Obscene Symphony

Of Blood and Magic

For Aaron, the first night of Revel began very quietly. Aaron’s request to use his free night on this had been granted, on very strict conditions that he be out of the house by the time his breakfast was usually delivered and that he not show his face anywhere near the Sinnenodel dorm until he returned for his curfew.

Given that Aaron had finally slept solid through the day for the first time in weeks, the nightmare having finally left him alone (which he credited to his meeting with Ryner), he was feeling pretty good, though he would admit some disappointment at having to get up at his regular time. But no matter; he had a plan. He tiptoed out of the dorm at exactly 8pm and made a beeline for his second home for the night: the infirmary.

After spending a good chunk of the night crashing on a spare infirmary bed (solid day of sleep or no, he had a lot of rest to catch up on) Aaron finally woke up for the second time around the middle of the night, to a welcomed email alert from the on-campus post office that a package had arrived for him. Right on time; he supposed he’d expect nothing less. The package awaiting him was a sturdy garment bag on a hanger, lacking the regular postage that the rest of the mail required; all it had was a label on the outside, bearing his name and the Noila crest.

He opened it in one of the Arena locker rooms, where he’d managed to sneak after having to avoid a few water balloons straying from the fight raging on the sand. His eyes widened at the contents; he never knew his mother to cut corners, but she never failed to impress him. Inside was a fine black tuxedo with a lavishly embroidered jacket, dark blue vest and tie and a saturated, royal blue dress shirt to match. There were a pair of nicely polished brogues in the package as well (because of course there were, Revel was the only time those things weren’t too ridiculous to be seen in public) but what took the cake was the mask.

His mother knew he would need a mask for a “masquerade” themed Revel, but Aaron didn’t expect anything so… much. It was a half-face black mask in the shape of a raven’s face, adorned with countless real feathers in an impressive crest (though still modest compared to some masks, only a bit larger than his forehead), but the focal point was the beak; extending down past where his nose would be, the beak was made of glossy black porcelain with a branching crack running diagonally up the middle, repaired as if the pieces had been glued back together with gold.

Aaron took a moment to admire the mask, turning it over in his hands delicately and looking on with a mixture of amusement and awe. It was no secret that his mother had chosen the pieces with a Noilan theme - the royal colours and raven motif weren’t exactly subtle - and Aaron had to admit, the familiarity was endearing. When he turned the mask over, there was a note fastened to the inside of it, and reading it, Aaron smirked.

Hopefully these will help you make the most of your free night.
XOXO,
Mom

Of Blood and Magic

Plan

Salem’s hair was noticeably messier than usual. Typically either let down or tied into a bun, his hair was in a state that almost appeared as if he had fallen asleep while in the midst of getting ready, a sloppy bun drooping low and with many strays breaking free of the band. The light in the crystal was erratic, a very dim and pale green hue struggling to stay lit within its crystalline chamber and flickering like a flame against a harsh wind. His golden rimmed glasses barely hid the dark bags now beginning to form underneath his eyes as they slipped further and further down his nose with every bob of his head while he fought to stay awake in class. He tried to create a pattern with his light, doing all he could to keep his mind on the task at hand, only for the light to quiver slightly before going out. Frustration ran rampant in his voice as he released his hands from the medium and crossed his arms. “You try. Stupid exercise.”

Though he was still as well-kept as usual, hair and clothes neat and proper as always, Aaron wasn't faring much better. Under his neatly combed hair, his eyes were dull and distant, rimmed with dark circles and set into an unusually pallid face. His notebook had several lines of meaningless swirls instead of his regular notes, doodled mindlessly and interspersed with a few unconscious repetitions of the lines he'd been writing every evening for the past week.

Salem's little outburst shook him back to reality, eyes feeling sandy as he blinked a few times at his study partner. “... Maybe a break, instead,” he suggested quietly, sliding the crystal away from him. Truth be told, he didn't have the energy or the patience for another repetition of the same dull exercise either. Instead, he peered at Salem curiously, squinting. “Are you alright? You look unwell.”

"Speak for yourself Starag." Salem's tone was pointed as he snapped at the blonde light mage, the anger and frustration in his face slowly melting away as he realized how he was acting. He began to rub the bridge of his nose and corner of his eyes as he slowly exhaled. Saying softly, "Sorry...I haven't been getting much sleep lately...I guess the lack of it has gotten me a bit more tense than usual...maybe a break is a good idea for now."

“...yeah,” Aaron nodded, pretty accustomed to Salem’s vitriol by now. He turned back to his notebook, wrinkling his nose distastefully at the line repetitions he hadn’t noticed until then, and eventually his curiosity got the better of him. He studied Salem for a moment, leaning forward on the table, before he finally spoke again.

“I haven’t been sleeping much either,” he admitted, more out of an attempt to get Salem to open up than to admit his own troubles. Not that it wasn’t true, though. “What’s keeping you up?”

Salem leaned forward onto the table, his eyes darted left and right to make sure no one was listening or eavesdropping before he continued whispering. "I've been having these weird dreams lately...it’s making it hard to tell what parts are real...or not." He pulled out a small leatherbound notebook with a wrapped thong. Undoing the wrap and opening it up towards a page as he slid it towards Aaron. "It’s been the same dream over and over again."

Brow furrowed, Aaron slid the notebook over to him and began to read, having to squint to get his tired eyes to focus. But as he pored over the contents, and the bits and pieces started fitting together, his eyes widened. His pulse quickened, face pale, hands nearly shaking as he turned the last page, finding he knew the rest before he even read it.

It was his dream, down to the last detail.

“This is your dream?” Aaron practically whirled on Salem, his hissed whisper sounding more like a demand than a question. There was an urgency in his voice, born of desperation, and he held the notebook to the table as if it could fly away at any second. He glanced between it and Salem, at the notes, the names, dates, even sketches of the same dungeon, the same manor he’d come to know so well, a ball of dread forming alongside strange hope in his chest. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Salem could hardly focus on Aaron as he began to read his journal. The outline of the mage become fuzzy as he began to slip in and out of consciousness, the threat of sleep looming over him. Aaron's voice snapped him back as he asked a ridiculously stupid question. Salem placed his hand upon his chin as he pretended to think. "Hmmm...now that you mention it...I don't think that was my dre- of course it was my dream. Why else would I say so?" Salem snatched the book out of Aaron's hands in a fit of frustration and snapped it closed. "If you're going to act like a dullard then never mind it…"

Aaron prided himself on his restraint, and he had to practice it then, when the urge to wrest the book from Salem’s grip and smack him with it nearly took him over. Instead, he threw up the hand that had been holding the book in frustration, grateful that Varis hadn’t arrived yet to observe them.

“Oh, wake the hell up for a second Salem,” Aaron growled irritably, leaning in so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I don’t have the patience for your childishness tonight. I’m asking because I’ve been having the same damn dream.”

"Maybe lead with that next time instead of asking a stupid question. I don't have time for all your cryptic bullshit and trying to read your every move, you saw the book and read the pages so obviously I was sure. All that aside though...why are we sharing the same dream about Lilie’s partner’s house?"

“Pardon me, in my line of work we don’t usually throw around details that make us look insane.” Aaron snapped, before falling heavily back against his chair. He rolled his neck, blinking several times and sighing. Fatigue was really wearing away at his patience.

“And that’s a fantastic question. I don’t know if I should be relieved or even more terrified.” He ran a hand down his face. “Besides, the Eve in the dream isn’t any Eve I’ve ever heard of. That’s not to say she doesn’t exist, but it definitely complicates things.” He gestured at the book. “I thought it was nonsense - extremely specific nonsense, mind you - born of sudden change and anxiety, but now I’m a whole lot more concerned.”

Salem pulled out his phone, not wanting to speak what he was about to say next. Typing out to Aaron, At dinner they mentioned a delayed use of mind magic when they were speaking of the Red Hand. What’re the chances that your house’s mistress implanted false memories or dreams in us while probing our minds? But...why would she?

Aaron eyed the message for a moment, turning it over in his mind. Now there was an idea. They both had their memories sifted through; could it be that Lady Sinnenodel’s mages left something behind when they were done?

I don’t really know anything about mind magic, but that seems like it could be possible, he typed out his reply in the same note, I don’t know why she’d do such a thing, but she’s not the easiest Council member to predict, so I suppose it could be anything.

He slid the phone back for Salem to read, and continued verbally. “I was just going to keep it to myself and hope it went away, honestly, but now that it’s definitely more than coincidence…” Aaron paused for a moment, ready to abort his plan, but his desperation for answers got the better of him. “Well, why don’t we research it? See if anything in it has any basis in reality, or if it’s all just some game?”

"Couldn't hurt to try. I was planning on doing so anyways, this way we can split the load at least. I wanted to look into the magic that we saw and see if anything turns up, as well as rare forms of magic. Figure you can look into the house and perhaps with it any old accents or more unknown ones seeing as I've never heard that accent before now. Anything else I might he missing?" Salem began to write down into his journal his proposed plan of attack, a note to remind him of his work so that he didn’t falter.

Aaron nodded. “I'll also put in a request to the archives and see if they have records of any buildings resembling the one in the dream. I'll look deeper into the Eves as well; maybe I just missed someone.” He seriously doubted it, but he'd entertain anything if it meant finding answers. “The royal library is more likely than anywhere to have that information. I doubt you'll have access to it on the break, but I’ll have no issue getting in and researching.”

He tapped Salem’s notebook. “Your dynamic with your partner confuses me, but if you think you can, see if Count Astorio knows anything about that Eve name. Noble families are endlessly interwoven, you never know what you'll find out.”

"He's certainly...a character. Much better than Varis… even if he tosses people he’s just met, but we have an… understanding. Best to leave it at that while we are in public. I'll make sure to ask him about that name though, think the school’s library will have anything on hearing voices in the wind?" Salem chuckled at the idea of it but any lead is a good lead and he wanted to find one fast.

Aaron really wasn't sure what to think about that, but he nodded nonetheless, moving on to the topic of magic. “If that's magic, then probably. If you're going to find information on magic anywhere, you'll find it here. If not… I have no idea.”

He sat back in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed for a moment. He opened them just in time for his favourite TA to pass by, and exchanged murderous glares with Ralph until he was gone.

He leaned back over to Salem, voice low. “But maybe that's enough discussion for one class,” He suggested. The vampires would probably be coming in soon anyway.

"Agreed, there's too many prying ears here to be able to speak freely. Perhaps we can continue this discussion another time in a more private setting. Hopefully if we figure this out then we can finally gain a good days sleep after all. Especially since I have to wake up for my daily dosage of sunlight for two hours a day."

“Hey, I'm waking up two hours early too,” Aaron remarked in surprise, before practically biting his tongue off as he realized what that line of inquiry would lead to. “Not for sunlight, though, just… I'm busy.” Smooth. Fatigue was apparently making him stupid. “Here’s hoping we can get this all out of the way.”

Decisive Action

Aaron had been anticipating his report all night, passing each moment leading up to it flip-flopping between excitement and agony. He was positively fixated on his conversation with Salem in Affinity Mastery, both comforted and horrified by the idea that he was somehow sharing a nightmare detail-by-detail with someone else. He’d been speculating as to why all night, preoccupied—resulting in him earning a particularly harsh glare from his Spell Theory instructor when he had to be called upon twice for an answer—but what consumed him was how he would explain it all to Varis. It was a huge find, one he was sure the Count would want to know, but what would happen when Varis learned his own mage experienced the same thing? If the nightmares were related to having their minds read by his Lady’s mages, that was one thing, but if it was in any way related to the accusations leveled against Salem, it could mean decidedly bad things for him.

Try as he might to convince himself that it was all just exhaustion making him paranoid, Aaron worried nonetheless—something he was quickly becoming an expert at. He just barely collected himself enough to get out a passable apology letter (mercifully, it was the last one) but, aside from the clear signs of fatigue in his features, Aaron was practiced at keeping his anxieties hidden. He got through the bulk of his report without incident, all accompanied by a written version as usual, until he finally couldn’t stall any longer.

Varis listened to the mage at his feet as he relaxed on the couch, his book sitting neatly in his lap with a solid red bookmark sporting a green stripe on top marking his spot. His fingers drummed absently on the book as the boy prattled on and on about all the information he’d collected. Varis would admit the boy took to subterfuge easily and if even half the things he’d learned about Light mages was true, he would only become a more formidable weapon in Varis’s arsenal. That is, if the boy didn’t break first. Fatigue marred his features already and purchasing the boy some concealer at the very least had crossed his mind. Weakness wafted off him and that would put both of them in danger if it continued outside of the Princess’ protection. Varis leaned forward and grabbed the boy’s chin, inspecting him with a judgemental frown.

“And when are you dealing with these? If you choose not to sleep for some inane reason, at least have the sense to cover up the evidence. As it is, I find it unacceptable you aren’t sleeping but we’ll order concealer for future incidents.” Varis traced the circles under Aaron’s eyes as he considered the boy’s skin tone. “So what are you working on that is depriving you of sleep, boy?”

Aaron paused in his report to patiently comply, letting Varis turn and touch his face with little reaction. It still wasn’t his favourite thing in the world, but at the moment it was pretty low on his list of concerns. He had to suppress a groan at the question, though; Varis had a talent for drawing out his anxieties, that was certain.

“Fitful days, Master,” Aaron went with the safe option. “I can't place the reason, perhaps the recent changes. With your permission, I’ll visit the infirmary tomorrow and see if they have anything that can help me sleep without impacting my performance.”

Varis considered the idea briefly before releasing Aaron and leaning back again, his hand returning to the book. “Very well. Make sure you receive an updated copy of your medical records if the prescribe anything and give them to me for review before you take anything.” Varis opened his book and glanced at Aaron once more time. “Was there more for the evening boy or are you ready to be dismissed?”

Aaron nodded at the order before continuing. “One more pertinent point, Master. Tangentially related, in fact. It turns out Mr. Spellman has been having trouble sleeping as well. Apparently, he's plagued by a recurring nightmare.”

He took a second to get his thoughts in order, and swallow the guilt that somehow still lingered over selling out his ‘friend’. “He tells me that every day since the first night of classes he's had the same dream. He sees through the eyes of a young girl trapped in a cell, suffering horrid abuse until she's rescued by a vampiress. He says she fears ‘ghosts’ and voices and has been trapped for longer than she can measure. But most notably, the name of the girl and the saviour both come up in the dream. He says the girl is Ellmare, and the woman rescuing her is Yvaine Eve.”

He paused to let the name sink in. “He took diligent notes about the dream and showed them to me. I can provide more detail if desired.” It wasn't as if he needed Salem's notes to tell Varis everything there was about the dream. He knew it all by heart; he saw the same things and felt the same terror Salem did, every time he fell asleep.

Varis closed his book slowly as the boy explained this… nightmare. Most of it Varis could disregard. The Spellman worked with odd concoctions and things that could easily alter his perceptions. Varis would have doubted this whole issue’s validity if it hadn’t been for an Eve he’d ever heard of. He cocked his head with a thoughtful frown as he searched his memory for a “Yvaine Eve”. He’d never heard of one and Varis had spent decades researching the bloodlines of all the Houses.

“I’m tempted to write it off as a fever dream induced by some fumes or injection the boy tested on himself. Ellmare? Who in their right mind names anyone Ellmare? No, I’m quite concerned about this Yvaine Eve. How is Spellman reacting to this nightmare? Has he pursued any information on subject or does he have a plan to research it further?” Varis demanded. “Submit the dream’s entirety in writing. I would like to review it in more detail but I’ve never heard of an Yvaine Eve.”

Aaron nodded again. “I’ll have a transcript ready for tomorrow’s report. I’d like to confirm the finer details first,” he lied. He'd have it for tomorrow’s report, yes, but he didn't need to consult Salem to write out every fine detail of the dream. Of course, it would be suspicious if he remembered everything. “Fortunately, that shouldn't be a problem. I agreed to help him research the details of his dream, so he won't find it odd if I go looking for specifics. I even offered to check the royal library during his stay at the castle over first break.”

That Varis didn't know the Eve’s name either was a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, Aaron was relieved, since it meant he wasn't just forgetting someone; on the other, it only added to the mystery of it all.

“Salem is clearly suffering from the nightmares and lack of sleep, both physically and mentally,” he continued, “it consumes his waking hours as well as sleeping. He seems to be worried about separating the dream and reality; I assume he's either preoccupied with figuring it out, or it simply haunts him.” He shook his head. “I would have suspected adjusting to life under Astorio rule to be the culprit of such a traumatic dream, but as you say, Master, the names are what perplex me. Without any expertise on the subject, I'd expect an Astorio name to come up if that were the case, not an Eve.”

“You took the initiative to offer your services to assist Mr. Spellman?” Varis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is this because you’ve become friends with the boy or you’re interested in the situation yourself? Either way, I’m interested in this missing Eve he’s conjured up. If it turns out to be nothing but a false lead, I’ll have your information reported to the medical staff as a hallucination and let the investigation do what it will with that information.” Varis hummed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Do you have a plan on how to go about this already with him?”

“I’ll admit it’s partly morbid fascination, but otherwise this could be an excellent opportunity to gain his trust,” Aaron lied, mostly. “He thinks I’m some kind of blind, heartless thrall, so perhaps going out of my way to help him will open him up a little.” That much might be true, though it was far from Aaron’s foremost motivation. “As well… well, if there’s anything sinister behind it, I’d like to know. He will be spending two weeks in the castle; I’d rather not take chances.”

To the point of a plan, Aaron made a mental list. “Beyond me checking the royal library, Salem wants to research any magic that matches hearing voices, and see what he can glean from his master. Count Astorio is young, but one never knows which secrets lie where.” He counted the strategies off on his fingers. “Ms. Dionne’s mistress is all but absent, so she doesn’t seem like much help, but I also floated the idea of sending in an archival request for any buildings that vaguely match the description in the dream.” Aarom dropped his hand. “They may seem like great lengths for the makings of a fever dream, but I think it brought Salem comfort for someone to take his dream so seriously.”

"Congratulations, boy. You've managed to exceed my expectations." Varis' customary frown softened, still not a smile but lacking the usual disappointment he looked at Aaron with. "Continue to assist however Spellman requires. For now, I'll mark down that you've earned a free night for your efforts. Good job."

Aaron’s eyes widened a touch, the familiar joy of praise cautiously rising in him at the news. “Thank you, Master,” he insisted, sincerely humbled and surprised at the same time.

Varis picked up his book again and flipped it open, looking up at Aaron for a second. "Is there anything else or does that conclude your report? If there is nothing else, you are dismissed for the rest of the morning."

“That is everything, Master,” Aaron confirmed, some enthusiasm still in his voice. He rose gratefully to his feet, bowed, and retired to his room after adding, “Have a pleasant morning.”

Aaron's Practical - Light

Aaron’s letter, nestled in a cocoon of various business letters for Varis, instructed the mage to find his way to a picnic area set just outside the Academy grounds. The night was warmer than usual, an unusual heat wave late in the season catching most people unaware, but the gentle breeze off the ocean helped alleviate it. The campus at this time was rather still. Older students didn’t have the same slow start that the first years did and those not currently in class were likely in their dorms or the library studying. A few guards made the rounds, nodding at passing students or conversing with them as they accompanied them to their destinations. This faded away quickly enough as trees rose up around the path but floating orbs of various colors marked the way, though plain white alternated with them to make an easily visible line.

The woods grew brighter as the path continued, until the trees opened to a swarm of bright white orbs dancing in a clearing. In the center, various tables were scattered about but a gaunt man sat on one of them. His hair was tied neatly behind his head, face sunken and thin, but a smile sat on his lips as he spun the orbs lazily around him. He put several more in the air every few seconds until he pulled them all together into one and let it hover above him, replicating perfect sunlight.

Though he wished the breeze was a little cooler, Aaron had to admit that the walk to his first solo Affinity Mastery class was nice, the fresh forest air helping him a little to clear his head. Fatigue from almost a week of nigh-sleepless days was starting to get to him, as the circles beginning to appear under his eyes would attest, but the prospect of moving forward in his affinity training was more than enough to put a little spring back in his step as he followed the path to the forest.

The little orbs along the path brought a smile to Aaron’s face as he followed them - he couldn’t help it, magic always got him excited - but what really impressed him was what he found when he made it to the clearing. A man, presumably his instructor, sitting in the midst of a veritable constellation of white orbs of light, before bringing them all together to bathe the clearing in… sunlight!

Aaron took a moment to observe before he stepped into the clearing, a smile on his lips as he examined the man’s creation. It was sunlight alright; not just light with the same hue, but genuine sunlight. He couldn’t explain exactly how he knew, but there was no doubt about it. And while he might have been raised nocturnal, he would never turn down the chance to spend a few minutes in the sun.

“Beautiful,” Aaron commented, finally entering the clearing, though he stopped a bit of a distance from his instructor.

“That which is rare always is.” The man sighed, the little orb of sunlight shrinking and hovering over his shoulder as he hopped off the table. He winced as what sounded like every joint in his body cracked with the movement but he smiled at Aaron still. “I think I’m getting old now.” He deadpanned with a shake of his head.

“Professor Russel Daun, Mr. Starag. I’ll be heading your affinity training for the next four years. Hopefully we get along or this is going to be a rough one.” Russell chuckled and made his way to Aaron, clapping him on the shoulder. “Most of the students have a small file with some information on their situation but I didn’t receive one for you, probably because royal secrets and all that, so forgive me for not knowing your level yet. Would you mind providing a demonstration of what you’ve learned?”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Aaron replied, giving Professor Daun a courteous bow purely out of habit and promptly being surprised when the man clasped his shoulder. He smiled at the professor as he spoke, feeling a little more at ease than he normally did around instructors, though he suspected it had something to do with that delightful little ball of sunshine hovering over the man’s shoulder.

At the mention of a demonstration, Aaron was snapped out of his reverie. “Oh, of course,” he replied hastily, looking around the clearing to see what he was working with. The night was dark but for the moon and the ball of light hovering near Professor Daun, but that would probably be enough for what he needed.

Taking a few steps back so he had some room, Aaron closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath, concentrating on the flow of magic within him—something he’d actually caught on to indirectly through Salem. The ebb and flow was comfortable, familiar; a welcome respite from… well, everything.

His ring began to glow pale yellow, and when he opened his eyes, the same glow had claimed them, too. Holding his hands out in front of him, he reached out with his magic, calling the light from the orb to him. Much like his demonstration on orientation night, a beam of light formed between his palms, reflecting back and forth as if between mirrors and growing brighter by the second. But where he’d let the light escape on orientation night, this time Aaron held on to it more deftly; when it grew uncomfortably bright (for anyone who wasn’t a light mage, that is) Aaron pulled his hands abruptly apart, pulling the light like softened glass into a thin beam. At once it started moving, almost too fast to follow, bouncing between all ten of his fingertips like a pinball before sailing past his hand, only to loop around and return to his opposite palm where it exploded in a flash.

“I could already concentrate existing light when I arrived here,” Aaron explained, blinking the glow from his eyes. “Ever since, I’ve been working on refining my manipulation, slowing the light down and getting some more precise directional control. Keeping up with it, even slowed down, has proved a challenge, but my reflexes are starting to catch up.” He smiled, though he was all business a moment later as he perched a hand on his pommel. “I’ve also experienced a bit of involuntary glowing in situations of extreme stress, but it’s easily controlled by removing my focus.” He held up his ring for the professor to see.

He sighed, tugging on his left ear. “Creating my own light, however, still eludes me.”

“And it probably will for a while. Everything takes time, Mr. Starag.” Russell chuckled, returning to his seat once more as he gave Aaron a thoughtful look. “Tell me, what do you plan to achieve with your magic? Light magic dictates a substance which directs the lives of every creature, from human to vampire and everything in between. It tells us what our world looks like, what color is, what is around us and gives us the chance to react to it. Despite what many people think, there is more to light than meets the eye.” He chuckled a little at the joke before his thoughtful expression returned.

“So Mr. Starag. What do you expect to get out of this affinity?”

Aaron nodded. Patience; it wasn't always his strong suit when magic was involved, but he needed to exercise it nonetheless. The professor’s question gave him pause, however, but not for want of an answer; it was true, on the surface light may have seemed a rather weak affinity when compared to the power to shake the earth or set the air on fire, but just as Aaron had discovered soon after his Awakening, the possibilities were vastly more powerful than what met the eye. He had notebooks back home filled to bursting with every way he could imagine light being harnessed; with the proper training he could control what people saw, weave vast and perfect illusions or make things disappear completely. He remembered reading about light mages who could see around corners and in 360 degrees, see incredible distances, create entities of light and see through their eyes like proxies, even travel huge distances in seconds by “riding” light. He even remembered giddily imagining how he could become an ideal bodyguard to his charge, capable of shielding a vampire from sunlight in the middle of the day and wielding his own sunlight against any vampiric attacker.

And he was sure there were yet dozens, if not more, possibilities he hadn't thought of, and the prospect of so much out there to learn and wield made him positively giddy. His tired eyes shone with rare excitement and determination when finally he met the professor’s gaze again with his answer. “Everything there is.”

“Ambitious.” Russell chuckled from his seat on the table. “But what else would we expect from the best of us. Very well, Mr. Starag. Let’s see where we should start. That was an excellent self analysis. Let us work on that control some more. Once we’ve seen you can direct your light for longer, we’ll move onto creating images. I doubt you’ll have too much difficulty reaching that by the end of the semester though if you put some extra effort, we may be able to get you to animating them properly as well. Nothing particularly complex, likely something simple like a flag or a spinning orb, but exciting nonetheless. For now however…” Russell expanded the light on his shoulder, brightening the area a bit and then several large hoops of light appeared around them.

“We’ll be running an obstacle course for a little while. We’ll work on shrinking the rings and then adding movement while you guide a small ball of light through them. For now, let’s get a bundle of light and then stop it all together.” Russell held out his hands like Aaron, mimicking his technique but he cupped his hands together. He didn’t fully close them but left a gap large enough for Aaron to see. The light bent in onto itself, following the curve of his palms until it separated from him and hovered in a small ball between them. The light followed itself round and round, like a dog chasing its tail. “For now, let’s make a stable orb of concentrated light. Once you can create your own, this will be far simpler but we get to do it the fun way for a bit. The first step to controlling the light is stabilizing. Light doesn’t like to change directions over and over again and you’ll find it incredibly draining to do so without outside help. So what you do is guide the light into a circuit and keep it there. All you have to do is wrap your magic in a loose circle and the light will follow it happily. So, condense the light like usual and then use your magic to provide a track and the light will keep to it. Go ahead and try.”

Feeling a little more proud of himself than was probably warranted, Aaron’s face broke into a smile at Professor Daun’s praise. He took straight to his task, though. The professor seemed to think he could make significant strides in one semester and he wasn't about to prove the man wrong.

Professor Daun’s solution to the problem of directing light was almost too elegant; frankly, Aaron was surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. He was so preoccupied with learning to reflect light that he never considered curving it. Light wasn't fond of curving, true, but that was where magic came in.

Cupping his hands as Professor Daun had (leaving enough room for light to enter to be concentrated in the first place), Aaron called to mind that mind-numbingly repetitive crystal exercise from their classroom sessions. He knew well how the flow of magic through his body felt, and he'd done something similar with the current when he made his orb move around within the crystal. Doing his best to keep his breathing even - breath control was helpful, but he couldn't use that crutch forever - he focused on the space between his hands. He called the light there easily enough, but rather than focusing on bouncing it back and forth, he focused on letting his magic loop between his palms before returning to him. He did this for a few seconds, concentrating on the feeling, and when his eyes opened again (glowing solid yellow as always) he had a little ball of light between his hands.

His eyes widened, and in his excitement he almost lost his focus altogether; there it was! An orb! Spinning! Or, well, it felt like spinning. There was no visible cue, but he could feel the light following his magic's path, like a leaf caught in a whirlwind.

“Wow,” Aaron gasped, despite himself. He looked excitedly with pupil-less eyes from his hands to the teacher and back again, beaming. “You're right, it's much more malleable with a path to follow, isn't it?”

“Good job Aaron!” Russell praised him, nodding at the orb in Aaron’s hand. “Much of light magic works on this principle. Most people believe we bend light but really we just politely ask it to change its direction and suggest it stays moving that way. Making demands of your affinity will only slow your progress; we are the ones going against the natural order and we ought to show respect as we ask it to change a course several millennia in the making.”

“Now we’ll remove our hands slowly. Try and keep your magic from following. Maintaining its size is the key lesson here because we want to remove your reliance on the physical to guide your magic. I don’t expect you to manage it right away but this is an easy exercise you can perform anywhere if you have some free time.” Russell pulled his hands away from the orb slowly, dropping them once they reached shoulder width. The orb of light hovered exactly where Russell left it as if suspended on a string.

“Let’s see you try now.” Russell opened the floor for Aaron to demonstrate how well he could control his light orb.

More encouraged than he expected to be over a little bit of praise, Aaron nodded and turned his attention back to the orb between his hands, subsisting much more easily than his usual methods of directing light. Focusing on maintaining his ‘current’, he slowly began to draw his hands apart; the orb did grow the first few tries, expanding into something like a ring as his little cyclone of magic expanded with the movement, and each time he reset his position, staring into the light with more determination than the last.

After about ten tries in rapid succession, Aaron was able to move his hands about a foot apart while maintaining his orb’s original size, though it did shudder a bit now and then. He tried not to get too excited lest it interrupt his flow, and instead decided to talk his way through the process as a means to temper himself.

“I'm still feeling an urge to coordinate physical efforts with magical ones,” he explained, eyes still trained stubbornly on the orb. He took a deep breath in an attempt to loosen up a bit, but the orb shuddered as he did, and he went back to shallow breathing to compensate. “As I separate my hands the tension is moving to my belly and chest.” It was as if he was trying to squeeze a large ball, the muscles in his chest and arms tensing even as his hands drew apart, and his abdomen tensing as well with the effort. “Is that normal?”

“It is.” Russell’s orb winked out as he gave Aaron a reassuring smile. “Your body is trying to compensate for the lack of your normal methods. Take a few deep breaths and relax yourself. If your light goes out, start from the beginning and take it slowly. It may help if you move in tandem with your breathing, slow and deep breaths in while your hands are still and long, control exhales while your hands are separating.”

Aaron nodded and tried again with Professor Daun’s methods. It seemed to work a bit better from the start - though Aaron was used to breath control, so that might have been part of it - though it still took several tries before he got much consistency. The rest of the class was spent on that exercise, Aaron putting in several attempts and the Professor intermittently offering advice, until Aaron could consistently get his hands shoulder-width apart before the light started shuddering.

The last attempt was shakier than the rest, and finally Aaron let his hands drop and his light wink out, spent but smiling. “That’s more demanding than you’d think, isn’t it?” he chuckled, voice breathy with exertion. He glanced at his watch; class was almost over anyway. He was actually impressed he’d lasted this long, seeing as he hadn’t had a solid day’s sleep since the first night of classes.

“It’s a little like using a muscle that you rarely use.” Russell agreed, hopping off the table with another wince and started leading Aaron down the path back to campus. “But with time, magic will be as instinctive as breathing. Did you have any questions about today’s lessons?”

Accompanying the professor down the path, Aaron shook his head. “I don't think so; you've explained this very well,” he replied, though he did think of something as they came up to the mouth of the path. “Although, is there anything else I should keep in mind as I practice on my own?”

“What else should you keep in mind? Lets see.” Russell frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, you seem like someone who pushes themselves to achieve so remember in everything to take a break. It won’t come all at once and just like a muscle, overuse might do more harm than good. Keep a conscious focus on your breathing and consciously practice. Don’t let your mind wander, even when you think you’ve mastered a basic, otherwise you may develop poor habits that will catch you up in your advanced lessons. Other than that, I think you’re on the right path Aaron.” The Professor clapped him on the shoulder again and grinned.

Grinning back, Aaron nodded, holding his hand out for the professor to shake. “Thank you very much professor, I'll keep those things in mind. I look forward to our next lesson.”

Words from Home

Sprinkled throughout the Academy campus were picnic tables, lone or in groups of two or three, placed a good distance from the various paths criss-crossing the campus and usually provided with lights if students wanted to use them for studying. Some of them had shrubs and other flora nearby to offer a bit of atmosphere and privacy, and some were simply out in the open, their occupants visible to anyone walking by.

