Xenron awoke long before his alarm on the day of the exhibition. It was long before light graced any window in the castle - he’d taken one of his long afternoon naps to start restoring himself from a Survival Gauntlet cycle yesterday, and woken up more exhausted and frazzled then when he had laid down. His second attempt at resting had gone better, it seemed, but his mind was no less scattered. Xenron pushed against grogginess as he slogged shower and into his clothes.
Even in the intervening weeks, Xenron struggled to stop thinking about his last interaction with Ariel. He knew, hazily, that he had dreamed about it again, twisted and extrapolated. She had called him a traitor and sent him away - that hadn’t technically happened, but it was close enough. He had lied to her. Was he now lying to everyone else? Was his new self, the ‘Xenron’ that could stand up for Ken and take an attack from Vex, the one who meant to save Ms. Bushida from an unjust fate, truly him?
Then again, who really is anyone?
In the month and change he’d known Bruce, Xenron generally had an incredibly positive impression of the man. He was intense and imposing, sure. Xenron still remembered having to shoot the simulated Lucerna girl in his nightmares. But Bruce had to be intense - he trained military prospects, and Xenron had seen firsthand the results of his guidance. In the short time he’d trained with him, he’d transformed. It wasn’t just the Survival Gauntlet’s strengthening. Xenron’s mana was now available to him thanks to Johan’s coaching, but it wasn’t just that either. Xenron’s stances were crisper. He folded his clothes properly. He could look others in the eye - could look himself in the eye. If it took hellish training to reach that sort of confidence, Xenron was happy to pay that price.
And yet - Xenron hesitated to even look at him this way for all his gratitude, but some part of Xenron saw Bruce as a monster. He could not ignore what Ken had told him Bruce had done. Was that the real Bruce, and the one he knew was an impostor? He put it from his mind. Xenron had real problems to worry about.
Xenron had tried to find clues about Ms. Bushida’s mysterious memory loss. Delirium, the troublesome nerve agent they’d found in her system, was known for creating memory loss - but not the sharp line memory loss that Ms. Bushida described. If she realized she’d lost her phone, the logical next step would have been to go back up to her workplace and find it. That couldn’t take long - on the order of minutes. Any way Xenron looked at it, that didn’t line up with the hazy but incomplete memory loss in case studies of Delirium he read.
That took Xenron towards the direction of the party drug in her system - Synthesia. It was potent and abundant, sure, but rather expensive. It was an obviously strange choice for a young hire from the outer terrorities, who’d likely be looking to save some money - and Ms. Bushida didn’t strike Xenron as the irresponsible type.
Altogether, this painted a clear, if frightening - picture for Xenron’s own curiosity: an innocent person was poisoned inside the castle. Further, their memory was somehow tampered with - likely in a nonchemical way. That sent him down another rabbit hole, but memory erasure magic seemed mostly the domain of fanciful stories. Until Xenron found a way to get evidence for this hunch of his, he had effectively hit a brick wall in his investigation. Sighing, he put the matter aside for now.
Was there something Xenron was missing? Maybe Ms. Bushida had a Distinction that had sealed her own memories? Or maybe she had something else in her system that interacted poorly with the Delirium? He had to accept the possibility that she had made some mistakes. As he had been pondering on, people were too complex to pin down simply. Xenron then remembered Ken’s accounting of his gripes with Bruce. The day he’d met Ken, after Xenron had argued his heart out to get Bruce to let Ken off the hook, Ken had divulged everything.
***
“Bruce is a good guy, most of the time. But when he’s not… that’s the problem,” Ken said, with a sigh, stirring his tea around and around in a hypnotic pattern. “Today, we were sparring. Spellcasting was allowed for once, which isn’t really that unusual, but it’s something Bruce is very careful about. If he has his way, generally, we’re not casting spells at each other unless there’s a strong healer on hand.”
Xenron nodded his understand. Training accidents in the KEY Program were rare, but they did happen. It was unavoidable, to some extent, when you put a lot of powerful people in one place and trained them to the limit. A lot of power and a lot of ego packed into a handful a teenagers didn’t seem like a good recipe to Xenron, even as a teenager himself. Tier III healers could put a person back together from most anything, and Tier IV healers were borderline immortal unless you exhausted them or killed them instantly, and could offer many of the same miracles to their allies. They were the closest thing to a guarantee of safety, but that also made them very in-demand.
