which was shaken vigorously. “Pleasure to meet you. I assume we should probably get along because… I’m assuming we’re roommates?” “That we are.” Tara replied. “The two of you, me, and Veronica.” “Who’s Veronica?” Aurora asked. To answer her question, the door to their room swung open, revealing a very tired-looking young woman with a short-cropped head of dark hair, and pitch-black eyes. “Oh, hi guys.” She said, waving weakly. “I’m Veronica. I’ll get to know you later, because right now, I’m…” She collapsed onto her bed and fell asleep. Lacy blinked. “Well… okay, then.” “She’s really nice,” Tara assured them, “she just… works all the time. Do you guys know how classes work here?” “Absolutely… not.” Lacy replied. “Great! That means I get to tell you. So you got your four Arcana classes—fire, water, earth, and air—and then a few other required courses for graduation, like Foreign Realms, History of the Iconar Collective, Religious Study, and Foreign Language, which can be any language you want.” She frowned. “I wonder if you guys have to take that, if… do you guys speak fey?” “Badly.” Aurora replied. “Archen… Ioa far.” She frowned. “I’m pretty sure I just said… something. We grew up with common, and we speak common.” “Then you’ll probably have to take that. In any case, those aren’t the only classes. There are plenty of electives, seminars, and other stuff that I don’t really bother with. Veronica on the other hand…” She gestured to the sleeping girl. “Is basically taking all of them, and spends three seasons a day studying or in class, one sleeping.” “Aha.” Lacy said. “What kinds of electives?” “Faiden Cluster Theory, uh… Arcana in Military… I think there’s Music, though I can’t be sure. Like I said, I don’t really bother with any of them.” “How do the Arcana classes work?” Aurora asked. “I mean, that’s why we’re here.” “Well, first you learn the bare basics in all the elements. What each of them does, how they work; that kind of thing. After that, you choose one of them to study in as an Apprentice Mage; this is the first one you’ll actually get to do magic with. If you pass that, you can go back and retake another element, or you can continue and learn some cooler magic in an element you’ve already passed as a Proficient Mage. After that, you’d need a master to learn anything new, and hopefully you’ll be done with your other core courses, so you can go out and find one. You don’t need to get a master—you could get a pretty good job as a Proficient Mage, but if you Master all four elements, you could become a Highmaster, and that’s something just about anybody would love to throw on their resume.” She smiled. “I’m an Apprentice Air Mage. You guys have to pass the basics test, but that won’t take too long; I expect you’ll catch up to me soon, considering the fact that I fail half the tests I take.” “Uh… thank you?” Aurora asked. “I’m sure you’re not that bad at academics—” “Oh, I am.” Tara assured her. “But that’s okay! I work hard… sometimes. Besides, the fact that I’m the worst means that no one can be worse than me! It means everyone’s better and that makes me feel good about myself.” “That’s the spirit!” Lacy said. “See, because I’m the worst person in the Collective, which means no one can be worse than me!” Lacy and Tara shared a laugh, while Aurora sighed; she did wear an amused smile on her face, though. To break a short, awkward silence that followed, a knock came at the door. Lacy looked as though to answer it, but Tara was already pulling the door open. “Oh hey, Minshyl. What’s up?” Aurora looked up at the person standing at the door. Minshyl was probably a year younger than Aurora—thirteen, perhaps; around Lacy’s age—with a dramatically combed-back hairdo that left a large forehead above his bushy eyebrows; a look she wasn’t sure would fit with anybody else but him. He looked slightly nervous, but that might’ve just been surprise. “Hey, Tara.” Minshyl replied. “Geniora sent me. I brought these for your new roommates…” He glanced into the room, and upon seeing Aurora and Lacy, smiled slightly. “Ah. Hi guys! I’m Minshyl. Geniora sent me with these for you…” He awkwardly tried to push them a couple pamphlets through Tara, before pulling them back and handing them to her. “I got a few more deliveries to run, so… seeya later.” He was out of the doorway before Aurora could reply. Tara handed each of them one of the pamphlets. On the front of these, the six-arrowed symbol of the Iconar Collective sat right beneath the words Weekly Events. “Minshyl’s basically our delivery boy. He is a student—water Arcana, I believe—but he likes helping Geniora, who I guess you’ve already met. She takes care of everything around here.” “Really?” Aurora asked. “And she had the time to head out to Midway and find us?” “Well,” Tara shrugged, “her and her secretary do. She does important things, like pay off bills and other business-y stuff, while he does all the paperwork. Honestly, they just need to hire some scribes to loosen their workload. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have so much responsibility!” She glanced at the sleeping form of Veronica. “Hm, I wonder if she knows… oh, look at the time! I have to be somewhere.” She grabbed a bag off the floor, slinging it over her shoulder. Based on the large, squarish bulges in the sides, it was full of books. “See you two later! Nice meeting ya!” She waved and left the room. “Bye.” Aurora said, then turned to the pamphlet delivered by Minshyl. Lacy had already cracked open hers, and was reading it intently. “Hey!” Lacy exclaimed. “We’re in here! On the first page.” Aurora followed along as Lacy read it aloud. “‘Introducing our new students—’hmm, I can’t pronounce that name—‘Drak… Ferek…’—a lot of dwarvish folk—‘Aurora and Lacy.’ See! We’re in here.” “Yes, it’s… quite clear.” Aurora kept reading through the pamphlet. “Hmm… a week-long seminar on textiles? What does that even mean?” Lacy was flipping through her pamphlet so fast that Aurora wasn’t sure if she was even reading anything. “Nothing… nothing… garbage duty? Nothing… aha! Schedules. Page eight.” Aurora opened to page eight, then started reading through the schedules. “First class in two days… looks like we just have Arcane Basics—whatever that means.” “Probably—and I might be wrong, so take this with a grain of salt—the basics of Arcana.” Aurora snorted. “Really? Never would’ve guessed.” “Anyway…” Lacy looked to their case of belongings. “I suppose we should unpack? I mean, Geniora did tell us to make this place our home.” “That she did.” Aurora dropped her pamphlet on her bed, then opened the case. There was more in it than one might expect; hence the case’s weight. A good portion of it was neatly folded trousers and shirts, but there were a few mismatched oddities as well: two journals, one for each girl, a few stringed-together pens, two acceptance letters from the Arcane Academy, the waterproof blanket, their emergency money (a small bag that contained roughly two full crescents in coppers and silvers), an old storybook, and a silver ring. There was also a full waterskin that neither of them had touched, in case of emergency, which accounted for a good portion of the weight. Lacy took the storybook, placing it carefully on the floor beside her, then removed her journal and clothing, placing both her her bed. As Lacy began placing her clothing in a nightstand drawer, Aurora removed her own personal belongings: her journal, her clothing, and the ring. She slid the last one onto her finger, the comfortable and familiar weight filling a space in her heart. She hadn’t worn it during their trip; too risky, with so many panhandlers and pickpockets in the streets. “So,” Lacy said at last, “classes in two days, huh? Which element do you think you’re doing?” “Dunno.” Aurora shrugged. “They all sound pretty cool. Maybe earth?” “Do you like Geniora that much?” Lacy asked. “I dunno. Earth sounds fun.” “I’m personally looking at fire.” Lacy replied. “You would.” “How cool would it be to shoot fireballs at people?” She hesitated, then added. “Demon people, of course.” Aurora didn’t respond, then after a few moments, smiled. “What?” Lacy asked. Aurora shrugged. “We’re here, Lace. Things are starting to look up.” Lacy nodded. “I guess we are. Now help me unpack this case; they serve free lunches and I’m hungry.” Chapter IX Spoiler Chapter IX - Origin Story Second Firelight | The plains, Ivinan Two days on the road was nothing to scoff at, in Corrin’s opinion. His feet were worn near off his ankles by now, and he was wondering if his pack full of supplies was going to cut his arms off at the shoulders. The others were displaying signs of weariness as well; even Dain looked like he was just about ready to collapse. That wasn’t to say that none of them were in high spirits, however. Iolar and Quarden were having another argument—this one about who’s spear was better—while Garnell and Corrin told Mareth stories about home. Uia had fallen back to listen to these stories, and apart from the occasional tinkle of laughter, didn’t comment on any of them. And Corrin couldn’t tell, but he was pretty sure that Dain and Teren were listening as well. “Once… I’ve told you about Corrin’s uncle Lars, right? I have,” Garnell answered himself, interrupting Mareth, “Y’know, there was this one time that he took us to a traveling fair; you know, tents, merchants, that kind of thing?” “Yeah, I… know what a traveling fair is.” Mareth replied. “Where are you going with this?” “Well, see, he gave us ten crescents to spend on anything we wanted.” Garnell began. “And Corrin—” “Spent mine on normal stuff.” Corrin replied. “Like candy.” “Yep.” Garnell replied. “What did you do?” Mareth asked. Garnell chuckled. “I saw this guy who told me he could double my money… and, being an idiot twelve-year-old kid, I agreed.” “You’re still an idiot.” Iolar called. Evidently, he and Quarden had decided who’s spear was better. “Just not twelve.” “Shut up, Iolar.” Garnell replied, smiling. “I spent my entire allowance on the guy, and I only won once, so I walked in with ten crescents—walked out with one.” Mareth blinked. “It sounds like you’re missing a gag line there.” Garnell shrugged. “It was funnier back when it first happened. Corrin! Why don’t you tell Mareth something funny.” “Me? Funny?” Corrin shook his head. “Those two words don’t belong together.” “What you just said right there was funny.” Quarden countered. He sounded a little half-hearted; had the verdict been in favor of Iolar’s spear, perhaps? “Nah, I don’t have any stories.” Corrin said. “At least, none that would be entertaining.” He glanced ahead at Dain and Teren. “What about you two? Do you guys have anything?” Dain looked over his shoulder at Corrin. “Nothing you would want to hear. Would you like me to drone on and on about tactical positioning, unIdeal squadron organization, and ranking issues?” Corrin shook his head. “Yeah, no. What about you, Teren?” “Me?” He asked, sounded genuinely surprised. “I don’t have many. I grew up, worked, played, and trained in the Enclave. It may sound interesting to you, but after a point, the army becomes incredibly boring.” He glanced back at Corrin. “But I don’t think you are devoid of stories, Corrin. That was fire Arcana you used on Dain a couple days ago; you went to the Academy?” “Well… yes.” Corrin sighed. “You don’t sound particularly… fond of those memories.” Teren noted. “That would be because I’m not.” “Well, then, go on, Corrin.” Mareth said. “We’ll tell your ours if you tell us yours!” Quarden added. “Tell me what?” Iolar shrugged. “What do you call them… origin stories? We’ll tell you our origin stories if you tell us yours.” “Yeah.” Mareth agreed. “Though mine isn’t very entertaining.” “Well… alright, then.” Corrin thought back to his past. “I was born in Draycott, and my parents died when I was about two or so. I don’t remember them, so… I’ve moved past that. I was raised by my uncle Lars, an ex-soldier in the Enclave. “I met Garnell when I was five or six.” Corrin continued, gesturing to Garnell. “We grew up together.” “Like brothers!” Garnell added. “Brothers with differen—” “Yes.” Iolar inturrupted. “We heard. Corrin?” “I went to the Arcane Academy when I was fourteen.” Corrin said. “I had never tried magic before, but I have a magilex.” He tapped the shoulder of his right arm. “Long story short, I failed. Badly.” “Not that badly.” Mareth protested. “That was real fire Arcana we saw you doing against Dain.” “That was a weak sputter of flame that was more smoke than fire—and it was actually better than most I did at the Academy.” “Okay. Maybe it was pretty bad.” “And then three years later, I joined the Enclave.” Corrin concluded. “Wait.” Quarden interrupted. “Three years after that? So you’re—” “Seventeen.” Corrin replied. “I’m seventeen.” “Really?” Uia asked, surprising just about everyone. “You’re… quite mature for your age.” Realizing he had drawn a few stares, he blushed a little and looked down to his feet. “What about you, Uia?” Corrin asked. “Where do you come from?” “Um… me?” Uia asked, voice tightening. “I went to the Arcane Academy; like you. That… that’s all.” Corrin didn’t press him. “What about you, Kent?” The horseless cavalier spun about on his heel, surprised. “What? Me? What about me?” “Where do you come from?” Corrin asked. “What did you do before you came to the Enclave?” “I was a farmer.” Kent replied, a little rushed. “I joined the Enclave so I wouldn’t have to be drafted into the royal army. I brought my horse with me—biggest gamble I’ve ever done—and became a cavalier.” “I was traveling circus man.” John said in a thick accent before Corrin could ask or reply to Kent. “Strong man.” He flexed his muscles. “Very strong man.” Corrin blinked. “Okay.” Garnell chuckled behind him. “John likes his muscles.” “Very strong man.” John repeated. Corrin turned to the twins. “What about you guys?” “Well,” Iolar began, “our parents were middle-class artisans. Bookbinders. Because of that, they avoided getting drafted into the Royal Army. We were born and raised in Ivinan City, plenty of money to go around, full stomachs every night.” “When we got old enough, though, we wanted to start a business of our own.” Quarden continued. “So we started a bookstore. Our parents’ bookbinding business became a kind of a sister company; we sold whatever they gave us, and whatever we gave them, they fixed.” “So then what happened?” Corrin asked. “Then we got bored.” Iolar replied. “Started looking for something more interesting to do with our lives. We turned to the Silverclad Enclave, hoping to make a difference in the world.” “We gave our bookstore to our parents and a few family friends to take care of. It’s in good hands until we come back.” “And when do you plan to come back?” Corrin asked them. Quarden shrugged. “When we get homesick enough? Not sure. We don’t plan that far ahead.” “Or if we get bored of killing demons.” Iolar pointed out. “And want to go back to the excitement of a mercantile livelihood.” “Huh.” Corrin said, then turned to Mareth. “What about you, Mare?” “Did you seriously just call me Mare?” Mareth asked. “You do realize that that’s a girl name.” “Yes, I know.” Corrin replied. “Don’t you have a nickname?” “I did, once.” Mareth admitted. “When I was a kid. Our parents caught us saying it, though, and shot it down it immediately. I only now know what it was and what it meant.” “Eth?” Corrin asked. “Close.” “Oh.” “Yeah.” “Oh, that’s… that’s great, Mareth.” “Yup. Is that all you want to hear, or are you going to ask me to share my life as well?” “Your life as well, if you don’t mind.” “I do, but whatever.” He cleared his throat. “I was actually born and raised under a noble house, but don’t tell anybody. It wasn’t a particularly wealthy or influential house, but a noble house regardless.” “Why can’t I tell anyone?” Corrin asked. “Because nobles who join the Enclave get an automatic promotion. I would’ve become a striker by default.” “So you were being noble?” Corrin said, then winced and chuckled. “I hate you. Also, no, I wasn’t doing it because I thought it was unfair or anything. I joined secretly because strikers have positions of responsibility within a squadron, and I didn’t know anything about tactics or strategy.” “Dain’s the one who does the strategizing, though.” Corrin replied. “Or the Regent Knight, if it’s a larger assault.” “Yeah, but us strikers have to be the ones who carry those orders out.” Mareth countered. “The best way to learn how to lead is to fight; experience, not rank, builds a leader.” Ahead of them, Dain nodded in agreement. It was an unconscious nod, though, and it looked as though he was lost in thought; a memory, perhaps? Carefully, Corrin began to prod him. “Dain? What’s your story?” Everyone, soldiers and strikers alike, looked up at Dain. Their eyes showed anticipation and hope, but behind those looks their eyes knew what was to become of Corrin’s question. Teren turned to Dain, his own look questioning; whatever it was that was in Dain’s past, Teren knew about it when no one else did. Dain turned his head to the right, eyes closed. The hope in the the soldiers’ and strikers’ eyes brightened, silently begging him to go on. Then, Dain turned forward again, not so much as a sound leaving his mouth. Some of the strikers sighed, and the soldiers returned to their hushed conversations. Garnell shrugged. “Aye, Rin. Dain hasn’t told anybody who he is or where he comes from. Best not to dwell on it.” The rest of the journey was scarcely quiet, but not a word came from Dain. Their journey was finished by Waterlight. The rains poured down on Dain’s squadron, but when the first of them had seen lights in the distance, nothing could deter them. The soldiers on guard at Camp Thunder stood at attention as they marched triumphantly through the gate, and the camp’s Knight stood prim and proper, hands clasped in a businesslike fashion over his waist. He seemed completely unaware of the rain, with his deep brown hair plastered to his face and a stream of water dripping off his chin. Despite the fact that the squadron was supposed to be walking quietly and properly in ranks, Corrin couldn’t help but gape at the sheer size of Camp Thunder. Buildings of Arcane earth, rather than tents, stood in rows beside each other, each complementing the last with what it had to offer. Supply buildings were placed between smithies and dining halls, while the armories were flanked by the barracks. Here and there, artillery towers dwarfed the smaller buildings, where bored-looking archers stared out into the nothingness of the night. Within the barracks, the flickering light of fire and the laughs of soldiers who hadn’t the good sense to be asleep right now traveled through partly ajar doors and uncovered windows. Ahead of them, a large plume of smoke trailed up into the air, marking the place of a massive bonfire too large to be diffused by the rain. Oil lanterns, torches, and fires from the barracks lit the stone-and-dirt pathways along which the squadron marched. “Greetings, Dain.” The Knight said, stirring Corrin from his thoughts. “I take it your recruitment run was successful?” “That it was.” Dain replied, gesturing to Corrin. The Knight frowned, then walked to Corrin and began to examine him. “Are you sure he was worth the trouble?” “Well worth it.” Dain assured him. “Already, I imagine he could best half the soldiers here in a duel.” The Knight looked back at Corrin. “Well, then. Hopefully in time, he’ll be able to best all the soldiers here in a duel.” He cleared his throat, facing the entire squadron. “I suspect that you men are tired from your travels. You can take Barrack Nine for tonight. Tomorrow…” He looked back at Corrin. “I have a special training exercise for all of you.” Chapter X: Spoiler Chapter X - Fire Arcana First Earthlight | The Arcane Academy “Settle down, everyone!” Geniora called out. When the hundred-some students didn’t quiet themselves, Geniora glared in their general direction. “I said SETTLE DOWN!” Slowly, the massive courtyard full of students became more silent. Eventually, not one conversation still lingered in the air, to which Geniora smiled. “Thank you. Now, all of you have come to this place for one reason: to learn Arcana, the magic of the elements. Can anyone list all four elements?” Nearly every hand shot up into the air, Aurora and Lacy’s included. They sat beneath a tree, near the back of the crowd. When neither of them were selected, their hands both dropped back into their laps. “Well, there’s fire, water, earth, and air,” one boy said, “like the Dayseasons.” “Precisely. Thank you. Of course, those are only the four essential elements. There is also gravity and time, but many mages—most, in fact—don’t ever learn those two in their lifetime, even if they become Highmasters. Similarly, none of you need to worry about them at all until you become a Master Mage, which is a long time coming besides. “Anyways, you might have noticed that I have been joined by three other Master mages here today.” Geniora gestured to another woman and two men standing behind her. “Usually, these Masters would be teaching high-level students today, but they’ve all agreed to begin your instruction of the basics of Arcana in order to provide those students a much-needed day of rest. Today, you will cycle through our four classes of essential Arcana, where we will introduce you to the bare basics of magic. Also, we will introduce you to Particle theory, but I don’t imagine you’ll pick up on that today. “I will pass around today’s schedule shortly. Each class will occur several times during the day, and I heavily implore you to attend each one at least once. I also encourage those of you who have only recently arrived,” her eyes seemed to flicker towards Aurora and Lacy, “to spend their free time familiarizing themselves with the Academy. That is all.” Up ahead, Geniora placed a large stack of papers into a boy’s hand—probably the delivery boy, Minshyl—and had him start passing them around. By the time a pile of papers had reached the back of the group, Geniora and the other mages had left to their respective classrooms. Aurora took one before Lacy did, but she hadn’t read through the entire thing before the younger girl did. The schedule basically placed every class during every period, so it seemed simple enough to be able to take all the classes as well as a few others with time to spare. Aurora made to pose a question, but Lacy beat her to it. “So do you want to take all the same classes?” Lacy asked. “Will we get that privilege when we start taking real classes?” Aurora asked in return. “Or do they give us assigned schedules?” “Well, if they do, then all the more reason to stick together now, while we still can, right?” Lacy skimmed over the schedule again. “I wanna go to fire first, with… Professor Eldon.” “Sure.” Aurora replied. “Second Earthlight? We have… fifteen minutes to get there.” “Then let’s get going!” Lacy exclaimed, then stopped. “Um… where are we going? Like, physically?” “Not sure.” Aurora flipped over the page, then nodded. “There’s a map on the back. Thank goodness.” “Then, like I said, let’s get going.” Lacy scanned the map for a minute, then pointed off towards one of the many exits from the courtyard. “To fire class!” It turned out that Lacy had direct them the wrong way to Professor Eldon’s fire Arcana class, so they only barely made it in time. Eldon looked as though he was just about to speak, but when they entered, he stopped himself. He was most definitely human, with broad shoulders and curly brown hair. He had been wearing a smile on their face before they entered, which had transformed into a kindly look of concern as he watched them seat themselves. A playful, almost mischievous, glimmer sparkled in his eyes. “Alright!” Professor Eldon said. “Who wants to throw around some fireballs?” His remarks were followed by a few scattered laughs, but he looked undeterred. “No, I’m serious. Today you’re going to throw around some fireballs. That’s why you’re here and that’s what I’m going to teach you.” He smiled, then began to grind his hands together. Without warning, he tore them apart, and a flash of light followed by the sound of oil lighting aflame heralded a ball of fire hovering several inches above the professor’s outstretched fingers. A girl rose her hand. “Yes?” Eldon asked. “Sir, is it really safe for us to be doing that on our first day?” The girl asked. “What about Arcane theory, and study?” “Fire isn’t something you read about, miss. Fire is something you do.” He continued looking at her. “Unless, of course, you would prefer to read about fire rather than conjure an orb of flame to cast about at will?” “Of course not, sir,” she replied, “I was just curious.” “And there’s nothing wrong with curiosity.” Eldon said. “It is understandable that one might think that fire Arcana is study before practice, but just as one must be able to play the instrument before they can write the music, one must be able to conjure fire before they learn how to use it. Eventually, Arcane theory of fire must be learnt to perform complex actions with the flame. At a point, study becomes as important as practice; more so, even. Until then, however—” he rubbed his hands together again, this time out of anticipation rather than to summon flame, “who would like to go first?” Lacy’s hand immediately shot up into air, eyes pleading. Several others followed her, and before Aurora could raise her own, Eldon had already chosen someone—a half-elven boy like themselves sitting near the front. The boy pumped his fist when Eldon chose him, nearly tripping over a bench in his impatience to come up before the class. Beside Aurora, Lacy’s shoulders slumped. “Dang it.” The blonde half-elf said. “Alright!” The boy said once he reached the front of the classroom. “How do I…” He splayed his fingers and made an explosion noise in the back of his throat, to which the professor chuckled. “I’m afraid that before I tell you how to do anything,” Eldon said, “you are going to need to know a few key things about fire Arcana.” “But you said—” “I said that we won’t be reading or studying right now. I am, however, still going to instruct you.” “Then what did you need me for?” The boy asked. “Well, I had to hook you guys somehow. You can go take a seat until I actually need you.” The boy sighed, then took a seat on an empty bench along the wall. Once he had seated himself, Eldon cleared his throat and began to teach. “Fire Arcana is a fascinating art, and while I am technically legally required to say that, it is true. However, before you can understand the art, you have to understand the tools; in this case, fire itself. “Fire is a living, breathing, and consuming element. Once started, it is difficult to stop, and can be dangerous to anyone foolish enough to disrespect it. To create a fire, you require three things,” he held up three fingers, dropping each one in turn as he listed off the requirements, “heat, fuel, and air. The first of those three—heat—is directly tied to the second—fuel. There are several kinds of fuels you can use to create a fire. Wood, oil, paper; all of them work, but