It was one of those that Aaron occupied all on his own, taking advantage of the space to spread a few texts and notebooks around as he got in a few precious minutes of study time. Despite the occasional problem of the wind turning his pages or sending his notes flying away, he’d taken to using the picnic tables as his main venue for studying; the fountain courtyard never had space, Varis was rarely home during the night to grant him access to the dorm, the dining hall was too loud and crowded, and the stir that seemed to accompany him ever since his public apology made studying in the library too distracting. But even though people could see him sitting there as they walked by, his affinity meant he could read his notes just fine without turning the light on, so to them, he was just a vague figure in the darkness. And even if they were looking at him, no one ever approached him.

Perhaps ostracization had its advantages.

Besides, the wind wasn’t a concern of his tonight. The air was very still for an autumn night, the usual rustling of trees in the breeze replaced by a chorus of crickets picking up for the fall. Considering what had been keeping him up the past several days, Aaron certainly wasn’t complaining about the lack of wind; the crickets were a welcome change. A few murmurs reached him here and there from the surrounding paths, likely more buzzing about the Arena being closed by royal instruction the night before, but while they did occasionally jar him from his focus, they were quiet enough that Aaron could (mostly) ignore them.

In fact, he had finally - whether through practice or fatigue - gotten himself to focus, largely deaf to the world as he drafted yet another set of Treaty Law notes to be passed on to Lilie when a jab to his side made him shoot out of his seat. He whirled around, hand on Dawn’s handle when an armoured hand grasped his sword arm and a man growled a warning he didn’t quite catch, stopped from subduing him only by a female voice.

“Oh, come now, that’s a tad extreme.”

A small, thin hand grasped the man’s forearm. The man, a dark-haired guard in Noila colours, complied quickly, releasing Aaron’s arm and stepping back with a muttered apology. The arm belonged to a short, slight woman draped in a thickly woven cape shawl, with silver-streaked blonde hair twisted into a low bun and blue—

“Mom?”

Aaron’s shocked expression fell in an instant, replaced immediately by a wide smile as a disbelieving laugh escaped him. His mother laughed too, leaning over a bit with the force of it, but barely had time to stand up straight before Aaron collected her in a hug, lifting her several inches up off the ground and turning before he released her. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be here!”

“I wanted to surprise you!” his mother retorted, still chuckling. “And by the looks of it, I succeeded! You must learn to relax, sweetheart.”

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “How can I relax with the threat of sneaky fire mages ambushing me at any moment?” he joked, voice edged with mock indignation. Shaking his head, he gestured for his mother to sit, taking a seat himself and turning to face her. He assumed she was here on business with the Princess, likely related to the closure of the Arena, but a lifetime of classified comings and goings numbed him to the curiosity, and he knew better than to ask. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now that I can finally lay eyes on you,” Ella replied, taking one of Aaron’s hands in both of hers. She did frown, though. “Although, could you turn on the light? Not all of us can see in the dark, you know.”

Aaron started reaching for the light, but got a better idea. “I’ll do you one better,” he replied mischievously, smirking as he cupped his hands in front of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew a long breath, and soon a little orb of white light had formed between his hands, staying in place even as he separated them. When he opened his eyes, they were blank and glowing as they always did when he practiced magic, but the unsettling look was offset by a smile.

Ella smiled back and clapped quietly, beaming. “Beautiful!” She exclaimed proudly, “Not even a month at school and already improving so much.”

Aaron chuckled bashfully, nodding as he let the light wink out. “Can’t quite move them yet, but it's definitely more efficient than bouncing light all over the place.” He reached to turn the proper light on, washing the picnic table in a soft yellow glow.

“Progress is progress, Sunshine,” Ella replied, sighing happily. “I’m just so glad to see you. Now, you must tell me everything.”

“Oh no,” Aaron teased, leaning an elbow on the picnic table. “You tell me how you managed to sneak up on me like that. I’m starting to think Clara is rubbing off on you.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Please, I taught Clara everything she knows. She just never learned to pick her battles.” She laughed, a musical sound, though it was interrupted by a short burst of coughs at the end. Aaron looked concerned, but Ella waved him away, drawing a handkerchief from a hidden pocket somewhere in her skirt. She took a second to collect herself and clear her throat before she continued. “I told those two to keep quiet, though. Stars only know they’d have ruined the surprise with their big mouths.”

Aaron smiled warmly, eyes softening as he listened. He hadn’t been away from home all that long, but bantering like this with his mother again was like food for his soul. “Yeah, I’m amazed they listened.”

“They always listen to me,” Ella stated proudly. “But they’re old news. I’m here to hear about you. How are your classes? Have you been making friends? And who is this mysterious partner you’ve kept so hidden?”

Aaron grinned bashfully, glancing down at his hands. He supposed this night had been a long time coming. Honestly, he was astounded that it took her this long to outright ask. She'd been exceedingly patient with his beating around the bush and question-dodging, but he supposed there was a part of him that hoped he'd be able to make it to the break before he had to break the news.

“The classes are interesting!” he replied, his enthusiasm just a little forced. “You wouldn’t believe the size of them, though. My Spell Theory class probably has fifty students in it, and Treaty Law probably triple that.” Aaron shook his head. “I’ve adjusted pretty smoothly, luckily, but it is just bizarre.”

Ella looked just as confused at the arrangement as Aaron had been at first. “Well, at least Treaty Law shouldn’t be a problem for you,” she offered.

“True,” Aaron quirked his head. Varis was harsh, but even he couldn’t seem to find much fault in his knowledge of the Treaty. “You’d be surprised how many mages don’t know anything about the Treaty, though. And then some of them even actively disdain it! Such as… well, I’m sure you heard about Mr. Spellman.”

“Indeed I did,” Ella replied, folding her hands on her lap. She hid it well, but there was definitely an air of distaste surrounding the topic. Of course, she had decades more practice in subtlety than her son did, and shifted the topic with ease. “I was much more interested to hear that Her Majesty herself appointed you as his guardian.” A smirk found her features, and her voice swelled with pride. “It isn’t often a mage as young as you is assigned a duty of such importance.”

“Oh, Mom,” Aaron’s ears flushed a little, and he waved the idea away. “Don’t inflate my head now, Salem is more of a hazard to himself than anyone else.”

Ella shook her head. “Don’t get complacent. Anyone facing his accusations could be a threat, let alone when they’re inside the castle.” She straightened pridefully, prompting Aaron to do the same, but softened. “But I, for one, will sleep soundly knowing who’s in charge of keeping him in check.”

Aaron smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Mom.”

Ella smiled warmly, but moved right along. “Of course, I hope Mr. Spellman isn’t the only… acquaintance you’ve made,” she pressed.

Aaron smirked, shaking his head and inadvertently tangling his earring in his hair again. “No, actually I’ve made a few,” he assured her, pulling absently at his earring to dislodge it. “There’s Max, a metal mage whose company I enjoy almost exclusively because he hates it so much, but also Lilie, a water mage and quite a fenc—”

“Hang on dear, I’m sorry,” Ella interrupted, standing. She stood, moving Aaron’s hand and carefully disentangling the earring from his hair, much like Lilie had on the first night he got it. Aaron pulled away slightly, but didn’t have the heart to stop her.

“I don’t know what you’ve got stuck in…” she trailed off as the metallic glint of the earring shone from under his hair, disentangling it fully and examining the pendant for a moment as Aaron practically shrunk in embarrassment. Every explanation that came to mind died in his throat as her silence seemed to stretch forever, and he knew it was useless. The truth was right there in her hands; there was nothing more he could say.

“...I did think it strange that Her Highness didn’t tell me,” Ella finally admitted, almost to herself. “And… I can only assume this earring wasn’t a personal fashion choice.”

Aaron shook his head solemnly, though he did his best to hide his shame. “No, mother.”

Ella nodded, retaking her seat. She regarded her son silently for a moment, Aaron’s gut twisting all the while as he awaited the worst, before she spoke again.

“I think it suits you,” she stated, as casually as if she were talking about a new tie and not a new Noble alliance.

Aaron’s brow furrowed. “The… earring?”

“Well, yes, for a start. You definitely wear it better than Clara would with that chicken neck of hers.” She chuckled, and even Aaron was forced to crack a smile, before she got sincere again. “But beyond that, serving an esteemed Noble House definitely becomes you, Sunshine.”

“A Noble House,” Aaron pointed out, some of his disappointment leaking through, “but not the royal House.”

“You hold your tongue,” Ella reprimanded him, though there was no malice to it. “The Sinnenodels are a respected and powerful family, and I won’t hear you besmirching your new House. You know better than that.” She gave him a pointed look. “And recall that it was Her Highness Princess Ryner herself who put you in their care in the first place, and I won’t have you disrespecting her decision. I’m sure she could think of no one better for the task.” She straightened up, satisfied that her point was made. “Now, tell me about your new charge.”

Aaron dropped his head as he was reprimanded, nodding. His mother was right, of course she was. It was petty and disgraceful to talk about his new House like they were something to be ashamed of, not to mention disrespectful to Ryner herself. He’d never heard his mother say anything so glowing about the “snakes” of House Sinnenodel before, and he knew she couldn’t be pleased, but she was right; he was raised to for one job, and now it was time to do it.

“It’s Count Varis Sinnenodel,” Aaron replied, moving on to the question at hand. “He’s from a lesser branch of the family, but is also their—my Lady’s current favourite.”

“Ah yes, the young Count,” Ella nodded knowingly. “I’ve had the… well, admittedly not the pleasure, but the opportunity to meet him on several occasions, though I’d be sincerely surprised if he cared to remember me. He and Her Highness are intimate business partners, as I’m sure you know by now.”

Aaron nodded. “And he’s the current heir to House Sinnenodel, not to mention their Council seat. Should anything happen to Her Excellency, of course.”

“Indeed.” Ella smirked. “And you’re his mage. It’s really quite an honour.”

Aaron shrugged, though he had to grin. “Well, his ‘newest show mage,’ technically,” he admitted, “but yes, I suppose it is.”

Ella scoffed. “My dear, not that you wouldn’t make an excellent show mage, but I’d be amazed to see a shrewd Count like Varis waste your talents on just that.”

Aaron wasn’t so sure. “Maybe, but…” He sighed. “I’ll admit, as a whole, he doesn’t seem too impressed with me.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “That family has made disapproval into an art form. I would be much more concerned if he was impressed with you.” She laid a reassuring hand on Aaron’s forearm and offered him a smile, taking in the fatigue on his face for a moment. “Their methods are different than ours, yes. But whatever trials he has in store for you, I have no doubt you’ll overcome them.”

Aaron laid his hand on hers, expression softening. “You think so?”

Ella smiled. “I know so,” she stated matter-of-factly, her grin growing mischievous. “I know for a fact I raised a son who would settle for nothing less. Mark my words; you’ll be promoted from show mage to majordomo in no time.”

Knowing Varis so far, Aaron was hesitant to hope, but he couldn’t help but smile. Practical or not, majordomo was pretty much his dream job, and… well, things had been looking up a little lately. Was it so impractical for him to set his goals high? “Well… truth be told, I did manage to impress him recently. He even rewarded me with a free night.”

“A free night?” Ella grinned cleverly. “How interesting! And how do you plan to spend it?”

“Aside from sleeping?” Aaron chuckled. “Well, I was actually going to request the first night of the Revel.”

Ella nodded, thinking for a moment. “This year’s theme is ‘masquerade,’ isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I hear there will be a formal masquerade ball here on campus and everything,” Aaron confirmed. He grinned. “I’m actually pretty excited for it.”

Ella nodded again, and a wry smirk came to her lips. “It sounds wonderful, Sunshine,” she beamed. “But what will you wear? I know you didn’t pack anything that wouldn’t fit in at home.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed for a moment, before he had to laugh. “I suppose I didn’t really think of that.” He’d look ridiculous at the Revel in a classic suit and tie; it was a holiday for extravagance, after all.

Ella laughed as well, shaking her head and patting her son’s leg. “Don’t you worry about that,” she assured him. “I’ll have something sent for you.”

Aaron smiled, though the two were interrupted by the guard that had accompanied Ella, who had been standing to the side the entire time. “Madam Starag, I must—”

“You must nothing,” Ella snapped, “I don’t see my son in weeks and you’re rushing me? Her Highness will be fine another few minutes, not to mention quite displeased if she hears you cut off a meeting between me and my son.”

Aaron stopped her, holding out a hand and looking apologetically to the guard. “It’s fine, Mom,” he told her gently, glancing at his watch. “You know, it’s almost my curfew time anyway. I should be going.” He stood and helped his mother gently to her feet, who seemed unimpressed, but didn’t protest.

“Fair enough,” she sighed, opening her arms. Aaron stooped to hug her, though he refrained from holding her the extra moment he wanted.

“It was really nice to see you,” he told her as he released her, stooping to kiss her on the cheek.

“Likewise, my dear.” Ella smiled up at him. “Take care of yourself, Sunshine.”

“You too, Mom.” Aaron smiled down at her, and nodded to the guard, who escorted his (somewhat displeased) mother away after some final goodbyes. Aaron watched her go, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. She wasn’t ashamed of him, wasn’t horrified at his new allegiance, nothing. He’d been building up the reveal in his mind for nothing; he knew she wasn’t fond of the Sinnenodels, but she clearly didn’t think he was a failure, and now that it was all out in the open, he could breathe a little easier. No more hiding possibly the biggest aspect of his life from his family, no more sneaking around the subject, everything was fine.

Still, he was glad she hadn’t asked why he wasn’t sleeping.

Hit Each Other with Sticks for Bonding

Campus was quieter than normal on the last Saturday before the Revel, most students squared away in the library or their dorms, catching up on whatever schoolwork or chores they needed to get done so their partying could go uninterrupted. It was a shame, though; the moon was low in the sky, making way for the stars to shine brighter than normal, and the heat wave that had blown over the campus had finally broken free, leaving the air crisp with a pleasant pre-autumn chill.

Of course, Aaron wasn’t outside to enjoy it either. He was tucked away underneath the Arena in the practice room he’d reserved for him and Max, with an extra request to have anything metal that could be removed, removed. Dawn was safely tucked away in its scabbard back at his dorm, too, and instead the practice room had been outfitted with two wooden practice swords, balanced with stone weights rather than lead. Aaron himself was also looking different than usual, his normal, formal style foregone in favour of a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and sneakers. His long Sinnenodel earring had been replaced with its practice stud counterpart, the crest clearly visible what with his hair tied tightly to his head in three braids, joined at the back with pins. Nothing sticking out, nothing to be grabbed.

Aside from the clothes, though, Aaron still wasn’t quite looking like himself. He went through the motions of limbering up his joints as he waited for Max, sure, but his usual enthusiasm for training was subdued, to say the least. The dark circles that had been gradually forming under his eyes the past two weeks were out in full force, and while he was hoping some exercise would help clear his head, he couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed that a rare respite from schoolwork, chores and punishments would be spent trading blows with Max rather than trying to catch up on a few minutes of sleep.

Max sauntered into the room nonchalantly, right on time despite his apparent disdain for having to be present. He looked as unkempt as he usually did, despite Eris’ best efforts, but his scowl was reigned in enough to almost pass for a neutral expression. He took a brief moment to inspect Aaron, then looked away with a roll of his eyes. Oooh, Retriever looked serious. This was going to be a pain, he could already tell.

“So, how’s this work?” Was Maxwell Alderman too petty to bother with even saying hello to his little arranged playmate? Yes, yes he was. “We whack each other over the head a few times and then show off our bruises to the vampies? Or am I gonna get a wonderful lesson in royal swordplay that I can show off to all my friends?” He kept his tone unenthusiastic and fairly level, letting the context spell out the sarcasm for him.

Aaron was just surprised Max showed up on time, truth be told. He ignored Max’s quip for a moment in favour of giving him an up-and-down look, inspecting his clothes. He honestly couldn’t tell if Max had dressed any differently for training - he looked like he just rolled out of bed most nights anyway - but he supposed it would do.

Foregoing pleasantries, as he’d become used to on their little vampire-mandated playdates, Aaron simply picked up the two wooden swords on the floor next to him, tossing one without warning to Max. “Something in between, I bet,” he replied, critically eyeing Max’s posture. “I know I probably already asked you this, but have you really not done any kind of combat training before?”

Max carelessly held out a hand as the sword came flying at him, then let out a derisive snort as it clattered to the floor uselessly. That was weird, normally he could still move those. At least, the ones they used in Self Defense. He let out a second, more lighthearted snort as he bent down to pick the practice weapon up, weighing it in his hand experimentally.

“D’you custom order these or something? I hope you’re not scared of me or anything.” Max taunted idly before flashing a shit-eating grin that would probably make even Eris jealous of its potency. That, or the Retriever was calling him a cheater. Which was valid, he guessed. “And no, other than the stuff we went over in class, I don’t know anything about this. Unless, like, video games count, but…” Max shrugged.

“Apparently I’m not the first one to think a metal mage might be tempted to cheat in a swordfight,” Aaron replied, returning Max’s shrug. “Besides, it’s your arms Eris wants you flexing, not your magic.”

He gestured for Max to raise his sword, and gave his posture another critical look when he’d done so. Was that how characters held swords in video games, then?

“Well, luckily the basics of swordplay are pretty idiot-proof,” Aaron continued, pacing around Max and whacking him with his own sword wherever his stance was lacking. “And if ten-year-old me could pick up the basics, so can you.” Once Max was in something that more resembled an actual ready stance, Aaron circled back in front of him, but stood at rest, sword at his side. “Alright, hit me.”

“Y’know you can just tell me what to change instead of smacking me, right? I’m not deaf.” Max hissed out, gripping the weapon with both hands. Aaron was probably wise for taking all the metal out of the room; a couple more rounds of this crap and Max would be throwing whole weapon racks around out of spite. He drew back the sword for a fairly uncreative diagonal “slash” across the torso, throwing his weight into it. The power was there, but the entire ordeal was blatantly telegraphed.

Max’s slash was met with a rather simple parry of Aaron’s sword, his blade sliding down the other (sadly without the characteristic shing of metal against metal) and carrying the power behind it sailing past Aaron, where he used the momentum to turn and slam his own blade across Max’s back. It probably wouldn’t bruise, but a piece of wood bouncing off the spine was rarely pleasant.

“You’re dead.” Aaron stated flatly. “And I hope your sensibilities weren’t too damaged by a few whacks, or you’ll find this whole ‘combat’ thing a little taxing.” He gestured for Max to raise his weapon again. “You’re too slow. Don’t show your opponent what you’re about to do. And if you run at them like a bull every time, you’ll end up having your power used against you. Always have a plan in case your hit doesn’t land. Try again.”

Max groaned and lifted his sword as instructed, sticking with his two-handed approach. It wasn’t like he’d have much finesse regardless of how he was holding the weapon, so he might as well stick to something that had a bit more power behind it.

“Question, am I allowed to just deck you?” He was only half-kidding. Fists were fairly intuitive, he figured he couldn’t get that wrong too. Then again, he thought swords were fairly intuitive but Aaron seemed to feel the need to prove him wrong. Max didn’t give Aaron a chance to respond before he was coming at him again, drawing his weapon back to the side for what looked like another uninspired horizontal swing across the gut. He tilted the sword downward as he swung, aiming for the legs in an attempt to be a bit more slick in his approach; though he fully expected to just get whacked in his undefended face for the effort.

Max was partially right: Aaron caught his sword with a two-handed downward block, stopping his momentum outright rather than redirecting it. Bringing both swords up, Aaron twisted Max on his leading foot, putting him off balance to a point where a sweep of his own leg sent him unceremoniously to the floor, where Aaron poked the tip of his blade into Max’s stomach.

“Dead. Leg shots are too risky at your level. Your opponent will gain the upper hand,” Aaron explained simply. He had to admit, even if the circumstances were taxing and Max was the student, it was kind of fun to be the one instructing for once. He had tens of thousands of ‘deaths’ under his belt; it felt kinda good to be the one dealing them out for a change.

Returning his blade to his side, he looked at Max on the ground for a moment, before his face finally split into a grin. “You’re welcome to deck me if you think you can do it,” he chuckled, tossing his sword to the floor for effect. “Or you could charge an unarmed man, if that’s more your speed.”

Max groaned again. He was expecting to lose the altercation, not end up on his ass. While he was tempted to just try to tackle the other boy, he had the feeling there was some nasty surprise waiting for him if he tried it so obviously. He decided to just flick his sword to smack at Aaron’s ankle before standing up.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna armbar me or something, right?” Figures that they trained the prize pet to do everything. Max stepped back into his ready stance, idly waving the practice blade around while he waited for Aaron to pick his own back up. “So where should I be aiming?”

“I really don’t think a punch from you would require an armbar, but that’d be your prerogative,” Aaron chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the little ankle tap but otherwise picking his sword back up without delay.

The question, though, was a little difficult to answer. Truthfully, there were a million places where he should be aiming, but they were all dependent on a multitude of different contexts that no one on earth had time to explain in full. Aaron had learned through trial and error, attacking and ‘dying’ hundreds and hundreds of times over years of training until he learned the difference between what worked and what didn’t; how exactly could he explain what was essentially instinct to him by now?

“I would say aim for your opponent’s weak points, but you’ll have a hard time recognizing them at this stage,” he decided, moving into an actual two-handed ready stance with the tip of his sword trained toward the floor. “You’ll find that what looks like an opening often isn’t one. It all comes with practice. Try again.”

So, in other words, Retriever was a total hack. Figures. Not that Max could really blame him; combat was too fluid for Aaron to just give him a one-size-fits-all checklist to follow.

“You know you suck at this, right?” Max muttered as he once again stepped in for a swing, though he hesitated before going for anything aggressive. Feints were out; he wasn’t fast enough to actually misdirect Aaron or manage to score a real hit in the window he’d created even if he could. Ideally, he’d exploit an opening in an extended melee, but he couldn’t even get to that point if he kept getting pretend-killed on the second swing.

Max played it as safe as possible, going for a swipe across Aaron’s torso again, though he didn’t throw his weight into it this time; keeping the majority of his weight on his back leg so he’d be able to - in theory - easily step away from any counters.

At least Max learned from his mistakes, but of course, it was far from perfect. Aaron couldn’t fairly expect perfection anyway, but it didn’t stop him from having a bit of fun with the leeway he was given.

Max’s swing was well telegraphed, and clearly weaker than his previous attempts, more of a true slash than a heavy chop. Aaron didn’t bother parrying with his sword, instead stepping back and raising his left arm, catching the blow on his forearm before whacking the blade down and lunging forward with his own, sending the tip far past Max’s side in a simulation of being run through and tapping his hip with it. It certainly wasn’t an optimal reply to a slash, but it was a fun little teaching moment.

“I may have a useless arm now, but you’re still dead,” Aaron explained, straightening up. He held up his sword. “A longsword is not a baseball bat. You can use it one or two-handed, depending on your situation. It’s actually very versatile.”

He held his sword in both hands, mimicking a diagonal downward chop, similar to what Max had done the first time. “A two-handed grip gives you more power. If you think you’re safe to do so, you can cut off limbs with a good two-handed swing, or easily kill someone with a chop to the shoulder or the side.” He demonstrated as he spoke, before switching to a one-handed grip.

“A one-handed grip gives you more reach, a few more options, but less power.” Aaron swung the sword in several directions, showing how it could be manipulated with movements of the elbow and wrist. “It leaves your free hand open and doesn’t rely on throwing your weight behind it. Better for weaker strikes like slashes and lunges, and less predictable.”

He straightened up when he finished, sword back at his side. “As for me sucking, you can direct your complaints to House Bordeleaux if you want, but they’re not known for being receptive to criticism from mortals,” he smirked, imagining the look on Lucan’s father’s face if a mage even dared tell him his shoe was untied.

Max let his sword hang lazily at his side as he listened to the explanation. He already knew that, but what was he supposed to do with a free hand? Slap Aaron across the face? Flip him off? Catch his sword like an overpowered cartoon character? Well, Max had a few practical ideas, but none that would work in this specific scenario.

“Hmmph. They’re lucky, I can’t even pronounce Border-lows, so I guess they’re getting spared from my complaints for now.” Max paced idly, eyeing Aaron up and down with a narrowed gaze as he caught his breath. He didn’t really need to win - he wasn’t that motivated here - but he did want to hurt the light mage somehow, if for nothing else than his pride.

Going for another surprise blow out of spite, he shot forward explosively from his otherwise casual stance, sword low as he made a swipe for Aaron’s shoulder with his free hand in an attempt to grip the other mage’s shirt while he aggressively thrusted the tip of his pretend sword toward Aaron’s stomach in a gutting motion.

Aaron widened his stance on instinct as soon as Max moved, lowering himself a bit and bracing for an impact. When Max made contact, Aaron immediately grabbed his wrist, twisting it to force him to drop the sword while his other arm came up to hook under Max’s shoulder. Pulling the other mage tight to him, in one smooth motion Aaron wedged his hip under Max’s back leg and dipped to grab the front, pulling it up from under him and slamming the mage to the floor on his back.

“What did you expect to accomplish with that?” Aaron questioned after a few breaths, dropping Max’s ankle. He wasn’t entirely displeased, though; he hadn’t been expecting Max to move that fast for him of all people.

Max let out a cough, apparently having been winded from getting smacked into the floor unexpectedly. He took a minute to catch his breath before responding, which gave Aaron a nice bit of buffer time to let Max cool off.

“I was gonna gut you… Or something. Fuck.” Max picked himself up off the floor enough to roll over on his side and prop himself up slightly with his elbow. “Don’t lie, that would’ve worked on a guy who didn’t know how to flip people and you know it.” He made a lazy grab for his sword, though he didn’t look too keen on continuing. At least not right at the moment. “Next time you’re getting a handicap. I get five swords and you get, like… half of one.”

He finally rolled back into a sitting position, letting out an irritated huff. Blind trial and error wasn’t helpful, but he didn’t know anyone else that knew how to use a sword. Except Count Astronomy, he guessed, but he figured he’d be even worse than Aaron, and if he wasn’t; Max didn’t want to give that absolute monster a pass to beat the shit out of him under any circumstances.

“Fuck, indeed,” Aaron repeated, watching Max compose himself with a hint of a smirk. “The first time I tried to surprise-attack my instructor, I had the good sense to go at him from behind.” He chuckled at the memory. “I got kicked square in the chest. By a vampire. I swear I thought my heart had stopped.” He left out the part where he’d burst out laughing at the end of it all. A story for another time. “He did break a rib, though. I think. Hard to remember, honestly.”

As Max worked on getting air back in his body, Aaron sauntered over to the edge of the room, picking up both swords on the way and leaning them against a rack before taking a seat on a bench.

“It’s a tough way to learn but it works. I usually find you learn a lesson better when it hurts for a few nights,” he eventually said, more to the room than to Max in particular. “Although that was after ten years of throwing myself at my teachers for hours every night until I got it right. I’m not sure you have that kind of time.” He smirked, leaning over to look at Max. “I’m sure Eris could pay for a proper teacher, if you’d swallow your pride and ask. Maybe they’ll give you a handicap.”

“I would rather eat this practice sword right here than ask Eric for a favor. A favor for the thing he’s making me do in the first place, at that.” Max let out another huff. “Besides, our little playdate schedule is still fixed regardless. What else would we do? Talk about the weather?”

As much as he hated small talk, small talk with the Retriever was somehow even worse. He was too sheltered to talk about anything except vampires and magic with, which Max pointedly didn’t want to think about when he didn’t have to. Not that getting his ass kicked was much better, but at least he could pretend it was useful for him.

“I would honestly lay down on that safety mat and spend the rest of our lovely get-together sleeping if I didn’t think you’d write things on my face while I did it,” Aaron replied dryly, leaning back against the wall and running a hand down his face. He let out a long breath, almost two weeks’ worth of sleepless days clearly audible as he did. Aaron didn’t drop his prim and proper attitude all that much, and wasn’t usually fond of doing it in front of people by a long shot, but out of everyone he knew, Max was the one he cared the least about seeing him a little haggard. A nap on the practice mat definitely sounded appealing, but Varis would know he was slacking if he came home with dicks drawn all over his face.

Rubbing his eyes for a moment, he forced himself to open them, though he stayed sat back against the wall. “So, I don’t know… how’s Treaty Law going? I’m sure you’re fond of your little study group.”

Max let out an amused snort at the prospect of doodling all over Aaron, but quickly transitioned into feigned offense. “Drawing on your face? I’m hurt. It’s like you don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d know I never keep a pen on me.” He slumped back into a neutral demeanor, flopping down on his back on the mat. “Treaty Law sucks, your friends suck, Count Cinnamon sucks, and that class is the biggest waste of time on my schedule. What about you, why do you look like shit all of a sudden?”

In truth, Max really hadn’t paid enough attention to notice anything with off with Aaron initially, but all the talk of napping had tipped him off a bit. The cause was fairly self-evident, but Max always did like the latest inane gossip on his third-or-fourth-least favorite vampire. Cinnamon probably ran out of doors to confiscate for bad behavior and moved on to the bed.

Aaron let out a half-hearted chuckle at the pen quip, but otherwise simply let his head fall back against the wall, inwardly rolling his eyes at Max’s contempt for learning the laws that governed every aspect of his life. He would almost have been flattered when Max asked (in his own acidic way) how he was doing, if he wasn’t pretty sure the other mage would write down his troubles in a journal somewhere for future use in insults.

Besides, what exactly was he meant to say? Confess the horrors he bore witness to every time Eris spent the day in the Sinnenodel dorm? Drop the moral weight of feeding the details of his supposed friends’ personal life to Varis every night? Or perhaps tell him all about the cryptic recurring nightmares that had been plaguing him ever since the first night of classes. Max already thought he was an idiot and a pain, he didn’t need rumours floating around that he was crazy, too.

“Aside from getting up two hours earlier than I otherwise would to write lines and periodically sleeping on the patio?” Aaron questioned sardonically, “Just treasure every day you get without Eris around, and remember that whenever he isn’t at your dorm, he’s over at mine.” He chuckled bitterly. “Sleep just isn’t usually in the cards for me.”

Sleeping on the patio? Damn, Varis really just confiscated the whole house, didn’t he? “And I thank you for your sacrifice. It’s so quiet without him around,” And, conversely, he had the strangest feeling the Sinnenodel dorm got very loud. Eris just gave off that vibe. Disgusting. “Buy some earplugs, pretend they’re wrestling, I dunno.” He didn’t really know what Eris did when he was hanging out with Cinnamon, but it had to be something other than disappointing their respective fathers, right? Normally he would’ve assumed there was frequent pantslessness from Aaron’s tone, but knowing Eris, he could very well just be pestering the hell out of the mage in a fully-clothed way too.

“You’d think that interferes with blood quality. Cinnamon’s not very good at food prep, is he? At the very least, how fast it replenishes. Anemia probably sucks for both parties.” Max was just throwing out excuses at this point, whether Aaron took them or not was on him. Truly, he was such a generous soul.

Aaron chuckled darkly at Max’s suggestions. Earplugs would have been great, but without money of his own he’d need to beg Varis for them and there was no way the Count would let him get off so easily. Like with everything, he was expected to adjust. Besides, somehow Eris’ occasional stays at the Sinnenodel dorm were the least of his sleep problems.

At the blood quality comment, Aaron shrugged. “He only feeds from me about once a week, if that,” he admitted, leaving out the part where the reason for it was that Varis apparently got too drunk off his blood to conveniently drink it every evening. “Truth be told I almost miss it; the rush helps me relax, if you can believe it.” Some nights it was the only relaxation he got, but he was already sharing more of a sob story than he was accustomed to and Aaron had no interest in delving any deeper into his own life.

“And what about you? You seem to be… adjusting.”

“Eric drinks out of my crotch.” Blunt. Straightforward. No shame. Okay, a little shame. But, like, more of a denouncement of Eris than an admission of personal shame. “Other than that, he’s like a nagging manager. I think he just emulates his agent,” Max put on a horrible Eris impression before continuing, “Maximillian, eat a nice diet; Maxibald, make sure you walk the dog; Maxie Number Two, go on a playdate with Sunny. Magic’s coming along, that’s all I really care about. Leeches do what they will and mages suffer what they must. Apparently.” His voice took a bit of a harsher tone toward the end, but he still looked rather passive should Aaron get a glance of his face.