“Well, today,” Ken continued, “we didn’t have a healer. So, no lethal spells. Seems like a fair rule. Unfortunately, Aslear - she’s a peer of mine - got a little too excited. Beat her brother Zekain and fired a Blackheart at the ground by his head to rub it in.”
Xenron cringed. He’d never seen the spell in person, but he’d seen recordings. Cast well, it could split metal plate like butter.
“That’s bad form, to say the least,” Xenron said.
“Yeah,” Ken said, drawing the word out. “Bruce chewed her out for it real bad, rightfully so. But context matters. This is something Zek’s been dealing with for years. Aslear is domineering and ridiculous, but she’s not dangerous. He knows not to move, and she’s got pinpoint aim. Should she do it? No way, it’s a shitty habit. But Aslear was never going to hurt Zek.”
“I’m not seeing the problem,” Xenron said, frowning, idly taking an offered muffin from one of the servers and munching on it. This place is terrible for my wallet. “It seems like she got disciplined like she was supposed to.”
“And I’d agree, if that was it. But he didn’t stop there. He said she’d be punished by ten blows from that practice sword of his. I’m not talking light taps. That thing isn’t a toy, and I have no doubt he could break her neck with it if he tried. As it is, I heard the last kid he worked over got both of their forearms smashed, a bunch of broken ribs, both legs. Imagine all the bones in your foot shattering. He had them put back together, of course, but the kid left the program the next day.”
Xenron listened in horror, imagining the pain and humiliation and then realizing he didn’t want to think about it.
“How can he get away with that?” Xenron asked, baffled. He’d heard vaguely of a student who’d left, but never the gruesome circumstance.
“It’s not just allowed, it’s encouraged. I’ve read the rules,” Ken said with a shrug. “Not your everyday field trip, this program. It’s serious business.”
“But you couldn’t leave her to her punishment. So you tried to distract him by pulling the blame onto yourself,” Xenron said sadly. Ken nodded casually. “That’s stupid! He was always going to find you, and then he’d just punish both of you.”
“I’m paying today, so get whatever you want,” Ken said, and Xenron didn’t hold back, grabbing a chocolate croissant and dewberry tart. Ken had pulled him into a horrible situation, and while he didn’t exactly blame him, he was plenty happy to take the sugary bribe. “And it’s no so bad as you think,” Ken continued. “I’ve been worked over plenty of times before. You get used to it.”
Xenron frowned. “I don’t think that’s something you’re supposed to get used to.”
“No,” Ken said simply, and they sat like that for a long time, lost in their drinks and their thoughts.
***
While he had been a pain in the ass since their meeting, Ken had also done a lot to thank Xenron for his help that day. He’d been a loyal training partner, even when Xenron was far below his level, and gotten him to train with Vex and his other classmates. He’d welcomed him, Xenron realized. He’d more than paid back Xenron’s favor by now. So, how was he to evaluate Ken, or Bruce? One of them was an insubordinate lout without a respectful bone in his body, who would withstand brutality out of solidarity with his friends. The other was a noble and powerful mentor bringing up the next generation… and also, a sadistic disciplinarian who punished the wrong mistakes with torture. For Ken, and for Bruce, which ‘part’ of them was real?
And what of Ms. Bushida, who he didn’t even know well? She seemed harsh and detached, and a little depressed by her aura. That made her scary, but it also drew Xenron’s sympathy. Was he wrong to believe in her - that she wouldn’t take drugs that put her peers in danger? But even in the worst case, even if he chose to believe she’d willingly taken Synthesia, that would just mean she’d made a mistake. She hadn’t tried to hurt anyone. That was clear even to the interrogators. And yet, Mad King Era law gave them the latitude to decide she should die. Xenron realized it wasn’t just him that was him that was fettered by endless contradictions. What would become of any of them? Xenron rubbed his face. Enough daydreaming. I’ve got too much to do.