they are all different. “When it comes to lighting something on fire, one needs to provide enough heat to reach an object’s flash point—a fancy term that means the temperature at which something burns. For oil this is incredibly low. For stone, this is incredibly high. Right now, you needn’t concern yourself with this, but do take it into consideration, because it will matter later. “Air isn’t generally something you need to concern yourself about, because there’s plenty of it everywhere. However, it may, on occasion, be an important factor, if you find yourself in a small room or underwater—or both, if you’re unlucky enough. But enough talk of how fire works, and more on how to summon it.” He began rubbing his hands together again. “What I’m doing right now is creating heat. Usually, I wouldn’t have to do this, but because we’re inside, the Dayseason suns and moons can’t provide warmth for us; at least, not in large amounts. In any case, I’ve provided the first of the three conditions for fire. I already have plenty of air around here, so the last thing I need is…” a ball of flame appeared, hoving over his hand, “some fuel.” Several hands made their way into the air, but Eldon gestured them back down. “Don’t worry, I know what you’re asking. You’re wondering what I’m using for my fuel, correct?” The question was followed by a series of nods from the students, to which Eldon continued. “Very well. How many of you know about Particle Theory, Icara Compounds, and Faiden Clusters?” The room fell quiet, until a single hand rose into the air. “Yes, mister, ah…?” “Charles.” He replied. “Charles Frain. Perhaps you’d know me by my father, Lord Frain, from the Silverclad Enclave?” “The Military is outside my area of expertise. I teach fire Arcana, not Enclave ranks. Now, you say you know about Particle Theory?” “Well, as I’m sure everybody here knows, everything is made up of tiny particles, called Icons and Ranos. When these combine, they create Icaras, which are the smallest stable particles in the Iconar Collective. These create Icara Compounds, which are the basis of everything. Groups of Compounds of the same kind are called Faiden Clusters.” “Very good.” Eldon said. “That is, indeed, the basics of Particle Theory—” “That’s not all I know.” Charles interrupted. Eldon paused. “I’m sure your knowledge on the subject is very impressive, but we haven’t the time for that.” “Of course you don’t. We do, after all, have to give everyone a chance to try out fire Arcana, correct? Because this is a free and unprejudiced school, for everyone.” He seemed annoyed by that. “See, my father could afford me an education, unlike some people.” Next to Aurora, Lacy rose to her feet, glaring at Charles. Aurora pulled her down by the sleeve, but found a pit of anger boiling within herself as well. To this, Charles shot them a smug grin. “Ah, so here we have a couple poor orphan children. Let me guess; you worked super hard to get to this school, and everyone told you that it doesn’t matter whether you’re poor or not, because everyone’s special. You know, back where I come from, vermin aren’t allowed on school grounds.” “Mister Frain!” Eldon yelled. “That’s enough. Sit down and shut up this instant. I’ll not have you insulting other students, in my classroom or anywhere else.” Charles obeyed Eldon’s commands without a word, but kept his smug grin on his face and his eyes on Lacy. Behind the self-assured air and grin, however, there was an inkling of something else hiding behind his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Lacy.” Aurora whispered to her. “He’s just a spoiled rich kid.” Beneath her soft words was a seething anger, though. Professor Eldon cleared his throat. “Anyways… the fuel for my fire is a certain Icara Compound called Spirit. This Compound, when Clustered, creates the very essence of our being: our soul.” “So you’re using your soul?” Aurora asked, the words leaping from her mouth before she even thought of them. “You’re using your soul as fuel for your fire?” “Precisely.” Eldon replied. “Because, you see, one’s soul doesn’t have to be connected to their bodies. It can be just about anywhere, but it’s still your soul. That’s how all magic works; you create a bond between your soul and the object you’re trying to control. Creating this bond is called Forging, and once created, we call it a Spirit Bond. What I did when I created this fire was Forge a Spirit Bond to the heat from my hands, then used my own spirit energy to give fuel to the flame.” “That’s awesome.” Lacy whispered. “There’s a few other things that the basic Bond can do, such as control the temperature. Because your Spirit is your own, you can control the heat at which it must be to burn; you create your own flash point. I doubt that any of you have the knowledge or experience, however, to create any flame hotter than a cup of warm water, but in time you will learn to create actually dangerous flames.” He pointed to the boy he had selected earlier. “Alright, son. Care to give it a go?” The boy sprang to his feet, nodding excitedly. He stood up before the class, a slight spring in his knees as he impatiently waited for his instructions. “Alright.” Eldon said. “So to connect your Spirit to the flame, you need to first connect your mind to your Spirit. To do this, you must detach yourself from the material and ascend into the ethereal.” The boy frowned, looking confused, to which Eldon laughed. “By which I mean try to clear your mind. Try not to have a bunch of distractions in your head. Got it? Good. Now, create some heat.” The boy began to rub his hands together, making a loud swish-swish-swish noise as he tried to create heat. As he did so, Eldon continued to instruct him. “Once you’ve got enough heat, focus very hard on it. Give the heat some of your Spirit to feed on, and imagine a cool flickering flame hovering over your hand. You think you got that?” He nodded, eyes screwed tight in concentration. After a few moments of rubbing, he brought his hands apart, and a loud pop rang out. A small flash of light appeared, but no flame followed. Opening his eyes, the boy sighed at a tiny, flameless plume of smoke rising from his hand. Eldon patted him encouragingly on the back, gesturing for him to sit down. “No worries. You’ll get it in time; that actually wasn’t bad for your first try. Who would like to go next?” Once again, Lacy’s hand had sprung into the air before Aurora had even processed the words Eldon had said. Once again, Eldon chose someone else before her. “Mind devoid of distractions,” he reminded the tall, intimidating girl, “keep your mind clear—oh, not bad.” He nodded at the large-ish plume of smoke that had followed almost half a second of flame. “Not bad at all. Who’s next?” The class continued as such, each student coming up and attempting to summon fire in turn. Every time he asked who was next, Lacy’s had shot up into the air, quick as lightning, and every time he chose someone else, resulting in a shoulder-slumped disappointment or a frustrated growl. By the time that it came farther from First Earthlight and closer to Second, there were only a few students who hadn’t had a chance to try their Arcana; Aurora included. She, however, was chosen next by Eldon. She could’ve sworn, though, that his eyes swept over Lacy and briefly considered her instead—as if rather than not seeing her, he was avoiding her. As Lacy’s hand dropped back into her lap, Aurora got to her feet, making her way to the front of the class. She was suddenly aware of the many people watching her—the many eyes waiting for something amazing to happen, including the bully boy’s, Charles. He hadn’t done particularly well himself when it was his turn to try summoning fire, but he hadn’t seemed the least bit fazed when it didn’t. “Alright, you’ve heard the instructions,” Eldon said, “give it a shot.” Aurora took a breath, then closed her eyes and began rubbing them together. After just a few seconds of grinding together her palms, friction began to create heat, and the sharp tang of warmth brought the sight of fire to her mind. Forge a… Spirit Bond. She reminded herself. How do I do that? She was once again aware of everyone watching her. How long had she been rubbing her hands together? Was she looking like a fool? Just do it! She pushed her mind into the heat of her hands, picturing an orb of flame erupting from her palms. With a loud clap, she tore her hands apart, and pulled open her eyes to see… A tiny, almost infeasible plume of smoke. She’d seen more smoke from children holding magnifying glasses to leaves. Had she even summoned anything? Eldon patted her on the back, then leaned in and said in a low voice, “you’re not the fire Arcana type. I could tell the moment you walked in. You’re more of a water/earth kind of person.” She didn’t know whether to respond or not, but Eldon didn’t wait for her to decide. He leaned back out, gesturing her back into her seat, only a handful of students left to call on. Eyes followed her down as she walked to her table; why wouldn’t they? She had probably produced the worst ‘flame’ out of anyone in the class. When she sat down, Lacy nudged her reassuringly in the arm, then nearly smacked her in the face with the same arm as her hand shot up into the air as Eldon made to call on the next student. It wasn’t Lacy. Not much longer than a minute later, Eldon checked an hourglass sitting on his desk. “Well, would you look at that? Alright, everyone, pack up and get going; you don’t want to miss your next class.” “Wait!” Lacy yelped, hurting Aurora’s ear. “Wait, I didn’t get a turn.” “Ah, yes. Terribly sorry. Perhaps tomorrow—” “I don’t want to wait that long! Just…” She climbed to her feet, then practically marched to the front of the classroom, determination in her eyes above all else. Eldon’s face showed concern as she did so, but behind the tightly-knit eyebrows and tapping fingers, Aurora could’ve sworn she saw a hint of amusement—triumph, even. When Lacy reached the front of the classroom, she began grinding her hands together so hard that Aurora began to unconsciously worry that she might rub through her own skin. The various students, each in varying degrees of readiness to leave, watched her warily. Aurora could read hundreds of thoughts through their eyes: boredom, hope, regret, dubiousness. They were all waiting for a result, but few expected anything extraordinary. Then, with a massive flash of light and a loud bang, Lacy brought her hands apart, a mighty burning sound vibrating through the air. A collective gasp from the classroom—Aurora’s included—punctuated the burst of flame that emerged from Lacy’s hand. When the blonde twelve-year-old girl opened her eyes, her breath caught at the dancing tongue of flame hovering inches from her palm. It didn’t remain for long, but by the time it had burned out, a massive mushroom cloud of smoke covered a neat portion of the ceiling. After a moment of silence, someone began to applaud. The rest of the class, Aurora as well, followed suit. Lacy blushed a little, but before she could return to Aurora, Professor Eldon tugged her sleeve and whispered something in her ear; something that made her smile. By the time the applause had ended and the students began to leave for their next class, Lacy was back with Aurora, excitedly describing the experience. “It was just like… rubbing my hands, and then it was hot, and I was like hey, that’s fire-hot kind of hot, and then… boom!” She splayed her fingers, grinning like a madman and giggling between words. “That wasn’t very descriptive, but Icona it was awesome!” “What did Eldon tell you?” Aurora asked after Lacy calmed down a little. “Oh? He said he was avoiding me because he wanted to see if I had enough… what did he call it… will to just get up and do it myself. Says that I’ve got a very fiery personality, and that’s why I’m so good at it.” She giggled again. “Sorry, I… don’t mean to brag, but just fire. I created fire! With my mind!” Aurora smiled. “Glad you found a talent.” “A talent, sure.” Said a voice Aurora had been hoping wouldn’t speak up. Charles Frain, the know-it-all from earlier, shouldered a large, expensive-looking backpack. “You know, it doesn’t matter whether you’re so special or not. You’re still just a pair of poor, worthless street urchins.” Lacy’s grin faded, and was then replaced by a glare. Aurora grabbed her arm, leading her away from the Noble’s son before she could try summoning a fireball again; this time with a target. “Don’t let him ruin your special moment.” Aurora said. “Just calm down. You got it! You got it on your first day!” “We’re probably never going to get rid of him.” Lacy replied. “That’s just the way the world works when it comes to us.” “You might be right,” Aurora admitted, “but don’t let that hurt you for one moment, okay?” “Okay, mom.” Lacy said with an exaggerated sarcastic undertone, then softened her voice. “Yeah, okay, Aurora. I won’t let him get to me, but if you want to be protecting me, then I want to be able to protect you.” Aurora, caught off-guard by that last comment, hesitated before saying, “alright. You can protect me.” “I swear on Ivinan I’ll protect you if you protect me.” Aurora smiled. “Well… this isn’t going to get us to our next class. Let’s get going.” “Right. Let’s go.” Chapter XI: Spoiler Chapter XI - Earth Arcana Second Earthlight | The Arcane Academy “So… you wanna go to earth next?” Lacy asked. Aurora nodded, brushing her hair out of her face. “Yep. A little Geniora would be nice after all that.” They had attended air Arcana classes after fire, and the teacher had decided to instruct by demonstration. Aurora had actually attempted to do up her hair this morning, and the gusts of wind that the teacher had thrown into her face had completely ruined that. “Honestly, I think you look better as an unkempt homeless person.” Lacy said. “You didn’t mention that when we were… y’know… unkempt homeless people.” “I don’t think two days on the streets really counts as homeless. More like… lost. And alone, on the streets, without a home.” “Isn’t that the definition of homeless?” “Oh hey look, it’s Minshyl!” Lacy replied, changing the subject abruptly. She waved. “Hi!” “Oh, hey guys!” Minshyl waved back, a little awkwardly. “Um… never actually caught your names.” “Oh, uh… I’m Lacy.” Lacy held out her hand. Aurora frowned a little as Minshyl shook it awkwardly. “And this is Aurora.” Lacy gestured to Aurora, who waved politely at him. “So… where are you two headed next?” “Earth Arcana,” Lacy replied, “with Geniora.” “Well, then, you’re going the wrong way.” Minshyl hiked up a satchel at his side. “I’m actually going that way now, so I can take you guys there.” “That would be great.” Lacy smiled. “Right. So, uh…” He awkwardly pushed through the two of them. “This way.” They followed Minshyl through a series of hallways, as well as through a small broom closet that he claimed was a “secret passage.” After pushing their way through a crowd of older students in the hallway—an uncomfortable callback to the crowds at Midway—they found themselves at Geniora’s door. “Here you are!” He declared, pushing the door open for them. “And, uh… here I am, too. Have a… delivery to make.” He entered the room, standing close to the wall as he moved towards the front of the class. Aurora and Lacy took a seat—closer to the front than they had been the last couple classes. Geniora was talking to another student: a girl younger than Aurora, who wore the same black Apprentice Mage robes as Minshyl, as well a pale blue beret. She looked to be asking the professor a question, nodding when Geniora explained something to her. The girl turned around to see Minshyl, jumping slightly. “Oh. Hi, Minshyl!” She said, smiling. Minshyl awkwardly handed something from his satchel to Geniora, and while it was difficult to tell from a distance, Aurora could’ve sworn he was blushing. “Hey, Quille,” he replied quietly, before quickly backing out and making for the exit. Lacy snorted. “That was smooth.” Quille smiled to herself as she took a seat, pulling a book from her bag and cracking it open. Beside Aurora, Lacy shot the girl a sly glance. At the front of the class, Geniora cleared her throat. “Alright, everyone. Siddown and pay attention!” Aurora took her eyes off Quille, looking at Geniora instead. Beside her, Lacy did the same. “Welcome to earth Arcana class. Who’s ready to learn how to bully a rock into punching somebody in the face?” There was scattered laughter through the classroom, not unlike what happened in Professor Eldon’s class. Geniora smiled herself, then waved for silence. “Yes, quite amusing. However, we won’t be doing that today. Today, you learn about the mindset of an earth Arcana mage. “An earth mage is patient and assertive. You must be able to wait for the right moment to strike, and push with all your might when that moment comes.” She turned around, facing her other side to the students. “That is, of course, what you’d do if you were in the army, like I was. To use a practical example, imagine a staring contest, but cheating is allowed.” A couple snickers emanated from the back row. “By which I mean, of course, you’re allowed to break someone else’s concentration, or jumpscare them into blinking. You’re only allowed to do this once, though.” She sits down. “Why don’t you all give it a try? Staring contest with the person next to you; one clap only. Go!” Aurora turned to Lacy, looking into the other girl’s eyes. Lacy clapped near immediately, but Aurora held her gaze—she had expected Lacy to try and get her quickly. Earth Arcana requires waiting for the right moment. Aurora remembered. So… just pick the right time to get her. Around her, a few other claps sounded. A few students either slumped from failure or expressed their excitement of winning in a variety of fashions. Aurora thought for a second, then glanced over Lacy’s shoulder and feigned surprise. Lacy turned around, looking to wherever it was Aurora was so surprised at, but found nothing. The moment she turned around, however, Aurora clapped her hand in front of Lacy’s face, and the younger girl blinked in surprise. “Hah!” Aurora said. “I win.” Lacy blinked a couple more times, then finally said, “well… darn. Nicely done, though.” “No protests?” Aurora asked. “No ‘you cheated’ or excuses?” “I don’t give excuses for things!” Lacy replied, annoyed. Aurora raised an eyebrow. “I don’t give excuses for everything.” Lacy corrected. Aurora chuckled, then quited herself as Geniora waved for everyone’s attention. “Alright, everyone. Reign it in—I don’t want anybody going to the infirmary on the first day because they dry their eyes out. Alright, raise your hand if you lost.” Half the people in the classroom—including Lacy—raised their hands. “Shame. You ought to teach your eyes to do better next time.” Aurora snickered, and Lacy shot her an exaggerated glare. The younger girl seemed just as amused as Aurora was, though. “Alright, then. How many of you won?” The other half of the classroom and Aurora raised their hands. “Nice. And, uh… drop those hands if you won without clapping.” Most of the hands dropped, but Aurora’s and a few others stayed up in the air. Geniora glanced around at those who still had their hands raised, then pointed at Aurora. “You. Aurora. What did you do to win against… Lacy, wasn’t it?” “You basically dragged me through Midway, and you’ve already forgotten my name?” Lacy shook her head. “And you call yourself my teacher.” Aurora cleared her throat. “Well… I distracted her first, then… well, I waited for the ‘perfect moment,’ like you said.” Geniora smiled. “Good. You can all put your hands down, now.” She waited for a second for everyone to drop their hands. “So you all heard what she said: patience is key. That, of course, and assertion. For those of you who won without clapping, then the reason the other person lost is because they were unable to hold their eyes open while you could. This is the other side of earth Arcana: assertion. You need to be able to show such strength that you can, in theory, win anything through sheer stubbornness. “Unlike some other Arcane arts, there is no balance required to control earth. Water requires balance, lest one end overflow and the other be emptied. Fire requires balance, lest you put out your flame or burn yourself. With earth, though, all you need is to wait for the right moment to push with all your might, like Aurora did. “I have a guest with me today; one of my more talented apprentices. Quille, care to demonstrate the concept to everyone?” Quille glanced up, then pocketed her book and got to her feet. She walked up to the front of the class, looking not a little awkward as she began to speak to everyone. “Hi, everyone.” She said quietly, then cleared her throat and stood up straighter. “Hello. Um… I’m going to need a volunteer.” No hands raised, until someone asked, “what for?” “Well, you learn from experience, right?” Quille pulled her satchel off over her head, putting it down. “I’m testing to see if you guys can assert yourselves over a more experienced earth mage.” “In that case…” Lacy stood up, cracking her knuckles. Quille smiled at Lacy. “Come on up.” Lacy did, standing beside Quille when she had reached her. “So what do I do?” “Push me over.” Quille replied, hands clasped behind her back. Lacy frowned. “That’s it?” “Yep.” Lacy shrugged. “Okay, then.” Lacy backed up a step, then started pushing on Quille’s shoulders, not straining too hard. When this didn’t work, Lacy began to push harder, but to no avail. She transitioned to pushing against Quille shoulder-first, leaning the entirety of her weight against the apprentice mage. Quille still did not move, though, barely straining against Lacy’s push. She did not move, that is, until she decided to push back, knocking Lacy to the floor without so much as a grunt. Lacy yelled involuntarily, awkwardly catching herself with her elbow. Standing above her, Quille shrugged. “Nice try. Who’s next?” A few of the boys standing by the wall behind Aurora snickered to themselves as Lacy picked herself up off the ground and sad down back by Aurora. One of them cracked his own knuckles—quite loudly—and strutted down the aisle towards Quille. Lacy massaged her elbow, then whispered “I was going easy on her.” “And you say you don’t make excuses.” Aurora replied, to which Lacy both sighed and smiled in spite of herself. The boy who had decided to go next was a muscular one, and also a good head and a half taller than Quille. Quille, however, seemed undeterred by his stature, and gestured for him to try and push her over. And try he did, but ultimately without success. He didn’t bother to test Quille’s strength against his own, instead pushing with all his might from the beginning. Quille began to strain a little, but she shifted her feet, and all of a sudden she was in control again. The boy, muscular as he was, began to grunt as he attempted to push her over. Quille held out for a few seconds, then finally decided to push back and knock him over. He collapsed with an annoyed yell. “You cheated!” He protested. “You braced yourself with earth Arcana!” To this, Quille frowned. “First of all, I never said I couldn’t use Arcana. Second of all, why are you complaining? A rock won’t take excuses. A rock won’t care if you say it cheated, or listen to you complain about fairness! Now go sit down and let the next person come up—we only have an hour of class time and I won’t have you hogging it with all your whining.” The boy seemed to consider talking back, but ultimately decided against it, grumbling to himself as he returned to his cronies in the back. Quille brushed something off her shoulder, then returned to her model posture. “Who’s next?” No one volunteered. Quille sniffed a little at the lack of reaction, casting her eyes over the room. “Anyone?” “You should go up.” Lacy whispered to Aurora. “Avenge me.” Aurora blinked in confusion. “Avenge you?” “Yeah! You said you’d do it.” “If someone, like… killed you, or something. She pushed you over; and you basically signed up for it!” “Just go up there, dang it.” Aurora sighed, but got to her feet and made her way to the front of the class. Despite the fact that Quille stood shorter than her, Aurora couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by the girl’s near-perfect posture. Quille gestured for Aurora to begin, then proceeded to remain standing upright while Aurora pushed against her. With a grunt, Aurora pushed her shoulder against Quille, but to no avail. The other girl seemed completely undeterred by Aurora’s efforts, even going so far as to yawn; though Aurora couldn’t be sure if it was intentional or not. “Come on!” Quille chastised. “Show me some grit!” Aurora grunted, still pushing. For a moment, she could’ve sworn that she had gotten some leeway; but those thoughts were dashed away when Quille didn’t move. There was a quiet grumble from the ground, though—could that be Quille using earth Arcana to stabilize herself? Was that a sign that she was doing well? Without warning, Quille began pushing back. Aurora nearly fell over onto her back like the others had, but she pushed her foot behind her and stabilized herself—if only temporarily. “Get her, Amy!” Lacy called. “I really don’t like that name,” Aurora grunted, to which Quille chuckled. Then Quille gave one final shove, and Aurora fell over onto her back with an involuntary oof! Quille brushed off her hands, looking all the more intimidating as she stood above Aurora’s fallen form. “Not bad,” Quille admitted, “but still pretty shabby.” “I did better than the others, though, right?” Aurora asked, probably to Lacy’s chagrin. “You did, but that doesn’t matter. You can only win or lose when it comes to moving rocks—there isn’t any sort-of win stuff going on.” Quille cast her eyes about the room. “Anyone else want to give it a shot?” No one replied, to which Quille nodded. “Okay, then. Great; I can get back to my reading.” She walked off from in front of the class, sitting herself back down on her desk and cracking open her book again. Aurora got to her feet, heading down the aisle and taking a seat by Lacy. “Did better than the others?” Lacy quietly demanded. “Yep.” Aurora replied. “Come on, Lace, you can’t be great at every element. Maybe you get fire, and I get earth.” “I guess.” Lacy replied. “Oh, cheer up.” Aurora said. “You’ve already learned how to make fireballs, for Icona’s sake! I can’t move a pebble without touching it.” Lacy shrugged. She began rubbing her fingers together, then brought them apart to summon a small spark and a puff of smoke. Lacy frowned at the underwhelming results, but had no more time to consider it before Geniora stood up before the class. “So there you go, everyone. Earth Arcana in its finest: immovable, steadfast, and assertive.” “Aren’t those synonyms?” Lacy whispered to Aurora. “There isn’t much else to learn today. Take the rest of class studying, or reading, or… whatever.” Geniora waved her hand dismissively. “Go. Do your own thing.” The class didn’t end for another half an hour, but certainly nothing quite as interesting as a fourteen-year-old girl outbrawling a