When she finally made her way to the main courtyard, the festivities had already begun. Students were playing music on the makeshift stage while first-years awkwardly stood on the side, chatting in groups over food and drinks while more senior students convened near the center, looking like they were waiting for something interesting to happen.
Weaving between boisterous students, she found herself wishing that she could spot someone she recognized from class, but then realized that she had no idea what she would even say. She had never really spoken to them about anything other than school affairs, and even when others did try to converse with her, it was usually because they needed something.
“Ty! Ty!” a voice yelled.
She turned around and saw her duelist hurrying toward her, plate in hand. “Come on, we’re all gathered by a bench near the dining hall.” Alex held out a free hand for the class leader to take, retracting it shyly when it was only met with a confused look. Instead, she waved at her to follow.
Bewildered by her dumb luck, the tactician silently complied and started putting on her cloak when she spotted the rest of her classmates engrossed in their own activities in the distance. It felt better that way.
Callie was the first to greet her, waving at her from behind the bench with a kind smile while sipping on her drink and smiling politely at Elias, who talked at her. And Alex, seeing this, hurriedly waved farewell to Ty before attempting to relieve the shy support.
“Ah, right on time, tact,” snickered Faris from the bench, putting a piece of food in his mouth and pointing his thumb at Theo, who was beside him. “This guy’s got something for you.”
Hanging his head, limp like a doll, Theo remained doubled over.
“Hello,” she spoke quietly, walking up to Theo and trying to initiate conversation for once.
Of course, failing. It was too loud—everyone was too loud.
She drew a deep breath, held it, and then awkwardly took the seat beside him on the bench, stiffly clutching her bag in her lap as she tried again.
“Hello.”
There was an echo this time. “Hello.”
“You have something for me?”
Theo’s subsequent sigh sounded so pained that if it weren’t for the fact that she was right there looking at him, she would have thought that he was dying.
Faris could only laugh and pop another piece of food into his mouth, obviously not too concerned about saving face.
“What is it?” she prodded.
Theo reached into the pocket of his cloak and produced a white piece of paper, dangling it loftily in the air.
“What is that?”
Having had his fill of laughter, Faris snatched it out of Theo’s hands and stuck it in front of Ty’s face. “Just take it.”
Still not sure what was happening, she gingerly took the piece of paper and unfolded it.
Slip of Absence: 5th day of the Ninth Grace.
Theo was brought to the infirmary after fainting during his mid-morning class. Preliminary determinations by admitting staff: possible underlying condition, physical exhaustion. Final determinations by attending physician: morning meal recommended, avoiding extreme physical exertion when possible; changing time of class, supplemental training optional. Take day off.
Signed out: 11h38, 2-A Phys. Chelsi.
“Are you serious?” she breathed, flipping the paper in her hands, knowing it looked far too convincing to be a joke.
Theo sighed painfully again.
Not so threatening now, are you? Ty couldn’t help but think, bending down to his level to ask, “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered.
She sat up, thought about it for a moment, and then turned her head to Faris. “How are you wrapped up in all this?”
He eyed her coolly. “I’m not. I just saw him leave the infirmary.”
“What did he say to you?”
“Gah.”
Faris looked down at Theo before responding, “I don’t know why he’s acting all dramatic, seems like a simple case of over-exertion.” He shrugged. “Or maybe he’s sick.”
If her memory served her well, he would have been in his Fieldwork course—there was literally only one course that a non-combat student like him needed to take to fulfill his physical activity requirements, and it was that.
“I can’t get you out of Fieldwork,” she finally said, feeling a bit bad for him despite all he had said to her before. “So, you’ll just start having to eat breakfast, or I can see if there’s another—”
“My schedule’s full,” he interjected remorsefully. “I don’t have space for another class.”
“Well, then.”
“And breakfast is a waste of time.”
“Are you actually sick?” Ty prodded gently.
“I’m as not sick as you are,” he growled bitterly.
Faris, still in his folded arms, cross-legged position, didn’t take his eyes off the people in the courtyard. “If it’s not already blatantly obvious, I wouldn’t trust what he says in this state.”
“Are you at least feeling better?” she sighed, starting to feel exhausted. This was a lot of effort, keeping up a conversation.
“I just feel despair right now, thank you very much,” he snapped, sounding more like his old self as he finally sat upright and looked up at the sky. “It’s such a nice day out today, too. What a waste.”
Ty sat back in her seat, letting go of her bag and looking at the selfsame sky. Bright blue. Not a cloud in sight.