Xenron stepped into the dim hallway. There were some lights, of course - it would be a lawsuit waiting to happen otherwise - but without the buzz of officers and tourists, zealots and students, the space felt empty. Not in a bad way, Xenron thought. He breathed deeply in the way Ms. Vale had thought him. A cadence, she’d said. Count to 10, then start again. Observe the sensations in your body. Be present. That was hard. He could feel a faint queasiness, a lingering tightness to his muscles. He was worried. Xenron was proud of the work he’d put in this past month and twice as happy with the kindness and cruelty Vex had shown in equal measure. Aslear and Zekain as well - even Ken had been a great help in improving his aura. The flirt seemed to be a natural at mana control. And Leo had steadily trained with him as ever, as much as their schedules allowed. Still, Xenron knew it wasn’t enough to close the gap with his peers, peers who were still powerless to solve the problems he had started taking onto himself. Taking a deep breath as he stepped into the elevator, Xenron did his best to accept that fact. It was difficult.
Xenron disembarked into the Helios Sky Garden. A mechanic worked on the MTT, its blue main panel devoid of its usual glow, and Xenron supposed it was a good time for maintenance. The morning air was cool against his skin, and with that chill, the stars were out in force, covering Xenron’s view of the sky like scattered glitter. The Sky Garden’s own lights were minimal, only serving to highlight the incredible view. He shivered at the sight.
Then, Xenron felt a small weight settle around his shoulders, and noticed that the mechanic had laid a jacket on Xenron. How long had he been transfixed with the sky?
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“It wouldn’t do for you to catch a cold, young lord,” the man said. He had a strangely pretty face, Xenron thought, for one covered in mechanical grease. He wore a gentle grin framed by neatly combed black hair, his silver eyes smiling and body language of his strong, lean frame open. On further consideration, Xenron thought of the beautiful super-soldiers in training he spent much of his time with, and felt foolish for thinking the man an oddity. He had not seen him before - he had heard the previous mechanic was moving to live closer to family. Still, there was something strangely familiar about the newcomer. He wore a stylish coat, as if he were out on holiday and not at work.
“Isn’t that just a myth?” Xenron said sheepishly. “A little cold shouldn’t hurt me, I would think.”
“That depends on you. Perception is a powerful thing. Some people can change the whole world just by looking at it differently.”
Xenron wasn’t sure how to respond. There was obviously the placebo effect, but Xenron didn’t believe the cold would make him sick. He had heard that intent had the power to shape magic, if that was what the man meant, but Xenron’s own attempts to augment spells with his will alone were quite limited so far, leaving him childishly bitter. If he meant in a more direct way, changing the world wasn’t the prerogative of ‘some people’. Xexherre did that. His dad did that… maybe.
Xenron realized he was being rude, and as he tried to sputter a response, he noticed the man staring at him quizzically and cut off.
“Apologies, my prince. I suppose the early hour is a bad time for philosophy.”
“I’m not sure I agree,” Xenron responded after a moment. “I’ve been thinking in circles all morning. I feel like I’ll fall over from nausea before I even get to a fight. I’ll take some dry philosophy over that.”
“Oh, to be young and think the great questions of the universe are so far removed from us,” the man mused. Xenron frowned. “Apologies, of course. But the big picture is perhaps more relevant to you than anyone, no?”
“Don’t remind me,” Xenron sighed. “People keep saying that, and for a while I just ran. Now that I’m looking at my role seriously, I get it less than ever. I’m supposed to lead everyone, but I can’t measure up to my peers - part of me thinks I never will. I haven’t even set foot outside the Keep. I don’t know what the Deepnight Woods look like, or Jarion, or the Sky Islands, or even most of Tronen, our own capital. I don’t even know what the sunrise looks like. At least, I don’t remember. But I have all these visions, every time I call my mana. A broader world, and endless fields… and so much blood.”
Xenron stopped then. He had said too much. Stress was catching up with him, making him sloppy. Even as Xenron caught his breath, the mechanic watched intently.
“I was homeless by the time I was your age,” the mechanic said, surprising Xenron. “I had some bad luck, and made some worse choices, leaving everything behind. I did almost everything wrong, but one single thing, I did right. Do you know what that is?”