nearly-grown, muscular young man happened during that time. Chapter XII: Spoiler Chapter XII - Particle Theory Second Earthlight | The Arcane Academy “Class dismissed!” Geniora said, waving her hand again. “Go to your next class! Learn how to dry out laundry with magic, or… something.” “Thanks, Geniora.” Aurora said. She got to her feet. “No problem guys,” Geniora replied, standing up herself and making her way towards the two of them, “how are you two liking it here?” “So far?” Lacy asked. “Well, I’ve already created a bunch of fire with my mind, we’ve met the school rich guy, our roommates are weird but endearing, and that person…” she pointed at Quille, “bruised my left elbow.” “In other words, it’s great here!” Aurora said. “I never would’ve imagined that Lacy and I would end up here someday.” “Where did you think you would end up?” Geniora asked. Lacy shrugged. “Dead in an alleyway somewhere? It’s easy to not be picky when you’re an orphan. You don’t have to worry about making big decisions, because you don’t have the opportunity to do anything other than search through a garbage can for leftover crusts of bread!” “Lacy…” Aurora chastised, then looked back at Geniora, “it wasn’t actually that bad. The orphanage was painful, but you sleep on a full stomach there.” “Good to know that you like it here,” Geniora replied, looking a little unsure of how to react to their memories of the orphanage, “you should probably get to your next class, though.” “Yep! I’m eyeing Particle Theory next.” Lacy said. “You want to try that out, Amy?” “I guess so.” Aurora replied. “See you, Geniora.” “See you too, girls.” Geniora said. “Hope this place is everything you’ve hoped for—after all, I am the management here.” “...and then he said, ‘please do not eat the weeds,’ to which she completely ignored him!” Aurora raised an eyebrow. “That’s why they had to call a Healer the next day?” “That’s why they had to call a Healer the next day.” Lacy confirmed, then glanced down a series of deserted hallways. “Are we going the right way?” “Depends. Where are you going?” Aurora turned around to face the voice. “Veronica? Is that your name?” “Yes.” Veronica replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “And you guys are my new roommates. Aurora and Lacy, right? Tara told me.” Veronica pointed to either of them in turn as she said their names, getting the two of them confused. “You’re… backwards, but yeah.” Aurora held out her hand. “So, you study a lot?” “That’s a yes.” Veronica replied, shaking Aurora’s hand. “And giving us today off was the perfect way for me to get some more studying in.” “What about… y’know… sleeping?” Lacy asked. “That’s kind of important to our functionality; I mean, you should see me when I get tired.” “Don’t worry, I remembered to sleep in today. That’s unimportant, though… where are you two going?” “We’re not entirely sure, yet,” Aurora replied, “we haven’t gone to water Arcana or Particle Theory yet, so one of those, for sure.” “Well, you’re in luck, because Particle Theory is literally two doors down from here.” Veronica pointed to one of the rooms along the hallway. “Professor Bracken is just about the best teacher for the job you’ll ever find. Everything he says makes sense.” “Really?” Lacy asked. “Yes. I dare you to find anyone more knowledgeable than him when it comes to Particles… but I have to go. Studying to do, essays to write. Nice meeting you two—for real!” She was gone before either could reply. Lacy watched her leave. “Nice girl. Let’s go!” They entered the room together. Much to their surprise, though, there weren’t any forms of lighting in the entire room apart from a couple glowing purple flowers. They lit the room well enough, and with a soothing violet tinge. The flowers were not the only plants in the room—far from it. The walls were covered in vines, a small tree sat by a chalkboard, and each desk held a potted fern. From the roof, more vines covered in cute white flowers hung, resembling a cave filled with stalactites. To their right, a single brownish bush seemed to move to a nonexistent breeze. The floor was layered with dirt and grass, so that the entire room felt like a forest. The overall feeling wasn’t that of the woods brought into a classroom, but rather a classroom brought outside. In other words… it looked a lot like home. “Hello, Aurora. Good morning, Lacy.” Aurora spun on her heel towards the sound. What she had thought was a bush was actually an incredibly wisened-looking man in a brown cloak. He looked at them from behind a pair of spectacles that reflected the glowing purple plants to look like stars. A number of questions begging to be asked sprang to her mind. Who are you? What witchcraft brought us outside? Was there something in my morning orange juice? “How do you know our names?” She decided to ask. He smiled. “When you come to learn everything you need to know, then you find your own things to remember. The weekly newsletter has a remarkable artist; I recognized your faces the moment you walked in here. Why don’t you take a seat? The lesson will begin in a few minutes.” Aurora nodded, leading Lacy to a desk next to one that she sat at. “He seems like a nice guy,” Lacy decided. “You think everyone’s nice today,” Aurora noted. “Hey, as the worst person to ever walk the Iconar Collective, I think I would know a nice person when I see them.” “It’d take one to know one.” Lacy’s eyes widened in shock. “Did you just… use an insult… to compliment me… but use that compliment to insult me anyways?” “That I did.” “Holy Icona. There were so many layers.” Aurora chuckled, turning her eyes back to Professor Bracken. He welcomed any who came in, getting jumps and even yelps from everyone he greeted. He didn’t seem to take any amusement in scaring them; he only seemed to enjoy meeting everyone. After a couple minutes, filled by the cacophony of overlapping conversations, Professor Bracken seemingly decided that nobody else was coming and made his way to the front of the class. “Faira mun,” he said to the class in a wisened voice, “that’s Druidspeak for ‘good morning.’ Welcome to class, everyone. You’re here from one of two reasons, I expect: to learn about Particle Theory, or to get a class out of the way. In either case, I certainly hope you find reason to return other than for the passing grade.” He cast his eyes about the room. “Can anyone explain, in a nutshell, the basics of Particle Theory?” No hands went up. This, at least, was a relief; Aurora had been worried that they’d find Charles Frain here. The lack of volunteers did not deter Professor Bracken, as he simply continued instructing as though no pause had ever occurred. “At the tiniest scale of things, there are two core particles: the Icon, and the Rano. They were named these after the two primordial gods: Icona and Ranoc. Either particle is unstable without the other, and by bonding with each other, become stable. This particle, the smallest stable thing in the world, is called an Icara. Can anybody guess the main function of an Icara?” He looked around. “No? Nobody? Alright, then; I guess I’ll explain.” He cleared his throat. “Icaras are often depicted as an eight-pointed star. They likely don’t actually bear this form, but it’s simplest to assume that they do. See, Icaras will bond with one another to create ‘Icara Compounds,’ generally referred to simply ‘Compounds,’ for short. There are four simple Compounds, which only consist of two Icaras.” Bracken began drawing on the chalkboard, “first, we have the Compound of ‘heat.’ It is generally depicted like so—” he drew two eight-pointed stars connected to each other from the side. “Second, we have the Compound of Energy; the embodiment of movement and activity.” He drew two eight-pointed stars, one connected to the other by the top. “Third, the Compound that represents Consistency…” this drawing connected the stars diagonally to create an upwards-left slant, “and finally, the Compound of Change,” this one slanted to the right. “So there you all have it: the barest and most basic Compounds in the Iconar Collective. They, however, are not the only things to construct all of Particle Theory. There are other things to take into account. Sarah!” A girl in the front row jumped. Aurora couldn’t see much from her seat, but Sarah’s main physical trait, it seemed, was her extensive use of makeup. “Yes, sir?” “How many different forms of makeup do you have on right now?” “Umm… fifteen.” “Thank you… I’ll get back on that in a minute.” He turned back to face the class. “As I have just explained, these,” he tapped the chalkboard with his knuckle, “are the most basic Compounds in the Iconar Collective. That does not mean that they are the only Compounds, though. You see, Icaras love to bond with one another, and oftentimes create very large and complex Compounds, like ‘fire’ and ‘stone.’ However, these Compounds, by themselves, aren’t large enough to create anything of a feasible size. You need more than one Compound to make something of mass or volume. How, though, would one get all those Compounds into the same place? Should the Iconar Collective simply be full of scattered Compounds of random features?” He shook his head. “Fortunately, Icaras have a unique property; they like to mimic existing Compounds. So when two Icaras bond into, say, heat, other surrounding unbonded Icaras will mimic that Compound to create more heat. This creates a large enough group of Icaras to create what’s called a Faiden Cluster.” Aurora nodded, leaning forward. Was the Iconar Collective really this complicated? Was she actually expected to learn this all? “Now, Sarah, you said you were wearing fifteen forms of makeup, correct?” “No, I was wrong before. It’s actually sixteen.” Professor Bracken chuckled. “Thank you. So, there’s one more thing to take into account for basic Particle Theory. This is a phenomena known as Shifting. See, Icaras aren’t exactly intelligent, so when they mimic other Compounds, they’ll occasionally get it wrong. When it comes to smaller Compounds, one misplaced Icara could change its entire identity. However, when it comes to larger Compounds… Sarah, do you think anybody would notice if you switched your eyeliner for a slightly darker shade?” “Probably not.” Sarah admitted. “Indeed. Your changing a small piece of your extravagant beauty care is not unlike one Icara falling out of place on a large Compound. This is why many things we know as part of our world don’t change. The Dayseasons, trees, mountains; they remain the same from day to day, but with slight changes.” By now, several small conversations had sprung up from various areas of the room. They were hushed enough that they didn’t disrupt the class, but Aurora was relatively sure what they were whispering about. “I understand that this topic is a little more… difficult to grasp. Few understand the true inner workings of our beloved Iconar Collective when they first hear about them. Therefore, I suppose I’ll allow you some time to let this all… sink in. You may ask me questions, study, read… otherwise, you are dismissed.” Professor Bracken nodded to the class. “Good day.” The class fell silent in confusion. A teacher was letting them go half an hour early? More than half an hour early? Lacy, however, had no complaints whatsoever. “Great! C’mon, Amy, let’s go get lunch.” “Not Amy.” “Aurora. Let’s get lunch.” “It’s only mid-Earthlight.” “Then we’ll just get a second breakfast… unless you’d rather stay here.” “Doesn’t it remind you of Feylore?” Aurora asked. “All the plants and whatnot? It’s like the forest.” “Yeah, that’s…” Lacy swallowed. “That’s why I think we should go.” Aurora stopped, then nodded. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go. Chapter XIII Spoiler Chapter XIII - Training Session First Earthlight | Camp Thunder Corrin nervously twirled his blade between his fingers. It was not the one he had brought from Camp Ember back when he was first equipping; this one was dulled, and rounded at the edge. Similarly, Dain and Mareth checked over their training blades, Iolar and Quarden over their spears, and Garnell, his axe. Teren had taken a quiver of blunted arrows; not deadly, but probably a horrible pain to be hit with. Beside the spearmen, the cavalier Kent sat astride a horse, a false lance in his hand and a similar javelin at his side. John was outfitting himself in a suit of heavy plate, and Uia skitted about from soldier to soldier, making sure they were nice and dry. “You alright, Corrin?” Dain asked. “Looking a little pale.” “I’m just not sure about my first training session being… a mock battle.” He twirled his blade a little faster, rounded tip against the ground, pommel in his palm. “What about formations training, or technique?” “Well, as I understand it, you studied tactics outside of the Enclave, correct?” “Yeah, I guess I did—” “And you’ve already proven that you’re quite a formidable swordsman, so I don’t know what you’re worried about.” “What do you think he’s worried about, Dain?” Garnell interjected. “You can’t very well send a wide-eyed recruit against a rain of arrows and expect him to understand exactly what he’s doing. Remember me? Mareth? These two hopeless spearboys?” He gestured to the twins. Dain shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” He turned back to Corrin. “How about some last-minute advice, then?” “Sure.” Corrin replied. “The best advice I can give you is to be decisive. Freezing up on the battlefield could very well be the end of you. I don’t care whether you choose to throw yourself at the enemy or dive behind a rock, if you’re not standing, defenses wide-open, in front of a demon with a spear, then by Icona just do it.” Corrin hesitated, then nodded. “Alright, then. What’s the plan?” “Well, we’re not supposed to have one, yet.” Dain replied. “Somewhere out in that wide, open field—” He gestured to the plains, “another squadron has set up a temporary camp, and we have to find it and kill it.” “We win if we grab their banner,” Mareth added, “and get it back out again.” “Like one-way capture the flag.” Garnell said. “Once the bell rings,” Dain gestured at Camp Thunder, which stood to their backs, “we’ll have until second Earthlight to find them, take the banner, and win our right to not muck out the stables. According to the rules, we aren’t supposed to begin reconnaissance until the bell rings.” “Two hours to find the camp, create a strategy, break through their defenses, and take their banner?” Corrin asked. “That sounds a little ludicrous.” Garnell laughed. “Ah, Corrin. Rule-abiding as always. We already found their camp, and we already have a strategy.” He looked up, shocked. “What? But the rules—” “Are less rules, and more of guidelines.” Dain interrupted. “In reality, there’s nobody telling us when we can or can’t search for an enemy encampment, or start strategizing, which is why last night I sent out Iolar and Quarden to distract the guards—” “And distract him we did,” Iolar added proudly. “While Teren snuck out and found their camp; as well as their defenses.” “And those are?” Teren cleared his throat, then began sketching in the dirt with an arrow. After a few seconds, he had already created a makeshift map: A rough circle for the walls, crosses for the soldiers, two lines for the gate. He also added a few outer lines, explaining (however briefly) that they represented walls. Once Teren had finished his drawing, he stepped back, and Dain began laying out a strategy. “Alright, so they have a good fifteen-some soldiers in total, over half of them on guard duty. The banner is probably located somewhere inside the camp proper,” he poked a dot in the middle of the circle, “which would probably be guarded by the remaining soldiers. They’ve created several outer walls, with only a few feet of an opening between them.” “So it’s a bottleneck method?” Corrin asked. “We can’t push forward unless we go through one of the openings. We’re playing on their turf.” Dain pointed at him. “Exactly. However, we have a secret weapon.” “And that is?” Behind Corrin, a loud, heavily-accented voice sighed. “I hate being shield.” Dain shot John an apologetic look. “Listen, John, we talked about this. Heavy-armorers draw fire. You make a distraction, they shoot you with arrows, you survive said arrows, and we sneak through the other side to have at them.” “I still hate.” “Isn’t that a little… obvious?” Corrin asked. “Wars aren’t exactly fought with numbers, but if we only threw the one heavy-armored unit at them, then they’ll know something’s up.” Dain cracked a smile. “I think you’d make a good captain. You’re right, of course; we can’t very well send everyone at the back of the fort and expect them to be surprised… and we also can’t very well leave John alone to fend for himself.” “That’s where we come in.” Garnell replied. “Us Strikers.” “So… what, four groups?” Corrin asked. “Four groups of three or so? We might as well travel in pairs for all the good that’ll do us.” “We won’t be assaulting the camp proper that way,” Dain reassured him, “we’ll just split up until we’ve reached the innermost outer wall.” He tapped the closest line to the circle. “We travel through these walls separately to thin out their fire, because there only so many arrows six men, most of them not even Archer class, can throw at us.” “Once we get close, we group up again.” Garnell said. “And we break through.” “Through the gates?” Corrin asked. “And charge headfirst into a wall of spears?” “Not exactly.” Dain tapped the side of the circle. “We’re going to break through the wall here, instead.” “How—” Corrin was cut off by Garnell shushing the others. There was obviously some secret they were hiding from him. “Okay, then. After we get in, what’s the plan?” “Well, by then, we’ll have a line of spears set up just in case they come charging out. If they freeze, we take initiative and attack.” Dain pointed at Corrin, then thumbed to himself. “You, Mareth, Garnell, me, we take them out and grab the banner. Iolar and Quarden hold the retreat line, John helps us flank them, Kent causes chaos—” “Horses are really good at causing chaos,” Kent affirms. “Then we capture the flag and get out.” Corrin clapped his hands together. “Alright. What are we waiting for then?” In the distance, a bell rang. Dain thumbed back at Camp Thunder. “That. Let’s get cracking, boys.” “You know, when we got back at Camp Thunder, I thought that we were done walking.” Corrin said. The squadron was hiking up a hill, the chill of early morning still crisp in the air. The Earthlight sun slowly climbed towards the apex of the sky, at which the time would turn from First to Second Earthlight. Camp Thunder was a good two or three miles behind them. According to Teren, they were almost there, but Corrin thought that if they were really that close, they would’ve seen it by now. “Well, you can’t put your camp right next to someone else’s, right?” Dain asked. “Unless you’re laying siege to someone, or something.” “We’re almost there.” Teren repeated. “Really almost there.” “How almost is really almost?” Garnell asked, wiping his brow. “Because—” he stopped. “What?” Corrin clambered his way up the hillside after him, almost losing his balance twice. “What, is it—” Beneath them, safely tucked into a small valley, a large, circular encampment surrounded by a series of Arcane earthen walls stood proudly, bearing the flag of the Silverclad Enclave for the Collective to see. Oblivious to the squadron standing not a hundred feet away from them, the bow-armed guards on the walls leaned, bored and daydreaming, against the turrets. The earthen walls sat in rows in front of the gates, far enough apart to let a few men through, but still tight enough to provide a deadly bottleneck. Dain tugged lightly on Corirn’s sleeve, pulling him back until the camp was out of view. “We can’t be seen; at least, not yet. You guys remember the plan?” “Split up.” Garnell began. “Make our way forwards to the main wall.” Mareth continued. “Meet up and… something happens?” Corrin asked. Dain nodded. “Iolar, Quarden, you two take the spears down the right flank. Be careful not to lose anybody.” “Yessir.” Iolar said, uncharacteristically serious-sounding. “Mareth, lead John, Kent, and Uia down the front. Keep John in front to take the arrows, and make sure that you don’t lose our mage.” “I hate being shield.” John muttered. “Garnell: you, Corrin, and me head down the left. Corrin, how well do you think you can use that shield?” “If you’re asking if I can block an arrow with it,” Corrin replied, “then no idea, but I’ll try.” “That’s the spirit. Then Teren, you stay up here. When I shoot you the signal, pick off those archers. With luck, they’ll look for you and not us; at least for a few seconds.” He turned to face the group as a whole. “Once the camp starts shouting, go. The idea is to get through those walls and fast; maximum enemy confusion to buy us time. You got that, everyone?” The soldiers, strikers, and Corrin alike all nodded, nervously gripping their weapons. “Alright, then.” Dain replied. “Let’s move out.” “You feelin’ alright?” Garnell asked Corrin. “First battle, however fake, right?” “Yeah.” Corrin replied. The Arcane earthen wall at his back was uncannily smooth. “Yeah, I’m… alright.” Everyone had moved into position easily enough. No one from the camp had spotted them, though Dain didn’t think that the camp expected to; the squadron who had assembled the camp had traded visibility for natural defense and seclusion. “You two ready?” Dain asked, unsheathing his sword. Garnell unslung his axe, nodding. Corrin checked his shield strap, then pulled out his own sword, spinning it in his hand. He took a sharp breath, then nodded. Dain nodded in return, then held up his sword against the Earthsun’s light. A reflective gleam appeared on the hill from the blade, which Dain moved into the barely recognizable shape of Teren’s head. A couple flashes, and Dain brought his sword down. Not a second later, the distant creak of Teren’s bowstring heralded a nearly indiscernible blur of his arrow, and a loud cry of pain when it struck one of the guards. Corrin winced at the cry, but he couldn’t be head over the yells that followed: the cries of guards alerting the others to the archer. “Go!” Dain yelled, dashing down through the series of walls, Garnell close behind him. Corrin followed not a second later, but even before he could start running, shield out, another arrow from Teren zipped through the air, striking a second guard. Not a second after they began dashing down the rows of Arcane earthen walls, a small, slightly unmanly yelp emanated from Dain. Both he and Garnell dived behind one of the walls in turn, leaving Corrin frozen between either of them, unaware of what was going on. “Corrin!” Garnell yelled. “Shield!” In a flash of a second, Corrin registered the archer on the wall, pointing his bow right at him. He barely managed to raise his shield before the arrow flew. The blunt tip smashed into the wood of his shield, knocking him off his feet and onto his back. A few seconds later, Garnell’s massive, calloused hand grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him back behind one of the walls. A moment after that, a second arrow smacked into the ground where he had been laying prone. Corrin, with a grunt, pulled himself to his feet. “That could’ve killed me!” He exclaimed, gesturing to his shield, which had been punctured by the projectile. The arrow’s head stuck out the back end of the wood, and the shaft wobbled out the front. “No, but it certainly would’ve hurt.” Dain replied, behind a wall parallel to their own. Garnell did the favor of relieving the shield of the arrow, snapping the shaft and plucking the arrowhead through, leaving a small hole in the middle. He tossed the remains over his shoulder, then took a breath and hefted his axe. “So… now what?” Corrin asked. “We wait for Teren to pick off those archers?” “No.” Dain replied. “We keep going.” “What?” Corrin demanded, but he understood fine. “It’s a lot more different, isn’t it?” Dain asked. “When you’re actually out in the field itself. Throwing a squadron at a wall is simple enough when you’re doing it on a map—it’s a lot different why you’re the one being thrown at it.” Corrin took a sharp breath, then nodded. “Alright, let’s go, then.” Dain peeked around the corner, then held up three fingers, dropping them in turn. “Three… two… one… go!” He jumped out from behind the wall, dashing down the makeshift corridor, Corrin and Garnell hot on his heels. This time, they made it all the way down without any interruptions. Dain pulled them both behind the last wall between them and the encampment proper, and not a second later an arrows shot down the corridor of walls. Back to the wall, Corrin glanced to the side; the spearmen had also reached the frontmost wall, and were hiding themselves as well, spears bristling out the sides to prevent any ambushes. “John?” Dain asked them. Iolar peeked out from behind a wall. “Close.” “I hate being shield!” John’s heavily accented voice called. Dain nodded. “Soon.” He told Corrin. Less than a minute later, John’s heavily armored self appeared from behind a wall, Uia hunkered down close to the man. The armor was bristling with arrows, but John himself seemed entirely unaffected. Uia, once John had permitted him room, ducked behind the wall next to Corrin, wiping sweat from his brow. John slowly made his way behind a wall, next to Iolar. “Now what?” Corrin asked. “Where’s Kent?” Dain yelled down at the others. “Knocked off his horse in the back!” Quarden replied. “Did the… y’know… the Kent thing.” Dain released an exasperated sigh. “I hate the Kent thing. “What’s the Kent thing?” Corrin asked. Garnell answered him, pantomiming with his fingers and providing sound effects from his vocal cords to show a man on a horse charging right at the enemy forces, then being hit by an arrow. “The Kent thing.” He concluded. Corrin nodded. “So a man down, then?” “Yep. We keep going, though; cutting losses isn’t logical when people aren’t actually dying.” He turned to the group of spearmen behind the other wall, making a couple cutting motions with his hands. Iolar and Quarden both nodded near simultaneously, then charged out from behind the wall. Corrin made to follow them, but Garnell caught his shoulder, holding him back. “Wait for it…” The Striker cautioned. Corrin watched the soldiers with anticipation, gripping his sword harder than ever. The two guards stationed at the the front gate had attacked them, but been quickly dispatched by the sheer number of spearmen. Iolar and Quarden had formed them all into rough semicircle facing the wall, creating a kind of safety net to fall back into in case things turned south. Emerging from the men came Uia, holding a… thing. It looked like a fancy plank of wood, which was a description Corrin never thought he’d be attributing something to. The mage made his way up to the wall, wary as if for archers—a plausible caution, but Corrin was pretty sure they had all been removed by Teren or given spears to fight with. Uia placed the object on the wall, pressing his palm against it and closing his eyes to concentrate. After