Aaron shrugged, if not a little pained. Drinking from the femoral artery sounded like more trouble than it was worth in his opinion - honestly, who had the time? - but he didn’t doubt that that would be how Eris went about things. The rest brought something resembling a chuckle out of him, especially at the impression; sure, femoral artery sounded awful, but for the rest of Max’s life to be so lax, it seemed like a fair enough trade.

He did feel for Max, though. He could put up a snarky front all he wanted, but anyone could tell the transition had been hard on him. And how couldn’t it? He’d been torn from relative freedom and thrown unceremoniously into a world of servants and masters that he seemed to only be beginning to understand, never to go back to the life he knew before. Aaron was hesitant to give him too much credit, rude bastard that he was, but that little bite in his voice really said it all.

“That seems to be the way of things,” he replied absently. He’d spare Max the speeches he usually gave Salem about the importance of the world order and how their sacrifice was for the benefit of mankind at large; he knew he wasn’t convincing Max any time soon. But Max, at least, wasn’t speaking radical reform to power and all but begging for a swift separation from his head, so Aaron could live with a little constant chafing.

“Affinity progress, that’s good. You’ll be an expert chair-thrower in no time,” Aaron continued, though he lost the energy to try and keep the tone light the minute he started. He sighed, looking over to Max on the floor. “And I know you’re not exactly hanging on my every word, but for what it’s worth, you’re doing pretty good.” He’d let Max figure out what he meant by that.

“Gee, thanks,” Max replied in a deadpan. He would’ve gone with an actual quip there, but Retriever sounded like he was trying to be genuine, so Max might as well take what he could get. Not that he thought it meant much. What would Aaron of all people be praising him for? Being a good little lapdog? The other mage might as well have just insulted him.

“And that’s some tough talk for a guy whose whole affinity can be outclassed by a flashlight.” Chair-thrower, pssh. He was a chair-destroyer at the very least. What were light mages good for? Aside from melting leeches, which was admirable, but he knew Aaron would never have the balls for that kind of thing.

“Talk to me in a year or so when you won’t be able to tell between reality and illusion,” Aaron shot back, matching Max’s tone. Although, his really didn’t hold much malice. Harsh as he was, it was kind of hard to take Max’s insults seriously. “Could be fun, though. Seeing you walk into invisible poles would definitely make my day a little brighter.”

“I can think of about ten different counters to that. The first of which being, I dunno, stand still? Not impressing me here.” Max sat back up and worked his way lethargically to his feet. As much as he enjoyed a theoretical pissing match about stuff they may or may not be able to do, going back to his dorm sounded like a good time too. Aaron clearly wanted a nap, assuming Cinnamon would let him have one, at least. “Are we done here or is there a time limit we need to hit? You’re clearly out of it and I clearly suck.”

At this rate, he really was going to have to ask Eris for a tutor. How tiresome. Maybe he could try fighting on his own terms (read: magically flailing fifteen weapons) to make up for his lack of skills, but faulty fundamentals were a serious liability in any field. Otherwise he’d be stuck asking that leech who ran Self-Defense, but that guy seemed just as eager to beat people up as Aaron was.

Aaron leaned over enough to rummage through his bag and pull out his watch. “It’s been… long enough, I think,” he conceded, standing and collecting his things. He didn’t despise Max’s company as much as Max despised his - truth be told, he almost enjoyed it - but he felt about as passionate about their little ‘hangouts’ as Max did.

“I can clean up here, just… no, yeah, that’s fine,” Aaron finally concluded. If Max was as winded as he seemed and went home to Eris that way, both vampires would probably be satisfied that their mages’ time was well spent. Looking back up to Max, Aaron shrugged, gesturing to the practice swords. “Let me know if you want to do this again, so I can book the room. Otherwise I suppose it’ll be back to invigorating small talk.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Max offered in response. It was a step above ‘Don’t push your luck’, but not by much. Maybe once he had a working skillset down and wasn’t just getting beat up for the fun of it. “I was serious though. Next time, I’m getting five swords and you’re getting a broken one.”

Max idly made his way to the door, lagging a bit as he glanced back, “You sure you don’t want any help cleaning up?” It wasn’t like there was much to clean up, it was just two swords. Still, he felt like it was polite to ask.

“Yeah, we’ll see if you do any better with five,” Aaron chuckled, bending to pick up his bag and placing it on the bench. Max’s question surprised him though, and the shock of hearing Max be polite to a mage made him hesitate a second before shaking his head, waving Max’s concern away. “No, don’t worry about it. I won’t be long anyway. Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh.” Max threw a dismissive wave behind himself as he turned away and headed out the door. He pulled out his phone and flipped to the front camera. Yeah, he looked fucked up enough. Maybe he could show off a bruise or two to really impress Eris. He deliberately ran a hand through his bangs to tussle them even more and trudged back to his dorm.

Aaron waved back, more out of reflex than anything, and watched until the door had closed behind Max and he could no longer hear his footsteps. Letting his bag drop from his shoulder, he let out a sigh, reaching up to untie the braids holding his hair to his head. Truth be told, he hoped Max would want to do something like this again; between schoolwork, household responsibilities, punishments, and a steady increase in the duties Varis assigned him, Aaron was losing out on more and more of the training time he was used to. And since he was accustomed to using exercise to unwind, the lack of training was really starting to gnaw at him. Well, that and about a hundred other things.

Once he had the swords ready for return and the safety mat cleaned, Aaron pulled out his phone and opened his calendar app, scrolling to the entry for his practice room time, flicking the light off as he did. He still had about half an hour; maybe he could get a little sleep before he was expected back.

Nightmares

12:45pm

The chill never seemed to fade, the tattered rags wrapped around the shivering frame. They were clothes once but its been… The marks on the wall suggested more moons than she could count. She could only count to ten and there were tens of tens of tens of tens of marks cut into the wall. She couldn’t remember anymore which ones were hers. She couldn’t remember which flakes of blood spilt and dried from her split and broken skin. She shivered again, pressing back against the frigid cobblestone as the heavy footfalls and harsh, muttered words bounced around the cell. She may not know what they’re saying but she knew when it sounded like that, nothing good would come of it. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

It’s a boy!

The harvest this year-

Oh please Ma, stop it plea-

You are a worthless so-

And the banks are all as-

The girl slapped her hands over her ears and screamed. The chilling cut of the wind through the barred slits at the top of the cell went unnoticed as the ghosts came back. She couldn’t handle them. Some of them were nice, some of them were mean. Most were scary and terrifying and she didn’t want to hear them anymore. Her fingers found the familiar grooves, pressing and cutting into her skin until blood dripped freely, as she curled in further on herself to get away from the ghosts. Mama said it wasn’t real, Papa told her to ignore them. But she couldn’t. They wouldn’t leave her alone. They always found her, no matter where she hid. Mama and Papa said they wouldn’t find her here, said she’d be safe. They dropped her off, promises to bring her toys and candies and proper blankets and new clothes.

She hadn’t seen them since.

The voices faded as the cell door slammed open, She felt herself thrown across the room, eyes still shut tight as pain seared across her shoulder and another hoarse scream tore from her throat. She heard the tell-tale sound of the belt rustling, the folding the did right before it started, and yelling in that horrible thick accent. She knew better than to struggle, to try and hide somewhere, or run through the open cell door. She’d tried everything she could. Those times, she’d be lucky if they only broke one bone. So now she just sat, eyes screwed shut, and waiting for the leather to cut into her until the man was satisfied.

Snap.

That noise was different. It wasn’t the snap of the belt as the man watched the bruises and red lines and broken skin. It wasn’t the snap from his fingers when he had the others drag her out afterwards. Screaming came after, a slew of horrible words he only used at her when she caught him in the groin the first time he tried to touch her. Another snap and the screaming got louder, the clank of the belt’s buckle confusing her as it hit the ground. She still kept her eyes stubbornly shut. It wasn’t the first time he tricked her. It couldn’t be trusted.

But the screaming stopped. It was sudden and the silence weighed heavily. She peeked one eye open and scampered back along the wall. A woman knelt where she once was, wrapped in beautiful furs and sadness dripping red from her eyes. She gave a reassuring smile and sat, staying silent. A bag the girl hadn’t noticed before was slid towards her. The two stared at each other for several long minutes before the scent of warm bread floated out of the bag. With hesitant movements, the girl flipped open the flap of the bag and recoiled again, expecting another trick. Instead, the aroma of food wafted out of another small package nestled on top of a bundle of black fur.

Á̹̬͚̝͍̱ ̗͈͓̿̉̉̀̀b͚̯̤̝͐ͣͥ͊̊̏̉r̦̤̖̱̞͙̉ͭ̈̀ͯͪͅoͪ͐ͭ̐͐ͨḱ͚͉̜̱̖͂̇̐̓̎̚e̺̤̺̹͓̒ͧ̅͡n̖̟̥̺ͫ͊ͪ͋͝ ͎w̎͆̑ͨ̽ͤ̚r̶̼̂ͯ͋̎i͎͕͚̰͕̖͉͛͗ͫs̙̘̲̼̽̎͑̍̊̆̔t͗ͤ҉͈,̡̥͎̞̆ ̶̤̭͌ͣà̠̬̱̝̣̄͌̈́̒̎ͬͅ ̩͕͙͙̈́̑̐ͭͅs̖̘̺̞̦̜ǹ̮̌ͫͫ̽̄̄a̰̤̬̤͌̌͞p̷̙̭̬̬͂͑ͦ͌͋̊p̪̤͓̹̬̌́͢e͍͍̋̽ͭ̔ͅd̄̊̃ ̼̘̠̲̐ͤ̓̂̈́ͥn̴͈͙̬͖̳̰̋ͣė̶͇̔c̑̇҉kͨ̀͌̈́̿.̖̳̕ ͚͚̫̙̲̱̏̾
̫̱̿̍̂
̪͓̓ͦ͋ͬͫ̾ͬB̗͎̲̖͉͓̭̓ͭ͛ͬ̆l̝̫̲̩̺͎̾̔͛ͮ͛̾̎o̘̣̻̒̏̅͑͆̔o̓d̓̌ͯ͛ͤ͢ ̪̺͓̺̭͍͂̉͗͋̈̏p̯̩̫̮̺̤̭̆̉͗́a͚̠͈͚̩͌̄ͨ̋̌ͪ̚ͅi̟͉͇͓ͯn̵͓̺͇͍̼̪̭̓̌t͍̼͔ͨ̋̀̿̓è̷̻̱̱̌͆̔̓ͥ̓d̜̼͙̤̞̖̄ͮ̓͞ ̪̲̳̼͍̬̣̓͒̐̐͝o̲͙̳̥̓̑̄̓̎̂ņ̠̞͚̘̗̠̩̋͗͋ͤͬͤ̐ ̫͈̭̊hͤ̾̓͏̙͖̜̞͓͓ͅe̯̩̩͙͓̳͓̔͆r̯̟̼̘̭̼̃͗̋͑̚̚ ͍̫͇ͯ͗ͣͧ̅͜ͅfͭ͒ͥ̎̅͏̻͓̥a͟c̲̜̜͙͛̓́ͪ͗̾e͊́̀.͗̾̏̏ͫ̈́ͤ̀

“Eat up, little one. The bad men can’t hurt you anymore.” The woman’s voice carried easily, a warm amusement permeating each word. The girl reached forward hesitantly, snatching up the food and scrambling back. The heat of warm food, real food, seeped into her fingers and the quiet hunger that she’d grown used to roared to life and she ate as eagerly as a starved animal. She wasn’t sure what it was, soft meat melting on her tongue wrapped in fresh bread, but her stomach rumbled pleased. The food was gone far too quickly and she was left licking the tangy sauce desperately off her finger tips. She sniffed hopefully at the first bag but found nothing else but fur.

“It’s a coat. It’ll keep you warm for now.” The woman’s voice caught her attention and this time, the girl looked past the danger of a new person. The woman was heavier than she’d seen anyone before. Not that she’d seen more than rail thin. She looked… healthy. Like she ate regularly, like she had a home, somewhere to go back and sleep without worrying about bad men and belts and ghosts. The woman nodded her head towards the bag again and this time, the girl snatched the fur coat out of the bag and slipped herself into it. It was so… soft and still just a little warm from the food. The girl just petted it for a moment, staring in awe at what she wore, before the tears started.

T̐̄̍͑ͨ͝h̢̩̻ͥ̃̈͊̃̓e̼ ̧͔̭͒̂̊̽s̰̺̰̱̓̂̅̓̍̓̓c̠̥̜̃͊ͧ̕e̶̼͖͕̘ͯ̓͐ͅṇ̶͍̞͉̌̄͋͛ͤ̂t̨̺̞̗͖͖̮̥̉͆ͮ ̧̼͗ǫfͧ͋҉̖̪̙͎̘̱͉ ̸͉͍ͬ̍̀̄͊ͥ̈́f͓͙̘̀̑́͑ͦͣ̈́ͅë͓c̯̮̈́͗ê̵ͨͮͭ͋̈́ş͕͉͙ͥ ͎̗̲͙͕̄ͩ͊̎ͥa͎͇̙͖̋̈́̇̓͐n̙̺͓d̮͌͐͌ͯ̒͊̈́ ̼̞̤̗̹ṳ̶͈̮̦̓ͪ̉̋ͬṟ̢̼̤̞̟̤̓̈ͨ̒̇͒į̬̩ͮ̋ṋ͕̝͉͓̭͙̀ͩ̃̒̈́́̚e̙͍̖ͩ̉͊ͪ͆ ͛̇̉̽f̔ͪ̽̅ͧl̝̣͙̅̌̒ͨ̄́̓ǫ̱̼͍̼͖̰̓̅͐ȍ̬͈͔̖͞d̫ͦe̥͈͇̜d̪͈̹̣̩̈́͟ ͈̪͚̳̦̺̋̆̓̆͗ͪͅt̰̭̤̳͊̆̂̾ͯ̎̚h̵̀͌͂ͨ̇e̟͚̙͇̠̟̪ͥ̑͗͝ ͈͉̓͑ͤ͘a̜̟̮̥̬̹̥͊̚i̵̺̞̖͍͇ͣͮ͆ͯr̻̗̮̥̗͛.̙͙͈̖̜̒͂̋ͫ͊ͣͯ

The dam broke. All the pain, all the suffering, came out in silent sobs that wracked her entire frame as she broke down at the simple kindness the strange woman afforded. She felt the woman bundle her up in her arms and the girl clung desperately as the woman stood, desperate to believe this strange woman cared enough for her to save her, to take her away from this cold wretched place. The woman murmured strange words comfortingly into the girl’s ear, a sound almost like a musical wind flowing from her lips while she rocked the little girl through her pain.

“Would you like to come home with me, Ellmare?” The woman whispered and the girl could only nod where her face was buried in the luxurious coat, her hold tightening in case it was another trick. Pleased laughter rang out around her but the girl flinched. The wind had risen again and that was when the ghosts like to play. She curled in as much as she could, ready to hear horrible things.

“Don’t worry, my Ellmare. The voices can’t reach you here.” The woman whispered soothingly as they stepped out of her cell. The girl peeked over the woman’s shoulder when the voices never came. The wind stayed steady, whistling through the desolate building and plucking eagerly at the pair like a child excited to play, but true to her word, the ghosts never came. The ghosts never came.

“Ghosts?” She whispered fearfully, looking around as they walked. She hadn’t seen the outside for a long time. The stone corridors they walked, the short flight of stairs down to the ground floor, the gaping exit that made her feel like the building was eating her when she first arrived all changed so much while she was here. Carpeting and paintings and chairs she didn’t remember were abundant but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was tired.

E̛͐ͪ̒̋v̬̼̫̙̤̟̳͆e͍ͭͥr̮̩̹̓̃ͯ̈ͧͩ̌ŷ̺̜̈́ẇ͓̯̱̗̭̲̹ͫͭ͌̊͛͞h̬̱ͥ̌̏ͪͬͣe͓͔̖̦̻̖̠̎̿ͭ̐̃͒̐͝r̯̟̱ͯ̀e҉͈̥̖͔ ̰̞͖͈͇̻͒ͮͣͥ̇̔w͔͖̰͍̤̲̺͆͠e̱͚̦̺͈ͮ̓̇͘ŗ̜̥̗̫̓̀ͭ͗e̟ ̵̩̗̯͇͔͇̓̎b̲͕̯͒̈̎̀ỏ̐̆ͣḏ͖ͪ̾̂̿ͬͩį͗ͣͫͥͬͤe͈̓s̻̃͞.͎̖̥̙̞̜̌ͅ ͉̮̜̝̖̊̾͗͋̓
̒ͮ҉̫͉̻̣͇̩̥
̺͓̫̞̳͂́ͮǍ͉͉͍̼̱ͨ̍͆̿̔̌͟l̖̞̟̱͌ͣl̖ͪ̾ͪ͂ͩ ̬͓͔̲̬̝̯ͥ͐͂̍̈́͛r̡͈͈͎̣͕̜̐͆i̭͚͇̹͉ͯ̒̋̚p̐̊͊͏͇̲̘p̨̞̌ͣe̪̥͈̤̼̪͛̅͛̿ͥ̌d̮̹̹͈̖͙͍̈́͐ ͎͙̘͇̬̮̯́ͭ̿̓͡l͙̖̼͎͟î̧̖͓͚̒m̵̗̿ͯ̊b̍̏́̄̆̄͏̠̪̥̥̟͕̯ ̠͙̠̦̞͙̏́ͤ̕ͅf̤̦̗̭̘͚̓̒̐ͫ̓r̢͉͔ͬͦ̑ͯͅo̴̯̩̱̘͌͌ͯ̇ͪ͗̚mͧ̑̈̆҉͇̦ͅ ̘͔̱̺͎̯̩ͥ̏̏̒l͍͙̂̍̒̌i̖͍͈ͨ̽̒̄̇m̰͍̺̜ͯb̯̝̞͇̠.̪̰̯̪̱̞̜

“Those voices aren’t ghosts, my Ellmare. They are voices. The wind picks them up and carries them for those who know how to listen. But only if you’re very special.” The woman murmured as she stepped out the front doors. The dirt trail the girl remembered was gone, replaced with similar cobbled stone as the inside. “And you are very special. I can teach you how to listen only when you want. And when you are afraid and scared, I’ll be there to chase away all the monsters in the dark. Does that sound good?”

The girl nodded. She felt so so tired. A man, balding with a salt and pepper beard and an axe much larger than himself in hand, fell in step with the pair. The girl tensed and the exhaustion vanished, replaced with terror again. She said she chased the bad men away. Why was there a man here? Was she lied to? Was she… The girl struggled against the woman’s hold instinctively. Above her, the woman shot the man a murderous look. The man only shrugged and continued onwards, stepping up to the driver’s seat on the carriage waiting at the end of the drive.

“It’s okay, my Ellmare. You’re safe with me. He won’t touch you without my permission and he will never have it unless you give it to me.” She cooed into the girl’s ear, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe with me. Just sleep and we can talk when you wake.” The girl nodded off as she relaxed once more, the faint click of the carriage door closing starling her but the woman holding her opened the curtains so the girl could see outside whenever she wanted. The starry night sky shimmered softly through the glass and sleep called sweetly to her.

“Name?” Was all she could get out, her eyes already fluttering shut. Another pleased chuckle rang through the space as fingers slid comfortingly through her hair.

“Yvaine Eve.”

Aaron woke with a start, not quite crying out, but close enough to it. His legs were tangled up in bedsheets, his duvet long gone, and his body was covered in a cold sweat. His mouth was dry, his throat sore and hoarse, as if the screams he loosed through the little girl’s mouth in his dream had been let out in reality as well. But he knew he must have stayed quiet. Varis surely would have chastised him otherwise.

He allowed himself a moment to get his breathing to slow before reaching for a large glass of water on his nightstand, wincing at the first few painful swallows as he downed the whole thing before returning for his phone. The darkness split as the screen came to life, showing a wallpaper image of Noila forest at the castle and the time. 12:45pm. Same as every day.

With fingers still unsteady from panic, Aaron put his phone to sleep and tossed it to the bed, letting his body fall back to the mattress with a huff. Even though the dream ended on something like a hopeful note, it still took a few minutes after waking for the fear to subside. Images from it flashed through his head in a set pattern, his flawed mortal brain playing a highlight reel of the most disturbing moments until they no longer frightened him, heart rate finally slowing as the images finally dissolved away. Only to begin it all anew the next day.

Day after day after day, without fail, ever since the start of classes. How many times was it now? Aaron didn’t care to figure it out; he could count when he got back up in the evening.

Adrenaline eventually gave way to exhaustion and the heat of panic left with it, soon replaced by a chill Aaron had grown familiar with. It always reminded him of the chill in the dream, the cold that seeped into the very marrow of his bones as if it was a part of him, but he pushed that thought away. It would haunt him later, sure - that and everything else about the dream - but he didn’t need to give it any more time than it already got to fester.

With a muted groan he rolled to the side of the bed and retrieved his duvet, throwing it haphazardly over himself and doing his best to settle back down. He did most of it for shame’s sake; though nights and nights’ worth of compounded fatigue weighed heavily on him, he knew he wouldn’t fall back asleep for some time.

At first he thought it was a comfort that Salem was suffering the same nightmares too, but it was soon clear that it only brought up more questions. The lingering guilt of betraying Salem’s confidence to Varis - senseless as Aaron tried to convince himself it was - also twisted stomach, but not more than the thought that whatever thin tie Salem’s nightmares might have to what happened at dinner might be tied to him as well.

And then there was the dream itself: The memories of pain so vivid Aaron almost believed he himself had lived through them; the dank, foul air of a cell he knew every inch of, without ever having seen it; a deep, familiar hunger Aaron could swear he felt even now; and below it all, an all-pervasive terror he knew intimately, but had never experienced himself.

That wasn’t even to mention the names. Even the first time the nightmare had struck him, before it returned day after day and before he knew he wasn’t alone in suffering it, Aaron was suspicious of it because or the names. Ellmare. Yvaine Eve. Not once before had his dreams ever featured names he didn’t know (nor did they often feature names at all), and for one of those names to be an Eve? An Eve whose name he’d never heard before? It didn’t sit well, to say the least.

Try as he might to push it from his mind, though, Aaron’s thoughts always returned to the litany of horrors he lived every time he tried to sleep. It haunted him in his waking hours, anytime there was a lull that allowed his mind to wander—and he had had enough. His responsibilities were only multiplying and his instruction only advancing, and he was struggling to keep up with it all. Recent nights found him so exhausted he had trouble reading, and other people were starting to notice the dark circles under his eyes. Something had to be done. If he couldn’t find reprieve from the nightmare itself, he had to at least find some answers.

Newly determined, Aaron rolled out of bed and grabbed his stationery, writing a spur-of-the-moment letter to the only person he could think of who could help.

Your Royal Highness,

My sincerest apologies for bothering you at this hour, but if I fail to make this request now I might lose the courage to make it. I would request an audience - or, ‘appointment’ now I suppose - at your earliest convenience, if you’d have me.

Forgive my boldness, but I don’t know where else to turn.

Faithfully yours,
Aaron Starag

Truth

Aaron received a letter during his first class the next night, a glossy envelope stamped with the school’s seal. His appointment with Ryner had been set for the lunch period that night and urged that he not miss it due to a tight travelling schedule. A few students side eyed him after the apology incident last week. The muttering around him, or the sudden silences when he entered a room, faded away after a couple of nights but a larger wedge was clearly forming between him and the main student body.

To his credit, Aaron paid the looks no mind. It was more than a little embarrassing, and a trifle upsetting even (not that he’d ever admit it) to be looked at like some kind of freak, but that particular night, after fifteen straight days of impossible sleep and haunted waking hours, he was beyond caring. Besides, maybe tonight they were only looking at him because he looked like some kind of ghost with his pallid complexion and dark, sunken circles under his eyes. The reason didn’t matter much; he had more pressing concerns.

He stopped to splash some cold water on his face before his meeting time with the Princess, having to enlist the help of a campus guard to find his way to her office. After he dismissed the guard with his thanks, he paused outside her door to straighten his tie and flatten his lapel; a routine that had become deeply ingrained habit from his early teen years. He knocked properly and awaited the Princess’ summons before entering the office with a customary bow.

Ryner’s office on campus matched her home office, down to the very rug on the floor. Bookshelves flanked the room but where the fireplace was, only another bookshelf and two windows overlooking the campus behind her. Ryner sat at the desk with a pen gliding across paper, a beautiful paper bouquet set in a glass vase on her desk, but she looked up at Aaron’s entrance, the focused frown on her face softening into a fond smile that quickly morphed into concern as she took in his appearance. She put the pen down and nodded at one of the chairs across from her. Ryner took a moment to put away a few books on the shelf behind her and then gave Aaron her full attention. A small platter of fruits, cheese, and vegetables sat on a small side table between the chairs.

“I couldn’t get you in any sooner than lunch this evening or I would have, Aaron. Your message gave me quite a fright when I was handed it this evening but I was assured if it was life or death, you would have had the good sense to wake me up. Though now seeing you in person, I’m not sure why I allowed myself to be persuaded against my original concerns.” Ryner gestured at the platter. “And since I interrupted your lunch, I made sure to have something ready for you. Not the greatest selection but I won’t see you go hungry if we run into your next class. Come sit and tell me what is weighing so heavily on you, Aaron.”

Aaron barely had time to get his bow out of the way before Princess Ryner was ushering him into a chair; he certainly wouldn’t protest, though, sitting gratefully with an amused glance at the bouquet on the desk. “I see Lilie got to you, too, Your Highness,” he half-joked, gesturing at the flowers. “Sadly Master replaced mine, but he replaced it with lavender, so… there’s that.”

Fatigue played a lot of dirty tricks on him, it seemed, crashing his train of thought completely half the times he tried to put together a sentence. And it clearly wasn’t only him who noticed; Ryner’s concern was at once heartwarming and saddening, Aaron both touched and suddenly feeling terrible for disturbing her so badly.

“You’re very kind, Your Highness, thank you,” Aaron began, referring both to the food she provided and her haste in arranging the appointment. “And I’m terribly sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was frighten you.” He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but it didn’t last very long. He knew she could see his distress etched into his features clear as day; there was no use hiding it.

“But, I won’t delay,” he resolved, though he did take a moment and a long, tired breath to figure out exactly how to breach the issue.

“Well, to be frank, I’ve been experiencing a rash of nightmares since the first night of classes,” he finally admitted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Or, rather, one nightmare, recurring. It’s been interrupting my sleep for fifteen days and tormenting my waking hours as well. Nothing the infirmary gave me helped me sleep through it, and, well…” he gestured to himself, chuckling helplessly. “You see the result.”

“But of course I’d never bother you for something as trivial as nightmares,” he added quickly, mortified at the very thought. “No, the reason I went to you - and no one else - is, well…” he was losing his train of thought again, though be it fatigue or shame, he wasn’t sure. “I have… reason to believe there might be more to it than bad dreams.”

“Aaron.” Ryner stood and made her way around her desk, settling in the chair next to Aaron. “I know you hold yourself to high expectations and those are certainly a result of your training as a Starag but if you are struggling or upset, you will always find sanctuary with me. Regardless of where you are, your health and happiness is always a priority to me so don’t be so hard on yourself for seeking help. Even if it is as trivial as nightmares.” Ryner smiled warmly at Aaron.

“Now, you said you had reason to believe it may be more than bad dreams? Tell me what you’ve learned and I’ll see if I can shed some light on this mystery.”

The Princess’ insistence was a great comfort, and it felt better than Aaron would like to admit to have someone so occupied with his personal wellbeing, even though he felt it was undeserved. He dropped his head and nodded in concession, offering a small, more sincere smile as his thanks before moving on to the more pressing topic.

“That’s just the thing, Your Highness; I haven’t learned anything.” Exasperation born of frustration edged his voice as he sat more upright, leaning one arm on the arm of his chair and turning to the Princess. “Let me go back.”

“This nightmare I’ve been having is identical every day, and always wakes me at 12:45pm, no exceptions,” he began. “I see through the eyes of a young girl who’s been subjected to unspeakable abuse, trapped in a cold cell for who knows how long, and hearing voices. I have her memories, I feel what she feels, and it is agonizing.” He physically grimaced at the thought. “Someone comes for her, a man with a thick accent and a belt, and she prepares herself for more abuse, until a woman - a vampiress in a fur coat - kills the man and rescues her. She gives her food and a coat, takes her from her cell and out of the manor she’s in and loads her in a carriage, telling her the man accompanying them won’t hurt her. She tells the girl she’ll take her to live with her, and teach her to selectively listen to the voices. The girl finally feels some measure safer, falls asleep, and then…” Aaron’s tired eyes were distant, glossed over and focused far away. “Then I wake up.”

He stared another second or two before he came back to his senses, blinking and shaking his head before refocusing on the Princess. “The strangest part is, there are names in this dream. I don’t remember ever having dreamt names before. The vampiress knows the girl’s name - Ellmare - and right before Ellmare falls asleep, the vampiress introduces herself. As Yvaine Eve.” He studied the Princess’ face, almost desperately, for any sign of recognition. “Do you recognize that name at all, Your Highness?”

It was subtle but the motion was there. Ryner tensed as Aaron spoke that name: Yvaine Eve. Memories welled up unbidden as Aaron’s story trailed off and the Princess looked past Aaron as she contemplated how to respond. She started more than once but eventually she did, setting back into her chair with a sigh. “I certainly do not doubt the validity of your nightmare. Not with First tongue rolling out of your mouth. Ellmare isn’t a name, it’s a word. As we’ve come to understand, it translates to that which falls from the moon. We think, more casually, it translates to moonlight. Perhaps it was a term of endearment or a suggestion of purpose for this ability this girl had. Do you remember more about these voices specifically? Some time when they would occur or a triggering condition?”

Aaron leaned forward in concern as a myriad of emotions flashed behind the Princess’ eyes, worry clear on his face. Had he dredged up something unpleasant? He was still concerned when she finally got her words together, though his brow furrowed in confusion. First Tongue? Moonlight? So it wasn’t a name, but Aaron had no idea why First Tongue would be floating around in his head either. It was an ancient language, and one he’d never learned. But Yvaine Eve had to be a name… right?

Well, that was what he was here to find out. “Hmm…” he hummed in thought, running back over the well-trodden sequence of the dream once more to see if there was a pattern to the voices. “They came… with the wind…” he murmured, lost in thought another moment before he nodded more certainly. “They came with the wind, except when she was with Yvaine. Then the wind still blew, but the voices stayed quiet, and Ellmare was surprised. Relieved.” Aaron nodded to himself again, but snapped his fingers suddenly, remembering another detail.

“Yvaine said the voices were carried on the wind, for those who knew how to listen,” he added quickly, looking back to the Princess hopefully. “Those who were… she said ‘very special.’ And she said that she could teach Ellmare to listen only when she wanted. Is that what you mean?”

"Words on the wind? That sounds similar to Divination magic. If I recall, it's a tertiary affinity of Air. Which would explain why she heard them on the wind and why she was being treated that way.." Sadness overcame Ryner as she sighed again and smiled apologetically. "Unfortunately, this does leave us in a bit of a predicament. Given that you are seeing these visions, I believe you deserve the truth. It is a heavy one. Do you think you can handle it Aaron?"

Why she was being treated that way? What? Aaron had heard no such thing, of divining mages being treated purposefully poorly. Hell, he'd heard divination recommended to students struggling to find their affinity. But the Princess seemed to think it made sense, so Aaron wasn't sure what to think.

As if she could read his mind, though, Princess Ryner was offering the truth. A wave of relief washed over him at the same time a new anxiety struck; to know that he was not being plagued by utter nonsense both comforted and terrified him. For all he knew she was going to decry him as mad, but whatever heavy truth she was withholding… he had to know.

“Your Highness, these nightmares have been tormenting me day and night without reprieve. When I'm not tossing and turning and living them, I'm obsessing over them. It's consuming me.” Try as he might to keep his voice even, there was desperation in it. “Whatever the truth may be… I don't think I can go on without it.”