Xenron shook his head, dumbstruck at the man’s casual openness.
“I didn’t stop thinking things could change - get better, sometime down the line. And they did. I found someone who accepted me, as pathetic as I was.”
Something about the way the man spoke was disarming, and Xenron found himself forgetting his reservations.
“You sound so sure of yourself,” Xenron replied. “It’s just… difficult, with my memories. It’s like trying to figure out how to solve hard problems, when I don’t even know who I am.”
The man chuckled. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make light, but I’d wager most people your age don’t know who they are yet. You’ll think you’ve got it, and then be wrong, then try again and be wrong again. That’s okay. It’s part of the process.”
Xenron crossed him arms. “I’m not going to stand on ceremony, but I’d prefer if you didn’t make fun of me for my age.”
“Right, of course. My apologies, my lord,” the man said, bowing elaborately. Xenron rolled his eyes. “I haven’t introduced myself, I realize now. I’m Opal Reginald, and I’ve been hired recently for MTT maintenance.”
Xenron rose to shake the man’s hand, thanking him.
“I do appreciate you taking the time to hear me out. Looking at the clock, though, I should get to check in.”
“Hold the course, highness” the man said grinning. “Word has gotten around that you joined Bruce’s training section - the strictest of the three. The details of that training are confidential, of course… but you’re doing your best, that much is clear. You understand, if not consciously, that Xexens become the average of the people closest to them.”
“I can’t measure up to them,” Xenron said, almost a whisper.
The man thumbed at a single jade earring as he seemed to consider Xenron’s answer. Xenron chastised himself, fixing his posture. Why couldn’t he stop oversharing this morning?
“But you want to, don’t you?” The man asked, matching Xenron’s tone.
“Yes,” Xenron answered automatically, with too much emotion.
“Perhaps that is enough for now. If you follow a path for long enough, don’t be surprised if you reach the end. As for your path, my lord, if I may break form?”
“Please,” Xenron said. “Now I’m sorry I even said anything.”
“Do not think yourself so special.” Xenron blinked, looking at the mechanic with new eyes. His gaze was turned towards the stars, his expression firm and resolute. With his broad shoulders and manner, he seemed closer to the King than the cheerful professional of moments before. “You yourself acknowledge their abilities. Certainly, you are not the only one amongst these youths with a complicated past. Do you think any of your peers would let such worries paralyze them?”
Xenron didn’t have an answer. As much as he had interacted with his peers, he realized he didn’t have the first idea of what was beneath the surface, of the story that they brought with them to the castle. He was even more blind than he’d realized. In light of that, though, it was hard to argue. Still red with embarrassment, Xenron changed the subject.
“I’m sorry to keep you,” Xenron said. He didn’t dip his head to the man as he wanted to, trying to salvage his ‘regal decorum’, such as it was. “Thank you for the jacket - but I’ll be warming up now. I won’t need it.”
He saw the man’s grin was back as he handed back the jacket, but didn’t linger there, heading for the wooded section for a measure of privacy. There, Xenron’s muscles flexed, responding to his commands more fiercely then ever. He wasn’t sure what made him so comfortable and uncomfortable around this man. There was still so much he didn’t understand. Trying once again with Ms. Vale’s mindfulness exercises, he focused on the present. He had a fight to win.
***
Lieutenant Vaere looked out on the gathering of youths talent, analysts, and mustaches gathered in Helios Sky Garden with great pleasure, relaxing as he gloried in his recent promotion. It felt good to have an officer’s rank, finally, though he looked forward to the day he would have a real officer’s rank. Major, perhaps? Vaere liked the sound of the word. He didn’t know what Majors did, but he could figure out. He found that generally, people complained too much about how very hard their jobs were, and by the time he got around to doing them, he found them perfectly doable.
Ah, but he had been distracted. Too much indulgence would be bad form, even for one as talented as himself. Vaere shook his head bemusedly and looked out on the scene in search of things that needed his attention. The students had properly been gathered above the waterfall, on the artificial forest level, anxiously awaiting their fate as they wondered about matches that were finalized weeks ago. They didn’t know about his twist yet, which was fine.