a second, Uia removed his hand, leaving the object still attached to the wall. He fell back, looking very nervous. “What was that?” Corrin asked. A massive crash heralded the wall suddenly caving in on itself. Not collapsing or exploding; falling backwards as if pushed by earth Arcana—and powerful earth Arcana at that. “Go!” Dain cried. “Go, now!” Corrin charged out from behind the wall, all thought gone from his mind. Run in. Grab the banner. Defeat any who come between him and his goal— What? What was that? Corrin shook his head, then jumped through the hole in the wall, Dain at his heels and Garnell just ahead. Confused-looking spearmen’s arms tensed, tightening their grip on their spears. Corrin ducked between two of these spears, ramming into both men shoulders-first. They fell over with a grunt and a cry. He kept running, relatively oblivious to his surroundings. His eyes were set on the small, earthen building in the middle of the encampment: the banner would be in there. To his right, Dain took on another soldier, this one armed with a sword. Corrin forged ahead until he was right beside the building. He didn’t lose momentum as he pulled open the door, ready to charge in and take the banner— A massive, hulking body kicked him hard in the chest, not just knocking him off his feet but also a good yard away. With a groan he pulled himself off the ground, hazily looking up at the massive axe-wielding heavy-armorer. He took up the entire doorway by himself, not bothering to leave it and attack Corrin; he was their last resort to stall for time. “Corrin!” Garnell shouted, barreling past a spearman and to his side. When he saw the guard at the door, though, he paled slightly. “Oh.” “Do you think we can take him together?” Corrin asked, falling into a stance that Lars taught him years ago: knees bent, one foot behind the other, sword in front to guard his chest. “Most definitely not.” Garnell replied, falling into a similar stance of his own. “But unless Uia can miraculously recharge that Alch-MT and blow down that building, we need to at least try.” “Alright, then,” Corrin said, not bothering to ask what an Alch-MT was, “what’s the plan?” “You see his axe?” “Yes, it’s… hard to miss.” “That’s a big axe.” “I can tell.” “Which means that if we get up close and personal to him, he can’t hit us unless he falls back. If he falls back, we can get through the doorway.” “If he doesn’t?” “If he doesn’t, then we push him back.” “What’s stopping him from pushing us, though?” Garnell chuckled. “You, o’course.” “Me?” “Yup. I go and tackle him, and you spot me from behind.” Corrin frowned. “You sure I have the, ah… physical capabilities to do that?” “Geeze, Corrin; you may look like a kid next to me, but you ain’t no featherweight. Now let’s go! We don’t have much time to lose.” “Lead the way.” Garnell charged the man standing in the doorway, Corrin right behind him. The heavy-armorer was prepared for this, and swung at Garnell when he came into range. Garnell ducked under the attack, though, and tackled the soldier. Corrin slammed into Garnell’s back, shield-first. Garnell pushed against the soldier, Corrin pushing against him. The heavy-armorer pushed back, though, causing them both to slide through the dirt. “Corrin!” Garnell yelled, strain heavy on his voice. Corrin dug his feet into the dirt, but to no avail, as the heavy-armored soldier pushed them out further. Suddenly, Corrin felt himself being pushed forwards instead of back. The heavy-armored soldier grunted loudly, and both Garnell and Corrin stopped sliding. He didn’t have to liberty to look around and see who it was, but the voice from the anchor weight told him well enough. “Who thought out this plan?” Dain demanded, grunting. “Garnell, sir.” Corrin replied, also grunting. “I should’ve known that Garnell’s solution to this particular problem would be muscle.” “Hey!” Garnell replied, not straining quite so much as the other two. “Big heavy-armor guy! What did you expect?” With a collective grunt, they all pushed forwards with all their might, and the heavy-armored soldier fell over onto his back. Corrin also fell over, onto his chest, as did Dain, but the captain recovered quickly to his feet. Garnell hadn’t fallen at all, instead dashing inside and grabbing the banner: an Enclave flag on a metal pole. As the Striker ran out, though, the fallen guard grabbed his leg, tripping him. “Dain!” Garnell yelled, awkwardly tossing the banner to him. Corrin got to his feet as Dain caught the banner, then ran with the captain towards the gaping hole Uia had placed in the wall. Halfway to the wall, though, there was a loud grunt, and suddenly Corrin wasn’t running beside anyone. Sliding through the dirt as he stopped his pace, Corrin turned around to see Dain collapsed on the ground, a blunted arrow sitting in the dirt beside him. With a small, involuntary yell, Corrin ran to his captain, falling to Dain’s side as if he could do something about his collapsed captain. “Take the banner.” Dain grunted. “We haven’t got… time.” “Are you alright?” Corrin asked. “I’m fine. Take the banner. Get out.” “I’ve got to get you to a heal—” “Take the banner, darn it!” Dain yelled. “I’ll be fine; just go!” Corrin hesitated, a little taken aback by Dain’s outburst, then nodded and grabbed the flag. He stood, banner in his offhand. When he turned around, however, he was greeted by a sword-wielding soldier, who was running towards him at top speeds, sword held to his side with both arms. The soldier, when close enough, swung at Corrin, only to find his blade deflected by Corrin’s shield. Corrin, in retaliation, jabbed at him, though doing so was awkward with the banner in his offhand. He managed to push the soldier back a few feet with his stab, then quickly scanned the battlefield for any who could take the banner from him. Garnell was wrestling with the heavy-armored unit, and Dain was still on the ground. Spearmen from both sides brawled back and forth, some with spears, some without. John was protecting Uia, and Teren was nowhere to be seen—Corrin was the only one left. The soldier attacked Corrin again, but this time Corrin deflected his blade with the flagpole. He struck at the soldier’s side, smacking him hard with his blunted blade. The soldier grunted, but kept fighting. Corrin took a few steps back, giving him a few seconds to readjust his grip. He had never tried dual-wielding before, but no time like the present, right? The soldier struck at his left, only to be deflected by the flagpole again. Corrin twisted his body, pulling the soldier’s sword behind him with the flag, and jabbing at the soldier’s chest with his sword. The soldier pulled back, then stabbed at Corrin’s stomach. Corrin deflected the blade with his own, then swung at the soldier’s head with the flagpole. The soldier brought his sword up, though, blocking the pole and then another attack that followed. Despite his dual means of attack, Corrin began falling backwards against the skilled onslaught of the soldier. He found himself being forced to use both sword and pole to defend himself, unable to catch an opportunity to strike back. Once or twice, the soldier pegged a spot left undefended, leaving what Corrin was sure would be a nasty bruise sometime later. As he deflected an overhead strike with both his sword and pole crossed into an X shape, he watched the soldier wince. It hurts him to lean to the right, Corrin calculated, because of when I hit him. Corrin hit something hard—the soldier had pushed him to the back wall. Corrin haphazardly deflected another strike aimed at his lower body, realizing a second too late that the soldier had, in fact, been feinting. The soldier hit Corrin’s side hard with his sword, enacting a grunt from him, then brought back his sword to stab at Corrin’s chest. The sword shot forward, and Corrin stole his chance. He ducked out of the way, beneath the soldier’s left arm, pushing himself off the soldier for more distance. He came up behind the soldier, hitting the back of his knee with the pole. As the soldier grunted and lost his balance, Corrin spun around, smacking the soldier in the head with the banner. The soldier collapsed onto the ground, unconscious. Corrin wiped his lip, even though it wasn’t bleeding—it was more instinctual than intended, as most fights he got into ended up in a split lip. “Good fight.” He told the unconscious soldier, then turned and ran to the hole in the wall. Someone cheered as he jumped out, banner in hand; he couldn’t tell who, but it didn’t matter. He held the banner aloft for the squadron to see, panting from the exertion of the battle. The brawl between spearmen halted, half to cheer, half to sulk. Uia and Dain both looked relieved, while Garnell yelled something incoherent at the top of his voice. John went off to help the captain to his feet, while Garnell stumbled his way over the fallen heavy-armorer to barrel towards Corrin and slam him hard on the shoulder. “That was awesome!” Garnell exclaimed. “When you whacked that guy in the face with the banner, and… oh, is that guy okay?” “He’ll be alright when the Healers are through with him.” Dain replied, walking towards them—or, rather, being dragged towards them by John. “And I hope that I’ll also be alright when the Healers are through with me.” “I should’ve just gone, shouldn’t of I?” Corrin asked him. “Just taken that banner and run?” “In this situation, yes.” Dain replied. “What you did—or tried to do, anyways—was noble and all, but I wasn’t in any actual danger. If, during a real battle, I get hit by an arrow, but there’s something more important to take care of… then what you do is up to what you think is right.” “Enough wisdom, old man.” Garnell chastised. “Let’s get you to the Healers and fix you up—I don’t fancy carrying a dying captain back to Camp Thunder. Corrin, help me out with this guy?” “Yeah.” He replied, helping Garnell assist Dain. His mind kept slipping, though, to something Dain had said. During a real battle. This hadn’t even been serious—and yet it felt so real. What was an actual battle like? “You alright there, Corrin?” Dain asked. Corrin swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I… I think so.” Chapter XIV: Spoiler Chapter XIV - Four Young Mages First Waterlight | Arcane Academy Dorm Rooms “So!” Tara said, dragging a pillow off her bed and setting it on the floor. “How are you guys liking it here?” Aurora was about to say something, but Lacy interrupted her. “I love it here!” “Are you only saying that because you made the biggest fireball in class today?” Aurora asked, spreading her bedsheets out neatly. “You did what?” Tara perked up. “Your first day and you’re making fire? I’ve gotta see this.” Lacy grinned, then hopped off her bed and landed before Tara. “Behold, the great and powerful Lacy!” “Oh dear… this is going to be a long night, isn’t it?” Aurora asked Veronica. Veronica’s head shot up. “Hmm? What?” Lacy began rubbing her hands together. “And now, the great and powerful Lacy will summon fire from nothing. It will be the grandest feat ever to permeate the Iconar Collective, and will shock all races so that they cannot speak!” Tara laughed. “Where are you getting all this from?” “Good question.” Aurora muttered. Lacy tore her hands apart, and a loud flash preceded a large flame. The fireball hovered over her hand for a few seconds before fizzling out into a puff of smoke. “Icona!” Tara said after the show was over. “And you got that on your first day! Now I’ve got to know.” “Know what?” Lacy asked. “Everything, of course! We’re roomies, aren’t we? We need to share stuff like funny stories, backstories, and embarrassing inside jokes! You guys have all those things, right?” “That we do.” Lacy confirmed. “A long night.” Aurora decided, but didn’t complain, pulling her pillow off her bed and taking a seat on it on the floor. Lacy did the same, but made herself a stack of pillows that she balanced haphazardly on top of. “Okay, then! So—” Tara paused, then glanced over at Veronica. “Umm… are you going to join us?” Veronica didn’t respond until she saw all three of them looking at her. “What? Oh, um… no, sorry. I have a, uh… very important assignment that I need to finish—” “You say that about everything you do! You say that everything you do is ‘very important,’ but we take some of the same classes, and very little of what I do is ‘very important,’ so that leads me to believe that, actually, nothing that you do is very important.” Tara blinked. “Okay, that came out a lot ruder than I expected it to. Sorry.” “That’s alright,” Veronica said dismissively. She set down her book, “I guess I’ll join you guys.” “Yay!” Tara said. “You can go first.” “What? Go first doing what?” “Telling us about yourself!” Lacy replied. “Duh.” “Oh, uh… well, my, um… my favorite color is yellow…” “No no no,” Tara interrupted, “like, tell us where you came from, and… stuff.” “Your favorite color is yellow?” Lacy asked. “Oh… okay. I was born under a small noble family in the north. The house was losing a lot of money, so… they sent me here. They wanted me to become a mage and join the military, because apparently, and I quote, ‘military mages earn military wages.’” “Who said that?” Aurora asked. “My dad. He was a Captain in the Enclave for awhile before his father died and left him to inherit the estate. Apparently he made enough there to stay afloat for a few years. He married my mom, who came from a relatively wealthy noble house. Together they held out for a good decade or so before I was old enough to come here.” “Wait, how old are you?” Lacy asked. “Twelve.” Tara jerked her head back in surprise. “You’re twelve? But you’re so…” “Mature?” “I was going to say ‘tall,’ but that works too.” “Yeah… my parents are nice and all, so they didn’t want to marry me off at so young an age, and they didn’t think they’d have enough time and money to sustain the house until I got old enough to marry, so they sent me here.” Veronica gestured around herself. “So that’s why you study so much? To help your family?” Aurora asked. “That is correct.” “That’s very… noble of you.” Aurora said, then winced. There was silence for a couple seconds until Lacy broke out laughing. She was followed by Tera, who released a short series of giggles. Veronica chuckled a little, and Aurora cracked a smile. When their fits of laughter (or, rather, Lacy and Tera’s fits of laughter) had silenced, Veronica continued. “I’m actually hoping that I can become a Master mage one day; there’s significantly less combat involved, and they have a lot of influence, so I might be more beneficial to my family as a Master than as a soldier. But… that’s a kind of unrealistic goal. I do my best, though.” “I’m actually here for a… relatively similar reason.” Tara said. “My dad’s a spice merchant, and my mom… doesn’t exist anymore. My dad makes enough to support the family, and even scraped together enough to get me into school here.” “Wait… you mean school wasn’t free for you?” Aurora asked. “Um, no… what, it was free for you?” “...Yes.” Aurora said. “We passed a test and got in.” “That was a government-paid admission, Aurora, remember?” Lacy replied. “‘All expenses paid’ written in big, red letters all over that massive form we had to sign eleven thousand times.” “Ah, that makes more sense,” Tara said, “you’re from Feylore; specifically the lower-class tiers. Ivinan struck a deal with Feylore, ah—twenty years ago? Now Feylore will supply their citizens to Ivinan’s armies in exchange for… some kind of tariff removal or something.” “Wait, wait, wait…” Lacy said. “Hold up. Supply their citizens to Ivinan’s armies?” “Oooh…” Tara replied, shying away from Aurora and Lacy. “Have I, uh… hit a sore spot?” “That wasn’t in the million-page-long document we signed!” Lacy exclaimed. “So we’re expected to learn Arcana so we can be supplied to the military?” “Calm down, Lace.” Aurora said. “It’s… probably not that simple.” Lacy slumped a little. “I don’t want to be in the army.” “They probably don’t even conscript girls!” “They don’t.” Veronica confirmed. “Well, they do, but significantly less often than they do males.” “See?” Aurora said. “Like… if we were all males, then probably three of us would get conscripted at some point, but now only, like, one or two of us will. There’s an eighty-two percent conscription rate for males and a thirty-seven percent conscription rate for females.” Lacy blinked. “Where the heck did you read about that?” “I didn’t. My dad knew the rates by heart.” “Why?” Veronica shrugged. “I don’t know. Tara! You were going somewhere with your story?” “Ah! Right.” Tara stretched a little. “Uhh… Dad got me into school… and then I met you guys. The end. Next!” “Me!” Lacy called, shooting her hand into the air. “Me me me me! I want to be undepressed!” “You want to be… what?” Aurora asked. “Undepressed. Y’know, like… not depressed. I got all stressed and angsty when you guys read out my own legal document, and now I want to tell funny stories! I’ll start at the beginning, when somebody found my useless tiny baby body in an alleyway somewhere after my parents decided I wasn’t good enough.” “Whoa.” Tara said. “How is the undepressing?” “Because it’s kind of funny when you say it like that! Otherwise, it just makes you think about the meaningless of life as a whole and how you were perceived as imperfect and makes you wonder what made your parents hate you so much, but that’s way more depressing than laughing about being a weakling! So I joke about it and move on.” Veronica nodded appreciatively. “That’s good philosophy.” “Glad someone thinks so. Anyways, so somebody finds this husk of a half-elven creature and decides hey, you wanna know what might be fun? Raising this kid for a week, getting bored, and then giving her to the orphanage!” “Wait, what?” Veronica motioned for Lacy to stop. “Are you trying to make this depressing?” “If I was trying to make this depressing, I’d be talking serious right now, but I’m joking instead!” “Lacy,” Aurora chastised, “you’re most serious when you’re joking. You send messages through the undertones of your jokes.” “What the heck does that even mean?” “It means that it’s okay to be sad about something.” “Like Icona’s toothbrush it is! If you know me, then you know that I consider advice to be the equivalent of what a sweet-tooth child considers curry; disgusting, dumb, and bad, even though Mom says it’s good for you!” “Icona's toothbrush?” Tara asked. "Also, I like curry." “So do I. I was just using a metaphor.” “Simile.” Veronica corrected. “You guys done correcting my common?” The three of them gave scattered positive remarks, ranging from “yes” to “yeah, sure.” “That’s good, because now’s where it gets boring. I live at the orphanage for a few years, have no friends, and consider the meaning of life.” She eyed the others. “No interruptions? Good, ‘cuz after all that, I met this sorry excuse for a half-elf.” Lacy gestured to Aurora. “Ouch.” Aurora decided. “Oh, hush, it’s all in good justice. Anyways, I met Aurora, and we grew up together! Like that old adage says: birds without parents naturally gravitate towards people with opposite hair colors.” “That’s not the adage at all…” Tara said. “Birds… don’t have hair.” Veronica pointed out. “Then three months ago, we filled out a massive legal form and a very short test, and guess what? Our human heritage made it so that we were both secretly mages, only disguised as orphans! Only, we’re still orphans, but mages also! It’s the perfect cover. And then we both lived happily ever after ‘til the end of our days except not because that hasn’t happened yet… the end.” Tara gave an applause, which was awkwardly mimicked by Veronica. Aurora nodded in silent agreement. “So, Aurora…” Tara said, “did she miss anything? What do we need to know?” “Oh, she forgot all sorts of things.” Aurora replied. “Like her boyfriend—” “It doesn’t count if you’re a nine-year-old!” Lacy interrupted. “And we were hardly an item. Just, like… really weirdly close friends.” “Friends don’t break up. Boyfriends and girlfriends break up.” “Friends totally break up. Remember that one time, in that one forest district?” “That doesn’t count. Solo survival doesn’t count as breaking up.” “Solo survival?” Tara asked. “You guys had to survive on your own?” “Well… yes.” Aurora said. “We both ran away from some of the orphanages because a lot of the mistresses were… impolite.” “They had big sticks,” Lacy confirmed, “that they liked to whack people with.” “The orphanages beat you?” “That’s what orphanages do. Some were rougher than others; we ran away from those ones. There’s a lot of empty room in Feylore; most of the population lives at the capital city.” “Eighty-three percent of the population lives there.” Veronica confirmed. “And another six live in the towns right outside its walls. I believe most of the orphanages are to be found in the Eighth Verar?” “That’s right,” Aurora replied, “which makes it relatively easy to get out of the city after you’ve run away from one of them. Because the forest districts are only a few miles away, you just need to either walk really fast or catch a ride with a nice farmer.” “There are lots of nice farmers.” Lacy noted. “The police always catch you at some point or the other, though… sometimes they bring the orphanage master with them.” Aurora stopped. The memory was fresh, now. Lacy hesitated. “Do… you want to me tell this, Amy?” Aurora only nodded. “There was… one orphanage mistress who thought herself a perfect parent.” Lacy began. “We had to call her ‘mother,’ or we’d be beaten. It was easier than you might think to slip up. “Long story short, we ran away. Caught a ride with a sympathetic merchant up to the forests. We stayed put for a little while until we saw the police, then ran off together. We decided to split up, which was probably one of the stupidest thing we’ve ever done. They found Aurora first.” “The cops aren’t that brutal in Feylore,” Aurora said, “at least, not to kids.” “The ‘mother’ came with them.” Lacy added. “They started asking her where I was; she didn’t know I was hiding in the bushes just a few feet away. “The mother hates it when we lie, so when she was wrong about where I was…” “I have a scar from that.” Aurora said, voice quiet. “Right across here.” She traced it over her shoulder. “And the police just let it happen?” Tara asked. “Not exactly.” Lacy replied. “The few that weren’t looking for me were frozen in shock—I don’t blame them. It wasn’t until the chief came back that they made her stop. We were transferred after that, and they shut down that orphanage.” “That’s a… good thing, right?” “I guess,” Aurora said, “but… it feels wrong to think that what happened to me was some heroic thing or something.” “That’s all just so awful, though.” Tara shifted herself. “Was life really that hard?” “It wasn’t to us.” Aurora replied. “You can’t miss something that you never had.” “But we’re here now,” Lacy said, “and we’re never going back.” “If that place taught us one thing, it’s that if we ever have kids, we’re never giving them up. Not like my parents did to my brother and I.” “You have a brother?” Veronica asked. “Yeah. He and I got separated awhile back, though; a lot of the orphanages are gender-specific. He actually got adopted by some noble eventually, so… that’s good for him. Hopefully I’ll be able to see him again someday.” “I could write to my dad,” Veronica proposed, “have him ask around for an adopted kid from Feylore. He’d be willing.” “You’d do that?” Aurora asked, hopes up. “Yeah, no problem. My dad needs something wholesome to do every once in awhile.” Aurora hugged Veronica, much to Veronica’s surprise as well as her own. She broke away awkwardly after only a couple seconds. “Ah, um… thanks.” “So are we going to bed now?” Tara asked, breaking the awkwardness. “Of course we aren’t!” Lacy replied. “We’re a bunch of teenagers in a dorm room! I expect that the teachers’ll find us collapsed on the floor when we’re supposed to come into class tomorrow. A bunch of misfits like ourselves deserve a little disobedience after their first day of school.” Chapter XV: Spoiler Chapter XV - Sword Forms Second Airlight | Camp Thunder A week after the mock battle, when Dain had recovered from his arrow wound, Corrin and the rest of the squadron had begun training. His kinship with the others had deepened not just by his successful capture of the banner during the mock battle, but by training and bunking alongside them all. Two days ago, Iolar and Quarden both decided that they and he had become friends, and a day after that, Mareth had said the same. He knew most of the assorted spearmen by face—a few by name—and occasionally demonstrated a swordplay attack by their request. Corrin and Teren didn’t speak much, but they worked alongside each other now and again without any ire. He shared jokes with Kent, cleaned armor with John—he even tried improving his Arcana under Uia’s instruction a couple times, to no avail. He hadn’t asked what an Alch-MT was, yet; every time he thought to bring up the topic, the words died in his mouth. Sufficeth to say that Corrin was officially a member of the squadron. “Tighter!” Dain called. “Points up, men! You aren’t going to stop a charging barrage of demons by stabbing their knees. Corrin!” “Yes, sir!” Corrin replied. “You stance is awful. Bring that elbow back!” “Yes, sir!” Corrin repeated, pulling back his right elbow. The spear that had been placed in his hands felt awkward and off-balanced as he hefted it forwards towards a collection of straw dummies. “Much better.” Dain said. “Now, demons are ruthless! They won’t stop fighting until every last one of them has been destroyed, and even then you can practically feel their souls trying to claw into yours. This means two things. Thing one: we never count on making the enemy retreat. Fall back, maybe, but never retreat. Thing two: they often jump at us with little regard for their own safety. Tio!” “Sir!” One of the soldiers yelped. “What’s the best thing you can do against an onslaught of mindless demon invaders?” “Hold a spearline, sir!” The soldier, Tio, replied. “Right you are!” Dain said. “Make an impenetrable wall of death for them to only pray they can get through.” He stopped talking for a second. “The enemy’s on you! Positions!” Corrin tensed, holding his spear out stagnant before him. He tried to imagine a demon crashing into him, his only protection from it being the spear—the instinct didn’t come. His arm loosened, trying to grasp the spear like it would a sword. “Corrin!” Dain yelled again. Corrin readjusted his grip, but the damage had been done. The captain motioned for everyone to stop, then walked to Corrin. “What have I told you about spear combat?” “Yes, sir, I’m… sorry, sir. I just—” He was stumbling over his own words. “Teren!” Dain called. “Run these soldiers over some more exercises while I’m gone.” “Gone?” Corrin asked. “Where are you going?” “Where I’m going is inconsequential. It’s where I’m taking you that you’ve ought to think about.” Dain walked to the door, reaching for the handle. “Sir, it’s Airlight.” Corrin said hastily. “The dust storms are out.” Dain raised an eyebrow, then pulled