"If it will ease your days, then I shall tell you. History tells us magic arose shortly before the blood wars, an unrefined tool in the hands of those not yet prepared to wield it. History tells us that is why the Treaty was formed, to protect both races because neither one was strong enough to stand against the Lycans. But those of us who’ve lived this long know that to be false." Ryner stood, pacing as she spoke softly. "Magic and those who command it have existed longer than it has been recorded. It was misunderstood, feared, ignored and those who worked with it were universally reviled by the human race. They were seen as freaks, as monsters. And so they were killed, caged, and silenced. In fact, the things they would do to mages back then have inspired several Astorio punishments." Ryner paused and looked at Aaron with tired eyes.

"So we hid the truth. A decade into the Treaty's existence, we saw a fundamental power shift that threatened our society. Mages wanted revenge, Aaron. For all the years of pain and suffering, they cried out for their pound of flesh. Back then, mages and humans mingled regularly as humans do with each other. But we were on the brink of a civil war." Ryner sighed again. "So I rewrote history. A small group of us came together and cut out the worst pain any race suffered at the hands of another and took away the plight of the mages altogether. We silenced those who spoke against it, removed the content from schools and public forums. Two centuries later and no one but the vampires remembered the beatings, the executions, the abuse of the magically inclined at the hands of those without it and peace ruled." Ryner spread her hands and shrugged. "I don't know why you are having these visions but that should shed a little clarity on your situation."

Aaron listened carefully, slowly sinking into the back of the chair as Ryner gave her explanation. He twined his hands together, spinning his ring as he so often did, and as the Princess finished, his eyes fell to meet them. He was silent for a moment, mulling over a gruesome hidden history until he finally took a breath and spoke.

“...And peace ruled,” he repeated, pausing another long moment before nodding, apparently satisfied. He turned to the Princess. “We mortals are deeply flawed and jealous beings, Your Highness. I'm not surprised we were at each other’s throats, or that it took an immortal intervention to put a stop to it.”

He took a deep breath. “So, you believe these are not just nightmares, but visions? From… from the past?”

"You've never displayed an affinity for this before so I'm hesitant to call them visions but considering there isn't any immediate alternative, I am willing to consider it. The only question would be why are you getting them?" Ryner took her seat beside Aaron, a thoughtful frown on her face again. "I'll admit I am not a magical scholar so my input on the matter may be rather limited. If you're interested, I could spend some time looking into it. While I'm sure recommending you to one of our staff would be beneficial, the information I just gave you is… privileged information."

“Yes, the why of it is much of what’s been preoccupying me for the past two weeks,” Aaron concurred. “If you think it worth looking into, Your Highness, then I would welcome anything you could come up with. And, of course, your information is safe with me. It won’t leave this room.” He assured her with a faint smile, but it fell soon after.

“Speaking of, though, I think it’s prudent to tell you that I am not the only one experiencing this… whatever it is,” he forced out, rubbing a hand down his face in agitation. “Mr. Spellman gets them too, down to the last detail.”

Agitation turned to full-on disgust in himself as Aaron leaned forward once more, burying his face in his hands. “And I’ve done a most reprehensible thing, Your Highness,” he lamented into his hands, guilt and exhaustion very briefly overriding his training before he pulled himself together again and sat up. “I reported that fact to Master - as I’d been told - but I didn’t tell him I also got the nightmares. And when he asked me why I wasn’t sleeping, I lied.” He massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as guilt and fear took hold of him. “I worried it would implicate me in Salem’s investigation if we were both known to be experiencing identical, cryptic nightmares, so I did the cowardly thing and lied. And now with a real possibility that there could be more to this, I fear that my mistake might prove even graver than I thought.”

“These are strange circumstances, Aaron. I for one do not hold your actions against you. You’ve been faced with something unknown, have taken initiative to seek help, and have protected confidential information. Varis does not have the authority to know what you do so you’ve inadvertently protected the State, the Council, and me by withholding what you know. Take solace in that.” Ryner reached out and took one of his hands, warming herself up to match him.

“Considering your dream contains confidential information, its contents are now under the protection of the Council and its authorities. You and Salem, as affected members of the occurrence, have the right to pursue what you need within reason. It is also, unfortunately, now your responsibility to safeguard that information, through force, duplicity, or any other means the situation demands.” Ryner spun this tale as quickly as she could, lying once again with the ease of a vampire far older than she wished to be. If she gave him the responsibility, perhaps he wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with guilt for something that was in his best interests. If Varis discovered the truth of the situation, things would spiral downhill far quicker than she was prepared to handle. “Moving forward, I will give you the information you are allowed to pass on to Varis, if I find any. That should keep his concerns allayed until another more pressing issue rears its head. Everyone knows his Lady is quite capable of keeping him busy.”

“But for the safety of our society, we must keep the peace. Stars know what Varis would do with the information you have now. Can you do that for me, Aaron?” Ryner pleaded. If he said no, Ryner would have to handle it another way and it would set them back centuries. Again. Putting Varis in contact with Yvaine would ruin everything and even though Ryner didn’t know where she was now, the damn brat would probably be able to sniff her out once he put two and two together.

Aaron paid rapt attention to the Princess as she spoke, the knot in his gut gradually unwinding. So, entirely by accident, he'd made the right choice; though, that still left the matter of what he had told Varis.

“Of course I can, Your Highness,” he breathed when she was finished, still a little stunned by the magnitude of the situation even as his reply came automatically. “You know me, I would never betray you or the Council.”

“But that brings us to another important point,” he added gravely, that lingering bit of fear flaring back up. “When I told Master that Salem was having a recurring nightmare, I told him the content of the dream as well, in great detail. He knows everything I knew about the dream at that time; the names, the voices, everything I saw. I gave it to him under the guise that Salem had confessed it all to me. He couldn't make any more sense of it than I could, but he mentioned he'd look into it, and report it to the infirmary as a hallucination on Salem’s part if he couldn't find anything. Does him having those details pose a risk? Is there anything I can do to mitigate it? If I had known, I would never…” He trailed off, eyes falling to Ryner’s hand on his as his mind raced once more through every worst-case scenario he could think of.

“You had no idea what was happening. You did exactly as you were supposed to with the information you had.” Ryner said reassuringly. “While I cannot change the past, I can do a considerable amount to change the future. Messing with Varis’ plans is an enjoyable pastime of mine. I should thank you. You’ve given me all the more reason to focus on it more. The Sinnenodel heir will be my responsibility on this. The only thing you have to do is ensure as little of the truth falls into Varis’ hands as possible and I’ll be supporting you the entire way.” She patted his hand.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Aaron nodded, a wave of true relief accompanied by new exhaustion washing over him at last. Things were fine. Or, as fine as they could have been, given the circumstances. That was more than he’d let himself hope for lately, and he would take reassurance wherever he could get it.

The mention of messing with Varis brought a smirk to his lips. “I shouldn't laugh,” he chuckled, doing a poor job of it. “But thank you, Your Highness. Rest assured I will do everything in my power to keep this quiet. If I can help it, I'll see to it that Salem stays in the dark as well. Stars only know what he’d do with this information, thinking the way he does.”

Ryner chuckled and couldn’t help herself from reaching over and ruffling his hair affectionately. No matter how he grew, she wasn’t quite sure she could let herself believe he wasn’t still the little boy running around causing mischief at the castle. Ryner still thought of Ella like that too and there had been more than one time Ryner caught herself surprised at the girl- No, the woman’s- age. All her mages were growing up faster than she could keep up with and it never grew easier when it came time to use them as she needed.

“There’s the Aaron I like to see. Maybe now you’ll get some rest. And eat since someone has left their food woefully unattended.” Ryner glanced pointedly at the platter between them. “While you eat, tell me how your meeting with your mother went. I haven’t had the chance to ask her. I wanted her to rest for a little while after our business last week.”

The hair ruffling made Aaron smile despite himself, memories of the many times she’d done the same thing when he was younger bubbling to the surface; most of them from before he’d surpassed her in height. Of course, that hadn’t really stopped her either. His grin turned bashful at the mention of food and he obeyed, taking a few pieces of cheese and fruit from the platter. Eating had been a struggle as of late with his stomach knotted up as it was, but relief did bring back some of his hunger, and he couldn’t very well decline an offering from royalty.

“She would tell you to stop treating her like she’s made of glass, Your Highness,” he pointed out at the mention of his mother, voice tinted with fond amusement. “But I thank you for your concern. Do you know she snuck up on me in the middle of campus? She didn’t tell me she’d be around and told Dora and Clara to keep quiet, wanting to surprise me. In the state I was in, I nearly pulled my sword on her; that poor campus guard got quite the fright.” He chuckled, shaking his head and eating a bit more before continuing. “It was really nice to see her, though, sneaky as she is. I was glad to see her well. I had been worrying a bit over how she’d respond to my new… position, but she took it much better than I anticipated.” Relief, once again, rang clear in his voice. “I got a lot off my chest.”

"At least we know where you got it from." Ryner laughed, satisfied with Aaron eating and returned to her desk. "I'm glad she managed to see you. I thought it odd she didn't want me to call you here but I see it was just your family’s penchant for mischief. I know she’s been worrying about you since she left so hopefully this will give her some peace of mind. I know she hates it but I can’t help but fret over her.” Ryner frowned but shook it away, instead focusing on the paper bouquet.

“Lilie really is such a sweet girl, isn’t she? I was surprised to receive them but pleased nevertheless. However, I’ve never received a bouquet of paper flowers so I’m quite sure what an appropriate gift would be. If they were regular flowers, I’d send a note or a card or something but these took time and skill to make. I feel like something so simple would be in poor taste. Do you have any ideas Aaron?” Ryner asked as she admired them. “You said she got some for you as well? What did you give her?”

Turning his attention to the bouquet as Ryner did, Aaron sighed, nodding his agreement. “I’ve never seen anything like them before,” he admitted, admiring the paper flowers for a moment. He always loved the Noila blue and gold, but he didn’t usually notice just how nicely the colours complimented each other. Lilie’s handiwork really made them shine.

“She held a little picnic for all the mages serving Noble vampires, and invited our… acquaintance, Maxwell Alderman, as well. She and Salem share a Treaty Law study group with him,” Aaron explained. “She made everyone a bouquet as a favour, each in their House’s colours - save for Max, of course.” He shrugged. “I had no idea what to give her either, so I asked her, but she insisted it wasn’t necessary and she was just glad to have people to give them to. Eventually I had to concede.” He chuckled.

“I’ve been making her notes for Treaty Law, though. She seems to be having a hard time adjusting to a nocturnal schedule and apparently that class happens right around the time she starts to crash, so she ends up missing material sometimes.” He grinned, spinning his ring and shrugging again. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, Your Highness, that I don’t really need to take notes for that class, but I tell her they’re my notes that she can borrow so she doesn’t feel like she’s burdening me. She’s very sweet that way.” Under his hair, his ears got a little redder.

He stared down at his ring for a moment, pondering over what might be an appropriate gift for the Princess to send her; unlike him, he knew Ryner would not take no for an answer. “Still, I doubt she’d reject a return gift from you, Your Highness. I might have an idea.” He thought another moment, considering what Lilie might enjoy that she didn’t already have, until he figured it out, tapping the arm of his chair. “She wears lavender perfume, so I bet she’d like some lavender flowers,” he offered matter-of-factly. “Maybe not cut ones - she mentioned being apprehensive that her partner might not want fresh flowers in the house - but perhaps you could have the groundskeeper send her some lavender that she could plant? She seems to take an interest in gardening; she asks Salem about plants all the time.”

Ryner nodded at the suggestion, taking a quick note on it to remember. “Excellent idea, Aaron. I’ll have it sent as quickly as possible. And of course, I’ll mention a certain light mage helped me decide. It would be rude not to credit the proper person after all.” Ryner smiled innocently. “I’m sure someone that sweet would love to thank the person who gave her a garden.” She chuckled and made another note with a smile.

“Now I do unfortunately have to attend a meeting with a few instructors. I want to come back to a clean plate however.” She said pointedly. “Was there anything else you needed before I left?”

“Oh, Your Highness, that's not necessary,” Aaron tried to reason, knowing full well Ryner wouldn't let him be as modest as he'd like. He couldn't help but smile, though. He didn't need thanks for something as simple as recommending a gift, but he knew if the roles were reversed, he'd do the same thing.

“No, Your Highness, I've gotten all I needed off my chest.” Aaron stood as Ryner prepared to leave, despite knowing she wanted him to remain a little longer, and offered her a courteous bow. “I am honoured and humbled that you took the time to listen to me. Really,” he dropped his formal tone for a second to get his point across. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Aaron.” Ryner beamed at him. “And now onto a less pleasant crowd. Enjoy the rest of your night.” Ryner swept past him, her warm smile vanishing as she squared her shoulders and a look of neutral indifference took over her face. Rarely did she wear it but when she expected a discussion to be unpleasant, she had little issue wielding it against those who upset her. She was out in a moment and the doors shut softly behind her.

Obscene's Scratchpad

Plan

Salem’s hair was noticeably messier than usual. Typically either let down or tied into a bun, his hair was in a state that almost appeared as if he had fallen asleep while in the midst of getting ready, a sloppy bun drooping low and with many strays breaking free of the band. The light in the crystal was erratic, a very dim and pale green hue struggling to stay lit within its crystalline chamber and flickering like a flame against a harsh wind. His golden rimmed glasses barely hid the dark bags now beginning to form underneath his eyes as they slipped further and further down his nose with every bob of his head while he fought to stay awake in class. He tried to create a pattern with his light, doing all he could to keep his mind on the task at hand, only for the light to quiver slightly before going out. Frustration ran rampant in his voice as he released his hands from the medium and crossed his arms. “You try. Stupid exercise.”

Though he was still as well-kept as usual, hair and clothes neat and proper as always, Aaron wasn't faring much better. Under his neatly combed hair, his eyes were dull and distant, rimmed with dark circles and set into an unusually pallid face. His notebook had several lines of meaningless swirls instead of his regular notes, doodled mindlessly and interspersed with a few unconscious repetitions of the lines he'd been writing every evening for the past week.

Salem's little outburst shook him back to reality, eyes feeling sandy as he blinked a few times at his study partner. “... Maybe a break, instead,” he suggested quietly, sliding the crystal away from him. Truth be told, he didn't have the energy or the patience for another repetition of the same dull exercise either. Instead, he peered at Salem curiously, squinting. “Are you alright? You look unwell.”

"Speak for yourself Starag." Salem's tone was pointed as he snapped at the blonde light mage, the anger and frustration in his face slowly melting away as he realized how he was acting. He began to rub the bridge of his nose and corner of his eyes as he slowly exhaled. Saying softly, "Sorry...I haven't been getting much sleep lately...I guess the lack of it has gotten me a bit more tense than usual...maybe a break is a good idea for now."

“...yeah,” Aaron nodded, pretty accustomed to Salem’s vitriol by now. He turned back to his notebook, wrinkling his nose distastefully at the line repetitions he hadn’t noticed until then, and eventually his curiosity got the better of him. He studied Salem for a moment, leaning forward on the table, before he finally spoke again.

“I haven’t been sleeping much either,” he admitted, more out of an attempt to get Salem to open up than to admit his own troubles. Not that it wasn’t true, though. “What’s keeping you up?”

Salem leaned forward onto the table, his eyes darted left and right to make sure no one was listening or eavesdropping before he continued whispering. "I've been having these weird dreams lately...it’s making it hard to tell what parts are real...or not." He pulled out a small leatherbound notebook with a wrapped thong. Undoing the wrap and opening it up towards a page as he slid it towards Aaron. "It’s been the same dream over and over again."

Brow furrowed, Aaron slid the notebook over to him and began to read, having to squint to get his tired eyes to focus. But as he pored over the contents, and the bits and pieces started fitting together, his eyes widened. His pulse quickened, face pale, hands nearly shaking as he turned the last page, finding he knew the rest before he even read it.

It was his dream, down to the last detail.

“This is your dream?” Aaron practically whirled on Salem, his hissed whisper sounding more like a demand than a question. There was an urgency in his voice, born of desperation, and he held the notebook to the table as if it could fly away at any second. He glanced between it and Salem, at the notes, the names, dates, even sketches of the same dungeon, the same manor he’d come to know so well, a ball of dread forming alongside strange hope in his chest. “Are you absolutely sure?”

Salem could hardly focus on Aaron as he began to read his journal. The outline of the mage become fuzzy as he began to slip in and out of consciousness, the threat of sleep looming over him. Aaron's voice snapped him back as he asked a ridiculously stupid question. Salem placed his hand upon his chin as he pretended to think. "Hmmm...now that you mention it...I don't think that was my dre- of course it was my dream. Why else would I say so?" Salem snatched the book out of Aaron's hands in a fit of frustration and snapped it closed. "If you're going to act like a dullard then never mind it…"

Aaron prided himself on his restraint, and he had to practice it then, when the urge to wrest the book from Salem’s grip and smack him with it nearly took him over. Instead, he threw up the hand that had been holding the book in frustration, grateful that Varis hadn’t arrived yet to observe them.

“Oh, wake the hell up for a second Salem,” Aaron growled irritably, leaning in so they wouldn’t be overheard. “I don’t have the patience for your childishness tonight. I’m asking because I’ve been having the same damn dream.”

"Maybe lead with that next time instead of asking a stupid question. I don't have time for all your cryptic bullshit and trying to read your every move, you saw the book and read the pages so obviously I was sure. All that aside though...why are we sharing the same dream about Lilie’s partner’s house?"

“Pardon me, in my line of work we don’t usually throw around details that make us look insane.” Aaron snapped, before falling heavily back against his chair. He rolled his neck, blinking several times and sighing. Fatigue was really wearing away at his patience.

“And that’s a fantastic question. I don’t know if I should be relieved or even more terrified.” He ran a hand down his face. “Besides, the Eve in the dream isn’t any Eve I’ve ever heard of. That’s not to say she doesn’t exist, but it definitely complicates things.” He gestured at the book. “I thought it was nonsense - extremely specific nonsense, mind you - born of sudden change and anxiety, but now I’m a whole lot more concerned.”

Salem pulled out his phone, not wanting to speak what he was about to say next. Typing out to Aaron, At dinner they mentioned a delayed use of mind magic when they were speaking of the Red Hand. What’re the chances that your house’s mistress implanted false memories or dreams in us while probing our minds? But...why would she?

Aaron eyed the message for a moment, turning it over in his mind. Now there was an idea. They both had their memories sifted through; could it be that Lady Sinnenodel’s mages left something behind when they were done?

I don’t really know anything about mind magic, but that seems like it could be possible, he typed out his reply in the same note, I don’t know why she’d do such a thing, but she’s not the easiest Council member to predict, so I suppose it could be anything.

He slid the phone back for Salem to read, and continued verbally. “I was just going to keep it to myself and hope it went away, honestly, but now that it’s definitely more than coincidence…” Aaron paused for a moment, ready to abort his plan, but his desperation for answers got the better of him. “Well, why don’t we research it? See if anything in it has any basis in reality, or if it’s all just some game?”

"Couldn't hurt to try. I was planning on doing so anyways, this way we can split the load at least. I wanted to look into the magic that we saw and see if anything turns up, as well as rare forms of magic. Figure you can look into the house and perhaps with it any old accents or more unknown ones seeing as I've never heard that accent before now. Anything else I might he missing?" Salem began to write down into his journal his proposed plan of attack, a note to remind him of his work so that he didn’t falter.

Aaron nodded. “I'll also put in a request to the archives and see if they have records of any buildings resembling the one in the dream. I'll look deeper into the Eves as well; maybe I just missed someone.” He seriously doubted it, but he'd entertain anything if it meant finding answers. “The royal library is more likely than anywhere to have that information. I doubt you'll have access to it on the break, but I’ll have no issue getting in and researching.”

He tapped Salem’s notebook. “Your dynamic with your partner confuses me, but if you think you can, see if Count Astorio knows anything about that Eve name. Noble families are endlessly interwoven, you never know what you'll find out.”

"He's certainly...a character. Much better than Varis… even if he tosses people he’s just met, but we have an… understanding. Best to leave it at that while we are in public. I'll make sure to ask him about that name though, think the school’s library will have anything on hearing voices in the wind?" Salem chuckled at the idea of it but any lead is a good lead and he wanted to find one fast.

Aaron really wasn't sure what to think about that, but he nodded nonetheless, moving on to the topic of magic. “If that's magic, then probably. If you're going to find information on magic anywhere, you'll find it here. If not… I have no idea.”

He sat back in his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed for a moment. He opened them just in time for his favourite TA to pass by, and exchanged murderous glares with Ralph until he was gone.

He leaned back over to Salem, voice low. “But maybe that's enough discussion for one class,” He suggested. The vampires would probably be coming in soon anyway.

"Agreed, there's too many prying ears here to be able to speak freely. Perhaps we can continue this discussion another time in a more private setting. Hopefully if we figure this out then we can finally gain a good days sleep after all. Especially since I have to wake up for my daily dosage of sunlight for two hours a day."

“Hey, I'm waking up two hours early too,” Aaron remarked in surprise, before practically biting his tongue off as he realized what that line of inquiry would lead to. “Not for sunlight, though, just… I'm busy.” Smooth. Fatigue was apparently making him stupid. “Here’s hoping we can get this all out of the way.”

Decisive Action

Aaron had been anticipating his report all night, passing each moment leading up to it flip-flopping between excitement and agony. He was positively fixated on his conversation with Salem in Affinity Mastery, both comforted and horrified by the idea that he was somehow sharing a nightmare detail-by-detail with someone else. He’d been speculating as to why all night, preoccupied—resulting in him earning a particularly harsh glare from his Spell Theory instructor when he had to be called upon twice for an answer—but what consumed him was how he would explain it all to Varis. It was a huge find, one he was sure the Count would want to know, but what would happen when Varis learned his own mage experienced the same thing? If the nightmares were related to having their minds read by his Lady’s mages, that was one thing, but if it was in any way related to the accusations leveled against Salem, it could mean decidedly bad things for him.

Try as he might to convince himself that it was all just exhaustion making him paranoid, Aaron worried nonetheless—something he was quickly becoming an expert at. He just barely collected himself enough to get out a passable apology letter (mercifully, it was the last one) but, aside from the clear signs of fatigue in his features, Aaron was practiced at keeping his anxieties hidden. He got through the bulk of his report without incident, all accompanied by a written version as usual, until he finally couldn’t stall any longer.

Varis listened to the mage at his feet as he relaxed on the couch, his book sitting neatly in his lap with a solid red bookmark sporting a green stripe on top marking his spot. His fingers drummed absently on the book as the boy prattled on and on about all the information he’d collected. Varis would admit the boy took to subterfuge easily and if even half the things he’d learned about Light mages was true, he would only become a more formidable weapon in Varis’s arsenal. That is, if the boy didn’t break first. Fatigue marred his features already and purchasing the boy some concealer at the very least had crossed his mind. Weakness wafted off him and that would put both of them in danger if it continue outside of the Princess’ protection. Varis leaned forward and grabbed the boy’s chin, inspecting him with a judgemental frown.

“And when are you dealing with these? If you choose not to sleep for some inane reason, at least have the sense to cover up the evidence. As it is, I find it unacceptable you aren’t sleeping but we’ll order concealer for future incidents.” Varis traced the circles under Aaron’s eyes as he considered the boy’s skin tone. “So what are you working on that is depriving you of sleep, boy?”

Aaron paused in his report to patiently comply, letting Varis turn and touch his face with little reaction. It still wasn’t his favourite thing in the world, but at the moment it was pretty low on his list of concerns. He had to suppress a groan at the question, though; Varis had a talent for drawing out his anxieties, that was certain.

“Fitful days, Master,” Aaron went with the safe option. “I can't place the reason, perhaps the recent changes. With your permission, I’ll visit the infirmary tomorrow and see if they have anything that can help me sleep without impacting my performance.”

Varis considered the idea briefly before releasing Aaron and leaning back again, his hand returning to the book. “Very well. Make sure you receive an updated copy of your medical records if the prescribe anything and give them to me for review before you take anything.” Varis opened his book and glanced at Aaron once more time. “Was there more for the evening boy or are you ready to be dismissed?”

Aaron nodded at the order before continuing. “One more pertinent point, Master. Tangentially related, in fact. It turns out Mr. Spellman has been having trouble sleeping as well. Apparently, he's plagued by a recurring nightmare.”

He took a second to get his thoughts in order, and swallow the guilt that somehow still lingered over selling out his ‘friend’. “He tells me that every day since the first night of classes he's had the same dream. He sees through the eyes of a young girl trapped in a cell, suffering horrid abuse until she's rescued by a vampiress. He says she fears ‘ghosts’ and voices and has been trapped for longer than she can count. But most notably, the name of the girl and the saviour both come up in the dream. He says the girl is Ellmare, and the woman rescuing her is Yvaine Eve.”

He paused to let the name sink in. “He took diligent notes about the dream and showed them to me. I can provide more detail if desired.” It wasn't as if he needed Salem's notes to tell Varis everything there was about the dream. He knew it all by heart; he saw the same things and felt the same terror Salem did, every time he fell asleep.

Varis closed his book slowly as the boy explained this… nightmare. Most of it Varis could disregard. The Spellman worked with odd concoction and things that could easily alter his perceptions. Varis would have doubted this whole issue’s validity if it hadn’t been for an Eve he’d ever heard of. He cocked his head with a thoughtful frown as he searched his memory for a “Yvaine Eve”. He’d never heard of one and Varis had spent decades researching the bloodlines of all the Houses.

“I’m tempted to write it off as a fever dream induced by some fumes or injection the boy tested on himself. Ellmare? Who in their right mind names anyone Ellmare? No, I’m quite concerned about this Yvaine Eve. How is Spellman reacting to this nightmare? Has he pursued any information on subject or does he have a plan to research it further?” Varis demand. “Submit the dream’s entirety in writing. I would like to review it in more detail but I’ve never heard of an Yvaine Eve.”

Aaron nodded again. “I’ll have a transcript ready for tomorrow’s report. I’d like to confirm the finer details first,” he lied. He'd have it for tomorrow’s report, yes, but he didn't need to consult Salem to write out every fine detail of the dream. Of course, it would be suspicious if he remembered everything. “Fortunately, that shouldn't be a problem. I agreed to help him research the details of his dream, so he won't find it odd if I go looking for specifics. I even offered to check the royal library during his stay at the castle over first break.”

That Varis didn't know the Eve’s name either was a bit of a mixed bag. On the one hand, Aaron was relieved, since it meant he wasn't just forgetting someone; on the other, it only added to the mystery of it all.

“Salem is clearly suffering from the nightmares and lack of sleep, both physically and mentally,” he continued, “it consumes his waking hours as well as sleeping. He seems to be worried about separating the dream and reality; I assume he's either preoccupied with figuring it out, or it simply haunts him.” He shook his head. “I would have suspected adjusting to life under Astorio rule to be the culprit of such a traumatic dream, but as you say, Master, the names are what perplex me. Without any expertise on the subject, I'd expect an Astorio name to come up if that were the case, not an Eve.”

“You took the initiative to offer your services to assist Mr. Spellman?” Varis’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Is this because you’ve become friends with the boy or you’re interested in the situation yourself? Either way, I’m interested in this missing Eve he’s conjured up. If it turns out to be nothing but a false lead, I’ll have your information reported to the medical staff as a hallucination and let the investigation do what it will with that information.” Varis hummed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Do you have a plan on how to go about this already with him?”

“I’ll admit it’s partly morbid fascination, but otherwise this could be an excellent opportunity to gain his trust,” Aaron lied, mostly. “He thinks I’m some kind of blind, heartless thrall, so perhaps going out of my way to help him will open him up a little.” That much might be true, though it was far from Aaron’s foremost motivation. “As well… well, if there’s anything sinister behind it, I’d like to know. He will be spending two weeks in the castle; I’d rather not take chances.”

To the point of a plan, Aaron made a mental list. “Beyond me checking the royal library, Salem wants to research any magic that matches hearing voices, and see what he can glean from his master. Count Astorio is young, but one never knows which secrets lie where.” He counted the strategies off on his fingers. “Ms. Dionne’s mistress is all but absent, so she doesn’t seem like much help, but I also floated the idea of sending in an archival request for any buildings that vaguely match the description in the dream.” Aarom dropped his hand. “They may seem like great lengths for the makings of a fever dream, but I think it brought Salem comfort for someone to take his dream so seriously.”

"Congratulations, boy. You've managed to exceed my expectations." Varis' customary frown softened, still not a smile but lacking the usual disappointment he looked at Aaron with. "Continue to assist however Spellman requires. For now, I'll mark down that you've earned a free night for your efforts. Good job."

Aaron’s eyes widened a touch, the familiar joy of praise cautiously rising in him at the news. “Thank you, Master,” he insisted, sincerely humbled and surprised at the same time.

Varis picked up his book again and flipped it open, looking up at Aaron for a second. "Is there anything else or does that conclude your report? If there is nothing else, you are dismissed for the rest of the morning."

“That is everything, Master,” Aaron confirmed, some enthusiasm still in his voice. He rose gratefully to his feet, bowed, and retired to his room after adding, “Have a pleasant morning.”

Aaron's Practical - Light

Aaron’s letter, nestled in a cocoon of various business letters for Varis, instructed the mage to find his way to a picnic area set just outside the Academy grounds. The night was warmer than usual, an unusual heat wave late in the season catching most people unaware, but the gentle breeze off the ocean helped alleviate it. The campus at this time was rather still. Older students didn’t have the same slow start that the first years did and those not currently in class were likely in their dorms or the library studying. A few guards made the rounds, nodding at passing students or conversing with them as they accompanied them to their destinations. This faded away quickly enough as trees rose up around the path but floating orbs of various colors marked the way, though plain white alternated with them to make an easily visible line.

The woods grew brighter as the path continued, until the trees opened to a swarm of bright white orbs dancing in a clearing. In the center, various tables were scattered about but a gaunt man sat on one of them. His hair was tied neatly behind his head, face sunken and thin, but a smile sat on his lips as he spun the orbs lazily around him. He put several more in the air every few seconds until he pulled them all together into one and let it hover above him, replicating perfect sunlight.

Though he wished the breeze was a little cooler, Aaron had to admit that the walk to his first solo Affinity Mastery class was nice, the fresh forest air helping him a little to clear his head. Fatigue from almost a week of nigh-sleepless days was starting to get to him, as the circles beginning to appear under his eyes would attest, but the prospect of moving forward in his affinity training was more than enough to put a little spring back in his step as he followed the path to the forest.

The little orbs along the path brought a smile to Aaron’s face as he followed them - he couldn’t help it, magic always got him excited - but what really impressed him was what he found when he made it to the clearing. A man, presumably his instructor, sitting in the midst of a veritable constellation of white orbs of light, before bringing them all together to bathe the clearing in… sunlight!

Aaron took a moment to observe before he stepped into the clearing, a smile on his lips as he examined the man’s creation. It was sunlight alright; not just light with the same hue, but genuine sunlight. He couldn’t explain exactly how he knew, but there was no doubt about it. And while he might have been raised nocturnal, he would never turn down the chance to spend a few minutes in the sun.

“Beautiful,” Aaron commented, finally entering the clearing, though he stopped a bit of a distance from his instructor.

“That which is rare always is.” The man sighed, the little orb of sunlight shrinking and hovering over his shoulder as he hopped off the table. He winced as what sounded like every joint in his body cracked with the movement but he smiled at Aaron still. “I think I’m getting old now.” He deadpanned with a shake of his head.

“Professor Russel Daun, Mr. Starag. I’ll be heading your affinity training for the next four years. Hopefully we get along or this is going to be a rough one.” Russell chuckled and made his way to Aaron, clapping him on the shoulder. “Most of the students have a small file with some information on their situation but I didn’t receive one for you, probably because royal secrets and all that, so forgive me for not knowing your level yet. Would you mind providing a demonstration of what you’ve learned?”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Aaron replied, giving Professor Daun a courteous bow purely out of habit and promptly being surprised when the man clasped his shoulder. He smiled at the professor as he spoke, feeling a little more at ease than he normally did around instructors, though he suspected it had something to do with that delightful little ball of sunshine hovering over the man’s shoulder.

