“So what if she wrote it? You find a problem with that?”

“No, not a terrible problem. It’s just that in here she refers to herself as a ‘traitor.’ Why would she say that?”

“How in the world should I know that?”

“You don’t know? My goodness, do you even talk to your friends? Or do you keep them as ornaments?”

A monstrous rage coiled in the deep corner of Elwin’s mind began to stir. Yet, he held back and issued a retort.

“No, I know them quite well, thank you very much!”

“Then tell me, Elwin,” said Lucian, leaning forward ever so slightly. “Why does she refer to herself as a traitor? Surely such a word isn’t light enough to throw like this, not in some poem-book.”

“Absolute nonsense. It is likely practice for literature, or something she read. You’ll find that Mirai is true, honest, and –”

Elwin stopped. Mirai had not entirely opened up about her history with him in the past, and for ever so minute a moment he doubted whatever he was about to say. Such was the calculated venom in Lucian’s ability with speech.

“You were saying?” interrogated Lucian, leaning towards Elwin this time, hands folded. “You don’t know, don’t you? And you’re trying to concoct a lie so as to make yourself look honorable in the eyes of your friends. Am I right?”

“I am not a liar,” insisted Elwin.

Lucian raised his brow, pursing his lip. He looked to his friends. They all watched Elwin with disdain.

“Give the poem-book back. Right now.” Elwin was going to be played by Lucian’s words no longer.

“No, I think I’ll keep it,” he replied, withdrawing the poem book to his chest. “If she really is a traitor like she says in the stanzas – if she and her family did something to their republic to be branded a traitor – she may be a danger to Aeternitas. And I can’t in good conscience turn a blind eye.”

“You’re really trying to act goody-two-shoes, aren’t you, Lucian? Wow! Holy crap! After all you’ve done to torment me back at Ascension!” barked Elwin.

“‘Goody-two-shoes’? How is alerting a possible traitor of the republics to Aeternitas National Academy – an institution that raises the defenders of the Republics – in any way ‘goody-two-shoes’? For all we know, your friend could be hatching a plan in secret! And you’re just going to let her do all that?”

“Why does this sound like you’re trying to accuse her of something she didn’t do? How in the world do you know?” glowered Elwin, indignant.

“Because if she follows you around, that means she shares a common trait as you do.”

“What trait?”

“That she’s a liar, just as you are.”

At that line, Elwin lunged for Lucian, but a pair of hands gripped his shoulders. He looked back, fully ready to swing a fistful of ice or water or whatever he could muster – but found Isaac there. He whispered to Elwin.

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“Stop, Lucian’s trying to rile you up. He wants you to get in trouble so you’d be expelled. Just let Mirai come back to get it. There’s no way that a personal book like that can serve as hard evidence for treason or anything of the sort.”

Elwin fumed, his teeth clenched, shooting glances of death to Lucian.

Lucian shook his head.

“I’ll tell you what, Elwin-sir. You want the poem-book back, but I think it is too dangerous to let it return to your hands. After all, it could be privy to some conspiracy that might endanger the Academy. Even still, you’re adamant that your friend is innocent, and did nothing wrong, and I respect that. This is perhaps the first time I’ve seen you defend someone other than yourself,” said Lucian, delivering his lines with punctuated clarity. “It looks like our wills are both equally strong. If you want this book back, then why not let us settle it over a duel? My friends have been waiting to see my true skill with my Maht, and I think it’s time I differentiated myself from you with action. Actions speak louder than words, after all.”

“You’re challenging me to a duel?” Elwin muttered.

“Yes. I challenge you. Whoever wins gets the poem-book –”

Just then, Mirai appeared from behind Lucian, and snatched the poem book away from his hands, nearly ripping the pages out. Out of the fringes of her hair, Mirai glared at Lucian with acute intensity; it was not of fire as Katherine’s usually was, but that of the entire Sun, and it briefly terrified everyone – everyone but Lucian.

Mirai then glanced at Elwin, and looked hurt and disappointed, her eyebrows wavering into something between tears and anguish; without a word, she strode off, away from the tables and out of the dining hall. Elwin at first didn’t understand what her expression meant or exactly what she felt, but it would come to haunt him later.

“Real piece of work you are, Lucian, toying with a poem of a frhi and issuing a challenge over what isn’t yours.” Katherine stepped forward and brushed Lucian’s mates aside. “You should be ashamed.” She stormed off in Mirai’s direction; but in the end, couldn’t find her. It was only Isaac and Elwin now, versus Lucian and his half a dozen mates.

“Does the challenge still stand?” Cassius quipped.

“Yes,” replied Lucian. “I’m a man of my words. This time, we fight for our honor instead of the poem-book. Do you accept, Elwin?”

Elwin spat back. “The Nine Naraks I accept, you snake. I’ll show you what happens when you mess with my friends.”

* * *

The sky was overcast, and from a distance roiled drums of thunder.

Elwin and Lucian stood in the Duellium Arena some way north of the Tree of Naran and Naru, where a two dozen people had gathered to watch. Droplets of rain began to patter on the rough stone floor of the gladiatorum, flanked by walls and old trees that had grown out of those stone façades, for creations of man could not hold back nature with age; Isaac and Katherine was among them, perched beneath the leaves to shield them from risk of rain.

All of Lucian’s band of followers were there too; they and a few unrelated others, who’d heard news of the prearranged duel, waited as well. From a distance, the Groundsmaster of the Academy watched to make sure nothing too terrible nor dangerous happened; Artens could duke it out and spar for honor and for glory if they wished, but only if it was agreed upon by all the parties involved, and posed no danger to bystanders. The rule was clear: whoever first was pushed into the moat of the arena would lose.

“Shivering now, are you?”

“In your dreams, Lucian. Maybe you should get both of your eyes checked. You have two unlike me, don’t you?”

Both boys stood in the falling drops of water, which was beginning to pour in earnest. Fine mists weaved around their faces as they breathed in the chill of autumn rain. There was an abundance of water, which was good, Elwin thought, since it was his Maht; but water was Lucian’s Maht too, so the real outcome of the duel would depend almost purely upon a difference of skill, a criteria in which Elwin was vastly outmatched. But even still, he had to fight; fight for his honor and for his friends.

They bowed irritably, not taking eyes off of the other; Elwin more with rage and Lucian more with the natural air of confidence he always possessed. At the count of three, both lunged at one another with all their might.