open the door. Dust, blown by torrential winds, swept into the building, causing everyone training there to cover their faces and avert their eyes. Corrin covered his eyes as well, but when his captain beckoned him outside, he managed to struggle through the doorway and into the Airlight winds. “What are we doing out here?” Corrin asked, yelling in an attempt to be heard over the winds. Dain didn’t reply, instead forging ahead through the dust. Corrin followed, unsteady by the storm. The captain had crossed the walkway before Corrin had even come halfway, turning around to face the soldier with the look of a father awaiting a child to cross a bridge. Corrin growled at that thought, then fell in next to Dain beside another building. When he asked the captain whether or not they could return to the indoors, Dain opened the door to the building, gesturing Corrin inside. He didn’t have to be told twice. He ducked through the doorway, and when Dain closed the door behind the two of them, he began spitting dust out of his mouth. “Was that necessary?” Corrin demanded, grabbing a waterskin at his side to wash out the dust. Dain took a seat on a bench. “Yes, it was. Now we’re in the right place.” “What is the right place?” Corrin asked. “Here.” Dain replied. “Do you know where here is, Corrin?” “No.” Corrin said, then started looking up and down the walls: they were covered in swords, spears, axes, and any other weapon Corrin could think of. “The armory?” “Close.” Dain stood up again, unsheathing his own sword and placing it on a table. “We’re in a more… special training room.” Corrin sat down at the table, then frowned at a shape engraved into it: The six-pointed arrowstar of the Iconar Collective. At the end of each point, though, a single word was written. From the arrow of Ivinan, the word “Furyform.” From Feylore, “Lightform.” There was “Breathform” from Vitera, “Stoneform” from Drakefell, “Darkform” from Sunken Deep, and “Skullform” from Carnon. “I think I’ve seen this before.” Corrin said. “At Uncle Lars’ place.” “These,” Dain explained, “are the six Weapon Forms: complicated arts that few will ever master. When you first learn how to use a weapon, you are taught how to attack and defend. There are many who achieve proficiency in their weapon of choice and go no further. However, there are also those who learn these arts; those who have chosen a path easily begun, but far less easily trod.” “Okay.” Corrin replied. “What exactly does this have to do with me?” “Well, you seem quite aversive to any weapon other than the sword.” Dain answered. “So I decided that you might as well learn how to use your sword like a master.” “Really?” Dain didn’t answer his question. “So, I take it you don’t really know what comprises these forms?” “Nope.” “There are six elements to combat: Strength, Speed, Evasion, Defense, Power, and Will.” Dain began. “Strength is one’s ability to inflict damage to an opponent. Speed is self-explanatory: your actual physical swiftness. Evasion is your ability to dodge an attack, and Defense is your ability to deflect or nullify an attack. Power is similar to Strength, but individual in its own way; Strength is more reserved, more balanced. Power is sheer muscle, unparalleled ability in might alone.” “And Will?” Corrin asked. “Will is intent. It is best described by its sister word, Willpower. Your mental capacity to keep fighting no matter the cost.” “Huh.” Corrin replied. “So which form focuses on which element?” “Each form focuses on two of these, actually.” Dain corrected him. “Furyform is Strength and Speed. Lightform is Speed and Evasion. Breathform, Evasion and Defense. Stoneform, Defense and Power. Darkform, Power and Will. Skullform, Will and Strength.” “Do you do any of these?” Corrin asked. “I do.” Dain confirmed. “I use the relatively unconventional Skullform.” “Strength and Will?” Corrin recalled. “Seems like a good combination for a leader.” “I like to think so.” Dain replied. “It’s served me at times.” “Which one do you think I should do?” Corrin asked. “And, uh… is there any difference between them all besides skill archetypes?” “Second question first. Yes, there are differences between any form. The nature of the forms themselves are unique in every way. Furyform is a form of balance between swiftness and strength to create an unstoppable offensive force—the swordsman you faced during the mock battle was actually a Furyform fighter, as far as I could tell, and a good one at that. Lightform requires a kind of enlightenment to become quick and evasive, able to predict and dodge an enemy’s next attack before it ever lands. Breathform combines evasion and defense to render any enemy attack useless—it’s quite similar to Lightform, in many ways. “Stoneform combines power and defense to make you a fortress in on yourself, able to fell any foe with one strike, and take any amount of damage without stopping. Darkform takes power and will to create a reckless warrior, who attacks with all their might without any regard for themselves. Skullform, using willpower and strength, is similar to Darkform, but makes a determined warrior rather than a reckless one. “As for which of these you are…” Dain fell into thought for a few seconds, “I’m not sure. Will, for sure—you’re a hard worker, and you keep trying. However, you aren’t strength or powercentric… you’re more evasive, as shown by that stunt you pulled during the mock battle. Perhaps Breathform, or Skullform, like me?” “Could I try both, maybe?” “Yeah, I guess so.” Dain replied. “I don’t exactly know Breathform—it’s considered the opposite of Skullform, which makes the fact that you could tend to both a little strange—but I know the basic principles. We’ll start with that.” “Alright, then.” “Good. Get your sword and shield out.” Corrin unsheathed his sword, then unslung his shield from off his back. He slid the ladder onto his arm, then grasped his sword with both hands. “Alright. Breathform is all about protection. You need to become impenetrable—a master of this form could fight a hundred foes and never take a hit. What you can’t deflect, you dodge. What you can’t dodge, you deflect.” “What if you can’t do either?” Dain shot him a sly look. “No Breathform master would put himself in a situation where he couldn’t defend himself.” “Oh.” “You know the basics of swordplay stances?” Dain began walking in a circle around Corrin. “Name a couple.” “Stay light on your feet. When you’re attacking or defending, you move from one defensive stance to the next.” “Exactly. Those two are key for this form. You need to be able to jump back at a moment’s notice, and keep yourself defended no matter what happens. You got any stances that might fit that?” Corrin thought for a second, then put his feet apart and turned to the side. He held his shield out in front of him, holding his sword behind that. “Hmm… Danex Shield Defense. Not a bad choice.” Dain finished his arc around Corrin, standing before him, then pulling out his sword. “Focus entirely on not being hit. Neutrality and self-preservation are key to Breathform.” “Yes, sir.” Dain fell into a stance of his own; low, with his sword pointed directly at Corrin. Then, without warning, and struck. Corrin swung to the side, carefully deflecting Dain’s blade to best direct the captain away from him while he fixed his stance. Dain attacked again, and Corrin barely caught his sword on his shield, springing away. The captain was relentless, striking again and again. It was all Corrin could do to duck, deflect, and dodge the attacks. “You’re doing quite well,” Dain decided, jabbing at Corrin’s right, “but this style doesn’t seem to fit you.” “It doesn’t,” Corrin replied, batting aside Dain’s blade, “I’ve always considered myself as more of a reckless type.” “I wouldn’t call you reckless. You’re about as reserved as they come.” Dain took a step back to catch his breath. “But if Breathform doesn’t fit you… then we can try Skullform instead.” “That might be best,” Corrin decided. Dain nodded, then motioned for Corrin to put his guard down. “Alright. I’ve been practicing Skullform for years, so hopefully I’ll be able to instruct you in it better. “Skullform is for those who have experience in battle. Granted, you don’t exactly have battle experience, but the it isn’t experience that guides the principle here. Battle leads to death and those who dwell on it. In Skullform, though, you cannot dwell on death,” Dain sat down, “you respect death, and avoid it when you can, but you do not dwell on it. Mourn your comrades, wish your enemies a peaceful rest, and then move on.” “Okay.” Corrin leaned forwards, interested. “Understand that there are three stages of any weapon form—Mindset, Capability, and Mastery. For Skullform, the Mindset is what I just explained; a respect of death, and an ability to move along. Capability has to do with your weapon; once you’ve become fully proficient in its killing capabilities, then you must learn to treat it after a fashion according to your form. Respect for your weapon in this regard must be balanced between the strength to kill and the will to show mercy. “The final stage, Mastery, is the stage at which a Skullformer has become truly attuned to their weapon. They must show perfect breadth of mind and restraint. In return, they have become a master warrior, able to kill in need or restrain in opportunity. A master of any form is a force to be reckoned with, but a Skullform master shows to the ones that call those who show mercy weak.” Corrin nodded. “So where do we begin?” Dain gestured at Corrin. “Stand up.” He got to his feet. Corrin unsheathed his sword, and Dain did the same. “Your stance should focus on an unyielding attack, but not a relentless one. The goal is to defeat your enemy, not brutalize them. At the same time, you shouldn’t hold back; remember that death is just a fact of the battlefield. To first truly respect death, you must deal it yourself. To show restraint, you must know what you are restraining from.” Corrin nodded again, then chose a more open stance: his sword ahead of him, shield out of the way to his side—still protecting him, but not holding back his attack—and one foot behind to other to better spring off the ground. Dain adopted a similar stance, but grasping his sword with both hands rather than with only one. “I’ll start on the defensive so that you can get a better feel for offensive swordplay. You ready?” “Yes, sir.” “Then come at me.” Corrin sprang off his foot without hesitation, striking from the left and down at Dain. He brought in his shield with the momentum of his attack, so as Dain deflected Corrin’s attack, he had to block an onslaught from the shield as well. Corrin held his shield before him to hold Dain’s blade in place, then brought his sword back up to strike at his right. Dain caught all these attacks dexterously, twisting and weaving his sword through Corrin’s means of offense until he managed to push Corrin back and step away from him. Corrin continued his attacks, grasping his sword with both hands and relying on his strap to hold the shield in place. He struck from the left to right, being careful to move Dain’s blade aside with his shield. Dain, however, dodged out of this, somehow managing to spin behind Corrin. Dain struck Corrin’s side with his blade, knocking him over. Corrin took the momentum, rolling onto his front and jumping to his feet. He held his sword before him, grasping it with both hands so that his shield was parallel to the blade. “Good—persistence. Will.” Dain said, then attacked. Corrin caught the first few of his attacks, but soon found himself back on the defensive. “You’re way better than me.” “Well, I have been training in this form for basically my entire life,” Dain replied, ducking underneath a swing and jabbing back at Corrin, “perhaps that would have something to do with it?” Corrin knocked one of Dain’s attacks aside. “Who are you, Dain?” Dain returned this with a feint, striking Corirn’s arm hard. “I’m your captain. I was once a Knight, though.” “You what?” Corrin almost dropped his guard, and was forced to deflect Dain’s next attack with his shield. “You were a Knight? What changed?” “Leading a battalion didn’t suit me, so I demoted myself. Now I’m just a captain, and a darned good one, I hope.” Corrin ducked aside an attack. “Okay.” “What about you?” Dain jabbed, then deflected another attack. “What’s your ambition, Corrin? Why are you here?” “I want to be a General,” Corrin admitted, “lead an entire army to battle against the demons of Sunken Deep.” Dain chuckled. “That’s an ambitious goal, but if it encourages you to work hard, then I’m all for it.” “Right now, though… it’s just a dream. Being a soldier is the first step, right? You work hard, take orders, learn. Learning to lead a battalion is more than study—there’s practice and experience you need to do it properly.” Dain swept his sword uncannily close to Corrin’s face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself. But speaking of taking orders and working hard…” Dain jabbed at Corrin’s right, then deflected an attack. He twisted his sword around Corrin’s shield, then stabbed right into Corrin’s chest, knocking him over. Before Corrin could get back to his feet, though, Dain had his sword held at his throat. “If you want to learn how to lead a battalion, Corrin, then you’re going to need to be one, first. To truly respect death, you must deal it yourself. To show restraint, you must know what you are restraining from. To lead an army, you must know who it is that you’re leading.” Corrin fell quiet for a couple seconds, then chuckled a little. “Was this entire thing just one really long Dainspeech?” Dain sheathed his sword and held out a hand. “Perhaps. I hope that you won’t have any further struggles learning to handle a weapon other than your sword?” “Of course not, sir.” Corrin took Dain’s hand and let his captain hoist him to his feet. “Though I was never not trying to learn; I was just really bad at it.” Dain patted him reassuringly on the back. “That’s what I plan on fixing. We’ll make a good sure soldier out of you yet. Now come on—I’m sure there’s still enough dust blowing around to make getting back to the others a pain." The Noble and Nobles: Chapter XVI: Spoiler Chapter XVI - Physician’s Son First Waterlight | Castle Ivinan “Where did you get this?” Tristan’s father asked the king of Ivinan. Tristan stood by his father’s side, mentally analyzing the scrape on the king’s arm. He tried to find anything serious about the wound, but he couldn’t find anything. No darkened veins from poison or inflammation; there wasn’t even that much blood. The king shrugged. “You get scrapes and cuts all the time on hunting trips. I’m assuming you can fix it up?” “Of course I can, but… do you really need my services for such a small scrape? A Healer would suffice.” “A Healer would work, yes, but I prefer your work, old friend.” The king looked to Tristan. “Or perhaps your son could practice your art? I understand that he’s been following in your footsteps.” “I, uh…” Tristan stuttered, swallowing, “I’m not very… good yet.” “You sell yourself short, son!” His father replied. “You’d give half the medics in the Enclave a run for their money. Besides, you’re never going to be the king’s physician if you never work with the king.” “If you’re afraid you’re going to hurt me and get executed, sonny, then don’t be. I only execute people who don’t hurt me, because that means they aren’t scrubbing the wound hard enough.” “You’re not supposed to scrub scrapes that hard,” Tristan replied, “it could inflame the wound or cause bleeding.” The king chuckled, then said to Tristan’s father, “you see, Regald, you’ve got yourself a good son there. You oughta teach me how to raise a kid properly someday.” “You’ve been raising children for seventeen years. Surely you’ve figured it out by now?” “Not in the slightest. You going to clean this old man’s scrape up or no?” “Ahh… yes sir. Sorry, sir.” Tristan started fumbling through his bag, pulling out a cloth and bottle of rubbing alcohol. He poured the latter onto the cloth. “Not so much… that’ll do it.” His father said. “Go ahead.” Tristan started gently rubbing the king’s scrape. The king winced slightly, then chuckled. “You’d think after all the times your old man’s used alcohol on my wounds that I’d stop drinking by now.” “Or stop getting wounds,” his father said, “you could stop getting wounds.” “What’s the fun in a hunt if you aren’t contributing blood, sweat, and tears? There isn’t anything quite like dashing through a thicket after a stag and coming out without an eyeball.” “When has that ever happened?” “Never, yet.” Tristan finished washing the king’s scrape and bandaged it up. “There you go, sir.” The king worked his arm. “Feels good. I’ll be sure to get myself something more serious for you to work on next time.” “Sir…” “I’m joking! I’m joking. Tell me, sonny, have you gotten yourself any of those newfangled other significantes yet? What’re they called… girlfriends?” Tristan blushed slightly. “I’m… only fourteen, sir. Hardly old enough for a girlfriend.” “Fourteen almost fifteen, you mean. That’s old enough! Tell you what, kid; you promise to ask someone pretty to dance during that party I’m throwing for the Pentamillenial, and I’ll make sure not to gore my eye out on any thickets.” Tristan was quiet. “Umm… okay, then… sir.” “Right, then.” The king got to his feet, still working his arm. “I suppose that concludes tonight’s session. Regald, care to take a drink with me?” “Of course, my lord.” He turned to his son. “Uhh, Tristan, you can…” “Oh!” The king said on a start. He patted down his pockets, fishing out a couple gold crescents and flipping them at Tristan. “There you go; your first paycheck. Buy yourself something nice, how’s about?” “I, uh… thank you, sir.” “No problem, and don’t worry about paying taxes on that; I’m not supposed to forgive income taxes, but… I guess I’ll just say I paid them for you? Eh, what the paramounts won’t know won’t hurt them.” He gestured Tristan’s father outside. “See you, sonny; and be sure to get back inside before the rains start!” The two adults left. Tristan fingered the two coins. Despite the fact that his father was, in fact, the king’s personal physician, they weren’t a Noble family. Their family trade—medicine—had paid the bills and filled their stomachs, Tristan’s father didn’t give much of the money to his son. He had spent most of it on buying Tristan a formal education in medicine, so Tristan didn’t get his own pocket change to spend that often. So he’d spend it… but not right now. “Hey, Tristan.” He turned around, almost missing the source of the voice. He had to look down to see who had spoken. “Oh. Hi, Ridge.” Ridge looked nothing like his father, but that made sense, considering he had been adopted. He wore a simple shirt and sweater alongside some trousers reminiscent of commoner clothing, though they were made of relatively rare and fine material, and a red wool scarf that he had gotten from who-knows-where. He spun a simple golden disk-like object around his finger—a third childs’ crown to the throne of Ivinan. The Prince of Ivinan wasn’t that much older than ten or eleven, and he acted even younger. “Whatchoo got there?” “Hm? Oh, just these.” He held them up for Ridge to see. Ridge examined them for a second. “Where’d you get them?” “Your dad paid me with them.” “My dad?” Ridge frowned, then nodded. “Oh, right. The king. I just forget sometimes, y’know?” “He’s been your father for… what. Ten years?” Ridge shrugged. “I dunno. What’re you going to spend that on?” “These?” Tristan held up the crescents. “Nothing, yet.” “Saving up for something?” “In theory. I… don’t know what I would buy.” Ridge shrugged. “Guess you’ll find something one day. Want to play Arcala?” Tristan shrugged himself. “I guess so. Dibs on red.” “Always with the me going first. Well, then, I’ll go grab my set. Be right back.” Ridge ran off. Tristan considered leaving—as nice as Ridge was, playing a game with a ten-year-old wasn’t exactly his idea of a cup of tea. It turned out he didn’t have much a choice, because before he could come to a decision, Ridge was back with his Arcala set. “Full game? Half game? Short?” Ridge asked. “Let’s go… half game.” Tristan decided, playing the middle ground between being polite and trying to get out as soon as possible. Ridge sighed. “I wanted to have a Channelknight. Eh… whatever. At least we have Earthquake Strikes.” He placed down his first piece—a spearman, near the front. Tristan placed down his own piece, followed by Ridge. They alternated placing pieces until they had each placed all of theirs; then Ridge had the first move. Ridge moved one of his spearmen into a Compound with another, holding one of Tristan’s spears at bay. Tristan opted to Compound a swordsman with a spear, hopefully scaring the kid away from the left of the board. Ridge moved one of his Compounded spearmen forwards, maintaining the Compound and attacking. He flipped Tristan’s spearman over, then handed it to Tristan. “First casualty.” Tristan moved a single swordsman to compound with a spearman and attack Ridge, then flipped over both spearmen. “Hey, you can’t do that. Your pieces only have five attack, and the spearmen have six defense.” Tristan gestured to an archer piece. “He’s in range. That’s seven attack on six defense. Both down.” “Demons!” Ridge swore. “Should’ve seen that.” The game continued, mostly consisting of Ridge’s aggressive attacks versus Tristan’s slower strategic defenses. The two were about even for most of the game, and eventually the back-and-forth piece-picking settled into a standoff: either side building a massive Compound led by the Captain piece, which held the unique ability to move an entire Compound in one move. Tristan, despite the fact that he had never wanted to play in the first place, felt the tension grow. He felt his hand palms go sweaty as Ridge moved his mage towards his Stockpile; no doubt trying to unlock the Earthquake Strike ability and break up Tristan’s Compound. In that case, there was really only one option. Tristan moved his Compound across the board, pushing it perfectly adjacent to Ridge’s battalion. Tristan’s was smaller—Ridge had taken a lot of his spears—but attacking did have quite the advantage. Not only was the attack unexpected, but he removed a good half of Ridge’s forces before Ridge got to retaliate. Still; Tristan winced as Ridge took out about as many soldiers that he himself had removed. When Ridge had finished tallying his attack versus Tristan’s defense, he sat back, having defeated more of Tristan’s forces than he had lost. “So are you going to retreat?” Tristan frowned, thinking. He didn’t want to lose any more of his Compound than he had already lost, but pulling back would only result in Ridge Earthquake Striking him, and leaving each of his pieces vulnerable anyways. Tristan shook his head, and began taking more of Ridge’s pieces; a pitiful few. Ridge eyed the attack with concern. “Oookay. Um…” He finished off Tristan’s Compound, removing Tristan’s Captain piece from the board. After that, Ridge took his own turn: pulling his mage away from his own Stockpile to go after Tristan’s, hoping to capture the winning piece with his fastest unit. Tristan ran his eyes over the board. There was no way he could win this; but maybe he could tie? He checked all his pieces, eventually settling to move his last swordsman a couple steps away from Ridge’s Compound, which consisted of a captain and two spears. Ridge moved his Compound towards Tristan’s swordsman, as the Compound’s combined strength was more than enough to defeat the lone swordsman. Tristan pulled his swordsman back; out of the Compound’s range. Ridge looked over the board, then shrugged and moved his mage again. With a full round between his swordsman and an encounter with the Compound, Tristan moved his his mage by his stockpile; now he was capable of using Earthquake Strikes. Ridge frowned. “Oh… oh.” Tristan sat back, stretching. “Your move.” Ridge scratched his head, trying to find a way out of his predicament. Tristan was more than capable of executing an Earthquake Strike if Ridge moved his Compound to attack the swordsman, which would leave each individual piece vulnerable to the powerful unit. The mage was far from capable of defeating the swordsman, and there wasn’t any point in circling it all the way around Tristan’s swordsman, as it couldn’t take the Stockpile while Tristan’s mage sat on it. Tristan, however, couldn’t take Ridge’s Stockpile without leaving his own undefended; they were at a stalemate. Ridge threw in the towel. “A tie, then?” Tristan nodded. “Yes, your highness.” “Oh geez, don’t call me that.” Ridge stood up. “Want to go another round?” Tristan shook his head. “No. I should probably get some sleep; and you should too.” Ridge snorted. “Sleep. Who needs that?” “You and me. People.” “You go ahead. I haven’t committed enough crimes today.” “...How many have you committed?” “Zero, so I’ve matched my record. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some shenanigans to get up to.” Ridge ran off to who-knows-where. Tristan stood up, clearing and storing the board. He stretched his arms, then made his way back to his bedroom, turning his crescents over in his pocket. When he got back to his room, he collapsed on his bed. The… prince of Ivinan was his friend? The king of Ivinan was his employer? These thoughts were the kind that crossed his mind now and again—a strange realization of the sheer randomness in his life. Had his father not been so successful a physician, it would be likely that he never would’ve been here. He lay awake for a little while, pondering on these thoughts until they put him to sleep. Ridge sifted through the king’s papers, scanning name after name. There were hundreds of sheets to read; and those were just the A names. “Come on,” he muttered to himself, pushing aside a sheet and reading the next, “come on, where are you?” Chapter XVII: Spoiler Chapter XVII - Name Pending Oblivion, the Calamitous of Sunken Deep, sat across from the most renowned assassin in Ivinan. His messengers had informed him of the assassin’s handiwork; their technique, their ability to get in and get out of a building before anybody noticed their target had been killed. They told him the assassin wasn’t cheap, but he wouldn’t have it any other way—he needed someone with quality for his attack. He hadn’t expected them to be a girl; nor had he expected them to be hot. “The name’s Avelyn.” She said, holding out her hand. She wore a sleeveless leather cuirass that revealed slender yet muscular arms. “Professional assassin, at your service. Normally I don’t give away that information, but I’m assuming that someone of your kind is just as wary of the law as I am.” There was no disdain or hatred in her voice as she addressed Calamitous Oblivion; those emotions had likely been stamped out by her unforgiving profession. “So you have a job for me? Enclave Knight? Rival demon?” “Not exactly.” Calamitous would’ve winced at the mention of a rival demon had he been a more jumpy person. “How many nobles have you killed?” “A few. They aren’t cheap, though.” “I’m not worried about the money; I’m worried about the message I need to send.” Avelyn cocked her head. “You want it done on the Pentamillenial Festival?” “That’s right.” “Alright; which one do you want dead? Merdias? Aiegre?” He leaned in close. “The king.” Avelyn frowned, then sat back and kicked her boots up on the table. She wore a black skirt over gray tights; relatively functional clothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Oblivion could see the bartender quietly protesting her abuse of the tabletop, but one glance at the daggers in her ankle straps was enough to shut him up. “I’ll admit, you’re not the first one to ask me that.” She said. “I assumed not.” “You think you’re good for the money, though? You’re going to have to pay up a pretty crescent if you think you’re going to get me to even step foot in that castle.” “I’ll give you double if you execute it well enough.” Avelyn leaned forwards. “I’m listening.” “I haven’t completely fleshed out the entire plan yet, but I’m well aware that your art takes a bit of… preparation, correct?” “Yep. I don’t suppose there’s any special way you want me to infiltrate that place?” “There is not. I just need the king to be the first casualty.” “The… first casualty?” “I told you I needed to send a message.” Avelyn nodded. “Alright. I usually go for the handmaid approach; join the servants, sneak in my knives, do the dirty work, get out. That work for you?” “As long as you make sure that the dirty work takes place on the Pentamillenial, when we’re all in place.” “We? There’re more of you?” “I’ve been preparing this for quite some time.” “Then it would be a pity if you failed. How much money do you think you have?” “How much do you need?” “I want a down payment of ten thousand crescents, then another ninety after I’m done. Double both of that for your little ‘bonus’ of yours.” “Two hundred thousand? I hope you don’t need that in cash.” “Down payment in cash, the rest in whatever you need to do to make it work, so as long as you don’t get me a hundred ninety thousand crescents worth of dirt or anything.” “Merchants’ Ingots, then?” “That works. As long as I get paid. So you have… what, three months?” “Three months, one week, four days, and approximately eight hours.” “Get me the plan a month in advance. You’ll have it done by then, I hope?” “I should. I can find you here?” Avelyn nodded, the took her boots off the table and stood. “Well… I’ve got a job to do, if you don’t mind.” “Not at all.” Calamitous Oblivion stood himself, holding out his hand for Avelyn to shake. “I’ll get you your money tomorrow morning.” “Sounds good. See you around.” Avelyn slipped out of the bar before he could reply. Oblivion glanced down at his unshaken hand, shrugging and placing it on his sword. A few of the patrons in the bar gave him double-takes when they realized his race of a demon. Some of them glared at him, reaching for bottles or knives. As much as he would like to show all those drunkards who was boss, the whole idea of the plan was to not draw attention to himself. He exited the pub, hoping nobody followed him; he couldn’t be sure that his elites would restrain themselves as much as he did. He took a detour anyways, just to be safe, winding through alleyways and narrow streets before circling back to an abandoned cottage. His soldiers were sitting in dark nooks and crannies, but Oblivion could see them just fine. It was when they moved through the light that he had trouble making out their features—no one was really sure why demons had the roles of light and dark reversed for their eyes, but the trait was rather helpful for hiding from everybody except their own. “Well?” One of them asked. Oblivion smiled. “We have ourselves an assassin, boys; everything’s going according to plan.” Avelyn stood with her back to a brick wall, daggers in hand as she listened to the guards discussing the upcoming Pentamillenial Festival. “...and he isn’t even inviting us! Us, his guards. He’s inviting a couple random kids from the Academy, but not us!” “He is inviting some people from the Enclave—people out on the field.” “He’s inviting a squadron that wins a competition, not one that wins some grand battle! The whole thing is rigged.” “Well, if we were all invited, then who’d protect everyone? The king could get assassinated or… something.” The king could get assassinated, all right; but Avelyn didn’t care about the security measures to prevent that. Guards or no guards, she’d get her job done. She retreated back out onto the street as the Waterlight rains began. She didn’t mind them that much. They were a welcome reminder that the world could keep going despite the things she’d done; the chaos she’d caused. The people she’d killed. Avelyn found her way back to the pub where she’d met the demon. He was nowhere to be found; and a good thing too. It probably wouldn’t have been good if her employer had been killed by a mob of angry drunkards. The patrons here were of one type: ex-soldiers. Specifically soldiers still haunted by the horrors of war. The kind who tried to drink their pain away. She had tried that after her first assassination—it hadn’t worked. The regulars didn’t spare her a second glance; they knew she wasn’t ‘available,’ and stayed out of her way. A few even knew what she did for a living. It was easy to tell who was new to the building; their eyes followed her from behind hoods, beards, and tall mugs of ale. She was careful not to approach these men, often for their sake more than hers. It was all too easy to instinctively run someone through the neck with a dagger if they did so much as flinch towards her. “Got another job?” The bartender asked, wiping a glass with a towel. “Yessir.” “That’s good, because you’ve only got a few months left on your room before the next bill.” “You’ll get your money.” “I’d better.” Avelyn left the conversation at that, hopping up onto the stairwell and climbing to her room. A couple young men catcalled as she passed them in the hallway, before laughing to themselves and going back to their conversation about—whatever teenage boys talked about. Probably nothing good. She ducked into her room, glancing about at the squalid conditions. Dusty floor, feather-stuffed bed, broken window, and the like. She pulled open a drawer, taking out the most expensive thing she owned: a blue silk dress that would make a noblewoman jealous. She folded it up best she could and stuffed it into a bag, then turned back to the drawer and pulled out another item: a fabricated proof of employment under the bartender downstairs. She placed that in her bag too, then took her daggers out of her ankle straps and placed them in the drawer. No need to bring weapons along with her for her job interview; they tended to tip the employer off that she was up to no good. Avelyn considered hopping out the window instead of passing back through the hordes of dirty vagabonds, but the idea was to act casual. If someone watched her leap from a second-story window and reported it to the guards, her shot at this job was over. So she left her room like a normal person, passing by the group of young men again. The eyed her handbag; for what reason, she couldn’t tell. One of them decided to speak up. “Date tonight?” He asked simply. She shook her head, smiling sweetly. “Not exactly.” Avelyn was down the stairs before they could respond, maneuvering around tables like she had a million times. The regulars spared no glances, and the others barely had time to spot her. The bartender’s eyes flicked between her and her bag, and he released a near inaudible sigh; he’d seen her leave with it a number of times. A couple alley-dwelling thugs made to come at her as she exited the building, but quickly backed off when they saw who she was. They could probably tell that she didn’t have any knives on her; but then again, she hadn’t exactly needed daggers to teach them a forceful lesson a few weeks back. It looked like one of them was still limping from that. As she walked back to the castle, her mind turned to the Channelknigth Arcenea. Arcenea had been the only female Channelknight in the last Order, before the war between Ivinan and Sunken Deep had begun. After her husband, the Channelknight Wynden, had failed to stop Calamitous Eren from tearing apart the Iconar Collective, Arcenea was the only Channelknight to remain. It was her, alone, who had used the last of her magical abilities to create the Parallarity Gates and prevent the Collective from falling into chaos. Growing up on these stories had inspired Avelyn to become a warrior. She’d trained herself to fight, even going as far as to forge her own daggers. Some had told her that no girl could be a warrior, but the ones who had said that were likely just jealous of her ability. She compared where she had thought she was going to be in her life with where she actually was. As a child, she’d imagined herself as a stealth unit in the Enclave; on an elite force, infiltrating demon encampments, sabotaging their defenses and chain of command before the army arrived and finished the job. The king would congratulate her for her courage and ability, proclaiming her to be a warrior as strong and brave as Arcenea. Avelyn threw the dress on over her clothing, approaching the guards in front of the castle. She put on the face of a flustered, helpless young girl. “Hi, uh… where where could I apply for a job here? I can wait tables.” One of the guards thumbed at the door. “Just down the hallway.” “Thank you.” And yet, here she was: under a demon’s employ to assassinate the King of Ivinan on the night of the Pentamillenial Festival. Edited June 11, 2022 by Channelknight Fadran Now all the chapters are here! 33 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DramaQueen Posted July 11, 2020 Report Share Posted July 11, 2020 16 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: I've decided to finally post some of my writing for my long-fought book series "The Iconar Collective." All feedback is appreciated! I mostly just skimmed it, but that was really good!! Can't wait to read more! Lots of details on the characters, which is awesome! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Enter a username he/him Posted July 16, 2020 Report Share Posted July 16, 2020 This is amazing. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 16, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 16, 2020 2 hours ago, Enter a username said: This is amazing. Why thank you 4 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 16, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 16, 2020 (edited) Spoiler Chapter II - Aurora First Waterlight | Parallarity Gate, Feylore “Here you are, young ’uns,” the driver said, opening the door of the carriage for them, “Parallarity Gate B, Midway. I suppose you can take it from here?” Aurora stepped out of the carriage, blinking at the sunlight. “Um… yeah. You just walk through it, right?” The driver chuckled. “I don’t know; I’ve never left Feylore myself, y’know. I s’spect they got people there to help you out there. You got your passes, right?” Lacy stepped out of the carriage as well; or, rather, leapt out of the carriage, ignoring the footstool that had been put in place to help her down. “Of course we do. Come on, Amy, we have a portal to catch!” “Slow down, Lace.” Aurora chastised, stretching a bit. “We still have to get our luggage.” “Darn it. I don’t suppose we could buy new clothing in Ivinan?” “We don’t have that much money.” “Amy, it’s an all expenses paid internship!” Aurora shook her head. “They don’t pay for souvenirs. Besides, all the good clothing is sold in Ivinan City, and we won’t be anywhere near there.” Lacy huffed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll go grab my luggage.” She turned around to fetch her case, but the carriage driver stopped her. “Don’t worry, young ‘uns, I’ll take care of that.” The driver flipped open the back compartment of the carriage, then grunted as he lifted out one of their trunks. “Oof, what do you have in here?” “Well… everything we own, I guess.” Aurora replied, moving to help him. “Are you sure you got that, sir?” The driver chuckled. “You think that just because I’ve put on a few years I can’t handle a heavy sack? Nah, girls, I’m tellin’ you; I got a dwarven blood in me somewhere.” He grunted as he set the case on the ground. “The real question is, are you going to be able to handle that?” “Easy.” Aurora replied, grabbing one end of the case. Lacy picked up the other. “It’s pretty easy to lift with two people.” The driver nodded, then removed his hat and held it out. “Would either of you be kind enough to leave a tip?” “Oh, uh…” Lacy patted down her pockets, pulling out a single silver crescent. “This is all I have on me. I hope it’s enough…?” She dropped it in his hat. The driver replaced his hat. “It’s always enough, young ‘un. Just a humble carriage driver, y’know.” He nodded to himself. “So you got parents waiting on the other side?” “Oh, we don’t… have parents.” Aurora answered. The driver’s brow sank downwards in pity. “You don’t?” “We grew up in the Feylore orphanages together.” Lacy replied. “Oh, my… so that’s really all you have.” The driver gestured to their case, then quickly removed his hat. “I shouldn’t have asked you for any money. Here, you take this back—” “No, that’s alright!” Aurora interjected. “We’re not poor or anything. Just… frugal.” “I… see.” The driver replaced his hat. “Well, if there’s anything else I can do for you two…” “I don’t think there is,” Lacy replied, “but thank you.” “Then I’ll be on my way, then.” The carriage driver pulled himself back up onto his seat, then flicked his horse’s reins and wheeled the creature around. “It’s been a pleasure serving you two; Icona bless you, and good luck in Midway!” With those final words, he was gone. Aurora and Lacy began half-carrying, half-dragging their shared belongings through the crowded Parallarity platform. The gate itself was halfway up the mountain, but the masses of people waiting for passage began all the way down at the foothills. Thousands of stairs spiraled up the mountainside towards the cave at the top, where the Parallarity Gate resided. Having passed a series of arcane tests in Feylore had granted them guaranteed access to and from Midway for their internship; a good thing, too, as the Gate was only open for the day, and if you didn’t make it in time, you had to wait for a month or two before it reopened. The carriage that the Feylore Hierarchy had granted them had deposited them not far from the top, thank goodness; Aurora couldn’t fathom how long it would take the two of them to reach the Gate from the bottom whilst awkwardly lugging their belongings between themselves. Aurora was perfectly content to look around in silence. Lacy, however, had other ideas. “We could’ve gotten out money back.” Lacy said. “From that driver. Why didn’t we?” “Because we’re nice.” “You’re nice,” Lacy replied, “I’m a jerk.” “You’re not a jerk!” Aurora sighed. “For the last time, the only person you’re ever mean to is yourself.” Lacy adjusted her grip on the case. “That’s because I’m a jerk.” “To yourself, nobody else.” “We could keep going in circles, couldn’t we?” Lacy stretched her free arm. “Let’s just get up this darned staircase and then argue.” “Agreed.” They ascended the remainder of the stairs in silence, broken only by the chatter of the hundreds of people climbing alongside them, or the occasional grunt as they struggled to lift the case over a number of obstacles in their way. The stairs grew more crowded as they neared the top, beginning to fill out with traveling merchants, beggars, and campers awaiting their turn to enter the Parallarity. “You have our pass, right?” Lacy asked. “Of course I do,” she replied, patting at it in her pocket, “right here. What, did you think I’d lose it?” “I mean, your reputation with pens back at the orphanage was rather impressive.” Lacy replied. “You even managed to lose one that was sitting right behind your ear.” “In my defense, it was a very slippery pen.” Aurora grunted as they had to lift their luggage over an inconvenient large rock. “And also less talk, more luggage lugging.” “More luggage lugging.” Lacy agreed. They ascended the remainder of the path in silence, but evidently that didn’t take very long, as the two of them bumped right into a tall, elven security guard within just minutes. “Halt,” the guard said, stooping down a little to come to eye level with them, “do you have your pass?” “Yeah.” Aurora fished through her pocket, grabbing a bundle of folded papers and handing them to the guard. “Right here.” The guard looked them over. “Aurora and Lacy… no last names? Ah, you came from the orphanage district. So you don’t have any parents here? Any guardians?” Aurora shook her head. “No.” “Sorry to hear that. I can get you a supervisor to go with you through the gate—” “No, that… won’t be… necessary,” Lacy interjected, “we’re fine on our own.” The guard raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question them. He continued leafing through the papers. “Alright, so I can get you an entrance in… ah, two weeks? Next passing if I pull the strings.” “We have an immediate entry pass…” Aurora patted down her pockets, but found nothing, “Lacy, do you have it?” “Would you really trust me to keep track of something as important as our tuition pass?” Lacy scoffed. “No, but I’ll check.” She rummaged through her own pockets—not a long ordeal, but nerve-wracking nonetheless—and came up empty. “I don’t have it.” “What?” Aurora considered going through their luggage, but then remembered, “oh, no… we left it in the carriage.” Lacy dropped her side of the case. “Are you sure?” “Positive.” Lacy sat down on the case, releasing a massive sigh. “I knew it was too good to be true. Going through the Parallarity, seeing Midway, learning Arcana in Ivinan.” The guard cleared his throat. “Do you… not have your pass with you, then?” “We did!” Aurora yelped. “But we… don’t.” “Could you let us in?” Lacy asked. “Please? Surely we’re on the roster or something?” “There are two people scheduled for immediate entry,” the guard said, “but without a pass, I’m not legally allowed to let you through.” “Please?” Lacy begged. “This might be our future.” The guard raised an eyebrow, then looked around. He leaned down back towards them, then said in a low tone, “Listen, guys, I can’t get you immediate entry, but there are a few people who haven’t come in today. I’m supposed to fill their spots with the next available group, but I can clear one of them for you two. It’ll be late tonight, though, during Waterlight.” The guard stands up. He cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “I’m sorry, girls. No pass, no entry.” He winked, then scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to them. “Good luck.” He whispered. Lacy snatched the paper, pocketed it with some impressive finesse, then stood up and grabbed her end of the case. They left the guard, weaving through the masses of people, fey and human alike. Aurora gestured Lacy towards an empty bench along the platform, on which they both sat with a tired sigh. After catching their breath for a second, Lacy pulled the paper out of her pocket and read what had been written on it out loud. “Parallarity Gate Entrance F,” Lacy read, “give this to the man there at Third Waterlight. Signed: Artus o’Carther.” “Sounds like something someone would get in a book,” Aurora remarked, “not real life.” “Cool!” Lacy exclaimed, not to Aurora’s surprise. “Do we get to go undercover? Do we get to wear disguises?” “More likely we just don’t say anything and get to go to the Academy of Arcana in Ivinan,” Aurora replied, “which is our initial goal, remember?” Lacy sighed, then pocketed the note. “Fine, but I don’t fancy the idea of sitting outside during Waterlight.” “It’s not like it’ll be a new experience,” Aurora replied. Lacy sighed again. “I suppose you’re right, of course. I just don’t like the rain.” “Then I recommend we go find some shelter,” Aurora said, “and maybe some food.” “Always you and the food, Amy.” “What? I’m hungry.” “When are you not?” Lacy’s stomach betrayed her, however, releasing a loud growl that probably could’ve been heard for miles. “But I agree. Any of those vendors look interesting?” “You’d best be finding shelter soon, dears.” An aged flatbread vendor woman said. “Waterlight’s coming soon, and my bones tell me it’s going to be a big storm tonight.” “We have shelter,” Aurora lied, “we just need food.” “Why, you don’t want to pay for anything Old Martha’s selling today, dears,” she replied, “it’s all old and crusty; cold, too. Here, you can get some of this morning’s bread for free.” She handed them some bread wrapped in a towel. “Really?” Lacy asked, taking one the towels. “Like I said, it’s all cold and crusty.” The woman handed Aurora a towle. She took it, but it was most certainly warm. “Thank you,” Aurora said, “we should probably get going now; take cover from the rain.” “Of course, dears, and good luck going through the Parallarity Gate!” The vendor woman looked up to the sky, frowning as the storm clouds started to gather. “Good luck indeed.” Lacy left the vendor first, Aurora not far behind. The platform had become gradually less crowded as the day had worn on, and by now they could see just about anywhere around the gate. The platform itself was about two or three hundred meters in diameter, all made of a cement mix found only in Feylore. The platform was built partially inside the mountain, where a large building mostly obscured the Parallarity Gate. Several trees stood tall and proud within their artificial planters; Aurora sat down beneath one of these, Lacy next to her. “You said we had shelter,” Lacy said, “but we don’t.” Aurora gestured to the tree about them. “Tree,” she said simply. “No tree is going to protect us from the rain.” Lacy chastised. “You could’ve at least told that lady the truth.” “She was nice enough to give us free food; I didn’t want to bother her any more than that.” “How do you know she was nice?” Lacy asked. “She probably wanted something.” “If she had wanted something, she would’ve charged us.” Aurora sighed. “You know, there are nice people in this world.” “Yeah, I know.” Lacy counted on her fingers, displaying all but her thumb on one hand. “At least four. You, the driver guy, that guard, and that lady.” “You’re forgetting yourself,” Aurora replied, “you’re nice.” “Only when I feel like it.” “I might actually agree with that.” Lacy laughed, and the two of them fell into silence. Aurora took a bite out of her bread; it was even warmer on the inside, which only made her feel worse about taking it for free. It was good, though, so she finished it even faster than Lacy did; a rare occurrence during most situations. Lacy finished hers soon afterwards, but immediately took to scanning the skies the second she was done. Maybe five minutes later, the first raindrop of Waterlight dropped nearby, followed by a series of others. Soon, droplets were falling through the branches of the trees, and splattering either next to them or on them. As the rains began to intensify, Aurora opened up their case of belongings and removed one item: a waterproof blanket, draping it on top of the case to protect it from the rains. She then sat back against the trunk of the tree, hoping that the crisscross of branches over their heads would be more compact near their point of origin. Lacy scooted back to sit next to her, hugging her knees up against her chest and resting against the trunk. Sooner rather than later, the rains had turned to torrents, splattering down on top of both Aurora and Lacy. “Icona, I hate Waterlight.” Lacy decided, shivering. “So cold…” Aurora nodded in agreement. She had tucked her feet beneath the waterproof blanket that they had covered their belongings with, but that only did so much for her against the downpour. She hugged her own chest, short sleeves leaving her arms bare past the elbows to catch the cold droplets with nothing but skin. The tree did little to protect them. Along the Parallarity platform, people ran left and right for cover. The merchants had put up awnings and tarps to protect their stalls from the rain, while still others unfurled umbrellas to protect themselves from the torrents. None took a second glance at the two teenage girls huddled beneath a tree, holding each other for warmth from the downpour and waiting for Third Waterlight to be out of the cold. Neither Aurora or Lacy needed that, though. They had each other—they had always had each other. And they had never needed anything else. I learned how to format things! Yay! Edited July 26, 2020 by Channelknight Fadran 7 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Mist she/her Posted July 17, 2020 Report Share Posted July 17, 2020 Interesting. I'd love to read more! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