At the mention of a demonstration, Aaron was snapped out of his reverie. “Oh, of course,” he replied hastily, looking around the clearing to see what he was working with. The night was dark but for the moon and the ball of light hovering near Professor Daun, but that would probably be enough for what he needed.

Taking a few steps back so he had some room, Aaron closed his eyes for a moment and drew a deep breath, concentrating on the flow of magic within him—something he’d actually caught on to indirectly through Salem. The ebb and flow was comfortable, familiar; a welcome respite from… well, everything.

His ring began to glow pale yellow, and when he opened his eyes, the same glow had claimed them, too. Holding his hands out in front of him, he reached out with his magic, calling the light from the orb to him. Much like his demonstration on orientation night, a beam of light formed between his palms, reflecting back and forth as if between mirrors and growing brighter by the second. But where he’d let the light escape on orientation night, this time Aaron held on to it more deftly; when it grew uncomfortably bright (for anyone who wasn’t a light mage, that is) Aaron pulled his hands abruptly apart, pulling the light like softened glass into a thin beam. At once it started moving, almost too fast to follow, bouncing between all ten of his fingertips like a pinball before sailing past his hand, only to loop around and return to his opposite palm where it exploded in a flash.

“I could already concentrate existing light when I arrived here,” Aaron explained, blinking the glow from his eyes. “Ever since, I’ve been working on refining my manipulation, slowing the light down and getting some more precise directional control. Keeping up with it, even slowed down, has proved a challenge, but my reflexes are starting to catch up.” He smiled, though he was all business a moment later as he perched a hand on his pommel. “I’ve also experienced a bit of involuntary glowing in situations of extreme stress, but it’s easily controlled by removing my focus.” He held up his ring for the professor to see.

He sighed, tugging on his left ear. “Creating my own light, however, still eludes me.”

“And it probably will for a while. Everything takes time, Mr. Starag.” Russell chuckled, returning to his seat once more as he gave Aaron a thoughtful look. “Tell me, what do you plan to achieve with your magic? Light magic dictates a substance which directs the lives of every creature, from human to vampire and everything in between. It tells us what our world looks like, what color is, what is around us and gives us the chance to react to it. Despite what many people think, there is more to light than meets the eye.” He chuckled a little at the joke before his thoughtful expression returned.

“So Mr. Starag. What do you expect to get out of this affinity?”

Aaron nodded. Patience; it wasn't always his strong suit when magic was involved, but he needed to exercise it nonetheless. The professor’s question gave him pause, however, but not for want of an answer; it was true, on the surface light may have seemed a rather weak affinity when compared to the power to shake the earth or set the air on fire, but just as Aaron had discovered soon after his Awakening, the possibilities were vastly more powerful than what met the eye. He had notebooks back home filled to bursting with every way he could imagine light being harnessed; with the proper training he could control what people saw, weave vast and perfect illusions or make things disappear completely. He remembered reading about light mages who could see around corners and in 360 degrees, see incredible distances, create entities of light and see through their eyes like proxies, even travel huge distances in seconds by “riding” light. He even remembered giddily imagining how he could become an ideal bodyguard to his charge, capable of shielding a vampire from sunlight in the middle of the day and wielding his own sunlight against any vampiric attacker.

And he was sure there were yet dozens, if not more, possibilities he hadn't thought of, and the prospect of so much out there to learn and wield made him positively giddy. His tired eyes shone with rare excitement and determination when finally he met the professor’s gaze again with his answer. “Everything there is.”

“Ambitious.” Russell chuckled from his seat on the table. “But what else would we expect from the best of us. Very well, Mr. Starag. Let’s see where we should start. That was an excellent self analysis. Let us work on that control some more. Once we’ve seen you can direct your light for longer, we’ll move onto creating images. I doubt you’ll have too much difficulty reaching that by the end of the semester though if you put some extra effort, we may be able to get you to animating them properly as well. Nothing particularly complex, likely something simple like a flag or a spinning orb, but exciting nonetheless. For now however…” Russell expanded the light on his shoulder, brightening the area a bit and then several large hoops of light appeared around them.

“We’ll be running an obstacle course for a little while. We’ll work on shrinking the rings and then adding movement while you guide a small ball of light through them. For now, let’s get a bundle of light and then stop it all together.” Russell held out his hands like Aaron, mimicking his technique but he cupped his hands together. He didn’t fully close them but left a gap large enough for Aaron to see. The light bent in onto itself, following the curve of his palms until it separated from him and hovered in a small ball between them. The light followed itself round and round, like a dog chasing its tail. “For now, let’s make a stable orb of concentrated light. Once you can create your own, this will be far simpler but we get to do it the fun way for a bit. The first step to controlling the light is stabilizing. Light doesn’t like to change directions over and over again and you’ll find it incredibly draining to do so without outside help. So what you do is guide the light into a circuit and keep it there. All you have to do is wrap your magic in a loose circle and the light will follow it happily. So, condense the light like usual and then use your magic to provide a track and the light will keep to it. Go ahead and try.”

Feeling a little more proud of himself than was probably warranted, Aaron’s face broke into a smile at Professor Daun’s praise. He took straight to his task, though. The professor seemed to think he could make significant strides in one semester and he wasn't about to prove the man wrong.

Professor Daun’s solution to the problem of directing light was almost too elegant; frankly, Aaron was surprised he hadn't thought of it himself. He was so preoccupied with learning to reflect light that he never considered curving it. Light wasn't fond of curving, true, but that was where magic came in.

Cupping his hands as Professor Daun had (leaving enough room for light to enter to be concentrated in the first place), Aaron called to mind that mind-numbingly repetitive crystal exercise from their classroom sessions. He knew well how the flow of magic through his body felt, and he'd done something similar with the current when he made his orb move around within the crystal. Doing his best to keep his breathing even - breath control was helpful, but he couldn't use that crutch forever - he focused on the space between his hands. He called the light there easily enough, but rather than focusing on bouncing it back and forth, he focused on letting his magic loop between his palms before returning to him. He did this for a few seconds, concentrating on the feeling, and when his eyes opened again (glowing solid yellow as always) he had a little ball of light between his hands.

His eyes widened, and in his excitement he almost lost his focus altogether; there it was! An orb! Spinning! Or, well, it felt like spinning. There was no visible cue, but he could feel the light following his magic's path, like a leaf caught in a whirlwind.

“Wow,” Aaron gasped, despite himself. He looked excitedly with pupil-less eyes from his hands to the teacher and back again, beaming. “You're right, it's much more malleable with a path to follow, isn't it?”

“Good job Aaron!” Russell praised him, nodding at the orb in Aaron’s hand. “Much of light magic works on this principle. Most people believe we bend light but really we just politely ask it to change its direction and suggest it stays moving that way. Making demands of your affinity will only slow your progress; we are the ones going against the natural order and we ought to show respect as we ask it to change a course several millennia in the making.”

“Now we’ll remove our hands slowly. Try and keep your magic from following. Maintaining its size is the key lesson here because we want to remove your reliance on the physical to guide your magic. I don’t expect you to manage it right away but this is an easy exercise you can perform anywhere if you have some free time.” Russell pulled his hands away from the orb slowly, dropping them once they reached shoulder width. The orb of light hovered exactly where Russell left it as if suspended on a string.

“Let’s see you try now.” Russell opened the floor for Aaron to demonstrate how well he could control his light orb.

More encouraged than he expected to be over a little bit of praise, Aaron nodded and turned his attention back to the orb between his hands, subsisting much more easily than his usual methods of directing light. Focusing on maintaining his ‘current’, he slowly began to draw his hands apart; the orb did grow the first few tries, expanding into something like a ring as his little cyclone of magic expanded with the movement, and each time he reset his position, staring into the light with more determination than the last.

After about ten tries in rapid succession, Aaron was able to move his hands about a foot apart while maintaining his orb’s original size, though it did shudder a bit now and then. He tried not to get too excited lest it interrupt his flow, and instead decided to talk his way through the process as a means to temper himself.

“I'm still feeling an urge to coordinate physical efforts with magical ones,” he explained, eyes still trained stubbornly on the orb. He took a deep breath in an attempt to loosen up a bit, but the orb shuddered as he did, and he went back to shallow breathing to compensate. “As I separate my hands the tension is moving to my belly and chest.” It was as if he was trying to squeeze a large ball, the muscles in his chest and arms tensing even as his hands drew apart, and his abdomen tensing as well with the effort. “Is that normal?”

“It is.” Russell’s orb winked out as he gave Aaron a reassuring smile. “Your body is trying to compensate for the lack of your normal methods. Take a few deep breaths and relax yourself. If your light goes out, start from the beginning and take it slowly. It may help if you move in tandem with your breathing, slow and deep breaths in while your hands are still and long, control exhales while your hands are separating.”

Aaron nodded and tried again with Professor Daun’s methods. It seemed to work a bit better from the start - though Aaron was used to breath control, so that might have been part of it - though it still took several tries before he got much consistency. The rest of the class was spent on that exercise, Aaron putting in several attempts and the Professor intermittently offering advice, until Aaron could consistently get his hands shoulder-width apart before the light started shuddering.

The last attempt was shakier than the rest, and finally Aaron let his hands drop and his light wink out, spent but smiling. “That’s more demanding than you’d think, isn’t it?” he chuckled, voice breathy with exertion. He glanced at his watch; class was almost over anyway. He was actually impressed he’d lasted this long, seeing as he hadn’t had a solid day’s sleep since the first night of classes.

“It’s a little like using a muscle that you rarely use.” Russell agreed, hopping off the table with another wince and started leading Aaron down the path back to campus. “But with time, magic will be as instinctive as breathing. Did you have any questions about today’s lessons?”

Accompanying the professor down the path, Aaron shook his head. “I don't think so; you've explained this very well,” he replied, though he did think of something as they came up to the mouth of the path. “Although, is there anything else I should keep in mind as I practice on my own?”

“What else should you keep in mind? Lets see.” Russell frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, you seem like someone who pushes themselves to achieve so remember in everything to take a break. It won’t come all at once and just like a muscle, overuse might do more harm than good. Keep a conscious focus on your breathing and consciously practice. Don’t let your mind wander, even when you think you’ve mastered a basic, otherwise you may develop poor habits that will catch you up in your advanced lessons. Other than that, I think you’re on the right path Aaron.” The Professor clapped him on the shoulder again and grinned.

Grinning back, Aaron nodded, holding his hand out for the professor to shake. “Thank you very much professor, I'll keep those things in mind. I look forward to our next lesson.”

Words from Home

Sprinkled throughout the Academy campus were picnic tables, lone or in groups of two or three, placed a good distance from the various paths criss-crossing the campus and usually provided with lights if students wanted to use them for studying. Some of them had shrubs and other flora nearby to offer a bit of atmosphere and privacy, and some were simply out in the open, their occupants visible to anyone walking by.

It was one of those that Aaron occupied all on his own, taking advantage of the space to spread a few texts and notebooks around as he got in a few precious minutes of study time. Despite the occasional problem of the wind turning his pages or sending his notes flying away, he’d taken to using the picnic tables as his main venue for studying; the fountain courtyard never had space, Varis was rarely home during the night to grant him access to the dorm, the dining hall was too loud and crowded, and the stir that seemed to accompany him ever since his public apology made studying in the library too distracting. But even though people could see him sitting there as they walked by, his affinity meant he could read his notes just fine without turning the light on, so to them, he was just a vague figure in the darkness. And even if they were looking at him, no one ever approached him.

Perhaps ostracization had its advantages.

Besides, the wind wasn’t a concern of his tonight. The air was very still for an autumn night, the usual rustling of trees in the breeze replaced by a chorus of crickets picking up for the fall. Considering what had been keeping him up the past several days, Aaron certainly wasn’t complaining about the lack of wind; the crickets were a welcome change. A few murmurs reached him here and there from the surrounding paths, likely more buzzing about the Arena being closed by royal instruction the night before, but while they did occasionally jar him from his focus, they were quiet enough that Aaron could (mostly) ignore them.

In fact, he had finally - whether through practice or fatigue - gotten himself to focus, largely deaf to the world as he drafted yet another set of Treaty Law notes to be passed on to Lilie when a jab to his side made him shoot out of his seat. He whirled around, hand on Dawn’s handle when an armoured hand grasped his sword arm and a man growled a warning he didn’t quite catch, stopped from subduing him only by a female voice.

“Oh, come now, that’s a tad extreme.”

A small, thin hand grasped the man’s forearm. The man, a dark-haired guard in Noila colours, complied quickly, releasing Aaron’s arm and stepping back with a muttered apology. The arm belonged to a short, slight woman draped in a thickly woven cape shawl, with silver-streaked blonde hair twisted into a low bun and blue—

“Mom?”

Aaron’s shocked expression fell in an instant, replaced immediately by a wide smile as a disbelieving laugh escaped him. His mother laughed too, leaning over a bit with the force of it, but barely had time to stand up straight before Aaron collected her in a hug, lifting her several inches up off the ground and turning before he released her. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be here!”

“I wanted to surprise you!” his mother retorted, still chuckling. “And by the looks of it, I succeeded! You must learn to relax, sweetheart.”

Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “How can I relax with the threat of sneaky fire mages ambushing me at any moment?” he joked, voice edged with mock indignation. Shaking his head, he gestured for his mother to sit, taking a seat himself and turning to face her. He assumed she was here on business with the Princess, likely related to the closure of the Arena, but a lifetime of classified comings and goings numbed him to the curiosity, and he knew better than to ask. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now that I can finally lay eyes on you,” Ella replied, taking one of Aaron’s hands in both of hers. She did frown, though. “Although, could you turn on the light? Not all of us can see in the dark, you know.”

Aaron started reaching for the light, but got a better idea. “I’ll do you one better,” he replied mischievously, smirking as he cupped his hands in front of him. He closed his eyes for a moment and drew a long breath, and soon a little orb of white light had formed between his hands, staying in place even as he separated them. When he opened his eyes, they were blank and glowing as they always did when he practiced magic, but the unsettling look was offset by a smile.

Ella smiled back and clapped quietly, beaming. “Beautiful!” She exclaimed proudly, “Not even a month at school and already improving so much.”

Aaron chuckled bashfully, nodding as he let the light wink out. “Can’t quite move them yet, but it's definitely more efficient than bouncing light all over the place.” He reached to turn the proper light on, washing the picnic table in a soft yellow glow.

“Progress is progress, Sunshine,” Ella replied, sighing happily. “I’m just so glad to see you. Now, you must tell me everything.”

“Oh no,” Aaron teased, leaning an elbow on the picnic table. “You tell me how you managed to sneak up on me like that. I’m starting to think Clara is rubbing off on you.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Please, I taught Clara everything she knows. She just never learned to pick her battles.” She laughed, a musical sound, though it was interrupted by a short burst of coughs at the end. Aaron looked concerned, but Ella waved him away, drawing a handkerchief from a hidden pocket somewhere in her skirt. She took a second to collect herself and clear her throat before she continued. “I told those two to keep quiet, though. Stars only know they’d have ruined the surprise with their big mouths.”

Aaron smiled warmly, eyes softening as he listened. He hadn’t been away from home all that long, but bantering like this with his mother again was like food for his soul. “Yeah, I’m amazed they listened.”

“They always listen to me,” Ella stated proudly. “But they’re old news. I’m here to hear about you. How are your classes? Have you been making friends? And who is this mysterious partner you’ve kept so hidden?”

Aaron grinned bashfully, glancing down at his hands. He supposed this night had been a long time coming. Honestly, he was astounded that it took her this long to outright ask. She'd been exceedingly patient with his beating around the bush and question-dodging, but he supposed there was a part of him that hoped he'd be able to make it to the break before he had to break the news.

“The classes are interesting!” he replied, his enthusiasm just a little forced. “You wouldn’t believe the size of them, though. My Spell Theory class probably has fifty students in it, and Treaty Law probably triple that.” Aaron shook his head. “I’ve adjusted pretty smoothly, luckily, but it is just bizarre.”

Ella looked just as confused at the arrangement as Aaron had been at first. “Well, at least Treaty Law shouldn’t be a problem for you,” she offered.

“True,” Aaron quirked his head. Varis was harsh, but even he couldn’t seem to find much fault in his knowledge of the Treaty. “You’d be surprised how many mages don’t know anything about the Treaty, though. And then some of them even actively disdain it! Such as… well, I’m sure you heard about Mr. Spellman.”

“Indeed I did,” Ella replied, folding her hands on her lap. She hid it well, but there was definitely an air of distaste surrounding the topic. Of course, she had decades more practice in subtlety than her son did, and shifted the topic with ease. “I was much more interested to hear that Her Majesty herself appointed you as his guardian.” A smirk found her features, and her voice swelled with pride. “It isn’t often a mage as young as you is assigned a duty of such importance.”

“Oh, Mom,” Aaron’s ears flushed a little, and he waved the idea away. “Don’t inflate my head now, Salem is more of a hazard to himself than anyone else.”

Ella shook her head. “Don’t get complacent. Anyone facing his accusations could be a threat, let alone when they’re inside the castle.” She straightened pridefully, prompting Aaron to do the same, but softened. “But I, for one, will sleep soundly knowing who’s in charge of keeping him in check.”

Aaron smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Mom.”

Ella smiled warmly, but moved right along. “Of course, I hope Mr. Spellman isn’t the only… acquaintance you’ve made,” she pressed.

Aaron smirked, shaking his head and inadvertently tangling his earring in his hair again. “No, actually I’ve made a few,” he assured her, pulling absently at his earring to dislodge it. “There’s Max, a metal mage whose company I enjoy almost exclusively because he hates it so much, but also Lilie, a water mage and quite a fenc—”

“Hang on dear, I’m sorry,” Ella interrupted, standing. She stood, moving Aaron’s hand and carefully disentangling the earring from his hair, much like Lilie had on the first night he got it. Aaron pulled away slightly, but didn’t have the heart to stop her.

“I don’t know what you’ve got stuck in…” she trailed off as the metallic glint of the earring shone from under his hair, disentangling it fully and examining the pendant for a moment as Aaron practically shrunk in embarrassment. Every explanation that came to mind died in his throat as her silence seemed to stretch forever, and he knew it was useless. The truth was right there in her hands; there was nothing more he could say.

“...I did think it strange that Her Highness didn’t tell me,” Ella finally admitted, almost to herself. “And… I can only assume this earring wasn’t a personal fashion choice.”

Aaron shook his head solemnly, though he did his best to hide his shame. “No, mother.”

Ella nodded, retaking her seat. She regarded her son silently for a moment, Aaron’s gut twisting all the while as he awaited the worst, before she spoke again.

“I think it suits you,” she stated, as casually as if she were talking about a new tie and not a new Noble alliance.

Aaron’s brow furrowed. “The… earring?”

“Well, yes, for a start. You definitely wear it better than Clara would with that chicken neck of hers.” She chuckled, and even Aaron was forced to crack a smile, before she got sincere again. “But beyond that, serving an esteemed Noble House definitely becomes you, Sunshine.”

“A Noble House,” Aaron pointed out, some of his disappointment leaking through, “but not the royal House.”

“You hold your tongue,” Ella reprimanded him, though there was no malice to it. “The Sinnenodels are a respected and powerful family, and I won’t hear you besmirching your new House. You know better than that.” She gave him a pointed look. “And recall that it was Her Highness Princess Ryner herself who put you in their care in the first place, and I won’t have you disrespecting her decision. I’m sure she could think of no one better for the task.” She straightened up, satisfied that her point was made. “Now, tell me about your new charge.”

Aaron dropped his head as he was reprimanded, nodding. His mother was right, of course she was. It was petty and disgraceful to talk about his new House like they were something to be ashamed of, not to mention disrespectful to Ryner herself. He’d never heard his mother say anything so glowing about the “snakes” of House Sinnenodel before, and he knew she couldn’t be pleased, but she was right; he was raised to for one job, and now it was time to do it.

“It’s Count Varis Sinnenodel,” Aaron replied, moving on to the question at hand. “He’s from a lesser branch of the family, but is also their—my Lady’s current favourite.”

“Ah yes, the young Count,” Ella nodded knowingly. “I’ve had the… well, admittedly not the pleasure, but the opportunity to meet him on several occasions, though I’d be sincerely surprised if he cared to remember me. He and Her Highness are intimate business partners, as I’m sure you know by now.”

Aaron nodded. “And he’s the current heir to House Sinnenodel, not to mention their Council seat. Should anything happen to Her Excellency, of course.”

“Indeed.” Ella smirked. “And you’re his mage. It’s really quite an honour.”

Aaron shrugged, though he had to grin. “Well, his ‘newest show mage,’ technically,” he admitted, “but yes, I suppose it is.”

Ella scoffed. “My dear, not that you wouldn’t make an excellent show mage, but I’d be amazed to see a shrewd Count like Varis waste your talents on just that.”

Aaron wasn’t so sure. “Maybe, but…” He sighed. “I’ll admit, as a whole, he doesn’t seem too impressed with me.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “That family has made disapproval into an art form. I would be much more concerned if he was impressed with you.” She laid a reassuring hand on Aaron’s forearm and offered him a smile, taking in the fatigue on his face for a moment. “Their methods are different than ours, yes. But whatever trials he has in store for you, I have no doubt you’ll overcome them.”

Aaron laid his hand on hers, expression softening. “You think so?”

Ella smiled. “I know so,” she stated matter-of-factly, her grin growing mischievous. “I know for a fact I raised a son who would settle for nothing less. Mark my words; you’ll be promoted from show mage to majordomo in no time.”

Knowing Varis so far, Aaron was hesitant to hope, but he couldn’t help but smile. Practical or not, majordomo was pretty much his dream job, and… well, things had been looking up a little lately. Was it so impractical for him to set his goals high? “Well… truth be told, I did manage to impress him recently. He even rewarded me with a free night.”

“A free night?” Ella grinned cleverly. “How interesting! And how do you plan to spend it?”

“Aside from sleeping?” Aaron chuckled. “Well, I was actually going to request the first night of the Revel.”

Ella nodded, thinking for a moment. “This year’s theme is ‘masquerade,’ isn’t it?”

“Yes, and I hear there will be a formal masquerade ball here on campus and everything,” Aaron confirmed. He grinned. “I’m actually pretty excited for it.”

Ella nodded again, and a wry smirk came to her lips. “It sounds wonderful, Sunshine,” she beamed. “But what will you wear? I know you didn’t pack anything that wouldn’t fit in at home.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed for a moment, before he had to laugh. “I suppose I didn’t really think of that.” He’d look ridiculous at the Revel in a classic suit and tie; it was a holiday for extravagance, after all.

Ella laughed as well, shaking her head and patting her son’s leg. “Don’t you worry about that,” she assured him. “I’ll have something sent for you.”

Aaron smiled, though the two were interrupted by the guard that had accompanied Ella, who had been standing to the side the entire time. “Madam Starag, I must—”

“You must nothing,” Ella snapped, “I don’t see my son in weeks and you’re rushing me? Her Highness will be fine another few minutes, not to mention quite displeased if she hears you cut off a meeting between me and my son.”

Aaron stopped her, holding out a hand and looking apologetically to the guard. “It’s fine, Mom,” he told her gently, glancing at his watch. “You know, it’s almost my curfew time anyway. I should be going.” He stood and helped his mother gently to her feet, who seemed unimpressed, but didn’t protest.

“Fair enough,” she sighed, opening her arms. Aaron stooped to hug her, though he refrained from holding her the extra moment he wanted.

“It was really nice to see you,” he told her as he released her, stooping to kiss her on the cheek.

“Likewise, my dear.” Ella smiled up at him. “Take care of yourself, Sunshine.”

“You too, Mom.” Aaron smiled down at her, and nodded to the guard, who escorted his (somewhat displeased) mother away after some final goodbyes. Aaron watched her go, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. She wasn’t ashamed of him, wasn’t horrified at his new allegiance, nothing. He’d been building up the reveal in his mind for nothing; he knew she wasn’t fond of the Sinnenodels, but she clearly didn’t think he was a failure, and now that it was all out in the open, he could breathe a little easier. No more hiding possibly the biggest aspect of his life from his family, no more sneaking around the subject, everything was fine.

Still, he was glad she hadn’t asked why he wasn’t sleeping.

Hit Each Other with Sticks for Bonding

Campus was quieter than normal on the last Saturday before the Revel, most students squared away in the library or their dorms, catching up on whatever schoolwork or chores they needed to get done so their partying could go uninterrupted. It was a shame, though; the moon was low in the sky, making way for the stars to shine brighter than normal, and the heat wave that had blown over the campus had finally broken free, leaving the air crisp with a pleasant pre-autumn chill.

Of course, Aaron wasn’t outside to enjoy it either. He was tucked away underneath the Arena in the practice room he’d reserved for him and Max, with an extra request to have anything metal that could be removed, removed. Dawn was safely tucked away in its scabbard back at his dorm, too, and instead the practice room had been outfitted with two wooden practice swords, balanced with stone weights rather than lead. Aaron himself was also looking different than usual, his normal, formal style foregone in favour of a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and sneakers. His long Sinnenodel earring had been replaced with its practice stud counterpart, the crest clearly visible what with his hair tied tightly to his head in three braids, joined at the back with pins. Nothing sticking out, nothing to be grabbed.

Aside from the clothes, though, Aaron still wasn’t quite looking like himself. He went through the motions of limbering up his joints as he waited for Max, sure, but his usual enthusiasm for training was subdued, to say the least. The dark circles that had been gradually forming under his eyes the past two weeks were out in full force, and while he was hoping some exercise would help clear his head, he couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed that a rare respite from schoolwork, chores and punishments would be spent trading blows with Max rather than trying to catch up on a few minutes of sleep.

Max sauntered into the room nonchalantly, right on time despite his apparent disdain for having to be present. He looked as unkempt as he usually did, despite Eris’ best efforts, but his scowl was reigned in enough to almost pass for a neutral expression. He took a brief moment to inspect Aaron, then looked away with a roll of his eyes. Oooh, Retriever looked serious. This was going to be a pain, he could already tell.

“So, how’s this work?” Was Maxwell Alderman too petty to bother with even saying hello to his little arranged playmate? Yes, yes he was. “We whack each other over the head a few times and then show off our bruises to the vampies? Or am I gonna get a wonderful lesson in royal swordplay that I can show off to all my friends?” He kept his tone unenthusiastic and fairly level, letting the context spell out the sarcasm for him.

Aaron was just surprised Max showed up on time, truth be told. He ignored Max’s quip for a moment in favour of giving him an up-and-down look, inspecting his clothes. He honestly couldn’t tell if Max had dressed any differently for training - he looked like he just rolled out of bed most nights anyway - but he supposed it would do.

Foregoing pleasantries, as he’d become used to on their little vampire-mandated playdates, Aaron simply picked up the two wooden swords on the floor next to him, tossing one without warning to Max. “Something in between, I bet,” he replied, critically eyeing Max’s posture. “I know I probably already asked you this, but have you really not done any kind of combat training before?”

Max carelessly held out a hand as the sword came flying at him, then let out a derisive snort as it clattered to the floor uselessly. That was weird, normally he could still move those. At least, the ones they used in Self Defense. He let out a second, more lighthearted snort as he bent down to pick the practice weapon up, weighing it in his hand experimentally.

“D’you custom order these or something? I hope you’re not scared of me or anything.” Max taunted idly before flashing a shit-eating grin that would probably make even Eris jealous of its potency. That, or the Retriever was calling him a cheater. Which was valid, he guessed. “And no, other than the stuff we went over in class, I don’t know anything about this. Unless, like, video games count, but…” Max shrugged.

“Apparently I’m not the first one to think a metal mage might be tempted to cheat in a swordfight,” Aaron replied, returning Max’s shrug. “Besides, it’s your arms Eris wants you flexing, not your magic.”

He gestured for Max to raise his sword, and gave his posture another critical look when he’d done so. Was that how characters held swords in video games, then?

“Well, luckily the basics of swordplay are pretty idiot-proof,” Aaron continued, pacing around Max and whacking him with his own sword wherever his stance was lacking. “And if ten-year-old me could pick up the basics, so can you.” Once Max was in something that more resembled an actual ready stance, Aaron circled back in front of him, but stood at rest, sword at his side. “Alright, hit me.”

“Y’know you can just tell me what to change instead of smacking me, right? I’m not deaf.” Max hissed out, gripping the weapon with both hands. Aaron was probably wise for taking all the metal out of the room; a couple more rounds of this crap and Max would be throwing whole weapon racks around out of spite. He drew back the sword for a fairly uncreative diagonal “slash” across the torso, throwing his weight into it. The power was there, but the entire ordeal was blatantly telegraphed.

Max’s slash was met with a rather simple parry of Aaron’s sword, his blade sliding down the other (sadly without the characteristic shing of metal against metal) and carrying the power behind it sailing past Aaron, where he used the momentum to turn and slam his own blade across Max’s back. It probably wouldn’t bruise, but a piece of wood bouncing off the spine was rarely pleasant.

“You’re dead.” Aaron stated flatly. “And I hope your sensibilities weren’t too damaged by a few whacks, or you’ll find this whole ‘combat’ thing a little taxing.” He gestured for Max to raise his weapon again. “You’re too slow. Don’t show your opponent what you’re about to do. And if you run at them like a bull every time, you’ll end up having your power used against you. Always have a plan in case your hit doesn’t land. Try again.”

Max groaned and lifted his sword as instructed, sticking with his two-handed approach. It wasn’t like he’d have much finesse regardless of how he was holding the weapon, so he might as well stick to something that had a bit more power behind it.

“Question, am I allowed to just deck you?” He was only half-kidding. Fists were fairly intuitive, he figured he couldn’t get that wrong too. Then again, he thought swords were fairly intuitive but Aaron seemed to feel the need to prove him wrong. Max didn’t give Aaron a chance to respond before he was coming at him again, drawing his weapon back to the side for what looked like another uninspired horizontal swing across the gut. He tilted the sword downward as he swung, aiming for the legs in an attempt to be a bit more slick in his approach; though he fully expected to just get whacked in his undefended face for the effort.

Max was partially right: Aaron caught his sword with a two-handed downward block, stopping his momentum outright rather than redirecting it. Bringing both swords up, Aaron twisted Max on his leading foot, putting him off balance to a point where a sweep of his own leg sent him unceremoniously to the floor, where Aaron poked the tip of his blade into Max’s stomach.

“Dead. Leg shots are too risky at your level. Your opponent will gain the upper hand,” Aaron explained simply. He had to admit, even if the circumstances were taxing and Max was the student, it was kind of fun to be the one instructing for once. He had tens of thousands of ‘deaths’ under his belt; it felt kinda good to be the one dealing them out for a change.

Returning his blade to his side, he looked at Max on the ground for a moment, before his face finally split into a grin. “You’re welcome to deck me if you think you can do it,” he chuckled, tossing his sword to the floor for effect. “Or you could charge an unarmed man, if that’s more your speed.”

Max groaned again. He was expecting to lose the altercation, not end up on his ass. While he was tempted to just try to tackle the other boy, he had the feeling there was some nasty surprise waiting for him if he tried it so obviously. He decided to just flick his sword to smack at Aaron’s ankle before standing up.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re gonna armbar me or something, right?” Figures that they trained the prize pet to do everything. Max stepped back into his ready stance, idly waving the practice blade around while he waited for Aaron to pick his own back up. “So where should I be aiming?”

“I really don’t think a punch from you would require an armbar, but that’d be your prerogative,” Aaron chuckled, raising an eyebrow at the little ankle tap but otherwise picking his sword back up without delay.

The question, though, was a little difficult to answer. Truthfully, there were a million places where he should be aiming, but they were all dependent on a multitude of different contexts that no one on earth had time to explain in full. Aaron had learned through trial and error, attacking and ‘dying’ hundreds and hundreds of times over years of training until he learned the difference between what worked and what didn’t; how exactly could he explain what was essentially instinct to him by now?

“I would say aim for your opponent’s weak points, but you’ll have a hard time recognizing them at this stage,” he decided, moving into an actual two-handed ready stance with the tip of his sword trained toward the floor. “You’ll find that what looks like an opening often isn’t one. It all comes with practice. Try again.”

So, in other words, Retriever was a total hack. Figures. Not that Max could really blame him; combat was too fluid for Aaron to just give him a one-size-fits-all checklist to follow.