Sergeant Major Baki droned on in his ear about the status of the ‘important people’ on a couple of the many balconies several stories above. Apparently, Thalia Andross wasn’t content with the quality of catering. She was in charge of Andross Industries, a large weapons dealer - so, Vaere didn’t feel terribly concerned about irritating her. Anyone who sold weapons and didn’t even have a private army on hand was horribly unimpressive to Vaere - did she have so little confidence they worked that she wouldn’t horde some for herself? Vaere spared a glance up at the stone balcony and found the ravenette scowling at him. He gave a her a grin, and met the eyes of En Emmerson and Ethan Stonehenge in turn. They gave him more cheerful acknowledgments, and his grin became sincere. They were fellow professionals… and, judging from context, could tell good catering from poor. The Giordano family had agreed to cater the event, to Vaere’s immense satisfaction, with Alessandro and Lorenzo personally handling the assortment of dishes. Vaere could scarcely believe the array of fruit bouquets, glistening with fresh dewberries and flavored hardlight in rainbow colors. The subtle umami of deepsea maulfish wrapped in imported Promethean herbs and just a hint of aged cheese, arranged atop bountiful mounds of deep purple annam grain. As he thought of it, he switched his earpiece off. Even if he especially wanted to please Leonie Andross, he would not risk the calamity of offending the Giordano’s and losing his favorite foods.
Ah, but he was being indulgent again. Vaere wondered if he had been too long away from sky yoga. He quickly flipped on his comms to tell Baki to schedule the trip, then got to work. He tested the functions of the MTT, finding it in top shape. He thought the maintenance lock looked weathered, as it it had been accessed frequently - better to be safe, he supposed. He went amongst the students, glad to see them well dressed for the occasion in colorful combat robes or light armor - aesthetics were as crucial as flexibility. He made note of Vexera’s, Annabel’s, Johan’s, and Basileus’ auras, which wasn’t a surprise. Good talent tended to show early. That said, the princeling had done decently. When he’d sensed him previously, the boy had seemed completely insubstantial. Now, there was certainly something there. Curiously, the boy had shown up before dawn. He was taking the event gravely seriously - a practice Vaere found questionable, but he had seen it work on occasion.
Probing the collective auras once more, Vaere frowned. Despite some power budding, all of their aura control was atrocious - at least by his mighty standards. Perhaps he needed to take the entire class to Sky Yoga. Having walked past the group, he mused on this aloud.
“Have you been to Sky Yoga, prince?”
“S-sky yoga? What is that?” The boy stammered adorably - not a favored image for royalty, but nothing a little above-the-cloud bliss couldn’t fix. He was certainly sincere, standing stiff as a board. Vaere thought the child might salute awkwardly if he looked at him too long, so he addressed the group as a whole.
“No? Then perhaps you’ve been yeti hunting? Its a lovely pastime.”
The group looked at him with a combination of awe (which they couldn’t be blamed for) and astonishment. All but the cheerful Eric.
“I haven’t had the chance! My grandparents live up north and my mother used to look for trouble when she visited. She didn’t usually find anything, but when she did… the meat…”
Vaere gave a closed eyed nod, imagining the taste himself. Immediately, he found himself hoping this boy won his tournament this year. It would be a pleasure to mold a young man of such fine tastes.
“Well said, young man. Be sure to show us a legendary fight. That goes for the rest of you, as well,” Vaere said, projecting to the rest of the group, quieting a couple of side conversations. “I will be canceling my subscriptions, because I expect the recordings to be sufficient entertainment for the next month. No boring moves! Failing that, you will not be receiving Giordano catering next year.”
The sober nods from many of the students were immensely gratifying. Good, Vaere thought. It seems the Internship will be tolerable as long as one of them wins the tournament to come.
“That said, there will be a special twist to today’s matches - and it’s twice as dramatic as you thought it’d be. You will not fight with your own strength alone. You will be paired with another student against another duo.”
As he left the students to process this information and examine the matchups, Vaere hurried off. Apparently Baki was now saying that the 400K camera was out of commission, and they would need to film in 200K. This, of course, was completely unacceptable. Vaere put in an urgent call to the castle maintenance line. He would have top quality footage, no matter what.