danex he/him Posted July 18, 2020 Report Share Posted July 18, 2020 Okay, wow, I really liked this. Like really really liked this. I do have a few nitpicky things, but overall easily 9.8/10. On 7/16/2020 at 1:05 PM, Channelknight Fadran said: “Oh for the love of Icona, who cares about luggage? We can get new clothes in Ivinan!” This gave me the wrong impression of Lacy’s character. When I read this for the first time, my impression was that she was some spoiled rich kid who could afford to leave behind their luggage and just get new stuff. Then we learn that they’re broke, homeless orphans, and the luggage isn’t just some stuff...it’s all of their stuff. I get maybe wanting to show her being impatient, but it comes across the wrong way, at least to me. On 7/10/2020 at 4:51 PM, Channelknight Fadran said: “Oh, Class Identification?” Garnell replied. “Just an easy way to keep track of us soldiers, I guess. Fighters and Heavies in the front, mages and Artilleries in the back, right?” This seems to be a reference to like DnD style character classes, but I have a hard time believing an actual army would organize it’s men like this. I think I’d need to know more about the war they’re fighting, like is it defensive? Are they invading? What’s the status of the country as a whole, economically? The method that the soldiers get equipment seems iffy too. How prosperous is this nation that they can afford to let its soldiers choose where to fight, how to fight, and what to fight with? It’s like the army signup papers are actually just a DnD character sheet. Those are just some little details that bothered me or seemed a bit inconsistent. Overall I really really liked it and I would very much want to read the rest. It seems that there’s some sort of worldbuilding magic stuffs going on with the weather in the form of “Waterlight” and that seems really cool. Is the weather on like a perfectly predictable cycle or something? That’s cool, I like that. All the characters seem really in-depth so far as well, really good writing. I hope you share more of the story because I’m genuinely enjoying it! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 18, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 18, 2020 58 minutes ago, Danex said: This gave me the wrong impression of Lacy’s character. When I read this for the first time, my impression was that she was some spoiled rich kid who could afford to leave behind their luggage and just get new stuff. Then we learn that they’re broke, homeless orphans, and the luggage isn’t just some stuff...it’s all of their stuff. I get maybe wanting to show her being impatient, but it comes across the wrong way, at least to me. Perhaps I should rewrite that line. I can see how it would confuse somebody. 58 minutes ago, Danex said: This seems to be a reference to like DnD style character classes, but I have a hard time believing an actual army would organize it’s men like this. I think I’d need to know more about the war they’re fighting, like is it defensive? Are they invading? What’s the status of the country as a whole, economically? The method that the soldiers get equipment seems iffy too. How prosperous is this nation that they can afford to let its soldiers choose where to fight, how to fight, and what to fight with? It’s like the army signup papers are actually just a DnD character sheet. I did want to incorporate some D&D-style adventuring party stuff into my army, because I like D&D. I intentionally made things a little unclear to provide some intrigue, but for now I'll just tell you that the Silverclad Enclave is very organized. As for how the war itself works... well, that's a little complicated, and I'll hopefully clear some of it up with the next few chapters. 1 hour ago, Danex said: Those are just some little details that bothered me or seemed a bit inconsistent. Overall I really really liked it and I would very much want to read the rest. It seems that there’s some sort of worldbuilding magic stuffs going on with the weather in the form of “Waterlight” and that seems really cool. Is the weather on like a perfectly predictable cycle or something? That’s cool, I like that. All the characters seem really in-depth so far as well, really good writing. I hope you share more of the story because I’m genuinely enjoying it! Well, thank you for pointing those things out! And also, yeah; the weather's really, really predictable. Why? Because I was bored and I wanted it to. 2 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 18, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 18, 2020 (edited) Speaking of the next post: Spoiler Chapter III - Dainspeech Second Waterlight | The plains, Ivinan After traveling for what felt like forever—though it couldn’t have been longer than a few hours—Dain had taken Corrin and the other soldiers to a set of large, interconnected tents along the road to the Broken Fields. They did not completely protect them from the rains, but kept them mostly dry nonetheless. Corrin was content with this, but his captain was not. “Look at the state of this place!” Dain was gesturing to a tear in the side of a tent. “They call this place a camp, and it doesn’t even keep us dry!” “Is he always like this?” Corrin whispered to Garnell. “Well, yes and no.” Garnell seesawed his hands. “There are a number of factors that go into his occasional grumpiness. Usually, it has somethin’ to do with his bein’ tired and a lack of quality in the place where he’s supposed to sleep.” Dain turned his eye on Garnell. “Is there a problem?” Garnell laughed. “No problem. Corrin’s just complaining about you.” “I’m not… complaining.” He turned to face Dain, who had raised an eyebrow. “What’s the problem, soldier?” Dain asked. “I, uh…” “Speak up so I can hear you.” Corrin cleared his throat. “I, well… don’t you think you’re being a little nitpicky?” Any quiet conversations that had been filling the background silence before were suddenly hushed as several soldiers looked over at Corrin, faces a mixture of disbelief, amusement, and interest. Corrin felt his own fingers tug towards the sword at his side, but he managed to reassure himself that he would not be needing it. “Perhaps,” Dain replied, “but answer me this, Soldier Corrin. In the case that a massive army of demons assault the walls about Ivinan City, and said walls have to hold out for exactly three days before reinforcements from Camp Ember arrive, then what would make the difference between invasion and not? There are no stronger defenses in the Iconar Collective than that of Ivinan City’s mighty barricades, but even the impenetrable can become penetrable if there is but one weakness in them. “Even the smallest crack, the tiniest nesting hole, could be enough to allow the walls to come crashing down in the case that a Decayer manages to strike the perfect spot. It may be nitpicky, Soldier. Perhaps eyeing every mishandled stitch in the fabric of this tent is unnecessary for the purpose it provides, but if the smallest break in your shield there is enough to let one of those denizens of Sunken Deep pierce through your own defenses and cut out your heart on the end of its spear, then I strongly suggest that you patch it up.” With that, Dain left the tent, stepping out into the rains of Waterlight for what reason Corrin could not tell. To Corrin’s left, Garnell was whistling quietly. “Well, well,” he said, “Mareth, how long was that?” One of the spearmen, lanky, sword-wielding, and wearing a purple coat that signified him as a Striker—the rank above Soldier—tapped the table a couple of times, running something through his mind, before replying, “five, I think. Recruited early Third Firelight, its early Second Waterlight… that makes five hours. New record.” Garnell and some of the other soldiers burst out laughing, though the axe-wielding man to Corrin’s left was certainly the loudest. Corrin frowned, unsure how to react. “I’m sorry, lad,” Garnell said, managing to contain his laughter, “We haven’t gotten a tenacious soldier like yourself in ages! Five hours. Icona, it took me three days!” “What in Sunken Deep’s demons are you talking about?” Corrin demanded. “Dainspeeches!” The soldier called Mareth replied. “What you just got was a Dainspeech. Whenever you ask him a question that digs even the tiniest bit under his skin, he’ll hit you full in the face with all the military knowledge his time in the Enclave has given him over the years. Everybody gets one eventually, so we time how long it takes for each new recruit to get their first,” he chuckled a little, “and you just blew the record away like a dead leaf at Second Airlight.” “What was the… previous record?” Corrin inquired, still confused. “One day, seven hours.” Another soldier said. He was tall and thin, with the most angular face Corrin had ever seen. He also wore a Striker’s uniform. Corrin’s eyes, however, were immediately drawn to a large red birthmark just underneath his eye. “To me.” A completely identical soldier—minus the birthmark—frowned. “Um, no, it wasn’t to you, Iolar, it was to me.” “Shut it, Quarden.” “Twins?” Corrin whispered to Garnell. “Twins.” Garnell replied at an equal tone, nodding. He then raised his voice and called, “wasn’t it to both of you?” “I was talking to Dain first!” The one with the birthmark—Iolar—said. “Yes, but I was talking to him before he started.” The other one—Quarden—replied. “So I’m the most likely candidate.” “What were you even talking about?” Corrin asked. “Oh, uh…” Iolar frowned. “Good question.” “Something about science.” Quarden said, tapping his chin. Mareth sighed. “Dain was talking about plants or whatever and how heat made them grow? And then you two interrupted him and talked about photosync or something.” “Photosynthesis!” Quarden replied. “And yes, now I remember. He told us that it didn’t matter what your enemy ate for breakfast that morning, your sword was still gonna cut them up.” “Then we cut him short by correcting him and telling him that we were not, in fact, using swords—” “And, rather, a couple pokey polearms.” Quarden nodded. “Those were good times!” “Then he assigned you to latrine duty for three days.” Mareth recalled. “We asked him if what your enemy ate for breakfast mattered for what left them over the chamber pot.” Iolar laughed. “And then he extended our duties to a week.” Quarden concluded. Corrin blinked. “That… was a story.” “By the time we’re countin’ the minutes until the next recruit’s Dainspeech, you’ll have a few of your own to tell.” Garnell assured him. “Aye, but you gotta meet everyone, though! No reason to be left out just because you’re new; your first Dainspeech is basically your initiation to the group. “This here’s Mareth,” Garnell said, gesturing to Mareth, who waved hello, “fellow Fighter Class to you and me. Almost as reckless as I am! Always gettin’ himself hurt.” “I do not!” Mareth interjected. “Always get myself hurt.” “And your nineteen battle scars?” Garnell asked. “Including the one you managed to get underneath your—” “Okay!” Mareth yelped, “so I’m a little… tolerant of pain.” “I think you’re just crazy.” “To each their own.” Mareth decided. Garnell took that as an excuse to move along the introductions, gesturing at the twins. “Iolar and Quarden. Spearboys.” “Spearmen.” Iolar corrected. “Spearman.” Quarden said. “Iolar here’s just a spear.” “You’ve basically met ‘em already.” Garnell admitted. “Ain’t much underneath the surface there.” “There’s plenty of us underneath the surface!” Quarden countered. “Bones, blood, those muscley things—” “You mean muscles?” “Yeah, muscles.” Quarden replied. “Okay, so there isn’t much of us beneath the surface.” “Speak for yourself.” Iolar said. “I’m basically a genius.” Quarden and Garnell both snorted near simultaneously, the second scoffing, “genius. I’d sooner believe that Corrin was a Channelknight!” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Iolar asked. “I think what Garnell’s trying to say,” Corrin replied, “is that he thinks you’re an idiot.” Corrin expected some rebuke there, but instead everyone inside the tent burst out laughing—Iolar included. Garnell was louder than the others, gesturing weakly at Corrin and saying “you pick up fast, lad!” Corrin frowned. “What?” Garnell patted him on the back—slapped him, really. “You’re gonna fit right in, lad.” “Good to… know.” Corrin replied, still confused. The others stopped laughing, and Garnell continued introducing him to the many soldiers and strikers by whom he was surrounded. “That there’s Teren, Dain’s brother or summat. He won’t actually tell us.” “That’s because you don’t need to know.” Teren replied. He did share some resemblance with Dain, but not a lot. Across his back was a quiver and a bow, and in his hands was one of his many arrows. Garnell, evidently content with Teren’s reply, pointed to another person. “That there’s John, our heavy-armorer. Only guy on the crew with an axe bigger than mine! And here you have Uia. He’s our mage; Water Arcana, mostly. Kent here’s our only cavalry, but that’s okay; you don’t usually find anyone on horseback for in a single squadron.” John was possibly even taller than Garnell, and definitely larger around. His arms were thick and covered in tough-looking muscles. Despite his intimidating demeanor, he seemed nice enough, exchanging in pleasant (albeit short) conversation with Corrin. Uia didn’t speak much, claiming that he was “not good with people” when Corrin tried to talk to him. Regardless, the short, possibly gnomish man wore the white-and-blue robes of a Master Water Mage, so Corrin had reason to respect him. Kent was staring off into the distance when Corrin introduced himself, and barely spoke a word other than “that’s okay” or “I see,” thoughts obviously far, far away from the matter at hand. Apparently, those three soldiers along with the strikers Iolar, Quarden, Mareth, and Teren served as Garnell’s close confidantes within the squadron. There were some other soldiers, but they largely kept to themselves. All of these carried spears, except one, who had a couple handaxes strapped to his belt. “So… four fighters, nine spearmen, two artillery, one mage, one heavy armorer and a cavalier?” Corrin asked, trying to remember everyone’s specialities. “What about rogue class? Infiltrator?” “You been studyin’ the Ideal Squadron things?” Garnell asked. “Aye, that’s right lad. A good squadron’s got mostly spears, with some fighters up front, a heavy-armorer somewhere between the pikes and the swordsmen, an artillery and a mage or two, and an infiltrator. We’ve got most of those, plus a cavalier, but you’re right in sayin’ that we don’t got any rogue on our team. That’s fine, though; not all squadrons are ideal. Icona, most aren’t as good as ours!” “So we don’t reconnaissance?” Corrin asked. “Well, yes and no.” Garnell seesawed his hands. “We generally get a description of what’s going on when we take a mission. Destroy a camp, attack a supply train—that kind of thing. Dain tends to scout out the area before we attack, though, and everything usually ends up fine.” “Is he really that great?” Corrin asked. “Dain?” “Like I said—best in the business.” Garnell cracked his knuckles. “Though he does have his weaknesses.” “And those are?” Garnell chuckled. “It’s not my place to tell you those, now is it?” He yawned, stretching. “You should get some sleep.” A voice said. Corrin looked up, pulse quickening for just a second. Dain had reentered the tent, hair matted and soaked with the rain from outside. His uniform and trousers were equally wet. “Would you like me to dry those off, sir?” Uia asked, wrapping a Clothwand about his hand. “If you don’t mind.” Dain replied. Uia closed his eyes, then after a second, flicked his hand backwards. The water covering Dain’s clothing seeped away from the fabric, floating in midair as a thousand little droplets. Mareth jumped out of his seat—the ground—and opened the flap to the tent. Uia opened his eyes, then swung his arm in the direction of the door, the water launching outside like an stone off of a child’s sling. Corrin nodded. “Pretty good—better than I did back at the Academy.” Uia smiled, looking slightly embarrassed. “I… that’s all I really do around here.” Dain nodded to Corrin. “Soldier. I take it that you’ve been… initiated?” “That he has.” Mareth replied. “Broke the record, too.” Corrin cleared his throat. “My apologies, sir.” “No need for that.” Dain replied. “Questioning your leaders is never to be discouraged, except during one situation.” “On the battlefield.” Garnell whispered to Corrin. “On the battlefield.” Dain said, confirming Garnell’s predictions. Whether or not he had heard Corrin’s childhood friend, he had no idea. “There, its simply your duty to follow orders and stay alive.” “Don’t those occasionally contradict each other?” Corrin asked. “They can,” Dain admitted, “but in the case that your captain’s orders and your own well-being are in conflict… well, that’s when you have to find courage for yourself.” “Stick to your orders?” “Sometimes, its more courageous to disobey and protect yourself.” Dain replied. “But it’s different for everyone.” He cleared his throat. “Everyone, I have an announcement to make.” The collective of soldiers and strikers in the tent quieted down. Dain, however, did not speak yet, instead watching as a wave of anticipation slowly grew. “It’s bedtime.” He said finally. “Get some sleep.” The anticipation broke, and Garnell released one last chuckle. “I’ve been waitin’ to hear that line all night.” “Why didn’t you just go to sleep earlier?” Corrin asked, glancing about for a clear spot to lie down. “With all this racket?” Garnell replied. “Like trying to put out a wildfire with a bellows.” “Half of the noise is your own.” Corrin said. “And half of it isn’t.” Garnell didn’t bother finding a comfortable spot; he simply collapsed where he was sitting and rested his head on his arms. Corrin took the time to spread out a bedroll on the floor, glad to see that he wasn’t the only one—it would’ve been awful it he had gotten strange looks for being the only soldier who tried to keep himself warm while he slept. In fact, Garnell was one of the few that didn’t; he was already snoring, however. Pulling himself into the bedroll, Corrin allowed the day’s memories to flow over each other as his body broke out from the day’s walk. Soon, the barest thought of movement evaded Corrin’s limbs, and the darkness of sleep took him into the unknown. Spoiler Chapter IV - The Parallarity Third Waterlight | Feylore Midway Shivering, tired, and soaked by the rain, Aurora passed the slip of paper the guard had given her to the man at Parallarity Gate F. He wore the same uniform as all the other guards, the one thing setting him apart from the others being his age. The guard considered their note. “So… Cyril is back to his old tricks again, huh? Ah, well, I suppose I’d better let you through.” He took their passes, stamping them then sliding them back to the two of them. “Enjoy your trip through the Parallarity.” He gestured them towards the large stone building that housed the Gate. Aurora and Lacy both thanked him in turn as they passed by the guard’s desk to the Gate building. There was a short line here, but it moved forwards quickly, and barely a minute after entering the line, the two girls found themselves standing before the door of the large, stone, domelike building sitting perfectly dry in the mountain cave. “Half a second, you two.” The guard by the door said. He peeked into the building through a slit in the door. After a few seconds of looking, he opened it for them. “Alright, head on through.” Lacy pushed through the door before it was barely half open, followed by Aurora, who had chosen to be more prudent with her entry. Inside, a single archway stood beneath the light of a few dozen candles, flanked by two men in robes. Both men looked like they had seen many years, and day by day guessed when their last surprise would catch them. “Hello, young ones.” The first man said. “Are you prepared to enter the Parallarity and travel to Midway?” “Yes, please.” Aurora said, shivering in her soaked clothing. “How does it work?” “Simply walk through the gate.” The other answered. “The Parallarity will do the rest.” Aurora and Lacy exchanged a glance, then the younger of the two walked through the archway. She did not reappear on the other side, though. Rather, she vanished from Aurora’s view entirely. Aurora blinked, but didn’t think twice of it. “My turn?” One of the men gestured at the archway in answer. Aurora took an unconscious breath, then stepped through the gate. For a moment, her vision was blank and dark, but it quickly returned, and her breath caught. She was no longer in the torchlit stone room back in the mountains of Feylore. Rather, she was standing within an enormous marble chamber, packed with people of all races from the Iconar Collective. Held up by intricately-carved pillars and hardwood archways crisscrossing the ceiling, with brightstones shedding light on every nook and cranny so that the entire room shone like the firesun, it was a little hard not to stare. Behind her, a stone archway identical to that of Feylore stood, surrounded by a loose circle of marble fenceposts behind which the crowds of people flocked, each person portraying varying levels of annoyance and impatience. Some shot her and Lacy glares, waiting for them to exit the circle and let them go on their way into Feylore. Lacy, who Aurora had barely noticed walking through the gate, grabbed her arm. “Come on!” She said, excited. She gestured to their case of belongings, which she had been awkwardly dragging across the floors without Aurora’s help. “Help me out with this; we’re in Midway!” Aurora didn’t need to be told twice. She picked up the other end of the case and helped Lacy carry it out of the circle and into the crowds. They immediately found themselves in the sea of people, struggling to navigate them and their belongings. Only the occasional attentive person ever made way for them; everyone else remained as tightly packed as a herd of cows inside someone’s closet. After a chaotic and claustrophobic minute or two of pushing through the crowds, Aurora could feel Lacy tugging on her end of the case, pulling her out from between two humans and into an open space. Aurora stumbled a little, then righted herself and looked around to get her bearings. Behind her, the initial crowd of people that she assumed had been filling the entire building stood in a rough circle around the gate, barely filling a third of the room. Here in the significantly less claustrophobic area of the chamber, Aurora and Lacy could easily carry their belongings, able to avoid any person who happened across them. They found a row of benches (most of which were empty), where they took a seat to rest their arms for a minute. “So we’re in Midway,” Aurora said, “but now what? The Arcane Academy is in Ivinan, but how do we get there? Wasn’t there supposed to be someone here to take us to Ivinan? A guide or something?” Lacy shrugged. “I don’t know. I think there was, but…” She gestured to the heavy crowd of people around the Parallarity Gate. “I mean, how are we supposed to find them in that mess?” “We could ask around.” Aurora suggested. Lacy snorted. “Because that would work. ‘Hey, have you seen a person recently? We don’t know who they are or what they look like.’” She gestured at the crowds again. “Because there’s obviously no one here who fits that description.” “Oh, lighten up.” Aurora replied. “We’re in Midway now! Let’s go get some fresh air.” “I thought I was the optimistic one.” Lacy said, frowning. “You’re supposed to be the depressed cynic.” “I’m not depressed.” Aurora said. “Cynical, yes, though.” Lacy stretched her arms. “Right, then. Let’s go.” They grabbed their luggage and made for the exit. The people were slightly more crowded around here, but nowhere near as clustered together as they were around the Gate. Aurora and Lacy could easily push through, and after a short struggle trying to push open the doors, they broke into the outdoors. There was no rain out here; why would there be, in a land without the Dayseasons? No Firelight, Waterlight, Earthlight, or Airlight to be seen or heard of here. However, despite the lack of rain, small particles still fell from the sky. In front of the two girls, a pack of people wearing some expensive-looking clothing frowned at the skies and unfurled some umbrellas; or had a servant do it for them. The less wealthy simply ignored the downfall of the white, snowlike particles. Around them, children grabbed at the flakes, rarely succeeding in their attempts. While she had heard the stories, Aurora did frown at the particles. They weren’t snow. In fact, they smelled of quite the opposite; smoke. Lacy grabbed Aurora’s arm, tugging on her sleeve. Aurora turned to Lacy, but she wasn’t looking at her. Lacy pointed off into the distance, pointing to a massive black cloud. No, not a cloud. A plume of smoke. “Is that—” Aurora asked, not that she needed to be answered. Lacy nodded. “The war.” For a moment, they just stood and stared. Though they had to be miles and miles away, Aurora could’ve sworn she that she could’ve seen the hail of arrows, blasts of fire from the mages, and heard the battle cries from humans and demons alike as they clashed sword on sword in the thick of the battlefield. “You don’t think that’ll be us in a few years, do you?” Lacy asked, interrupting Aurora’s thoughts. “Mages on the battlefield?” Aurora frowned. “I sure hope not; all that looks pretty chaotic.” Lacy sat down on their case. “Well, even if that happens, we have to become mages first. Which means, first and foremost, we have to get to Ivinan. That was supposed to happen after a certain few people came to take us there. However, their lack of presence here makes me paranoid about if we’re ever going to get to Ivinan, become mages, and possibly join the army.” Aurora blinked. “Well aren’t you a little pessimistic?” Lacy nodded, sighing. “You’re right. I’ve got to be more upbeat, don’t I?” She cleared her throat, falsely deepening her voice. “I’m sure that those certain few people are only a few minutes away from dragging us to mage school in Ivinan and drafting us into the military! We just have to be patient.” Aurora laughed. “Very nice.” “Aurora?” A voice called. “Lacy?” A rushed-looking woman wearing a mage’s robe ran forwards, eyes locked on the two of them. “Is that you, you two?” Aurora looked to the woman. “It’s us.” A look of relief flashed across the woman’s face, her hand leaping to her chest. “Thank goodness! We’ve all been worried sick.” She rushed forwards, offering her free hand. “I’m Geniora, Master Arcane Mage. I’ll be your Earth Arcana instructor at the Academy.” “Really?” Aurora asked. “Like, they sent an actual Master to get us, and not some servant?” “Of course!” Geniora smiled. “You children may very well be the future of Ivinan and the Iconar Collective. Besides; we don’t have servants.” She turned to leave, beckoning them to her. “Come, now! You were supposed to be in Ivinan and on your way to the Academy hours ago. We haven’t a moment to lose!” “See?” Lacy said, getting up and grabbing one end of their case. “I told you that we should’ve been optimistic.” Aurora laughed, grabbing the other end. They carried it awkwardly after the mage, until Geniora turned around and frowned. “Oh, allow me to get that.” She picked it up and slung it over her shoulder, and despite the loose sleeves of Geniora’s robes, Aurora could clearly see the lines of powerful muscles barely straining to lift such a heavy load. “Follow me, you two. The sooner we get to Ivinan, the better.” Geniora led them through the streets of Feylore Midway. Lining the cobblestone walkways were buildings big and small; mostly taverns, inns, and shops, but a few houses stood as well. Merchants called for people to buy their wares, which they had brought from realms across the Iconar Collective—the finest metalwork of Drakefell, medicines from Vitera, even empty Soulcages from Carnon. “You there!” One merchant called, pointing to Lacy. He did not stand before a shop, or even behind a vendor cart. He carried a large backpack, but as far as Aurora could tell, that was the only thing he had on him. “Could a beautiful young lady like yourself be interested in one of my handcrafted flutes?” Lacy shook her head. “No, sorry.” “We don’t have any money on us.” Aurora told him. “I never said I wanted money.” The merchant replied. “If wealth was only determined by crescents, then this would be a sad, dark world.” “We should probably… go…” Aurora said, awkwardly sliding away from the merchant and towards Geniora. Lacy followed her, eyes still on the merchant. “We’ll meet each other again.” The merchant said. Aurora raised an eyebrow at the strange remark, but for some reason she found herself nodding, and somehow believing this stranger. As they left, she could hear the strange merchant laughing quietly to himself. “What do you say, Icona? Channelgirl or no?” Edited July 26, 2020 by Channelknight Fadran 7 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