“You know you suck at this, right?” Max muttered as he once again stepped in for a swing, though he hesitated before going for anything aggressive. Feints were out; he wasn’t fast enough to actually misdirect Aaron or manage to score a real hit in the window he’d created even if he could. Ideally, he’d exploit an opening in an extended melee, but he couldn’t even get to that point if he kept getting pretend-killed on the second swing.

Max played it as safe as possible, going for a swipe across Aaron’s torso again, though he didn’t throw his weight into it this time; keeping the majority of his weight on his back leg so he’d be able to - in theory - easily step away from any counters.

At least Max learned from his mistakes, but of course, it was far from perfect. Aaron couldn’t fairly expect perfection anyway, but it didn’t stop him from having a bit of fun with the leeway he was given.

Max’s swing was well telegraphed, and clearly weaker than his previous attempts, more of a true slash than a heavy chop. Aaron didn’t bother parrying with his sword, instead stepping back and raising his left arm, catching the blow on his forearm before whacking the blade down and lunging forward with his own, sending the tip far past Max’s side in a simulation of being run through and tapping his hip with it. It certainly wasn’t an optimal reply to a slash, but it was a fun little teaching moment.

“I may have a useless arm now, but you’re still dead,” Aaron explained, straightening up. He held up his sword. “A longsword is not a baseball bat. You can use it one or two-handed, depending on your situation. It’s actually very versatile.”

He held his sword in both hands, mimicking a diagonal downward chop, similar to what Max had done the first time. “A two-handed grip gives you more power. If you think you’re safe to do so, you can cut off limbs with a good two-handed swing, or easily kill someone with a chop to the shoulder or the side.” He demonstrated as he spoke, before switching to a one-handed grip.

“A one-handed grip gives you more reach, a few more options, but less power.” Aaron swung the sword in several directions, showing how it could be manipulated with movements of the elbow and wrist. “It leaves your free hand open and doesn’t rely on throwing your weight behind it. Better for weaker strikes like slashes and lunges, and less predictable.”

He straightened up when he finished, sword back at his side. “As for me sucking, you can direct your complaints to House Bordeleaux if you want, but they’re not known for being receptive to criticism from mortals,” he smirked, imagining the look on Lucan’s father’s face if a mage even dared tell him his shoe was untied.

Max let his sword hang lazily at his side as he listened to the explanation. He already knew that, but what was he supposed to do with a free hand? Slap Aaron across the face? Flip him off? Catch his sword like an overpowered cartoon character? Well, Max had a few practical ideas, but none that would work in this specific scenario.

“Hmmph. They’re lucky, I can’t even pronounce Border-lows, so I guess they’re getting spared from my complaints for now.” Max paced idly, eyeing Aaron up and down with a narrowed gaze as he caught his breath. He didn’t really need to win - he wasn’t that motivated here - but he did want to hurt the light mage somehow, if for nothing else than his pride.

Going for another surprise blow out of spite, he shot forward explosively from his otherwise casual stance, sword low as he made a swipe for Aaron’s shoulder with his free hand in an attempt to grip the other mage’s shirt while he aggressively thrusted the tip of his pretend sword toward Aaron’s stomach in a gutting motion.

Aaron widened his stance on instinct as soon as Max moved, lowering himself a bit and bracing for an impact. When Max made contact, Aaron immediately grabbed his wrist, twisting it to force him to drop the sword while his other arm came up to hook under Max’s shoulder. Pulling the other mage tight to him, in one smooth motion Aaron wedged his hip under Max’s back leg and dipped to grab the front, pulling it up from under him and slamming the mage to the floor on his back.

“What did you expect to accomplish with that?” Aaron questioned after a few breaths, dropping Max’s ankle. He wasn’t entirely displeased, though; he hadn’t been expecting Max to move that fast for him of all people.

Max let out a cough, apparently having been winded from getting smacked into the floor unexpectedly. He took a minute to catch his breath before responding, which gave Aaron a nice bit of buffer time to let Max cool off.

“I was gonna gut you… Or something. Fuck.” Max picked himself up off the floor enough to roll over on his side and prop himself up slightly with his elbow. “Don’t lie, that would’ve worked on a guy who didn’t know how to flip people and you know it.” He made a lazy grab for his sword, though he didn’t look too keen on continuing. At least not right at the moment. “Next time you’re getting a handicap. I get five swords and you get, like… half of one.”

He finally rolled back into a sitting position, letting out an irritated huff. Blind trial and error wasn’t helpful, but he didn’t know anyone else that knew how to use a sword. Except Count Astronomy, he guessed, but he figured he’d be even worse than Aaron, and if he wasn’t; Max didn’t want to give that absolute monster a pass to beat the shit out of him under any circumstances.

“Fuck, indeed,” Aaron repeated, watching Max compose himself with a hint of a smirk. “The first time I tried to surprise-attack my instructor, I had the good sense to go at him from behind.” He chuckled at the memory. “I got kicked square in the chest. By a vampire. I swear I thought my heart had stopped.” He left out the part where he’d burst out laughing at the end of it all. A story for another time. “He did break a rib, though. I think. Hard to remember, honestly.”

As Max worked on getting air back in his body, Aaron sauntered over to the edge of the room, picking up both swords on the way and leaning them against a rack before taking a seat on a bench.

“It’s a tough way to learn but it works. I usually find you learn a lesson better when it hurts for a few nights,” he eventually said, more to the room than to Max in particular. “Although that was after ten years of throwing myself at my teachers for hours every night until I got it right. I’m not sure you have that kind of time.” He smirked, leaning over to look at Max. “I’m sure Eris could pay for a proper teacher, if you’d swallow your pride and ask. Maybe they’ll give you a handicap.”

“I would rather eat this practice sword right here than ask Eric for a favor. A favor for the thing he’s making me do in the first place, at that.” Max let out another huff. “Besides, our little playdate schedule is still fixed regardless. What else would we do? Talk about the weather?”

As much as he hated small talk, small talk with the Retriever was somehow even worse. He was too sheltered to talk about anything except vampires and magic with, which Max pointedly didn’t want to think about when he didn’t have to. Not that getting his ass kicked was much better, but at least he could pretend it was useful for him.

“I would honestly lay down on that safety mat and spend the rest of our lovely get-together sleeping if I didn’t think you’d write things on my face while I did it,” Aaron replied dryly, leaning back against the wall and running a hand down his face. He let out a long breath, almost two weeks’ worth of sleepless days clearly audible as he did. Aaron didn’t drop his prim and proper attitude all that much, and wasn’t usually fond of doing it in front of people by a long shot, but out of everyone he knew, Max was the one he cared the least about seeing him a little haggard. A nap on the practice mat definitely sounded appealing, but Varis would know he was slacking if he came home with dicks drawn all over his face.

Rubbing his eyes for a moment, he forced himself to open them, though he stayed sat back against the wall. “So, I don’t know… how’s Treaty Law going? I’m sure you’re fond of your little study group.”

Max let out an amused snort at the prospect of doodling all over Aaron, but quickly transitioned into feigned offense. “Drawing on your face? I’m hurt. It’s like you don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d know I never keep a pen on me.” He slumped back into a neutral demeanor, flopping down on his back on the mat. “Treaty Law sucks, your friends suck, Count Cinnamon sucks, and that class is the biggest waste of time on my schedule. What about you, why do you look like shit all of a sudden?”

In truth, Max really hadn’t paid enough attention to notice anything with off with Aaron initially, but all the talk of napping had tipped him off a bit. The cause was fairly self-evident, but Max always did like the latest inane gossip on his third-or-fourth-least favorite vampire. Cinnamon probably ran out of doors to confiscate for bad behavior and moved on to the bed.

Aaron let out a half-hearted chuckle at the pen quip, but otherwise simply let his head fall back against the wall, inwardly rolling his eyes at Max’s contempt for learning the laws that governed every aspect of his life. He would almost have been flattered when Max asked (in his own acidic way) how he was doing, if he wasn’t pretty sure the other mage would write down his troubles in a journal somewhere for future use in insults.

Besides, what exactly was he meant to say? Confess the horrors he bore witness to every time Eris spent the day in the Sinnenodel dorm? Drop the moral weight of feeding the details of his supposed friends’ personal life to Varis every night? Or perhaps tell him all about the cryptic recurring nightmares that had been plaguing him ever since the first night of classes. Max already thought he was an idiot and a pain, he didn’t need rumours floating around that he was crazy, too.

“Aside from getting up two hours earlier than I otherwise would to write lines and periodically sleeping on the patio?” Aaron questioned sardonically, “Just treasure every day you get without Eris around, and remember that whenever he isn’t at your dorm, he’s over at mine.” He chuckled bitterly. “Sleep just isn’t usually in the cards for me.”

Sleeping on the patio? Damn, Varis really just confiscated the whole house, didn’t he? “And I thank you for your sacrifice. It’s so quiet without him around,” And, conversely, he had the strangest feeling the Sinnenodel dorm got very loud. Eris just gave off that vibe. Disgusting. “Buy some earplugs, pretend they’re wrestling, I dunno.” He didn’t really know what Eris did when he was hanging out with Cinnamon, but it had to be something other than disappointing their respective fathers, right? Normally he would’ve assumed there was frequent pantslessness from Aaron’s tone, but knowing Eris, he could very well just be pestering the hell out of the mage in a fully-clothed way too.

“You’d think that interferes with blood quality. Cinnamon’s not very good at food prep, is he? At the very least, how fast it replenishes. Anemia probably sucks for both parties.” Max was just throwing out excuses at this point, whether Aaron took them or not was on him. Truly, he was such a generous soul.

Aaron chuckled darkly at Max’s suggestions. Earplugs would have been great, but without money of his own he’d need to beg Varis for them and there was no way the Count would let him get off so easily. Like with everything, he was expected to adjust. Besides, somehow Eris’ occasional stays at the Sinnenodel dorm were the least of his sleep problems.

At the blood quality comment, Aaron shrugged. “He only feeds from me about once a week, if that,” he admitted, leaving out the part where the reason for it was that Varis apparently got too drunk off his blood to conveniently drink it every evening. “Truth be told I almost miss it; the rush helps me relax, if you can believe it.” Some nights it was the only relaxation he got, but he was already sharing more of a sob story than he was accustomed to and Aaron had no interest in delving any deeper into his own life.

“And what about you? You seem to be… adjusting.”

“Eric drinks out of my crotch.” Blunt. Straightforward. No shame. Okay, a little shame. But, like, more of a denouncement of Eris than an admission of personal shame. “Other than that, he’s like a nagging manager. I think he just emulates his agent,” Max put on a horrible Eris impression before continuing, “Maximillian, eat a nice diet; Maxibald, make sure you walk the dog; Maxie Number Two, go on a playdate with Sunny. Magic’s coming along, that’s all I really care about. Leeches do what they will and mages suffer what they must. Apparently.” His voice took a bit of a harsher tone toward the end, but he still looked rather passive should Aaron get a glance of his face.

Aaron shrugged, if not a little pained. Drinking from the femoral artery sounded like more trouble than it was worth in his opinion - honestly, who had the time? - but he didn’t doubt that that would be how Eris went about things. The rest brought something resembling a chuckle out of him, especially at the impression; sure, femoral artery sounded awful, but for the rest of Max’s life to be so lax, it seemed like a fair enough trade.

He did feel for Max, though. He could put up a snarky front all he wanted, but anyone could tell the transition had been hard on him. And how couldn’t it? He’d been torn from relative freedom and thrown unceremoniously into a world of servants and masters that he seemed to only be beginning to understand, never to go back to the life he knew before. Aaron was hesitant to give him too much credit, rude bastard that he was, but that little bite in his voice really said it all.

“That seems to be the way of things,” he replied absently. He’d spare Max the speeches he usually gave Salem about the importance of the world order and how their sacrifice was for the benefit of mankind at large; he knew he wasn’t convincing Max any time soon. But Max, at least, wasn’t speaking radical reform to power and all but begging for a swift separation from his head, so Aaron could live with a little constant chafing.

“Affinity progress, that’s good. You’ll be an expert chair-thrower in no time,” Aaron continued, though he lost the energy to try and keep the tone light the minute he started. He sighed, looking over to Max on the floor. “And I know you’re not exactly hanging on my every word, but for what it’s worth, you’re doing pretty good.” He’d let Max figure out what he meant by that.

“Gee, thanks,” Max replied in a deadpan. He would’ve gone with an actual quip there, but Retriever sounded like he was trying to be genuine, so Max might as well take what he could get. Not that he thought it meant much. What would Aaron of all people be praising him for? Being a good little lapdog? The other mage might as well have just insulted him.

“And that’s some tough talk for a guy whose whole affinity can be outclassed by a flashlight.” Chair-thrower, pssh. He was a chair-destroyer at the very least. What were light mages good for? Aside from melting leeches, which was admirable, but he knew Aaron would never have the balls for that kind of thing.

“Talk to me in a year or so when you won’t be able to tell between reality and illusion,” Aaron shot back, matching Max’s tone. Although, his really didn’t hold much malice. Harsh as he was, it was kind of hard to take Max’s insults seriously. “Could be fun, though. Seeing you walk into invisible poles would definitely make my day a little brighter.”

“I can think of about ten different counters to that. The first of which being, I dunno, stand still? Not impressing me here.” Max sat back up and worked his way lethargically to his feet. As much as he enjoyed a theoretical pissing match about stuff they may or may not be able to do, going back to his dorm sounded like a good time too. Aaron clearly wanted a nap, assuming Cinnamon would let him have one, at least. “Are we done here or is there a time limit we need to hit? You’re clearly out of it and I clearly suck.”

At this rate, he really was going to have to ask Eris for a tutor. How tiresome. Maybe he could try fighting on his own terms (read: magically flailing fifteen weapons) to make up for his lack of skills, but faulty fundamentals were a serious liability in any field. Otherwise he’d be stuck asking that leech who ran Self-Defense, but that guy seemed just as eager to beat people up as Aaron was.

Aaron leaned over enough to rummage through his bag and pull out his watch. “It’s been… long enough, I think,” he conceded, standing and collecting his things. He didn’t despise Max’s company as much as Max despised his - truth be told, he almost enjoyed it - but he felt about as passionate about their little ‘hangouts’ as Max did.

“I can clean up here, just… no, yeah, that’s fine,” Aaron finally concluded. If Max was as winded as he seemed and went home to Eris that way, both vampires would probably be satisfied that their mages’ time was well spent. Looking back up to Max, Aaron shrugged, gesturing to the practice swords. “Let me know if you want to do this again, so I can book the room. Otherwise I suppose it’ll be back to invigorating small talk.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Max offered in response. It was a step above ‘Don’t push your luck’, but not by much. Maybe once he had a working skillset down and wasn’t just getting beat up for the fun of it. “I was serious though. Next time, I’m getting five swords and you’re getting a broken one.”

Max idly made his way to the door, lagging a bit as he glanced back, “You sure you don’t want any help cleaning up?” It wasn’t like there was much to clean up, it was just two swords. Still, he felt like it was polite to ask.

“Yeah, we’ll see if you do any better with five,” Aaron chuckled, bending to pick up his bag and placing it on the bench. Max’s question surprised him though, and the shock of hearing Max be polite to a mage made him hesitate a second before shaking his head, waving Max’s concern away. “No, don’t worry about it. I won’t be long anyway. Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh.” Max threw a dismissive wave behind himself as he turned away and headed out the door. He pulled out his phone and flipped to the front camera. Yeah, he looked fucked up enough. Maybe he could show off a bruise or two to really impress Eris. He deliberately ran a hand through his bangs to tussle them even more and trudged back to his dorm.

Aaron waved back, more out of reflex than anything, and watched until the door had closed behind Max and he could no longer hear his footsteps. Letting his bag drop from his shoulder, he let out a sigh, reaching up to untie the braids holding his hair to his head. Truth be told, he hoped Max would want to do something like this again; between schoolwork, household responsibilities, punishments, and a steady increase in the duties Varis assigned him, Aaron was losing out on more and more of the training time he was used to. And since he was accustomed to using exercise to unwind, the lack of training was really starting to gnaw at him. Well, that and about a hundred other things.

Once he had the swords ready for return and the safety mat cleaned, Aaron pulled out his phone and opened his calendar app, scrolling to the entry for his practice room time, flicking the light off as he did. He still had about half an hour; maybe he could get a little sleep before he was expected back.

Nightmares

12:45pm

The chill never seemed to fade, the tattered rags wrapped around the shivering frame. They were clothes once but its been… The marks on the wall suggested more moons than she could count. She could only count to ten and there were tens of tens of tens of tens of marks cut into the wall. She couldn’t remember anymore which ones were hers. She couldn’t remember which flakes of blood spilt and dried from her split and broken skin. She shivered again, pressing back against the frigid cobblestone as the heavy footfalls and harsh, muttered words bounced around the cell. She may not know what they’re saying but she knew when it sounded like that, nothing good would come of it. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

It’s a boy!

The harvest this year-

Oh please Ma, stop it plea-

You are a worthless so-

And the banks are all as-

The girl slapped her hands over her ears and screamed. The chilling cut of the wind through the barred slits at the top of the cell went unnoticed as the ghosts came back. She couldn’t handle them. Some of them were nice, some of them were mean. Most were scary and terrifying and she didn’t want to hear them anymore. Her fingers found the familiar grooves, pressing and cutting into her skin until blood dripped freely, as she curled in further on herself to get away from the ghosts. Mama said it wasn’t real, Papa told her to ignore them. But she couldn’t. They wouldn’t leave her alone. They always found her, no matter where she hid. Mama and Papa said they wouldn’t find her here, said she’d be safe. They dropped her off, promises to bring her toys and candies and proper blankets and new clothes.

She hadn’t seen them since.

The voices faded as the cell door slammed open, She felt herself thrown across the room, eyes still shut tight as pain seared across her shoulder and another hoarse scream tore from her throat. She heard the tell-tale sound of the belt rustling, the folding the did right before it started, and yelling in that horrible thick accent. She knew better than to struggle, to try and hide somewhere, or run through the open cell door. She’d tried everything she could. Those times, she’d be lucky if they only broke one bone. So now she just sat, eyes screwed shut, and waiting for the leather to cut into her until the man was satisfied.

Snap.

That noise was different. It wasn’t the snap of the belt as the man watched the bruises and red lines and broken skin. It wasn’t the snap from his fingers when he had the others drag her out afterwards. Screaming came after, a slew of horrible words he only used at her when she caught him in the groin the first time he tried to touch her. Another snap and the screaming got louder, the clank of the belt’s buckle confusing her as it hit the ground. She still kept her eyes stubbornly shut. It wasn’t the first time he tricked her. It couldn’t be trusted.

But the screaming stopped. It was sudden and the silence weighed heavily. She peeked one eye open and scampered back along the wall. A woman knelt where she once was, wrapped in beautiful furs and sadness dripping red from her eyes. She gave a reassuring smile and sat, staying silent. A bag the girl hadn’t noticed before was slid towards her. The two stared at each other for several long minutes before the scent of warm bread floated out of the bag. With hesitant movements, the girl flipped open the flap of the bag and recoiled again, expecting another trick. Instead, the aroma of food wafted out of another small package nestled on top of a bundle of black fur.

Á̹̬͚̝͍̱ ̗͈͓̿̉̉̀̀b͚̯̤̝͐ͣͥ͊̊̏̉r̦̤̖̱̞͙̉ͭ̈̀ͯͪͅoͪ͐ͭ̐͐ͨḱ͚͉̜̱̖͂̇̐̓̎̚e̺̤̺̹͓̒ͧ̅͡n̖̟̥̺ͫ͊ͪ͋͝ ͎w̎͆̑ͨ̽ͤ̚r̶̼̂ͯ͋̎i͎͕͚̰͕̖͉͛͗ͫs̙̘̲̼̽̎͑̍̊̆̔t͗ͤ҉͈,̡̥͎̞̆ ̶̤̭͌ͣà̠̬̱̝̣̄͌̈́̒̎ͬͅ ̩͕͙͙̈́̑̐ͭͅs̖̘̺̞̦̜ǹ̮̌ͫͫ̽̄̄a̰̤̬̤͌̌͞p̷̙̭̬̬͂͑ͦ͌͋̊p̪̤͓̹̬̌́͢e͍͍̋̽ͭ̔ͅd̄̊̃ ̼̘̠̲̐ͤ̓̂̈́ͥn̴͈͙̬͖̳̰̋ͣė̶͇̔c̑̇҉kͨ̀͌̈́̿.̖̳̕ ͚͚̫̙̲̱̏̾
̫̱̿̍̂
̪͓̓ͦ͋ͬͫ̾ͬB̗͎̲̖͉͓̭̓ͭ͛ͬ̆l̝̫̲̩̺͎̾̔͛ͮ͛̾̎o̘̣̻̒̏̅͑͆̔o̓d̓̌ͯ͛ͤ͢ ̪̺͓̺̭͍͂̉͗͋̈̏p̯̩̫̮̺̤̭̆̉͗́a͚̠͈͚̩͌̄ͨ̋̌ͪ̚ͅi̟͉͇͓ͯn̵͓̺͇͍̼̪̭̓̌t͍̼͔ͨ̋̀̿̓è̷̻̱̱̌͆̔̓ͥ̓d̜̼͙̤̞̖̄ͮ̓͞ ̪̲̳̼͍̬̣̓͒̐̐͝o̲͙̳̥̓̑̄̓̎̂ņ̠̞͚̘̗̠̩̋͗͋ͤͬͤ̐ ̫͈̭̊hͤ̾̓͏̙͖̜̞͓͓ͅe̯̩̩͙͓̳͓̔͆r̯̟̼̘̭̼̃͗̋͑̚̚ ͍̫͇ͯ͗ͣͧ̅͜ͅfͭ͒ͥ̎̅͏̻͓̥a͟c̲̜̜͙͛̓́ͪ͗̾e͊́̀.͗̾̏̏ͫ̈́ͤ̀

“Eat up, little one. The bad men can’t hurt you anymore.” The woman’s voice carried easily, a warm amusement permeating each word. The girl reached forward hesitantly, snatching up the food and scrambling back. The heat of warm food, real food, seeped into her fingers and the quiet hunger that she’d grown used to roared to life and she ate as eagerly as a starved animal. She wasn’t sure what it was, soft meat melting on her tongue wrapped in fresh bread, but her stomach rumbled pleased. The food was gone far too quickly and she was left licking the tangy sauce desperately off her finger tips. She sniffed hopefully at the first bag but found nothing else but fur.

“It’s a coat. It’ll keep you warm for now.” The woman’s voice caught her attention and this time, the girl looked past the danger of a new person. The woman was heavier than she’d seen anyone before. Not that she’d seen more than rail thin. She looked… healthy. Like she ate regularly, like she had a home, somewhere to go back and sleep without worrying about bad men and belts and ghosts. The woman nodded her head towards the bag again and this time, the girl snatched the fur coat out of the bag and slipped herself into it. It was so… soft and still just a little warm from the food. The girl just petted it for a moment, staring in awe at what she wore, before the tears started.

T̐̄̍͑ͨ͝h̢̩̻ͥ̃̈͊̃̓e̼ ̧͔̭͒̂̊̽s̰̺̰̱̓̂̅̓̍̓̓c̠̥̜̃͊ͧ̕e̶̼͖͕̘ͯ̓͐ͅṇ̶͍̞͉̌̄͋͛ͤ̂t̨̺̞̗͖͖̮̥̉͆ͮ ̧̼͗ǫfͧ͋҉̖̪̙͎̘̱͉ ̸͉͍ͬ̍̀̄͊ͥ̈́f͓͙̘̀̑́͑ͦͣ̈́ͅë͓c̯̮̈́͗ê̵ͨͮͭ͋̈́ş͕͉͙ͥ ͎̗̲͙͕̄ͩ͊̎ͥa͎͇̙͖̋̈́̇̓͐n̙̺͓d̮͌͐͌ͯ̒͊̈́ ̼̞̤̗̹ṳ̶͈̮̦̓ͪ̉̋ͬṟ̢̼̤̞̟̤̓̈ͨ̒̇͒į̬̩ͮ̋ṋ͕̝͉͓̭͙̀ͩ̃̒̈́́̚e̙͍̖ͩ̉͊ͪ͆ ͛̇̉̽f̔ͪ̽̅ͧl̝̣͙̅̌̒ͨ̄́̓ǫ̱̼͍̼͖̰̓̅͐ȍ̬͈͔̖͞d̫ͦe̥͈͇̜d̪͈̹̣̩̈́͟ ͈̪͚̳̦̺̋̆̓̆͗ͪͅt̰̭̤̳͊̆̂̾ͯ̎̚h̵̀͌͂ͨ̇e̟͚̙͇̠̟̪ͥ̑͗͝ ͈͉̓͑ͤ͘a̜̟̮̥̬̹̥͊̚i̵̺̞̖͍͇ͣͮ͆ͯr̻̗̮̥̗͛.̙͙͈̖̜̒͂̋ͫ͊ͣͯ

The dam broke. All the pain, all the suffering, came out in silent sobs that wracked her entire frame as she broke down at the simple kindness the strange woman afforded. She felt the woman bundle her up in her arms and the girl clung desperately as the woman stood, desperate to believe this strange woman cared enough for her to save her, to take her away from this cold wretched place. The woman murmured strange words comfortingly into the girl’s ear, a sound almost like a musical wind flowing from her lips while she rocked the little girl through her pain.

“Would you like to come home with me, Ellmare?” The woman whispered and the girl could only nod where her face was buried in the luxurious coat, her hold tightening in case it was another trick. Pleased laughter rang out around her but the girl flinched. The wind had risen again and that was when the ghosts like to play. She curled in as much as she could, ready to hear horrible things.

“Don’t worry, my Ellmare. The voices can’t reach you here.” The woman whispered soothingly as they stepped out of her cell. The girl peeked over the woman’s shoulder when the voices never came. The wind stayed steady, whistling through the desolate building and plucking eagerly at the pair like a child excited to play, but true to her word, the ghosts never came. The ghosts never came.

“Ghosts?” She whispered fearfully, looking around as they walked. She hadn’t seen the outside for a long time. The stone corridors they walked, the short flight of stairs down to the ground floor, the gaping exit that made her feel like the building was eating her when she first arrived all changed so much while she was here. Carpeting and paintings and chairs she didn’t remember were abundant but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was tired.

E̛͐ͪ̒̋v̬̼̫̙̤̟̳͆e͍ͭͥr̮̩̹̓̃ͯ̈ͧͩ̌ŷ̺̜̈́ẇ͓̯̱̗̭̲̹ͫͭ͌̊͛͞h̬̱ͥ̌̏ͪͬͣe͓͔̖̦̻̖̠̎̿ͭ̐̃͒̐͝r̯̟̱ͯ̀e҉͈̥̖͔ ̰̞͖͈͇̻͒ͮͣͥ̇̔w͔͖̰͍̤̲̺͆͠e̱͚̦̺͈ͮ̓̇͘ŗ̜̥̗̫̓̀ͭ͗e̟ ̵̩̗̯͇͔͇̓̎b̲͕̯͒̈̎̀ỏ̐̆ͣḏ͖ͪ̾̂̿ͬͩį͗ͣͫͥͬͤe͈̓s̻̃͞.͎̖̥̙̞̜̌ͅ ͉̮̜̝̖̊̾͗͋̓
̒ͮ҉̫͉̻̣͇̩̥
̺͓̫̞̳͂́ͮǍ͉͉͍̼̱ͨ̍͆̿̔̌͟l̖̞̟̱͌ͣl̖ͪ̾ͪ͂ͩ ̬͓͔̲̬̝̯ͥ͐͂̍̈́͛r̡͈͈͎̣͕̜̐͆i̭͚͇̹͉ͯ̒̋̚p̐̊͊͏͇̲̘p̨̞̌ͣe̪̥͈̤̼̪͛̅͛̿ͥ̌d̮̹̹͈̖͙͍̈́͐ ͎͙̘͇̬̮̯́ͭ̿̓͡l͙̖̼͎͟î̧̖͓͚̒m̵̗̿ͯ̊b̍̏́̄̆̄͏̠̪̥̥̟͕̯ ̠͙̠̦̞͙̏́ͤ̕ͅf̤̦̗̭̘͚̓̒̐ͫ̓r̢͉͔ͬͦ̑ͯͅo̴̯̩̱̘͌͌ͯ̇ͪ͗̚mͧ̑̈̆҉͇̦ͅ ̘͔̱̺͎̯̩ͥ̏̏̒l͍͙̂̍̒̌i̖͍͈ͨ̽̒̄̇m̰͍̺̜ͯb̯̝̞͇̠.̪̰̯̪̱̞̜

“Those voices aren’t ghosts, my Ellmare. They are voices. The wind picks them up and carries them for those who know how to listen. But only if you’re very special.” The woman murmured as she stepped out the front doors. The dirt trail the girl remembered was gone, replaced with similar cobbled stone as the inside. “And you are very special. I can teach you how to listen only when you want. And when you are afraid and scared, I’ll be there to chase away all the monsters in the dark. Does that sound good?”

The girl nodded. She felt so so tired. A man, balding with a salt and pepper beard and an axe much larger than himself in hand, fell in step with the pair. The girl tensed and the exhaustion vanished, replaced with terror again. She said she chased the bad men away. Why was there a man here? Was she lied to? Was she… The girl struggled against the woman’s hold instinctively. Above her, the woman shot the man a murderous look. The man only shrugged and continued onwards, stepping up to the driver’s seat on the carriage waiting at the end of the drive.

“It’s okay, my Ellmare. You’re safe with me. He won’t touch you without my permission and he will never have it unless you give it to me.” She cooed into the girl’s ear, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe with me. Just sleep and we can talk when you wake.” The girl nodded off as she relaxed once more, the faint click of the carriage door closing starling her but the woman holding her opened the curtains so the girl could see outside whenever she wanted. The starry night sky shimmered softly through the glass and sleep called sweetly to her.

“Name?” Was all she could get out, her eyes already fluttering shut. Another pleased chuckle rang through the space as fingers slid comfortingly through her hair.

“Yvaine Eve.”

Aaron woke with a start, not quite crying out, but close enough to it. His legs were tangled up in bedsheets, his duvet long gone, and his body was covered in a cold sweat. His mouth was dry, his throat sore and hoarse, as if the screams he loosed through the little girl’s mouth in his dream had been let out in reality as well. But he knew he must have stayed quiet. Varis surely would have chastised him otherwise.

He allowed himself a moment to get his breathing to slow before reaching for a large glass of water on his nightstand, wincing at the first few painful swallows as he downed the whole thing before returning for his phone. The darkness split as the screen came to life, showing a wallpaper image of Noila forest at the castle and the time. 12:45pm. Same as every day.

With fingers still unsteady from panic, Aaron put his phone to sleep and tossed it to the bed, letting his body fall back to the mattress with a huff. Even though the dream ended on something like a hopeful note, it still took a few minutes after waking for the fear to subside. Images from it flashed through his head in a set pattern, his flawed mortal brain playing a highlight reel of the most disturbing moments until they no longer frightened him, heart rate finally slowing as the images finally dissolved away. Only to begin it all anew the next day.

Day after day after day, without fail, ever since the start of classes. How many times was it now? Aaron didn’t care to figure it out; he could count when he got back up in the evening.

Adrenaline eventually gave way to exhaustion and the heat of panic left with it, soon replaced by a chill Aaron had grown familiar with. It always reminded him of the chill in the dream, the cold that seeped into the very marrow of his bones as if it was a part of him, but he pushed that thought away. It would haunt him later, sure - that and everything else about the dream - but he didn’t need to give it any more time than it already got to fester.

With a muted groan he rolled to the side of the bed and retrieved his duvet, throwing it haphazardly over himself and doing his best to settle back down. He did most of it for shame’s sake; though nights and nights’ worth of compounded fatigue weighed heavily on him, he knew he wouldn’t fall back asleep for some time.

At first he thought it was a comfort that Salem was suffering the same nightmares too, but it was soon clear that it only brought up more questions. The lingering guilt of betraying Salem’s confidence to Varis - senseless as Aaron tried to convince himself it was - also twisted stomach, but not more than the thought that whatever thin tie Salem’s nightmares might have to what happened at dinner might be tied to him as well.

