Helen had only been in the viewing lounge for 10 minutes, but she tired of it already. Plush red couches seated too many young people like herself for anyone’s sanity, and bars glittering with crystal magically brought forth endless glasses of virgin drinks as well as too much ale for a day of fighting. People in silk dresses and coal black suits sat around gossiping about things they knew precisely nothing about. Most irritating were the first-time entrants and the pampered pups that weren’t even going to fight. Why were they here? Probably the reason she was supposed to be here - to socialize and ‘make connections’. She tuned into the enlightening core conversation for a moment. It seemed Alabaster Reginald was demonstrating his intellect, such as it was.

  “I say, the young master said he would serve the finest sirloin in the land. And do you know what I said?”

  “Pray tell, my lord, pray tell.”

  “I posed that the lout would not know a fine sirloin from hornbeast flank!”

  A wave of forced laughter passed over the group, especially amongst the young ladies. Helen was embarrassed for them. She took a breath to center herself, as she’d been trained. Certainly, Alabaster was the favorite amongst the known entrants. He’d been building up quite a consistent tournament record, sure, but his methods were suspect. He spent his time roving to this backwater and that, snatching up the prize pools and fun from poorly trained locals who already had nothing. That money might have meant quite a lot to someone like that Beskyte girl she’d met earlier, though to Alabaster it was merely a boost to his allowance for the week.

  On a whim, she decided to she would join the discussion. She was here to connect, after all. Helen pushed her long black braid over her shoulder, and squared herself, approaching with extended hand and warm smile. As she drew close, she could feel the sickly sweet tickle of his undisguised aura. It was likely an enhancement type, in this instance meant to intoxicate those surrounding him with pride and liveliness.

  “What a story! Lord Reginald, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “Ah, hello, my lady,” he replied, assessing Helen very conspicuously. “I, erm, don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure,” the young lord said, his entourage giving a couple of chuckles of approval. He did not shake her hand.

  Helen’s grin was broad, probably coming off as ironic, but only showed a fraction of the pleasure she felt. She was wearing a simple blue dress she’d purchased locally from a darling little woman by the waterfall. That was to say, though it was durable and pretty, it was not up to high-society standards, and Helen herself was not made up in the slightest. In this attire, much to her mother’s chagrin, Alabaster would not recognize her. Instead, with her muscular build but no apparent nobility, she must seem a field laborer to him. Adding to Helen’s fun was an unusual match on a large screen above her, which Helen half-watched. The Beskyte girl - Ariel - was up against one of Alabaster’s siblings and putting up a good fight - likely it would be her loss, but Helen did root for the poor dear.

  “I-I’m Helen,” she said.

  “Helen, dear,” he said, finally shaking her hand. “You seem nervous. First tournament?”

  “Not quite,” she said. “But there is always the anxiety of competition. I promised myself I’d to my very best to win.”

  “Oh, how very quaint,” Alabaster said, turning his back to Helen and picking up a story with his group. Helen thought she might be able to squeeze a bit more entertainment out of this yet, but Alabaster pretended not to hear her as she made further shy entreaties for his attention. Oh, well. She could tell mother honestly that she had tried.

  “Lord Reginald, Lady Helen was trying to ask you something,” a pudgy, dark tan lad from Alabaster’s group pestered. The rest of the group turning to him, looking at him as if he wasn’t even a person. He was a bit taller than most, perhaps a bit older, but didn’t seem so in that moment. The lad’s expression - she had to wonder if he had any status to speak of - could not hide his shaking anxiety, but did hold. “It would be cruel to keep her waiting.”

  Alabaster turned to Helen, the humor more plain on his face than before. “Of course,” he said. “What can I do for you, my lady?”

  “I-I appreciate the c-concern for me,” Helen said sweetly, “but I really just meant to wish you good fortune. I believe many are wishing for your success.”

  “While I appreciate the lovely sentiment, my family does not require fortune.” Helen’s lip quirked up at that, and the Reginald boy looked at her with naked derision.

  “Did you have something more to say?” one of the girls surrounding Alabaster asked, “or are you content with how foolish you’ve looked so far?”

  “ I-I’m sorry if that came out the wrong way!” Helen said, waving her hands. “I only meant goodwill. After all, upsets do happen.”

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Ah, quite. An upset to unseat a Reginald? Not likely from villagers wearing rags,” a wiry lad and career sycophant Alabaster’s threw in. Helen nearly doubled over as she laughed openly at that. She didn’t see the looks of derision that were thrown her way. By the time she had composed herself, someone had wised up, because they were all looking at the screen behind them. The redheaded country girl had employed some interesting combination of thrown projectiles and fast movement, and had cleanly trounced Obsidian Reginald in record time. Perhaps Helen would get some exercise today after all.

  “As I said,” Helen said, her tone much firmer than before, “upsets do happen. Best of luck.”