“To think this is only the first…” Theo started quietly, “I didn’t think my shortcomings would catch up to me so soon.”
One thought slipped out. “Aren’t you the one who said it’s useless to fight for something if you’re too weak?”
He did not refute the statement, so she continued. “Why are you here?”
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His answer seemed to come easier than hers did. “I want peace. I want to protect the people I care about.”
With Korinna’s words still fresh in her mind, she found herself asking, “And what if the people you care about are the ones in the wrong?”
Far from radical, her viewpoint was a common one in the magic community; for most people, having interests directly opposed to those of the Ancients, the rightful owners of such powers, was normal, though backward.
And then there was the role of the Academy of the Graces in all this—it wasn’t erected to teach others to fight like it did now. Named after the twelve holy Graces who governed and watched over the people of Chloris alongside the omnipotent Earth Mother, the Academy of the Graces was supposed to spread the greatness of magic and the Ancients, to learn how to make life easier, protect yourself and others with the respect and reverence the craft was duly owed. Somewhere in the course of history, though, the agenda changed. It was no longer a message of peace, of spreading the word. There were people who didn’t like magic, there were those who didn’t like the Ancients. So those who feared that which they did not understand fought the Ancients and MATS, the rise of the fearful ‘magic’. They didn’t want to understand it; they wanted everything to remain the same, maintain the status quo.
That was when there was no choice but to fight fire with fire. The bloodshed began and continued, until a constant state of combat became the norm, until there would be no more chance at peace without seeing other party on their knees, begging for their lives. The foundation for revenge and resentment had been built on the corpses of loved ones, friends, and family. To forgive would have been to admit that countless lives were given up in vain. No—it was either eat or be eaten. The states, the magic society, and the Ancients. As far as the Ancients were concerned, to side with the magic community seemed to be the lesser of the two evils when the other offered death or total assimilation.
Yet, taking advantage of the partnership, the magic community turned to the enslavement of the only people who could make them more powerful, their spells more potent—the Ancients. The Ancients who entrusted their lives to benefactors who promised aid and went back on their word after establishing an inseverable dependence between the two parties.
As time went on, instead of recognizing their wrongdoings, the top brass grew greedier for power, always intent on usurping their neighbors. It had become a competition, a deep, dark poison that tainted the entire system, and no one suffered more from it than the Ancients. The Ancients, who were kind enough to share, who were incapable of violence, who believed in the good. Who continued to suffer for the voracity of mankind.
That was why so few Ancients were ever allowed, or even desired, to attend the Academy, let alone approve of spending years of their life under the tutelage of those who were indirectly responsible for perpetuating the exploitation of their people. At the same time, the Academy was still the sole organized institution that taught anything combat- or magic-related, the only place where they could learn how to possibly go against their enslavers—which seemed to be in the interest of MATS, who likely wanted to keep any possible threat to their beloved magic under careful, watchful eyes. To that end, the school became known for one thing, and one thing only: to fight, whether it was for the Ancients or against them. Though many, under the guise of violence, sought peace for the rightful owners of the land. Even if it was a false peace that would never come. Blood, however, was nothing if not ascertained.
Despite all, there were many who still bore hope. As long as the Academy stood, as long as they fought, as long as there was a chance of winning, as long as people still believed in goodness, peace was possible.
That made it all the more unfortunate to admit that, to continue standing, they were at the mercy of the same society that exploited those they wanted to save—and the truth was, they only had the power to protect and fight, not to save the entire race of the Ancients from the gluttony of the most powerful society members.
“What if they were the one who saved you?”
Ty smiled wryly, lowering her head to look back at the bustling students in the courtyard. “If only there were an easy answer,” she said quietly when the music stopped, and all eyes turned to the stage, where a single student stepped out from a lineup.
“Afternoon, everyone,” the student in the red-lined fourth-year cloak began, a warm, matronly smile on her face and a book open in front of her. “I’m Halle, and I’d like to welcome everyone to our yearly introductory duel!”
Students, being deprived of combat as it was only the first week of school, began furiously chatting and moving across the courtyard.
Halle did not seem phased, letting them deliberate as she elaborated in a clear, concise tone: “Every class will be able to choose one representative to pit against another class’s representative; the winning class of each year will be given a generous ten gold per student—graciously donated to us by Professor Moriya here.”
The professor that she had met in the study room awkwardly waved his hand from the lineup at the mention of his name, looking absolutely disinterested as the entire courtyard erupted into chaos. Ten gold was not a small amount, easily used on two whole tomes.