And then there was the dream itself: The memories of pain so vivid Aaron almost believed he himself had lived through them; the dank, foul air of a cell he knew every inch of, without ever having seen it; a deep, familiar hunger Aaron could swear he felt even now; and below it all, an all-pervasive terror he knew intimately, but had never experienced himself.

That wasn’t even to mention the names. Even the first time the nightmare had struck him, before it returned day after day and before he knew he wasn’t alone in suffering it, Aaron was suspicious of it because or the names. Ellmare. Yvaine Eve. Not once before had his dreams ever featured names he didn’t know (nor did they often feature names at all), and for one of those names to be an Eve? An Eve whose name he’d never heard before? It didn’t sit well, to say the least.

Try as he might to push it from his mind, though, Aaron’s thoughts always returned to the litany of horrors he lived every time he tried to sleep. It haunted him in his waking hours, anytime there was a lull that allowed his mind to wander—and he had had enough. His responsibilities were only multiplying and his instruction only advancing, and he was struggling to keep up with it all. Recent nights found him so exhausted he had trouble reading, and other people were starting to notice the dark circles under his eyes. Something had to be done. If he couldn’t find reprieve from the nightmare itself, he had to at least find some answers.

Newly determined, Aaron rolled over and grabbed his phone, opening his email app and writing a spur-of-the-moment message to the only person he could think of who could help.

Your Royal Highness,

My sincerest apologies for bothering you at this hour, but if I fail to make this request now I might lose the courage to make it. I would request an audience - or, ‘appointment’ now I suppose - at your earliest convenience, if you’d have me.

Forgive my boldness, but I don’t know where else to turn.

Faithfully yours,
Aaron Starag

Truth

Aaron received a letter during his first class the next night, a glossy envelope stamped with the school’s seal. His appointment with Ryner had been set for the lunch period that night and urged that he not miss it due to a tight travelling schedule. A few students side eyed him after the apology incident last week. The muttering around him, or the sudden silences when he entered a room, faded away after a couple of nights but a larger wedge was clearly forming between him and the main student body.

To his credit, Aaron paid the looks no mind. It was more than a little embarrassing, and a trifle upsetting even (not that he’d ever admit it) to be looked at like some kind of freak, but that particular night, after fifteen straight days of impossible sleep and haunted waking hours, he was beyond caring. Besides, maybe tonight they were only looking at him because he looked like some kind of ghost with his pallid complexion and dark, sunken circles under his eyes. The reason didn’t matter much; he had more pressing concerns.

He stopped to splash some cold water on his face before his meeting time with the Princess, having to enlist the help of a campus guard to find his way to her office. After he dismissed the guard with his thanks, he paused outside her door to straighten his tie and flatten his lapel; a routine that had become deeply ingrained habit from his early teen years. He knocked properly and awaited the Princess’ summons before entering the office with a customary bow.

Ryner’s office on campus matched her home office, down to the very rug on the floor. Bookshelves flanked the room but where the fireplace was, only another bookshelf and two windows overlooking the campus behind her. Ryner sat at the desk with a pen gliding across paper, a beautiful paper bouquet set in a glass vase on her desk, but she looked up at Aaron’s entrance, the focused frown on her face softening into a fond smile that quickly morphed into concern as she took in his appearance. She put the pen down and nodded at one of the chairs across from her. Ryner took a moment to put away a few books on the shelf behind her and then gave Aaron her full attention. A small platter of fruits, cheese, and vegetables sat on a small side table between the chairs.

“I couldn’t get you in any sooner than lunch this evening or I would have, Aaron. Your message gave me quite a fright when I was handed it this evening but I was assured if it was life or death, you would have had the good sense to wake me up. Though now seeing you in person, I’m not sure why I allowed myself to be persuaded against my original concerns.” Ryner gestured at the platter. “And since I interrupted your lunch, I made sure to have something ready for you. Not the greatest selection but I won’t see you go hungry if we run into your next class. Come sit and tell me what is weighing so heavily on you, Aaron.”

Aaron barely had time to get his bow out of the way before Princess Ryner was ushering him into a chair; he certainly wouldn’t protest, though, sitting gratefully with an amused glance at the bouquet on the desk. “I see Lilie got to you, too, Your Highness,” he half-joked, gesturing at the flowers. “Sadly Master replaced mine, but he replaced it with lavender, so… there’s that.”

Fatigue played a lot of dirty tricks on him, it seemed, crashing his train of thought completely half the times he tried to put together a sentence. And it clearly wasn’t only him who noticed; Ryner’s concern was at once heartwarming and saddening, Aaron both touched and suddenly feeling terrible for disturbing her so badly.

“You’re very kind, Your Highness, thank you,” Aaron began, referring both to the food she provided and her haste in arranging the appointment. “And I’m terribly sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was frighten you.” He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but it didn’t last very long. He knew she could see his distress etched into his features clear as day; there was no use hiding it.

“But, I won’t delay,” he resolved, though he did take a moment and a long, tired breath to figure out exactly how to breach the issue.

“Well, to be frank, I’ve been experiencing a rash of nightmares since the first night of classes,” he finally admitted, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Or, rather, one nightmare, recurring. It’s been interrupting my sleep for fifteen days and tormenting my waking hours as well. Nothing the infirmary gave me helped me sleep through it, and, well…” he gestured to himself, chuckling helplessly. “You see the result.”

“But of course I’d never bother you for something as trivial as nightmares,” he added quickly, mortified at the very thought. “No, the reason I went to you - and no one else - is, well…” he was losing his train of thought again, though be it fatigue or shame, he wasn’t sure. “I have… reason to believe there might be more to it than bad dreams.”

“Aaron.” Ryner stood and made her way around her desk, settling in the chair next to Aaron. “I know you hold yourself to high expectations and those are certainly a result of your training as a Starag but if you are struggling or upset, you will always find sanctuary with me. Regardless of where you are, your health and happiness is always a priority to me so don’t be so hard on yourself for seeking help. Even if it is as trivial as nightmares.” Ryner smiled warmly at Aaron.

“Now, you said you had reason to believe it may be more than bad dreams? Tell me what you’ve learned and I’ll see if I can shed some light on this mystery.”

The Princess’ insistence was a great comfort, and it felt better than Aaron would like to admit to have someone so occupied with his personal wellbeing, even though he felt it was undeserved. He dropped his head and nodded in concession, offering a small, more sincere smile as his thanks before moving on to the more pressing topic.

“That’s just the thing, Your Highness; I haven’t learned anything.” Exasperation born of frustration edged his voice as he sat more upright, leaning one arm on the arm of his chair and turning to the Princess. “Let me go back.”

“This nightmare I’ve been having is identical every day, and always wakes me at 12:45pm, no exceptions,” he began. “I see through the eyes of a young girl who’s been subjected to unspeakable abuse, trapped in a cold cell for who knows how long, and hearing voices. I have her memories, I feel what she feels, and it is agonizing.” He physically grimaced at the thought. “Someone comes for her, a man with a thick accent and a belt, and she prepares herself for more abuse, until a woman - a vampiress in a fur coat - kills the man and rescues her. She gives her food and a coat, takes her from her cell and out of the manor she’s in and loads her in a carriage, telling her the man accompanying them won’t hurt her. She tells the girl she’ll take her to live with her, and teach her to selectively listen to the voices. The girl finally feels some measure safer, falls asleep, and then…” Aaron’s tired eyes were distant, glossed over and focused far away. “Then I wake up.”

He stared another second or two before he came back to his senses, blinking and shaking his head before refocusing on the Princess. “The strangest part is, there are names in this dream. I don’t remember ever having dreamt names before. The vampiress knows the girl’s name - Ellmare - and right before Ellmare falls asleep, the vampiress introduces herself. As Yvaine Eve.” He studied the Princess’ face, almost desperately, for any sign of recognition. “Do you recognize that name at all, Your Highness?”

It was subtle but the motion was there. Ryner tensed as Aaron spoke that name: Yvaine Eve. Memories welled up unbidden as Aaron’s story trailed off and the Princess looked past Aaron as she contemplated how to respond. She started more than once but eventually she did, setting back into her chair with a sigh. “I certainly do not doubt the validity of your nightmare. Not with First tongue rolling out of your mouth. Ellmare isn’t a name, it’s a word. As we’ve come to understand, it translates to that which falls from the moon. We think, more casually, it translates to moonlight. Perhaps it was a term of endearment or a suggestion of purpose for this ability this girl had. Do you remember more about these voices specifically? Some time when they would occur or a triggering condition?”

Aaron leaned forward in concern as a myriad of emotions flashed behind the Princess’ eyes, worry clear on his face. Had he dredged up something unpleasant? He was still concerned when she finally got her words together, though his brow furrowed in confusion. First Tongue? Moonlight? So it wasn’t a name, but Aaron had no idea why First Tongue would be floating around in his head either. It was an ancient language, and one he’d never learned. But Yvaine Eve had to be a name… right?

Well, that was what he was here to find out. “Hmm…” he hummed in thought, running back over the well-trodden sequence of the dream once more to see if there was a pattern to the voices. “They came… with the wind…” he murmured, lost in thought another moment before he nodded more certainly. “They came with the wind, except when she was with Yvaine. Then the wind still blew, but the voices stayed quiet, and Ellmare was surprised. Relieved.” Aaron nodded to himself again, but snapped his fingers suddenly, remembering another detail.

“Yvaine said the voices were carried on the wind, for those who knew how to listen,” he added quickly, looking back to the Princess hopefully. “Those who were… she said ‘very special.’ And she said that she could teach Ellmare to listen only when she wanted. Is that what you mean?”

"Words on the wind? That sounds similar to Divination magic. If I recall, it's a tertiary affinity of Air. Which would explain why she heard them on the wind and why she was being treated that way.." Sadness overcame Ryner as she sighed again and smiled apologetically. "Unfortunately, this does leave us in a bit of a predicament. Given that you are seeing these visions, I believe you deserve the truth. It is a heavy one. Do you think you can handle it Aaron?"

Why she was being treated that way? What? Aaron had heard no such thing, of divining mages being treated purposefully poorly. Hell, he'd heard divination recommended to students struggling to find their affinity. But the Princess seemed to think it made sense, so Aaron wasn't sure what to think.

As if she could read his mind, though, Princess Ryner was offering the truth. A wave of relief washed over him at the same time a new anxiety struck; to know that he was not being plagued by utter nonsense both comforted and terrified him. For all he knew she was going to decry him as mad, but whatever heavy truth she was withholding… he had to know.

“Your Highness, these nightmares have been tormenting me day and night without reprieve. When I'm not tossing and turning and living them, I'm obsessing over them. It's consuming me.” Try as he might to keep his voice even, there was desperation in it. “Whatever the truth may be… I don't think I can go on without it.”

"If it will ease your days, then I shall tell you. History tells us magic arose shortly before the blood wars, an unrefined tool in the hands of those not yet prepared to wield it. History tells us that is why the Treaty was formed, to protect both races because neither one was strong enough to stand against the Lycans. But those of us who’ve lived this long know that to be false." Ryner stood, pacing as she spoke softly. "Magic and those who command it have existed longer than it has been recorded. It was misunderstood, feared, ignored and those who worked with it were universally reviled by the human race. They were seen as freaks, as monsters. And so they were killed, caged, and silenced. In fact, the things they would do to mages back then have inspired several Astorio punishments." Ryner paused and looked at Aaron with tired eyes.

"So we hid the truth. A decade into the Treaty's existence, we saw a fundamental power shift that threatened our society. Mages wanted revenge, Aaron. For all the years of pain and suffering, they cried out for their pound of flesh. Back then, mages and humans mingled regularly as humans do with each other. But we were on the brink of a civil war." Ryner sighed again. "So I rewrote history. A small group of us came together and cut out the worst pain any race suffered at the hands of another and took away the plight of the mages altogether. We silenced those who spoke against it, removed the content from schools and public forums. Two centuries later and no one but the vampires remembered the beatings, the executions, the abuse of the magically inclined at the hands of those without it and peace ruled." Ryner spread her hands and shrugged. "I don't know why you are having these visions but that should shed a little clarity on your situation."

Aaron listened carefully, slowly sinking into the back of the chair as Ryner gave her explanation. He twined his hands together, spinning his ring as he so often did, and as the Princess finished, his eyes fell to meet them. He was silent for a moment, mulling over a gruesome hidden history until he finally took a breath and spoke.

“...And peace ruled,” he repeated, pausing another long moment before nodding, apparently satisfied. He turned to the Princess. “We mortals are deeply flawed and jealous beings, Your Highness. I'm not surprised we were at each other’s throats, or that it took an immortal intervention to put a stop to it.”

He took a deep breath. “So, you believe these are not just nightmares, but visions? From… from the past?”

"You've never displayed an affinity for this before so I'm hesitant to call them visions but considering there isn't any immediate alternative, I am willing to consider it. The only question would be why are you getting them?" Ryner took her seat beside Aaron, a thoughtful frown on her face again. "I'll admit I am not a magical scholar so my input on the matter may be rather limited. If you're interested, I could spend some time looking into it. While I'm sure recommending you to one of our staff would be beneficial, the information I just gave you is… privileged information."

“Yes, the why of it is much of what’s been preoccupying me for the past two weeks,” Aaron concurred. “If you think it worth looking into, Your Highness, then I would welcome anything you could come up with. And, of course, your information is safe with me. It won’t leave this room.” He assured her with a faint smile, but it fell soon after.

“Speaking of, though, I think it’s prudent to tell you that I am not the only one experiencing this… whatever it is,” he forced out, rubbing a hand down his face in agitation. “Mr. Spellman gets them too, down to the last detail.”

Agitation turned to full-on disgust in himself as Aaron leaned forward once more, burying his face in his hands. “And I’ve done a most reprehensible thing, Your Highness,” he lamented into his hands, guilt and exhaustion very briefly overriding his training before he pulled himself together again and sat up. “I reported that fact to Master - as I’d been told - but I didn’t tell him I also got the nightmares. And when he asked me why I wasn’t sleeping, I lied.” He massaged the bridge of his nose for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as guilt and fear took hold of him. “I worried it would implicate me in Salem’s investigation if we were both known to be experiencing identical, cryptic nightmares, so I did the cowardly thing and lied. And now with a real possibility that there could be more to this, I fear that my mistake might prove even graver than I thought.”

“These are strange circumstances, Aaron. I for one do not hold your actions against you. You’ve been faced with something unknown, have taken initiative to seek help, and have protected confidential information. Varis does not have the authority to know what you do so you’ve inadvertently protected the State, the Council, and me by withholding what you know. Take solace in that.” Ryner reached out and took one of his hands, warming herself up to match him.

“Considering your dream contains confidential information, its contents are now under the protection of the Council and its authorities. You and Salem, as affected members of the occurrence, have the right to pursue what you need within reason. It is also, unfortunately, now your responsibility to safeguard that information, through force, duplicity, or any other means the situation demands.” Ryner spun this tale as quickly as she could, lying once again with the ease of a vampire far older than she wished to be. If she gave him the responsibility, perhaps he wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with guilt for something that was in his best interests. If Varis discovered the truth of the situation, things would spiral downhill far quicker than she was prepared to handle. “Moving forward, I will give you the information you are allowed to pass on to Varis, if I find any. That should keep his concerns allayed until another more pressing issue rears its head. Everyone knows his Lady is quite capable of keeping him busy.”

“But for the safety of our society, we must keep the peace. Stars know what Varis would do with the information you have now. Can you do that for me, Aaron?” Ryner pleaded. If he said no, Ryner would have to handle it another way and it would set them back centuries. Again. Putting Varis in contact with Yvaine would ruin everything and even though Ryner didn’t know where she was now, the damn brat would probably be able to sniff her out once he put two and two together.

Aaron paid rapt attention to the Princess as she spoke, the knot in his gut gradually unwinding. So, entirely by accident, he'd made the right choice; though, that still left the matter of what he had told Varis.

“Of course I can, Your Highness,” he breathed when she was finished, still a little stunned by the magnitude of the situation even as his reply came automatically. “You know me, I would never betray you or the Council.”

“But that brings us to another important point,” he added gravely, that lingering bit of fear flaring back up. “When I told Master that Salem was having a recurring nightmare, I told him the content of the dream as well, in great detail. He knows everything I knew about the dream at that time; the names, the voices, everything I saw. I gave it to him under the guise that Salem had confessed it all to me. He couldn't make any more sense of it than I could, but he mentioned he'd look into it, and report it to the infirmary as a hallucination on Salem’s part if he couldn't find anything. Does him having those details pose a risk? Is there anything I can do to mitigate it? If I had known, I would never…” He trailed off, eyes falling to Ryner’s hand on his as his mind raced once more through every worst-case scenario he could think of.

“You had no idea what was happening. You did exactly as you were supposed to with the information you had.” Ryner said reassuringly. “While I cannot change the past, I can do a considerable amount to change the future. Messing with Varis’ plans is an enjoyable pastime of mine. I should thank you. You’ve given me all the more reason to focus on it more. The Sinnenodel heir will be my responsibility on this. The only thing you have to do is ensure as little of the truth falls into Varis’ hands as possible and I’ll be supporting you the entire way.” She patted his hand.

Letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, Aaron nodded, a wave of true relief accompanied by new exhaustion washing over him at last. Things were fine. Or, as fine as they could have been, given the circumstances. That was more than he’d let himself hope for lately, and he would take reassurance wherever he could get it.

The mention of messing with Varis brought a smirk to his lips. “I shouldn't laugh,” he chuckled, doing a poor job of it. “But thank you, Your Highness. Rest assured I will do everything in my power to keep this quiet. If I can help it, I'll see to it that Salem stays in the dark as well. Stars only know what he’d do with this information, thinking the way he does.”

Ryner chuckled and couldn’t help herself from reaching over and ruffling his hair affectionately. No matter how he grew, she wasn’t quite sure she could let herself believe he wasn’t still the little boy running around causing mischief at the castle. Ryner still thought of Ella like that too and there had been more than one time Ryner caught herself surprised at the girl- No, the woman’s- age. All her mages were growing up faster than she could keep up with and it never grew easier when it came time to use them as she needed.

“There’s the Aaron I like to see. Maybe now you’ll get some rest. And eat since someone has left their food woefully unattended.” Ryner glanced pointedly at the platter between them. “While you eat, tell me how your meeting with your mother went. I haven’t had the chance to ask her. I wanted her to rest for a little while after our business last week.”

The hair ruffling made Aaron smile despite himself, memories of the many times she’d done the same thing when he was younger bubbling to the surface; most of them from before he’d surpassed her in height. Of course, that hadn’t really stopped her either. His grin turned bashful at the mention of food and he obeyed, taking a few pieces of cheese and fruit from the platter. Eating had been a struggle as of late with his stomach knotted up as it was, but relief did bring back some of his hunger, and he couldn’t very well decline an offering from royalty.

“She would tell you to stop treating her like she’s made of glass, Your Highness,” he pointed out at the mention of his mother, voice tinted with fond amusement. “But I thank you for your concern. Do you know she snuck up on me in the middle of campus? She didn’t tell me she’d be around and told Dora and Clara to keep quiet, wanting to surprise me. In the state I was in, I nearly pulled my sword on her; that poor campus guard got quite the fright.” He chuckled, shaking his head and eating a bit more before continuing. “It was really nice to see her, though, sneaky as she is. I was glad to see her well. I had been worrying a bit over how she’d respond to my new… position, but she took it much better than I anticipated.” Relief, once again, rang clear in his voice. “I got a lot off my chest.”

"At least we know where you got it from." Ryner laughed, satisfied with Aaron eating and returned to her desk. "I'm glad she managed to see you. I thought it odd she didn't want me to call you here but I see it was just your family’s penchant for mischief. I know she’s been worrying about you since she left so hopefully this will give her some peace of mind. I know she hates it but I can’t help but fret over her.” Ryner frowned but shook it away, instead focusing on the paper bouquet.

“Lilie really is such a sweet girl, isn’t she? I was surprised to receive them but pleased nevertheless. However, I’ve never received a bouquet of paper flowers so I’m quite sure what an appropriate gift would be. If they were regular flowers, I’d send a note or a card or something but these took time and skill to make. I feel like something so simple would be in poor taste. Do you have any ideas Aaron?” Ryner asked as she admired them. “You said she got some for you as well? What did you give her?”

Turning his attention to the bouquet as Ryner did, Aaron sighed, nodding his agreement. “I’ve never seen anything like them before,” he admitted, admiring the paper flowers for a moment. He always loved the Noila blue and gold, but he didn’t usually notice just how nicely the colours complimented each other. Lilie’s handiwork really made them shine.

“She held a little picnic for all the mages serving Noble vampires, and invited our… acquaintance, Maxwell Alderman, as well. She and Salem share a Treaty Law study group with him,” Aaron explained. “She made everyone a bouquet as a favour, each in their House’s colours - save for Max, of course.” He shrugged. “I had no idea what to give her either, so I asked her, but she insisted it wasn’t necessary and she was just glad to have people to give them to. Eventually I had to concede.” He chuckled.

“I’ve been making her notes for Treaty Law, though. She seems to be having a hard time adjusting to a nocturnal schedule and apparently that class happens right around the time she starts to crash, so she ends up missing material sometimes.” He grinned, spinning his ring and shrugging again. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, Your Highness, that I don’t really need to take notes for that class, but I tell her they’re my notes that she can borrow so she doesn’t feel like she’s burdening me. She’s very sweet that way.” Under his hair, his ears got a little redder.

He stared down at his ring for a moment, pondering over what might be an appropriate gift for the Princess to send her; unlike him, he knew Ryner would not take no for an answer. “Still, I doubt she’d reject a return gift from you, Your Highness. I might have an idea.” He thought another moment, considering what Lilie might enjoy that she didn’t already have, until he figured it out, tapping the arm of his chair. “She wears lavender perfume, so I bet she’d like some lavender flowers,” he offered matter-of-factly. “Maybe not cut ones - she mentioned being apprehensive that her partner might not want fresh flowers in the house - but perhaps you could have the groundskeeper send her some lavender that she could plant? She seems to take an interest in gardening; she asks Salem about plants all the time.”

Ryner nodded at the suggestion, taking a quick note on it to remember. “Excellent idea, Aaron. I’ll have it sent as quickly as possible. And of course, I’ll mention a certain light mage helped me decide. It would be rude not to credit the proper person after all.” Ryner smiled innocently. “I’m sure someone that sweet would love to thank the person who gave her a garden.” She chuckled and made another note with a smile.

“Now I do unfortunately have to attend a meeting with a few instructors. I want to come back to a clean plate however.” She said pointedly. “Was there anything else you needed before I left?”

“Oh, Your Highness, that's not necessary,” Aaron tried to reason, knowing full well Ryner wouldn't let him be as modest as he'd like. He couldn't help but smile, though. He didn't need thanks for something as simple as recommending a gift, but he knew if the roles were reversed, he'd do the same thing.

“No, Your Highness, I've gotten all I needed off my chest.” Aaron stood as Ryner prepared to leave, despite knowing she wanted him to remain a little longer, and offered her a courteous bow. “I am honoured and humbled that you took the time to listen to me. Really,” he dropped his formal tone for a second to get his point across. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Aaron.” Ryner beamed at him. “And now onto a less pleasant crowd. Enjoy the rest of your night.” Ryner swept past him, her warm smile vanishing as she squared her shoulders and a look of neutral indifference took over her face. Rarely did she wear it but when she expected a discussion to be unpleasant, she had little issue wielding it against those who upset her. She was out in a moment and the doors shut softly behind her.

Obscene's Scratchpad

Of Blood and Magic

Consequences | Aaron, Eris, Varis

Aaron made it back to his dorm from the administrative office quicker than he expected, leaving him a little less than ten minutes to spare before his curfew. A quick mental calculation had him thinking a 15 minute warning before his curfew would allow him enough time to get back appropriately early from just about anywhere on campus, though he’d have to be careful if he was coming from town. Things to work out later, though.

Approaching the door, he tried the handle without thinking; he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when it was locked, seeing as Varis explicitly stated he would ‘leave and enter at his side’. That knowledge didn’t quite quell the embarrassment of having to request permission to enter his own (temporary) home, but he pushed it aside. It was the Sinnenodel dorm, after all; it wasn’t like he came and went from Noila Castle was he pleased.

Though it was still a bit from his curfew, Varis fully expected the boy back at least five minutes until six. Any later and he’d set an entirely new set of lines with a few days and some light life magic in between to rest his wrist. Maybe I will not waste my Master’s time. Not as elegant as he’d like it but Varis would have some time to change it. However, there would definitely be a change of venue. Maybe the first ten minutes of his lunch, he’d have the boy write them in the public eye. Cutting into his “personal” time would surely force him to reflect on his poor behavior; after all, being on time was considered late and the tardiness would force Varis to handle the situation which in turn cut into the Count’s personal time and that was unacceptable.

The knock at the door had the Count glancing at his phone, a short nod at the other vampire to answer the door. Varis had explained the plan to Eris already: answer the door, return with the boy, and do whatever close contact nonsense the actor enjoyed doing whenever was normally least convenient. The boy had sensibilities dated from when Varis was a child. With Eris flitting around so frequently now, Varis couldn’t afford those tedious feelings to interfere. He’d deal with this directly and leave the boy with a clear understanding of how Eris liked to behave in private.

Eris suppressed a chuckle, though he made no protest as he approached the door. He paused at the entrance, making a conscious decision to loosen his tie slightly and open up the suit jacket. When he deemed himself ready, he opened the door, leaning against the frame as he flashed a dazzling smile at the mage.

"There you are, Sunny!" He cheerfully greeted him, openly roving his eyes over Aaron's figure.

Well, looks like Max was right.

Aaron blinked at Eris when he opened the door, surprised to see him there at all, although he supposed he might have been even more shocked if Varis himself had answered. But even though Aaron had only known the actor for less than a night, somehow the smile and the invasive up-and-down look (he swore he could feel it) were less interesting than the greeting. Was that a nickname?

“Good evening, Mr. Samael,” Aaron replied, dipping his head appropriately. Was ‘Sunny’ because he was a light mage? Was it his hair? Was there any reason? In his puzzling he almost forgot the next step in this process, though he was more than a little off-put by having to perform it to get into his own dorm. “May I come in?”

Eris pushed himself off the frame of the door, taking half a step back as he gestured inside. "Mi casa es su casa," He replied, not skipping a beat. As the taller blonde walked in, Eris' eyes narrowed, his right arm taking the door and closing it hard enough to make a rather noticeable sound. He didn't linger, walking quickly to catch up with the mage as he slung an arm around him. "Did you have fun on your first night?" He asked him.

The sudden jolt of an arm being thrown around him after the door slammed almost made Aaron jump, and the sudden movement of turning his head toward Eris made his earring get a little tangled in his hair again. “Well sir, it was eventful to say the least,” he replied, more than a little confused at Eris’ demeanour as he raised a hand to untangle his earring.

Eventful? So he had mixed feelings about it. It was absolutely adorable to see Sunny in uncertainty, but he wouldn't focus too much on him. Eris released Aaron to step in front of him, stopping him from going forward as a quick hand grabbed Aaron's wrist, the actor's expression unfaltering.

"If you keep touching it, you're never going to get used to it," He spoke, his other hand sweeping the earring away from his golden locks before Eris would lower his hand--but he didn't release Aaron, instead continuing to walk as he pulled him along. "But tell me, what sort of shenanigans did you get yourself into? Batting away people who seek out the famed Noila mage? Although--" He paused as he seemed to think. "You must be referring to that poor soul that got sent to the mines, it looks like they pinned that one on you, didn't they?"

Aaron was careful not to pull away when Eris fixed his earring, though he wasn’t at all fond of this hands-on attitude that the actor apparently shared with Varis. The mention of the rumour from earlier, though, was what really made him freeze, a pit forming in his stomach all over again.

“An outrageous rumour, sir,” he informed Eris calmly, wondering if he’d have to scream it from the rooftops to finally kill that awful rumour, “I have no idea how it started or what happened with that girl, I assure you.”

Eris raised an eyebrow, fascinated at Aaron's defense. He almost seemed offended at being the target, laughably so. Clicking his tongue, he let out a short laugh. "Outrageous? If you think that is outrageous, then you're in for a wild ride, Sunny," Eris chuckled. "But you tell me, what makes it so outrageous? The audacity to implicate a Starag? Or the fact that you're as pure as untouched snow?"

“Boy. Collect the key off the counter and then attend me.” Varis cut off whatever inane response the boy would give and followed with a snap at his feet. Although the boy was correct, the rumor was an outrageous lie, Varis didn’t care for the details of why it was a lie to disrupt the plans he made for this evening. He already has his punishment for that whole scenario. Varis needed him in the here and now, not dwelling over last night. But, it didn’t mean he’d forget it. He made a mental note to look into it later; he didn’t need such whispers floating around anyone associated with him.

Every word out of Eris’ mouth was only more confusing, and Aaron was about to reply with the simple truth that he was either in public view or at Varis’ side any time anything could possibly have happened with that Marivaldi girl before his reply was silenced by an order from the Count himself. Aaron was grateful for it, stepping deftly past Eris to obey, though he noticed the vampire let his touch linger on his wrist a little longer than was necessary. No time to be dwelling on that though, and he swiped the key off the counter and knelt before Varis before he even realized what he was holding. But as soon as he gave it a second glance, the Noila Academy crest emblazoned on it was unmistakable. It was the second dorm key. Maybe Varis decided it was more practical to give it to him after all?

“Despite my reservations about your overall competency, my Lady seemed to enjoy your presence last night and brightening her mood should allow you an opportunity for a reward. I’m sure you can put two and two together. Before you retire for the day, I’ll grant you the opportunity to earn that key.” Varis sat forward, elbows resting on his legs as he tilted the boy’s face up. His eyes darkened as he recalled the disaster of the evening, the massacre of his relationship with the Spellman boy.

“Count Astorio and I had the opportunity to observe your Affinity Mastery class for a while and I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Spellman seemed a little tense in your presence.” Varis made sure Aaron could watch his displeasure grow on his face before letting the boy go and sitting back once more. “Would you care to explain how this interesting strategy is meant to achieve the task before you?”

Aaron’s eyes widened a touch at the floor. So he was getting a chance! Having somehow impressed Lady Sinnenodel was news to him—she’d been cordial enough, though he’d been a little too terrified to notice if she was, in fact, pleased—but fortunately the subject turned to Salem. Yes, the conversation Varis had observed was definitely rocky, but luckily that had only been the beginning of the story. Somehow, he found himself getting his hopes up that he might actually be able to impress Varis, even if that darkened look in his eye still made his hair stand on end.

“A bump in a flattening road, Master,” Aaron replied matter-of-factly. “I learned after dinner last night that Mr. Spellman isn’t fond of my family’s views on vampire-mage relations. What you and Count Astorio saw was only more of the same. He’s quite adamant in his views, but naive.” Aaron paused a second to make sure he had the order of events straight in his mind. “Fortunately, things smoothed out shortly after the viewing platform was cleared. In fact, I just returned from meeting him with a mutual friend after his etiquette class.”

“How fortunate someone managed to salvage your disaster.” Varis commented drly as he leaned back. “Luckily, appropriate connections are half the battle. What did you learn from your meeting then.”

Eris scampered over, watching Aaron with amusement as he suppressed a chuckle. He needed to work on his self-image, but it looked like a tall order from a subservient family. There was humble, and then there was making yourself look completely incompetent without any orders. Why admit that they bumped heads if Varis already saw and mentioned it? As much as a certain someone claimed they wanted an amenable noodle of a servant, there was a certain amount of backbone that should be had.

"The first time is always the hardest," Eris commented. "It's all well and good that you had someone to bridge the gap—stepping stones are always a good thing—though I'm surprised a hippie would be so disagreeable. Did you kindly suggest some better clothing options or did you hide something from him under a bar of soap?"

Aaron pretty much expected Varis to be unimpressed, but that was only the beginning of the story. Eris, on the other hand… maybe it was unbecoming, but Aaron had to clear his throat to stop himself from laughing at his joke.

“Not just our meeting Master, but most of the night,” Aaron clarified, skipping over Eris’ comment. “Before things grew tense, he told me about his family’s traditions around the learning and teaching of magic. I have the details recorded, but one notable point was that somehow every mage in his family has been a plant mage.” Notable, but also downright strange. Aside from vague tendencies toward particular aspects, such uniform cohesion was all but unheard of. “Family members who turn out to be mundane are still kept within family circles, a luxury allotted by what sounds to me like a downright odd living situation with his family’s vampires.”