  With that, Helen projected her tightly controlled aura for just a moment. Under it’s power, the group fell still, giddiness gone from their faces. Then the moment passed, and she took the darling pudgy boy’s arm, smiling at his blush.

  “Helen… Andross?” Alabaster said experimentally, and murmurs of “The Fortress” passed through the group.

  “Would you walk with me?” she said sweetly. “I’m in desperate need of some good company.”

  “I believe they’re much closer to your stature, my good lady,” the lad said, following nonetheless as Alabaster sputtered out apologies that fell on deaf ears.

  “Tragically so, for everyone under them. Your family wanted you to gain favor with the Reginalds?”

  The boy nodded, shame clouding his face. “Looking for an internship. I’ve never been much good at fighting or sucking up, though.”

  “What about research?” Helen said. She’d brought them to a bar away from the others, and the boy pulled out her seat for her reflexively. Very traditional. Helen didn’t mind. She took her seat with a grateful nod.

  “As well as anyone, my lady. No more, no less.”

  False modesty, perhaps? With a sedate aura like his, it was hard to tell.

  “Now, now, you shouldn’t undervalue yourself. Best be prepared to face any professional challenge. Let’s say I urgently needed a replacement manager for elemental reactor vessels to run rapid spell tests. Could you rise to the task?”

  “With respect, my lady, I would tell you to find someone better equipped or do it yourself.”

  “I’m shocked!” Helen said, jabbing the boy’s side with a finger. “Why couldn’t you manage? Surely you know the basics of rapid testing?”

  “Quite so, my lady. Runically embedded and innate object associated spells don’t work the same as spells directly from a caster, so using the same formula gives crude results, and finding the right parameters is more or less guesswork.”

  “If you understand the fundamentals, why would you reject the position out of hand?”

  “I’m not strong on thermodynamics just yet. You’d need someone upstream to screw up pretty badly to make a reactor start to melt down, but it’s something I’d want to be prepared to prevent in an authority position. Truthfully, I’ve been trending more towards a more mechanical focus, and my grades aren’t even stellar there.

  “Right - a focus on digging for gold better to assist with the Reginald family. Until you were caught up in an eccentric Andross’ fun,” Helen observed. Her tone was amused, rather than contrite.

  “It’s really no trouble,” the lad hurried to say. “I’ll take it as a lesson to read the room better, but I’d rather fail trying to do things properly than cut corners. My grades probably aren’t good enough for the young lord’s attention at the moment, regardless.”

  Helen looked at him curiously. If the lad was trying to sell himself, he wasn’t doing the best job of it. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he spoke again.

  “At any rate, with that match wrapped up I’m sure they’ll be calling me soon. I should take my leave, my lady.”

  “There’s time, still. You’re not going to get your money’s worth in the lounge?”

  “I’m not sure I’d accomplish much,” he replied, “my lady. My side of the bracket isn’t stacked with anyone too noteworthy, so I should have a chance on that front,” he said, giving a small bow.

  How foolish! Damnable martyrs always frustrated Helen. Did she need to bash him over the head with her favorable opinion, wielding it like a club? Was he trying to advance his station or not? She should let him go just to spite him - but he didn’t seem the sort to learn subtle lessons. She caught his arm as he turned to go, drawing him to a stop without effort.

  “My lady?” he asked as she released him.

  “I was not finished with you,” Helen said. “You’ll find me after the tournament, won’t you? The Reginalds have been upcharging my family on precious metals, so we have been looking to expand our own mining operations. If you submit a sufficient application, perhaps we can find space for a fresh mind on the job.”

  He beamed at her, the silly boy. Had he really not suspected? Helen had seen her mother, the matriarch, take an interest in hiring men like him. The sincere sort, who would weep with joy when she didn’t harshly scold them for the first mistake they would inevitably make. This was no hypothetical - so profound was one man’s outpouring that he needed to excuse himself to the lavatory to compose himself. Fortunately for him, the matriarch knew she demanded much, and so she gave generous compensation, benefits, and leeway in turn. This was a disposition Helen had inherited. Her mother might scold her for tossing out an offer like this so casually, but the tongue-lashing would be halfhearted at best.

  “That’s most gracious of you, my lady. Excuse my manners,” he said. With that, he took her ungloved hand - she was not in her social best - and kissed it. How amusing! She allowed it, and gave a simple nod. “I am called Callum Reese. I don’t expect you to overextend on my account, but I would be most grateful to discuss the details of the application.”

  “Well met, Callum. Off with you, then. I can’t have you forfeit.”

  Callum nodded, still smiling stupidly, and went on his way with a spring in his step. Helen turned back to the screen, watching the post-fight analysis with rapt attention. Ariel’s powerful aura trick had been more than a fluke, apparently. The least Helen could do was watch - and hope she got to fight this most interesting opponent.