“Since this is a welcoming event, this will only be for first- and second-years. We’ll begin with the second-years. The standard order will go B versus C, D versus E. The winner of the subsequent battle will face off with A—now, I’ll give everyone ten minutes to deliberate and clear out the courtyard. Everyone will be provided standard dueling rapiers, and we will have a physician standing by.”
A tiny, glasses-clad student with a second-year cloak waved sheepishly from beside Nate.
Then, opening the tome in her hands, Halle raised her arm up high, speaking the most lyrical sounding verses to a spell that spawned a golden gate around half of the courtyard. “Those are the boundaries—we’ll begin with the first opening ceremonial duel featuring these two lovely third-years behind me.” Stepping away from the center of the stage, she gestured to the last two people behind her who hadn’t yet been introduced.
Both wearing the same outfit, their silhouettes looked almost exactly the same from afar, save for the fact that one had longer hair than the other. Both waved at the crowd briefly and impatiently, watching their peers shuffling around like ants across the courtyard.
The tome in Halle’s hands slammed shut. “If you are the chosen candidate for your class, please make sure that you are by the staging area before time is up. Now then, let’s get this started!”
Chaos erupted as everyone started moving at once, Ty getting up herself to face her class all huddled around the bench and looking at her expectantly. Everyone but Cyril, who had been curiously absent the entire time.
“Who’s it going to be?” beamed Elias, smiling like a fool.
Ty briefly glanced at the lazy duelist before turning to Alex. “Either…one of you two.”
“I say we throw the tactician in,” chimed in Faris.
One dirty glare wasn’t enough, so Ty did a double take before giving her answer. “No.”
Alex looked a bit anxious. “I think I’d prefer it if I didn’t go, if…if that’s alright.”
“Darius looks pretty intimidating,” mentioned Callie inquisitively.
A few students nodded, to which Elias rebutted wondrously with, “Okay, okay, yeah, he looks stronger, but he’s an Ancient and this is a duel. I’ve been doing these since I was a kid, come on!” He waved at the Ancient to come over. “Come on, Darius, back me up here.”
Unreadable as always, he shrugged, a secret smile on his face.
Completely ignoring Elias’s comment, Selene piped up excitedly. “Or, or, we could put Alex in there and make her face her fears.”
“Oh!” Alex exclaimed disapprovingly, frowning at the small student. “Come on!”
Ah, yes, Ty recalled sullenly. This is what happens when I let them all talk at once.
“Okay, Elias it is,” she announced conclusively, walking over to him and taking a cursory glance at his now-combat-appropriate attire before frowning and remembering their exchange that morning. She frowned and muttered, “You better pray to the Graces that administrative staff aren’t going to pull you away at the last second for having skipped class today. Good luck.”
He shrugged, smiling childishly at the praise and ignoring the scowl. “Any tips from the tactician before I go?”
Though Ty had the top entrance average for their year, and the rapier was her weapon of choice, her combat capabilities were far from perfect. Dueling was not something she particularly enjoyed, nor was it something she thought was a good use of her time; it was a game with unrealistic variables and expectations. So all she could offer was simply, “Pay attention. The worst thing you could do is lose focus, no matter how good you are, who the opponent is, or how easy the task may seem. As long as your opponent can still fight, you are all equals on the field.”
For once, he nodded seriously and quickly made his way over to the stage while Ty awkwardly stood beside the bench—Korinna had taken the seat beside Theo, and Selene had taken the one beside Faris on the other side.
Ten minutes came and went quickly, and the courtyard was pristine by the time Halle took her position up on the stage again, with the professor and physician sitting at the end of it. They looked strange beside each other: one dark, brooding, and quiet; the other bright and cheery.
The chatter simmered down to a still, tense silence when Halle stepped up and looked out onto all the expectant faces in the courtyard. “Class 3-B, Seth. Class 3-C, Pia.”
The twins from earlier walked out of the huddle, through Halle’s barrier, and then to opposite ends of the courtyard where their markers lay. They readied their swords in unison, devilish smiles on their faces, hair dancing in the breeze.
“Ready?” Halle called, hand on her tome. “First to disarm and collect their opponent’s sword wins; no rematches, no holding back—let’s go!”
She raised her hand into the air with a flourish, sending sparks flying into the sky as the two on the field bolted lightning-quick across the field to each other, unfettered malice in their eyes.