“It reminds me of the Marivaldis, to a degree,” Aaron continued, though his doubt - or perhaps confusion - was plain in his voice. “He says they live ‘as one big family’, all treating each other as equals. It certainly explains his views; judging by what he told me and how he reacted to my relationship with you, Master, he’s been just as sheltered by his family’s way of life as I’ve been by mine.” He wrinkled his nose at the floor, remembering Salem’s bloodied knuckles. “He honestly believes his family’s model can be projected onto all of vampirekind and be viable, but it’s only ill prepared him for life outside of their care. His etiquette class was proof enough of that. Perhaps it’s being partly metered as a punishment, but I’ve never seen Count Julian make such a mess of someone’s hands. I don’t expect his transition to life with Count Astorio to go smoothly.”

Suppressing a shudder at the thought, Aaron continued. “In any case, like I said, Salem and I seem to have found some common ground. In fact, our mutual friend Lilie is planning a little get-together for all the noble-serving mages tomorrow, which I would attend with your permission, Master.” Salem seemed a little more comfortable when Lilie was around, or at least, less combative. Plus, surely forming some ties with the Marivaldi mage and strengthening the shaky ones he had with Salem could only help. “I can put further details that I learned in writing if you would prefer, Master, but that’s the core of what I learned tonight.”

Eris’ comment made Varis raise an eyebrow at the actor, just a quirk at the corner of his mouth displaying his amusement, but he focused back on the boy at his feet. One piece of information stood out among the garbage. The family’s vampires modeled themselves after the Marivaldis. He begrudgingly admitted to himself the boy managed to uncover an absolute treasure. Linking an investigation to the noble family’s methods could seriously cripple the so-called Modernist position for a few decades, long enough for his Lady to pass a few measures they’ve been sitting on for a better political climate. Plus, he could pressure the Spellmans’ vampires into convincing the Spellman boy’s father into a more agreeable contract with Varis.

“Moving forward, I expect a written report on everything you discover. You’ll submit them once a week moving forward, even though I will ask about the details of your discoveries more often than that.” Varis explained as he tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Your confusion over such naive ideals is well founded. The modern society is structured for the benefit of both classes and such a change would fracture the peace we worked so hard to achieve. I don’t doubt the Spellman boy will break before he acclimates. What do-” Varis paused for a moment as something else processed in his head.

“Lilie…” He mused briefly before recognition lit up his eyes and a disapproving frown crossed his face. “Ms. Dionne. The girl with dyed hair in Treaty Law; you have her letter drafted already correct?"

Aaron nodded along with Varis’ orders, genuinely surprised and impressed with himself that Varis hadn’t found anything to chide him for. He even kind of agreed with him, which, while expected given the subject matter, would be considered a definite win.

Of course, good things do not last. The mention of Lilie’s apology letter put Aaron on edge again, inwardly cursing himself for forgetting. Sure, he wasn’t sure when he would have had the chance to write it so far that night, but seeing as he’d been perfectly well informed of that particular duty, he really had no excuse for not making time to complete it.

“I… do not, Master,” he admitted, figuring it was best to be forward. “I was focused tonight on mending ties with Mr. Spellman and making connections.” Perhaps a little embellishment wouldn’t hurt. “My apologies. I will spend my lunch breaks in the future working on them, if you would prefer to see them earlier in the morning, and work to manage my time more pragmatically.”

“Unacceptable. I would have even tolerated an electronic draft despite the laziness they encourage. A solution is a solution after all.” Varis sighed, running a hand irritably down his face. “In the Sinnenodel household, in my household, you will handle several tasks simultaneously. I should not need to explain to you the importance of handling all your assignments within their allotted time frames regardless of your other tasks. The fact that you don’t seem to understand this already concerns me. Perhaps the Noila’s were right. If I find more serious gaps in your performance like this, I may just petition the Council to return you to your former condition but under my rule indefinitely. I’m sure my mages would enjoy the company.”

Varis leaned his head back, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh. What did the Noilas teach him because all the boy seemed to do was annoy him. The proffered solution was definitely in step with what Varis preferred but it was done far too late. If the boy wouldn’t be able to complete his task in an appropriate time, he should at least have a schedule for Varis to review and adjust.

“You will complete that when we are done with our conversation.” Varis’s snapped. He was hoping after a single revision, Varis could send the boy to bed and not have to consider the headache he was but it seemed the boy was determined to make his morning as frustrating as possible. “Since we are dealing with the incompetence instilled into you from the royal family, come closer and show me the scar on your ear.” Varis didn’t bother waiting for the boy to react but rather turned his head himself until he could see it.

“Would you like to explain why this was left off your medical records? If it was just an accident, I’m sure it would have been mentioned.” Varis traced the scar for a moment as he spoke. “I know how protective the royals are of your family. I’m sure you don’t want me following up with them about the inconsistency.”

Aaron's head dipped a little lower under Varis’ volley, moreso because he knew it was deserved. Harsh as the Count was, multitasking was hardly an unreasonable expectation and Aaron could understand Varis’ frustration. After all, handling multiple responsibilities in tandem was the core of any role worth having in a vampire’s household. Still, the Count’s words stung, and Aaron had no doubt that his threat to have him locked away in his own domain carried weight.

The mention of his scar, however, had Aaron wishing they could go back to talking about his incompetence. That scar was never a fun memory to dredge up, but now, being asked about it, he was at an impasse. The scar was caused by an accident, after all, but... well, it was just simple luck that his ear injury that night was the only one that had left a mark.

“...It was at my request, Master,” he finally replied, letting out a breath. “Or rather, my pleading. It was an accident; a training accident, specifically. I was seventeen, preoccupied in a training session, and made a stupid mistake that ended with my ear torn in half. I didn't want Sir Bordeleaux to face discipline for my mistake, so I convinced the life mage who attended me afterward to leave the injury off my record.” That much, at least, was true.

Eris looked at Aaron expectantly, surprised that he didn't continue. What, a Noilan life mage easily swayed by some teenage boy's plea? Starag or no, if Lucan Bordeleaux was responsible, the Noila family would have wanted to know. The fact that he had been 'preoccupied' did result in a more audible scoff, the blond crossing his arms. "What, did a group of maids go running by as you trained?" He asked. "The way they dress over there is so dull I'm sure you'd have gotten excited over the flurry of ankles that ran past, huh?"

It was Aaron's turn to scoff at the comment, letting out a rush of air that could have been a laugh had he not been on such thin ice as it was. “No, sir,” he replied, resisting the urge to add ‘unfortunately’.

Quickly, though, his mood grew somber. “My mother was very ill during that time and largely kept under quarantine. The night this all happened, I hadn't been allowed to see her for a couple of weeks and I was fearing the worst.” It had served as a hell of a distraction alright. They hadn't even let him Skype her by that point, and the only thing anyone had told him when he asked about her was ‘not to worry’. He failed to mention how utterly useless and powerless he'd felt, unable to help in any capacity and with nothing else to do but do his lessons, train, and wonder if he'd ever see his mother again.

"Quarantine?" Eris questioned.

Aaron nodded. “Sick mages are usually quarantined to prevent illness from spreading. My mother had some kind of lung infection and since I'm the only fertile Starag left in the family, they were very careful to make sure I was nowhere near it.”

"Of course. The tedious obsession with the care of another frail mortal. I'll never understand why you attach yourselves to others when you know the moment you are born, you practically have a foot in the grave. Pathetic." Varis sighed in disappointment. "As uninspiring as your story was, at least it provided yet another example of how poorly you handle your expectations as not just a Starag, but as vampire's mage. Mages afflicted with illness that threaten others ought to be put down in my opinion. The Noilas were unnecessarily kind and you repaid them with embarrassment. At least you had the decency to save your instructor face." Varis scoffed and took a moment to evaluate the boy.

"However, that is far more than a simple accident. I had thought you above such immature outbursts of emotion but this situation clearly suggests otherwise. You hid this from me when you had the opportunity to explain the situation last night and allowed me to draw an erroneous conclusion. As my mage, I expect your behavior and actions to benefit me to the fullest because those same behaviors reflect on me in society. A mage who keeps secrets from his master is as worthless as the dirt on the bottom of my shoe and I will deal with them as such. Would you like that?" Varis asked, pausing to let the question sink in. Boring as it was, Varis couldn't even bring himself to be honestly annoyed. Mostly he was just astounded. That pathetic experience was what he refused to explain? If it had been a good lie, Varis might have given him some room but how boring. "If you wish, I would gladly do so. It would be a waste of your potential but it would make my life significantly easier." Varis leaned forward and put a finger under Aaron's chin, tilting it up gently as opposed to grabbing it like he preferred. His eyes had cleared slightly and his frown softened.

"I thought last night was a step in the right direction but I'm not sure now. I was quite pleased when you finally came to the conclusion that you needed to ask for clarification despite the frustration I expressed." Varis lied with an ease a century in the making. "And while I think I still see potential in you, we have a few habits the Noilas permitted to change. You're still young. Mistakes can be corrected but you'll have to work with me, not against me. I would hate to see you squander this opportunity, the only Starag to benefit from the tutelage of two Houses. Do you think you're capable of letting me teach you how to be better?"

Varis’ initial comments made Aaron bristle irritably. He’d grown to understand why he had to be kept away from his mother when she was ill despite his pleading, and could appreciate the importance of quarantine, but the solution proposed by the Count was positively barbaric. The very thought of someone suggesting such a thing a few years prior was enough to set his blood boiling, but of course he couldn’t refute it. And, fortunately, the subject changed before he could stew on the matter too long.

When it came to his own behaviour, Aaron had to accept that Varis was right. He cooled down quickly as he listened, embarrassment rising to replace anger as the Count went over concepts Aaron had been taught in his childhood. Had he truly slipped so badly? Laid out in plain english, Count Varis’ expectations were no more complex than any other he’d ever had to deal with, so then why was he failing at every turn? Varis had every right to be angry. If Aaron were in his position, he would have been as well.

But when Varis lifted his face again - gentler this time, too - he didn’t look angry. Or, well, not as angry as he had been. To Aaron’s astonishment, he sounded like he was willing to give him another chance.

“Yes Master, please, I know I can learn to live up to your expectations,” Aaron replied in earnest, a strange, hopeful anticipation rising in his chest. Was that why he’d been assigned to the Count after all? To be trained by two Houses? The idea that his assignment had a purpose beyond the Noilas conveniently casting him aside for quick political favour energized him, Varis’ multitude of insults and threats all but forgotten.

"Excellent. I'm sure you'll exceed my expectations soon enough with that attitude." He let Aaron's chin go and leaned back once more. "However while the lack of a letter can be overlooked as distracted, lying cannot. You did well with the Spellman boy tonight so I'll keep your punishment to a minimum. For now, you've lost the right to that key. You'll have an opportunity to earn it again but for now, you'll offer that key to Eris."

The blond shifted, pushing himself off the couch and sliding down into the seat next to Varis. His face was neutral, surprisingly, though there was the tiniest hint of a frown, almost as if he was sharing Varis' disappointment. Still, he said nothing, letting his actions speak for him.

As Varis released him and doled out his punishment, Aaron couldn’t help but think he’d gotten off easy. He had already been prepared to do without a dorm key from the first night’s explanation, after all. Sure, offering the key that should have been his to Eris was belittling in no small measure, but Varis had just given him an opportunity that far outweighed the humiliation and he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Without hesitation Aaron nodded, producing the key. Eris made things easier by sitting next to Varis - a gesture that made him feel a little like he was answering to both of them, but he wasn’t worried about that now - and Aaron simply shifted a touch on his knee, bowing his head and holding the key out for Eris to take.

"Such a generous little ball of sunshine," Eris cooed, plucking the key from Aaron's hand. He eyed the symbol engraved on it, eyes darting back down to the still kneeling mage. "I think kneeling is how I prefer you, too, though I'd much rather have you on all fours if it were up to me."

"A bold statement considering who you're sitting next to. Maybe if you behave well enough but let the poor boy be for now. He has tasks to attend to." Varis chuckled at Eris's behavior, "Go on. If you don't have any questions, I expect the letter complete, drafts and all, before sunrise."

Yeesh, maybe giving the key to Eris was a worse punishment than Aaron thought.

And of course, Varis apparently entertaining Eris’ little suggestion made it ten times worse. For the umpteenth time that night, Aaron had to fight down a rising unease, tying his stomach in knots. Serving was no unfamiliar thing, a point of pride even, but he was not accustomed to being so… objectified. And worse yet, Aaron couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the tip of the iceberg with Eris now being able to come and go as he pleased.

Standing gratefully with an obligatory, “Yes, Master” when he was relieved, Aaron offered the pair each a quick bow and turned on his heel, heading for the study to get started on his letter. He would have liked to use Varis’ invitation for questions to ask for the real reason his doors were removed, but he knew now that he was pushing his luck far enough as it was and opted to just get out of the situation as soon as he could.

Eris bit back his own chuckle, noticing the speed at which Sunny made his leave. The sheltered boy was far too easy to rile--it was almost too easy. He leaned back in his seat, watching the blond scamper away, but he couldn't quite resist one last jab.

"I'd much rather be in that position for you, mon beau," He replied cheerfully to the redhead, although he dropped his tone to something far more suggestive as he continued with, "Viens, faisons-nous des galipettes."

"Stop teasing the boy. He'll faint if you aren't careful." Varis chuckled, a rare genuine smile on his face.

Despite being more focused on Varis next to him, hearing Aaron's footsteps pick up as he left brought Eris a great amount of satisfaction. A smile cracked through, and as he looked over to where the mage had gone, he leaned backwards against Varis, letting a small laugh escape him. Naive, predictable...the Starag was going to be a great source of endless entertainment.

- Fragmented - (dead; stay tuned for the next one!)

Despite Varia’s formality, Raphael was not caught off guard. He answered her curtsy with a similarly regal bow, as smoothly as if he’d been doing it his whole life. “And a good evening to you, Miss Crest,” he replied airily, throwing her a charming grin. He gave her a wave with his champagne hand as she left, and before he even turned around, had more guests approaching him to talk.

_{@Angel Vicky}

---

As the night wore on, more and more guests opted to migrate away from the cocktail party in the foyer. Some went to the sitting and game rooms in the manor, others for a quiet walk in the darkened gardens outside, wandering serenely through the firefly-gilded hedge paths and enjoying the cool night air. Many stopped on benches to admire the stunning display of stars in the clear night sky above them, unobstructed by buildings or light pollution, much to the awe of the many city-dwelling guests.

Those who sought out an attendant to retire to their rooms had their names checked on a list on each attendant’s smartphone, their destinations confirmed and a house number issued to them, from one through five. They were led in groups across the width of the property by two security guards, along a path lit by small solar lights embedded into the ground. Away from the light of the manor, the night sky shone even more brilliantly than before, showing off a breathtaking assembly of thousands of stars. Many guests audibly gasped at the sight, marveling at the band of the milky way stretching across the sky.

The path brightened as they came closer to the guest houses. There were five in total, nestled into the foot of the wooded mountainside, separated from the rest of the property by a shallow river that wound lazily around the edge of the plateau. The houses were large and earthy in design, fitting in nicely with the wilderness surrounding them, though they were still unmistakably high-end. They were two storeys each, with a few chimneys and footpaths leading down to the main path, though their most striking features were the grand, two-storey windows in their centres, stretching up to a peak and streaming warm light from inside.

Guests entered the houses through a door to the left of the feature window, leading into a foyer/mudroom. Beyond that was the living room, decorated in neutral tones with high-end furniture and a tall two-storey ceiling, open to a loft corridor above. The focal point of the interior wall was a large stone fireplace, and opposite it, the grand window overlooking the river and the rest of the property. Beyond the living room was a kitchen with a large island and bar stools, chef-quality appliances and a refrigerator stocked with a variety of healthy snack foods. On the counter was also a menu, announcing the service of a private chef three times a day.

Upstairs, the loft corridor led to a number of identical guest rooms containing a king sized bed, wardrobe, vanity and desk. On each bed rested a letter further welcoming guests to the estate and providing information on connecting to the internet (they could tap their devices to a pad embedded in the wall for effortless connection) as well as outlining the planned events for the week. The most interesting feature of the houses, though, were the touch pads in each room; when activated, they had options to call housekeeping, security, catering and a direct line of contact to the superintendent of the property. Each room had one guest’s luggage inside, but guests were free to switch rooms as they wished.

---

By midnight, the manor had emptied completely, any remaining stragglers respectfully lead to their rooms and the doors locked for the night. The mansion was dark and quiet, most everything having been wound down for the night and most every staff having gone to their own quarters, relieved of duty for the day. Each room weighed heavily with the calm; it contrasted so starkly with the energy of the evening that the place felt… cold, and tired. Like some great, eternal beast, deep in a long-awaited slumber.

Light still burned low in one room though, deep inside the manor up on the second floor. Isaac reclined in an antiqued leather office chair, a list of every guest gracing The Winds splayed out on a grand walnut desk in front of him. A Russian Blue cat purred in his lap, lulled almost to sleep by his steady stroking as he stared thoughtfully at the names in front of him.

“You look like shit.”

Isaac barely looked up as Raphael strode into the room, instead finally moving from his trance and rolling the tight muscles in his neck. “Long night.”

“Mmhm.” Raphael hummed, shrugging. He cocked a hand on his hip. “Did you see what happened tonight?”

Isaac quirked a brow. “I think the whole foyer saw it. Are you alright?”

Raphael hmphed. “I’m sure my ego will recover,” he commented offhandedly, before leveling a more serious gaze on his brother. “I’m more concerned about what says about us.”

Isaac shrugged and sat back again, running a hand over his face. “It’s to be expected,” he reasoned.

Raphael thought for a moment. “...I suppose.” he looked over the papers on the desk, rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment on them, catching a glare from his brother. “And besides, everything else is going according to plan.”

“Indeed.”

Raphael studied his brother a moment longer before waving his goodnight and sweeping out of the room, looking pleased with himself. Isaac glanced down at the cat in his lap, blissfully asleep, and sighed.

“And so it begins.”

---

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

And that, as they say, is that. X’gihl kept quiet as part of the toned-down mood that had swept over the group of curious individuals with whom he’d shared the Quicksand with not more than an hour ago. Curious, aye, that would be a good word for each of them. X’gihl had taken a seat just at the back of the carriage, his blind side facing the rear, where he could look over the new company with his one good eye.

If they weren’t a motley bunch, he wondered what would meet the requirements to be one. Eight people in total, that he could see. Each face seemed so foreign and so strange to him. There was a kid among the group, for instance, a Gridanian sort. And, of course, people know what one would mean by “Gridanian”, wouldn’t they? The sort of children people met in the Black Shroud, in the city, in highly-respectable positions of one thing or another, and who claimed to be “sensitive” or “open” or some other term used to imply they were in communication with those nebulous “Elementals”. The same Elementals what had turned away refugees fleeing from home and looking for another. Gods knew how they worked or what effect they had on the behorned devils that worked for them.

The boy wasn’t the only curiosity in the carriage, however. Surely, there wasn’t just a single oddity. In this group, X’gihl felt he was in colorful company. “Colorful”, there’s another good word for it. The privateer looked over one of the Lalafellin folks in the carriage. The fellow seemed “blue” in a way that didn’t exactly refer to his hair color. There was a depth about the guy, a “vibe” to him, an aura one might call it, if X’gihl could only see it. Sharing a space with the small person, the privateer felt reminded of the sea in a way that made him slightly homesick for Limsa Lominsa, if homesick was what a displaced Miqo’te from Gyr Abania could call it.

Next X’gihl took note of one of the other Miqo’tes. Adorned in red, loose, flowing clothing, he practically screamed an impression at the privateer. A performer of some sort, surely. Fungi, thought X’gihl with a smirk. Parasitic in nature, fed off others, all too happy and ready to spread its spores, and if you only heard it spoken you might think it’s a “fun guy”. But X’gihl could use a little fun, and one way to do that was to bait someone into a game. The performer seemed like an excellent potential participant.

Now, how to do that without being a complete and utterly noisy nuisance to the audience we’ve got here, my new friend?

J’torha, the fungus in question, had also taken a seat near the rear of the carriage, though he made his choice mostly to be as far away as possible from the stench of the chocobos up front. Well, that and the Ul’dahn-looking Lalafell was giving that odd child some pretty strange looks, and J’torha had no mind to be a part of any of that.

Speaking of strange looks, though, J’torha couldn’t help but feel a pair of eyes on him as he sat back on the carriage bench, tying a string of jingling coins around his tail. Looking up, though, it turned out it was only one eye staring at him, accompanied by a smirk on the face of that Lominsan Seeker from the Quicksand. It was the look of someone looking for a good time, though he was just a touch surprised to see it outside of a performance or an otherwise more… social engagement.

“See something you like?” he questioned with a raised brow, though his own smirk betrayed his amusement. “‘Cause I fear you’ll have to pay a little extra.”

The pair on this guy, X'gihl chuckled quietly. But if the look on the younger man's face was an indication, the privateer may have successfully found someone receptive to a bad influence. Oh the wonders today was going to bring. Dare he already count one of these unusual persons among his short list of fellow friends and conspirators in the everlasting fight against dull silence? No, no. Caution, first. Feel it out. He could be playing the fool moreso than X'gihl himself.

"Pay you? Mate, I'm scared you'll string me up with the rest of yer pyrite riches!" He whispered excitedly, the smirk extending into a somewhat warmer smile. The privateer offered a hand toward the other Miqo'te. "X'gihl Tia, Gill to me friends. Ya look about as bored to tears as I am, if significantly closer to the edge. Now, iffen ya don't mind, stop playing with yerself and help me pass the time, eh?"

A little push, some give and some take. Good opening, in his own opinion. But X'gihl had to admit that this performer had done half the necessary work of establishing communication. Now, to gauge and see what he had to say in return. Does the fun begin? Or shall I nudge another?

J’torha chuckled at the pyrite comment, securing the makeshift jingler to his tail and shaking Gill’s hand. “J’torha Tia, fancy that. Don’t see many of our lot eh?” In fact, Gill was probably the first other tia J’torha had properly met. He couldn’t recall any others, but of course, it wasn’t usually the faces of men that J’torha committed to memory.

In any case, the boredom was certainly mutual. J’torha was quite sure there was nothing as dull and mind-numbing as the inside of a carriage. “I can’t very well refuse that offer,” he replied, “I’m liable to go stir crazy myself. These things might be faster than walking, but at least on foot there’s something to see.”

He leaned back on the bench, twining his fingers behind his head and raising his eyebrow at Gill. “But how exactly does one pass the time in the back of a wooden box?”

Leaning back in his seat, the privateer drew a stoppered bottle from one of his pockets; a last-minute purchase to place on Lyveva’s tab as they’d hurried from the Quicksand earlier. Was nice to have this before delving into the hip flask. He raised the bottle in J’torha’s direction with a coy grin. “Pleasure to be making your acquaintance, my fellow Tia. Fer payment, I can offer naught but a break in the doldrums, a shared drink, and a proper laugh from belly to breath. All ye’d have to do is help us to entertain ourselves. Me, I’m privy to wordplay and song-singin’.” X’gihl drew the bottle back to his person, cupping it in both hands protectively as he eyed J’torha curiously.

“Wouldn’t happen to be much good in that sense, would ya? A song-bird I doubt you be, but a song between us maybe? A line or two from one, followed by the same from the other.” An odd way to propose his idea, but X’gihl had his eccentricities. He’d found that wording things unusually helped to get attention and simultaneously put people off their guard. How better to play the man he was? A fool trying to fill the gaps of activity with more activity, lest his mind wander to deeper depths. Here, however, he had a hunch that J’torha Tia might make for good sport. Perhaps he was a good mate that took the bait and would share the fate of a man what did hate this trip’s slow gait as they wait-

Oh dear, not that again; it seems the drink from earlier was beginning to wear off. Leaving the bottle stoppered and untouched, X’gihl grabbed his hip flask and took a short swig of it before clicking the lid shut again and replacing it at his belt. Better. It wouldn’t have been polite to open the bottle and take the first swig after he’d just offered it to another, even if he’d had need of it for that moment.

The privateer leaned forward again and held the bottle back out to the performer. “What say, Tora?”

’A song bird I doubt you be’ he said. J’torha grinned; he’d only spent, what, nine-tenths of his travels learning every song and dance he could get his tongue and feet around? It could very well be that he’d surprise this Lominsan tia, and J’torha was never one to pass up the opportunity to impress.

He looked between the bottle and the sailor, and held out his hand, shaking his head with a friendly grin. “I’m not one to drink on the road; I find there’s more fun to be had then with your wits still about you,” he laughed. “Besides, it’s no good to be singing talking backwards is it?”

He leaned forward on his knees, tapping his chin for a moment as he searched his mind for an appropriate song. “I think I have one you ought to know instead,” he commented thoughtfully, his trademark grin splitting his face once more as he sat back up straight. “Or, at least, you sound like you’ve been around the Lominsan pubs and docks a time or two.”

He took a look over the rest of the occupants in the carriage - quiet, courteous, peaceful, and aside from a single laugh from a pink-haired Lalafell, entirely boring according to him - before he started tapping his heel against the floor of the carriage, a string of decorative coins (identical to the one he had tied around his tail moments earlier) jingling the beat of some as-of-yet-unknown rhythm like a tambourine.

The sudden noise drew an odd look or two, but J’torha responded only with a wink and a grin; no matter the source, he always loved the attention. He turned his mischievous gaze expectantly back to Gill as he started clapping the beat as well, and finally started his song, his voice undeniably betraying tone and talent despite the roughness typical of a lively Lominsan tune.

“Come get yer duds in order ‘cause we’re bound across the water;
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
Come get yer duds in order ‘cause we’re bound to leave tomorrow
Heave away, me jolly boys, we’re all bound away!

X'gihl nearly looked astonished at the man's refusal. But what came after had purpose, and he found himself thrilled by it. J'torha appeared to come alive, at least in the privateer's eye, as though something he'd said had lit the wick to a fine firework preparing to go off in the carriage at that moment. Thrilling, yes, that was the appropriate word. A churning feeling in the breast, yet not brought by uncertainty. X'gihl leaned back in the seat, stowing the bottle away for later as his attention changed to the tap of J'torha's heel and the jingling of coins.

It wasn't apparent what the rhythm belonged to, not yet. A clap and a voice came next, and a smile on the privateer's lips followed them. I've misjudged you very clearly. Didn't peg your experience at all, but it seems you've pegged mine. Dear me, I've missed that. X'gihl gave the other Miqo'te a genuine smile as he crossed his arms in his slouched position and joined in happily, head tilting a little with the music the performer provided.

"Sometimes we're bound for Sharlayan, sometimes for Rothlyt Sound;
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
But now we're bound for Limsa-town where all the girls are dancin';
Heave away, me jolly boys, we're all bound away!"

One thing you couldn't find out in Little Ala Mhigo, or the Coffin and Coffer, or perhaps not even in Ul'dah, was a good song like that. And they were just beginning! It felt like a breath from home. Of fresh air coming off the sea and docking at the harbor to enjoy land for a short while before you were back out there.

Now, if there was anything better than a good lively tune, it was fellow voices to sing it with. J’torha beamed when the sailor across the aisle joined in his song, any protests or glares from the other passengers long forgotten. How hadn’t he thought of this before X’gihl suggested it? Of course there was no better pastime than singing at the top of one’s lungs! There voices might not be perfectly in tune (though J’torha had a mind to pin that on X’gihl) but that was the beauty of drinking songs, they were designed to be sung by a tavern full of drunkards with nothing but a shouting voice and time.

“Farewell to all the pretty ladies, waving from the dock;
Heave away, me jollies, heave away!
And if we do return to you, we’ll make yer cradles rock!
Heave away, me jolly boys, we’re all bound away!”

As they sang, J’torha gave the woman sitting next to him a friendly nudge of the shoulder and a wink to the other ladies on board; more second-nature to him than anything by now. The verse was meant to be responded to with another by the women in the crowd; hopefully at least one of them would know the words.

*notices your forum*

I haven't heard the term "grimdark" in years, lol. Welcome!

I'm not sure what type of roleplayer I am

If you're only doing 1x1 then it doesn't matter. As for figuring out what sort of RPer you are, read some interest checks from all 3 sections and see which style of writing suits you the best.

My personal 2 cents tho: quality is all about the group of players you have in your particular RP. The Casual section specifically is a great example. There are Casual Rps that are on the low end (although I wouldn't call them close to Free cause Free is its whole own ball game) and there are Casual RPs that tend toward what you'd consider Advanced. Personally I don't go into the Advanced section much cause even though I have no problem writing at that level, there seems to be a lot of pretentiousness in the Advanced section that you don't get in Casual, even though you can get the same quality. Do with that info what you will, lol.

ＦＩＮＡＬ ＦＡＮＴＡＳＹ Ｘ｜Ｖ： Ｔｈｅ Ｂｌｅｓｓｅｄ Ｔｗｅｌｖｅ

Earlier

“How much was that?”

J’torha barely glanced at the merchant woman as she patiently repeated the price, so transfixed was he on the little pouch of pure excitement he was tossing up and down in his palm. “And you have a variety of colours?”

“Yes sir, seven colours.”

“Sounds good to me,” J’torha replied cheerfully, rummaging in his coinpurse for the appropriate amount of gil. He smiled broadly as he received his purchase, seven such sacks that could all fit rather nicely into the remaining portion of the rucksack he carried.

“Thank you sir,” the merchant replied, taking the money and looking a little concerned as J’torha untied the cinch of one of the bags to peek inside. “Oh, and do be careful not to expose them to—”

FWOOM

There were a few cries from startled passerby as a cloud of green sparks loudly burst to life in J’torha’s face; possibly including his own. But when the crackling died down and he looked back to the merchant, he wore as big a smile as ever.

“Thank you again! I’ll be back!”

“Oh now that’s no fair, Momodi took my legs out from under me the last time I tried to jump up on the bar.”

J’torha’s little complaint may have gone largely unappreciated among the other patrons sitting nearby, but he chuckled all the same at the memory. A grave overreaction, he still insisted. She didn’t even know what he’d been doing! Surely she would have been impressed enough to let him stay that night if she’d waited to see him walk across the bar on his hands. Even now she was stealing venomous looks at him just for having his feet up on the table. To his consolation, though, Momodi didn’t look at all pleased with this Lyveva girl either.

Her recruitment speech was… well, rousing wasn’t the right word, but apparently a dark-haired Seeker bloke and a Lalafell with Lominsan accents seemed to think it worthy of a cheer. The girl herself was only a mite more interesting; J’torha preferred his women a little older and a little taller, truth be told. He wasn’t sure if her description of the free company was worth permanently joining over, but she did seem desperate, and, well… he never could say no to a lady in need.

Questions were asked and answered, and while J’torha had to raise an eyebrow at the Northern-sounding Midlander talking like a hero from a bedtime story, the child with the queer horns definitely caught his attention. He couldn’t be an Au Ra, his horns looked too different and there wasn’t another scale to be found on the boy. The only other thing he could think of as a possibility was a beast tribe, but J’torha didn’t know any that looked like him, either.

But there wasn’t much time to puzzle about it before another Miqo’te came thundering into the Quicksand, arms heavy with books of all things and hollering about wanting to join. Before J’torha even had the chance to wonder if she was an envoy from the Arcanist’s Guild or something, she stepped on a discarded flagon and went dramatically tits-up in a shower of books, much to the amusement of a few nearby patrons, and the concern of a few others.

J’torha fell squarely into the former category, not even bothering to hide his chuckle at the display. She was all scratched up and tattered too, for some reason, which only added to the hilarity.

“Rough day, darlin’?” he asked the woman nonchalantly, chuckling some more as he stooped in his seat to pick up one of the books she’d dropped. He squinted at the cover for a moment, but couldn’t make much sense of the title and handed it back with a shrug.

A highlander asked about healers, and J’torha found his memory jogged. “Right, how big of a company are we talking, anyway?” he piped up, though he didn’t rise from his seat. “It’s not just you and this Suki, is it?”

_{@Hero@Amalyra}