danex he/him Posted July 18, 2020 Report Share Posted July 18, 2020 Okay, this time I’m gonna record my thoughts as I read it, First impressions and all that. Dain’s giving me Kaladin + Dockson post-Kelsiers Death vibes. Kal but less depressed and maybe more professional? More veteran-y. I like him. 14 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Corrin blinked. I like it when authors do stuff like this. I really can’t explain it, but it’s good. 15 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “Berserkia don’t exist.” Garnell said. Name’s a bit on the nose. Also, The Thrill. 16 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “There’s plenty of us underneath the surface!” Quarden countered. “Bones, blood, those muscley things—” “You mean muscles?” “Yeah, muscles.” Quarden replied. Lol. 18 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “genius. I’d sooner believe that Corrin was a Channelknight!” 19 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “So… four fighters, nine spearmen, two artillery, one mage, one heavy armorer and a cavalier?” Corrin asked, trying to remember everyone’s specialities. “What about rogue class? Infiltrator?” D&D party. 20 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “We generally get a description of what’s going on when we take a mission. Destroy a camp, attack a supply train—that kind of thing. D&D quests. 21 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Uia closed his eyes, then after a second, flicked his hand backwards. The water covering Dain’s clothing seeped away from the fabric, floating in midair as a thousand little droplets. Waterbendiiiiinnng 22 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Corrin nodded. “Nicely done.” Ok, first actual nitpick. Corrin is brand new and the way this is phrased makes it seem a little condescending. Like a superior talking to someone serving under them. Corrin just thought: 24 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Regardless, the short, possibly gnomish man wore the white-and-blue robes of a Master Water Mage, so Corrin had reason to respect him. I think Corrin should be a little more....impressed? I think Uia’s response can be exactly the same, but maybe Corrin should just say “Woah!”. Although, maybe Corrin wouldn’t really be that impressed because I assume Corrin’s had experience with magic before from what he says in the first chapter. Anyways, back to reading the rest. 30 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Corrin took the time to spread out a bedroll on the floor, glad to see that he wasn’t the only one—it would’ve been awful it he had gotten strange looks for being the only soldier who tried to keep himself warm while he slept. In fact, Garnell was one of the few that didn’t; he was already snoring, however. I like this paragraph, does a good job of showing the mild anxiety that comes with joining a new group. Makes everything seem more natural. All-in-all, I liked this chapter just as much as the first 2. Maybe better considering how I only had one tiny nitpick instead of 2. I’m very intrigued with this whole world, I have so many questions. If this was a published book, I don’t think I’d be able to put it down so far. I’ll read chapter 4 later however, as I gotta do some work now. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 18, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 18, 2020 4 minutes ago, Danex said: Name’s a bit on the nose. Also, The Thrill. I might take that out. I barely remember adding it, so it's probably not important. Quote Quote Ok, first actual nitpick. Corrin is brand new and the way this is phrased makes it seem a little condescending. Like a superior talking to someone serving under them. Corrin just thought: I think Corrin should be a little more....impressed? I think Uia’s response can be exactly the same, but maybe Corrin should just say “Woah!”. Although, maybe Corrin wouldn’t really be that impressed because I assume Corrin’s had experience with magic before from what he says in the first chapter. Anyways, back to reading the rest. You're right about this part. Dunno how I'm gonna change it yet, but you're right. Quote Waterbendiiiiinnng WATERBENDIIIIINNNG 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
danex he/him Posted July 19, 2020 Report Share Posted July 19, 2020 Ok, let’s read the next chapter, shall we? 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Lacy pushed through the door before it was barely half open, followed by Aurora, who had chosen to be more prudent with her entry. There goes Lacy being impatient again. I like how you keep the characters consistent. 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “Hello, young ones.” The first man said. “Are you prepared to enter the Parallarity and travel to Midway?” “Yes, please.” Aurora said, shivering in her soaked clothing. “How does it work?” “Simply walk through the gate.” The other answered. “The Parallarity will do the rest.” Aurora and Lacy exchanged a glance, then the younger of the two walked through the archway. She did not reappear on the other side, though. Rather, she vanished from Aurora’s view entirely. Aurora blinked, but didn’t think twice of it. “My turn?” One of the men gestured at the archway in answer. Aurora took an unconscious breath, then stepped through the gate. For a moment, her vision was blank and dark, but it quickly returned, and her breath caught. She was no longer in the torchlit stone room back in the mountains of Feylore. Rather, she was standing within an enormous marble chamber, packed with people of all races from the Iconar Collective. Held up by intricately-carved pillars and hardwood archways crisscrossing the ceiling, with brightstones shedding light on every nook and cranny so that the entire room shone like the firesun, it was a little hard not to stare. Wooo, lotta subtle world building here. “Brightstones”, “firesun”, “Feylore”. More examples of magic. Very nice. Not blatantly explaining much, just dropping words here and there. 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Lacy snorted. “Because that would work. ‘Hey, have you seen a person recently? We don’t know who they are or what they look like.’” She gestured at the crowds again. “Because there’s obviously no one here who fits that description.” Lol again. 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: There was no rain out here; why would there be, in a land without the Dayseasons? More subtle worldbuilding. Very nice. 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “We’ll meet each other again.” The merchant said. HOID HOID HOID HOID 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Firelight, Waterlight, Earthlight, or Airlight 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: Uia closed his eyes, then after a second, flicked his hand backwards. The water covering Dain’s clothing seeped away from the fabric, floating in midair as a thousand little droplets. 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: They weren’t snow. In fact, they smelled of quite the opposite; smoke. 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “According to the textbooks, it spans twenty miles at fifty feet tall, and about twenty feet thick.” 11 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: “I’m Geniora, Master Arcane Mage. I’ll be your Earth Arcana instructor at the Academy.” Hmmmm, where have I heard the words “Water, Earth, Fire, and Air” used a lot, seen people have the ability to magically move water, seen smoke be mistaken for snow, and seen a city related to “earth” with a really big wall....... Okay, this was a pretty good chapter. Not a ton happens, kinda just a transition chapter, but we still get a lot of info, So far there’s been a really good balance between Corrin’s POV and the girls. I’m not more invested in one of another. This is good because otherwise people tend to get bored of certain characters POV and only read them to get through to the character they care about. *cough* Sarene *cough* Raoden *cough* I can’t wait to read more of this! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 19, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 19, 2020 5 hours ago, Danex said: HOID HOID HOID HOID Quote Hmmmm, where have I heard the words “Water, Earth, Fire, and Air” used a lot, seen people have the ability to magically move water, seen smoke be mistaken for snow, and seen a city related to “earth” with a really big wall....... Don't worry, I'll stop Avataring and get to more Iconar Collectiving in a few chapters, once I manage to really explain the seperate magic systems. Thanks for all the feedback; and I like that you like it! (Did I really just write that sentence?) 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 19, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 19, 2020 Here's a map of Ivinan by the way. Hope it helps clear some stuff up: 7 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 20, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 (edited) Triple posting! Whoohoo! I am on a roll! This chapter's shorter (a lot shorter), but that's okay, because it's also ambiguous! Spoiler Chapter V - Omens First Earthlight | The plains, Ivinan As the other soldiers breathed quietly in the state of sleep (exempting Garnell, of course, who was releasing a loud series of snores), Dain sat on a stool, sharpening his blade. His whetstone scraped against the blade, shaving off rust, dirt, and oddity stains that could’ve come from anywhere. The rains had ended just minutes ago; and his inability to fall asleep led him to want to do something. So he sharpened his sword, sitting on a stump, staring aimlessly into the distance. You did as I asked, yes? The voice asked him. Dain sighed, then set his sword down. “Listen, Forse… I don’t know what you want.” What I want is inconsequential, it said, it is the path that the Iconar Collective must tread. I asked you to recruit the boy for your own benefit. It’s as simple as that. “You know, for a god, you’re awful at lying.” Even my own powers can only see so far into the future. What I see is the boy becoming a great asset to your squadron. Perhaps there is a greater reason behind his recruitment, but for now, I can only see so far. “A great asset, huh?” Dain replied, picking up his sword and continuing to sharpen it. “It’s about time you gave me something useful with all your magical fortune telling. I swear an oath in your name, join your little demon cult, and it takes you five years to get me something as useful as a great asset?” It didn’t reply, to Dain’s frustration. He continued sharpening his sword. Scraaape… Scraaape… Ping! Dain looked down, sighing as he realized that his whetstone had struck against his crossguard in his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t even seen it coming. He blew off some metal dust that had fallen there, then grabbed an oiling cloth and began cleaning around the tiny scrape. It didn’t take long, and even though there was still a small indent in the crossguard, Dain didn’t bother to clean any longer. He oiled his blade, then slid it back into its sheath at his waist. He stood up, but before he could walk back to the conjoined series of tents, Garnell woozily got up and stumbled out into the forest. Dain didn’t look twice at him; he knew that Garnell would be getting up to answer nature’s calls any second now. After Garnell was out of sight, Dain began whistling a tune—and just seconds later, a songbird started mimicking it. Dain looked up at the bird, observing it for a few seconds, then slipped into the nearest tent and took a seat on a small barrel of weapon oil. On the wall, a coat hung out to dry from the Waterlight rains. Dain winced for a second, and then watched it tumble off its hook onto the ground. Whoever it belonged to—hopefully they didn’t mind their uniform dirty. What a curse. Dain thought to himself. Knowing all this. You chose it. The voice replied. A few minutes later, Dain looked up and was unsurprised to see Garnell returning from his trip to nature’s latrines. He held up a hand to greet him, making the gigantic man jump. “Oh, Dain!” Garnell said. “Didn’t see you there.” He laughed to himself a little. “I s’ppose you saw me comin’ a mile away, huh?” “Not quite a mile, but I knew you were coming.” Dain replied. “Yeah, I guess. Also… I never had a chance to actually thank you for recruitin’ Corrin.” Garnell said. “He’s been wantin’ and workin’ to be a soldier ever since his parents were killed by demons.” “Same old story, then?” Dain asked. “Same ol’ story.” Garnell replied. “Even he gets that.” Dain nodded, partially out of understanding, and partially out of respect. Most soldiers that joined the Enclave wanted to avenge a loved one, often a parent—but most didn’t understand that everyone else was there for the same reason. It wasn’t so uncommon to have a soldier holding his life’s struggles higher than everyone else’s despite the fact that they weren’t any worse than the next person; so someone who understood that they weren’t the only one was a relief, when they could be found. “Is he a good person?” Dain asked. “He’s got fire—and I can respect that—but on a personal level, is he…?” “If you’re askin’ if whether he’s a self-centered, uncarin’, demon-style jerk, then yes. Yes, he is a decent person.” “You know what I mean, Garnell.” Garnell chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. I don’t know how he is in a fight, but he works hard, tries to protect other people, loyal as sin; you don’t find his type on every recruitment board.” “Does he follow orders well?” Dain asked. “Just out of curiosity, of course.” “Of course.” Garnell echoed, chuckling. “Also, no idea. I’ll tell you what, though; he can give them like an angry parent. We always won whenever we played soldier as kids, and I’ve never seen him lose a game of Arcala to anybody except his own uncle.” “So a strategist, then?” Garnell shrugged. “I don’t know how well stick-and-pinecone battles translate to real war, but yeah, I suppose he is.” “So a great asset to the team, huh?” Garnell frowned. “Yeah… I guess you could say it like that.” Dain nodded. “Nice… well, we’d best be getting some sleep, then.” “Yup.” Garnell yawned and stretched. “‘Night, Dain.” “Goodnight.” Unfortunately, sleep meant dreams. It wasn’t that Dain wasn’t used to them—rather, he could usually tell they were coming even before he fell asleep—it was that he wasn’t particularly fond of them. His first few were normal; well, as normal as dreams could ever be. Snowball fights with Garnell, for one, which was rudely interrupted by a fifty-foot-tall demon. Then, he and Teren were standing back to back, wielding fire pokers at an onslaught of flower-creatures craving human blood. This shifted to him falling endlessly into the Red Valley Rift, grabbing at thin air to try and stop his fall. Then, his dreams became more coherent. In this distance, an army of people of from every realm—humans, dragons, and dwarves fighting alongside each other, the fleekers and vampires defending each other. Dain couldn’t see who they were fighting against, but he didn’t need to; he’d killed those creatures of filth a thousand times—and with none other than the literal king of demons, Calamitous Oblivion himself, fighting at his side. Dain swung around instinctively, yanking his sword from its sheath at his side and slashing through the air. Just as he did, a scream pierced the air, and a birdlike creature fell to the ground, neck cut clean through by Dain’s blade. “Excellent form,” Calamitous Oblivion, king of demons, said, “have you been practicing?” Dain didn’t reply, rather growling and turning to face a group of hairy, spider-like creatures. All their legs, save two, were on the front of their bodies, so that they almost looked like a walking mop. They hesitated, out of reach from his blade, until one reared back and jumped at him. Dain sliced it out of the air, then moved his blade to guard his chest as a second jumped mere moments after. One after the other jumped at him, and he mercilessly slew them all. Just behind those, a human with glowing black eyes charged at him, holding a sword in a fashion that could only mean harm to Dain. However, the human’s skills were lacking, and Dain cut him down with ease. Aside from the spider-creatures and bird monsters, the most abundant of his adversaries were corrupted people. Behind him, he could hear a similar battle originating from the demon king. As much as Dain wished he didn’t have periodical dreams with the Calamitous, it was nice to have a suitable warrior behind him. Once, he had run away from the demon king, and after a corrupted dwarf had smashed his chest in with a massive hammer, Dain had woken up in a cold sweat, an awful aching in his chest where the dwarf had hit him. Since then, he had stayed near Calamitous Oblivion—though reluctantly. The companionship with who he considered his worst enemy hadn’t always protected him, but he didn’t want to take any chances. “Say, this battle isn’t as bad as the others, don’t you think?” Calamitous Oblivion said. “Remember last week’s? I got my arm cut off then.” “No more than you deserve.” Dain replied, scowling as he cut up a flock of the bird monsters. Calamitous Oblivion stabbed at a spider monster. “Now, that’s not very nice. I had an actual battle to lead that morning, and I had to put it off just because I couldn’t move my arm! I lost no shortage of ground to the Silverclad Enclave that day.” “Good.” After a moment of silence—as silent as a battlefield could ever be, that was—Calamitous Oblivion spoke up again. “You know, I don’t enjoy these dreams any more than you do.” “Who says you’re actually here?” Dain ducked beneath a wide-swung sword. “You’re probably out killing good men in Central Midway right now, and not even thinking about it.” “That’s not true. I’m currently asleep, and for good reason. One of those soldiers managed to stab me in the arm awhile back, and I’ve been healing up since. That soldier died honorably.” “Says you.” Dain spat. “You’re just a mindless killer. You made that up; a monster like you wouldn’t remember any one soldier they killed.” “I remember all of them.” The Calamitous replied quietly, not for the first time. “No less than you deserve.” “So I’ve been told.” The demon king sighed. Dain ran a corrupted fleeker through the chest, then said, “I swore to kill you. I swore under Carnon’s name that I’d kill you.” “Pleasant.” “And if I didn’t, I’d be there with the person who did.” “Fancy seeing a Silverclad Enclave captain there in the palace of Sunken Deep, watching and cheering on some challenger opting for position as Calamitous. Would that solve your problem, Dain? You think watching me be beheaded and replaced with an even more powerful demon would end this war any faster? Hm?” “As if you wanted this war to be over.” “I admit, my position as Calamitous is rather supported by the current military squabbles between our nations, and ending this war one way or the other wouldn’t exactly secure my position of power. Regardless, I don’t delight in killing, so perhaps one day you will watch someone run me through the eye with a spearhead, and while I finally get a break from all these voices in my head, you could say ‘I told you so.’” “I hate you.” “So I’ve been told.” “I hate this war.” “I’m not partial to it myself, as I just stated.” “Then why am I dreaming about both?” “Ooh, that’s new.” Calamitous Oblivion cut in an arc with his sword. “I honestly wonder that myself. Perhaps your hatred Forged a Spirit Bond or something? Not that I’m an expert on these things—I can barely Decay—but I have learned a thing or two from those who can.” “Can’t I just wake up already?” “You think I don’t want to? Dreams are dreams.” Dain sighed in frustration and anger, then cut through a group of corrupted humans. I am going to kill you, Calamitous Oblivion, Dain growled to himself, I swore that on Carnon—I swear it. Edited July 26, 2020 by Channelknight Fadran 5 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
danex he/him Posted July 20, 2020 Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 21 minutes ago, Channelknight Fadran said: On the wall, a coat hung out to dry from the Waterlight rains. Dain winced for a second, and then watched it tumble off its hook onto the ground. Whoever it belonged to—hopefully they didn’t mind their uniform dirty. What a curse. Dain thought to himself. Knowing all this. Consider me......I n t r e g u i e d Hears a god in his head? Demon cults? I like where this is going..... 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 20, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 3 minutes ago, Danex said: Consider me......I n t r e g u i e d Hears a god in his head? Demon cults? I like where this is going..... I like that you like where this is going. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DramaQueen Posted July 20, 2020 Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 5 hours ago, Channelknight Fadran said: I like that you like where this is going. I'm shocked that you didn't say, "Did I really just write that sentence?" Also, I wish I was creative. I feel like I'm good at coming up with original ideas, then I read things like this and my friend's writing and I realize that the story I've gotten the farthest on is a pretty generic fantasy. I have had another idea that I think is pretty original, but I haven't gotten around to writing it. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
theTruthshaper Posted July 20, 2020 Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 3 minutes ago, DramaQueen said: Also, I wish I was creative. I feel like I'm good at coming up with original ideas, then I read things like this and my friend's writing and I realize that the story I've gotten the farthest on is a pretty generic fantasy. I have had another idea that I think is pretty original, but I haven't gotten around to writing it. For me its more like, I get what I think are creative ideas, but then I will try to write them down and just can't. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DramaQueen Posted July 20, 2020 Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 Just now, The_Truthwatcher said: For me its more like, I get what I think are creative ideas, but then I will try to write them down and just can't. That too. Just. All of the blocks. I can't think of creative ideas, but when I do, they don't want to flow or aren't actually creative. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Channelknight Fadran Posted July 20, 2020 Author Report Share Posted July 20, 2020 Well, @The_Truthwatcher and @DramaQueen, there are several steps to writing interesting fantasy. It doesn't have to be a work of super original ideas and super good writing; you could create something super original and write it not as well, and it'll still be intriguing. Simultaneously, if you take something super generic and write it down really well, then you can make anything sound interesting. And if you don't think you're good at either--well, I don't think that you're bad at either. Don't make excuses. Excuses are BAD. 1 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Awakened Salad they/them Posted July 21, 2020 Report Share Posted July 21, 2020 *poofs into existence* Is Corrin named after the Fire Emblem character by any chance? I think I’ve seen you mention the series before... is definitely not trying to figure out if you’ve played Three Houses. I want to give you feedback but I don’t have the time to write up something decent, sorry. From what little I read I think you have the basis of something really exciting. 23 hours ago, The_Truthwatcher said: For me its more like, I get what I think are creative ideas, but then I will try to write them down and just can't. 23 hours ago, DramaQueen said: That too. Just. All of the blocks. I can't think of creative ideas, but when I do, they don't want to flow or aren't actually creative. I’m not sure if this will work for you two, and I am definitely not qualified to be giving out writing advice, but the best piece of advice I’ve ever received is “Write the book you want to read.” Easier said than done, I know, but if I found that if I stopped focusing on originality and my ideas, and just more on what I thought was cool, what tropes I liked, then everything began to flow a lot more smoothly. There’s a quote from Mistborn that sums it up nicely. I think it’s something like “nothing is original except for style”, and I think that applies to writing, too. Everything we create is a synthesis of our thoughts, feelings, worldview, the stories we’ve consumed, loved, cried over, the world around us, and a whole bunch of other things. If you’re writing it, chances are it’s been written before. But it’s the way in which we explore these ideas (storms, I sound like an English teacher) that makes our stories unique and vibrant. So even if you feel like your ideas are cliche, if you like them, if you feel excited by them, then write anyway! Cliche elements can be changed in a later draft. As for not knowing where to go with ideas, this is something I still struggle with, but I read somewhere that breaking those ideas can really help create a story. Ideas are like eggs (I seemingly can’t help coming up with weird similes). They’re the start of something, but you have to break them if you want to get to the good bits inside. Create problems. Grab your idea(s) (you could combine some if you want) and figure out how things would go wrong. Then make them go wrong. I’m making this sound a lot easier than it is, but it really helps escalate tension and puts characters in tricky situations. Sorry to hijack your thread with my crazy rambles, Fadran. Good luck with your writing! Since I’m supposed to be inactive, I was never here *sneaky Salad exit* 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DramaQueen Posted July 21, 2020 Report Share Posted July 21, 2020 1 minute ago, The Awakened Salad said: (storms, I sound like an English teacher) My English teacher last year was my favorite teacher of all time. And before then, I never had an English teacher I disliked. 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
The Awakened Salad they/them Posted July 21, 2020 Report Share Posted July 21, 2020 (edited) 17 minutes ago, DramaQueen said: My English teacher last year was my favorite teacher of all time. And before then, I never had an English teacher I disliked. Oh no, I don’t have anything against English teachers at all, most of my favourite teachers were English teachers too, I just felt like I was turning into a lecturer and subsequently started feeling bad about it. Edited July 21, 2020 by The Awakened Salad 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
DramaQueen Posted July 21, 2020 Report Share Posted July 21, 2020 12 minutes ago, The Awakened Salad said: Oh no, I don’t have anything against English teachers at all, most of my favourite teachers were English teachers too, I just felt like I was turning into a lecturer and subsequently started feeling bad about it. I didn't assume you were, I was just letting you know that I think English teachers are the best, and you, by sounding like an English teacher, are also the best! 0 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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