The cheers of the Circuleum unroofed the sky above their heads until chants and songs could be heard through all of Aienwater and echoed even in the surrounding forests.
Elwin lifted his left fist in victory for all to see.
And it was then everyone realized Elwin did not have his Quan with him, that he won without it; upon which nearly everyone clambered over the cavea walls and jumped down onto the sandy field, to greet Elwin, to touch him and receive his triumphant blessings. Katherine was finally released from her seat at the watcher’s podium, and raced with jet-fire down the staircases, down the cavea, nearly tumbling.
Maximus at Professor Aionia’s behest helped Elwin limp his way to his friends, Mirai first, helping her up and carrying her on his shoulders, and then Isaac; but before the rallied spectators could hoist Isaac up as well, Professor Irina cautioned them to give way, to not move Isaac an inch – for all they knew, Isaac could have suffered injury to his back.
Elwin was the first to motion Isaac.
“Isaac, Isaac, can you see me?”
He answered feebly. “Yeah, you... you did great out there,” he murmured, giving a light chuckle. Elwin grasped Isaac’s hands. They were cold.
Professor Irina was quick to ask further. “Can you feel your toes?”
Isaac wiggled them one by one, and nodded.
“How about your fingers? Your hands? Do they tingle? Are they freezing or hot?”
“A little hot, but I guess... it’s the sun...” he replied, passing out into sweet sleep.
Professor Irina laid her hand upon his heart and quietly whispered a small sona that seemed to echo through his body, and Professor Aionia laid her fingers to his pulse to feel how the sounds returned; this way they could assess whether there was an injury they couldn’t see. And by the blessing of ARTAIA Isaac was mostly safe; his battle-uniform had protected him, but he was suffering from mild concussion. Elwin was in technically every shape worse, but he was able to walk and talk.
Upon the declaration that no life-threatening injury had befallen the champions, the crowd broke into jubilant celebration once again –
But a single voice cut them all away.
“Not so fast,” declared Alexander Heriz, advancing with his entourage of lesser guards.
All one-hundred-and-fifty pairs of eyes immediately fixed on the Archon.
Now that he’d defeated Ursus, all the adrenaline that had coursed through Elwin’s heart began to retreat like falling tide, and with it his legs almost gave way. He clutched his eyewrap, drenched with the blood of his head which had met the rock before it, and gazed warily at Alexander’s approach. Maximus extended his arm to shield his battered underclassman, and Sandora did the same to Katherine; Professor Aionia placed herself before the students in defense of them all, her countenance forbidding.
The Archon held up his left palm, and his guards halted behind him.
“I’ve yet to know the champion’s name,” announced Alexander, in a voice somber and grave. “With whom do I have the honor?”
All heads turned to the champion, for it was his word to give.
“It is Elwin. Elwin Eramir.”
“Elwin Eramir, you say...” he swirled it around as if to appraise a sip of strong wine, closing his eyes for a moment.
“A blessed name.”
Alexander opened his mouth to add another remark, but something in his eye twinkled, and he quietly closed it again. All the while, Katherine stood behind Sandora, still concerned as to what her father would say next. Elwin’s thoughts were in rhythm with hers, and he declared loud lest Alexander forget what their victory meant.
“Don’t forget your promise, sir. Now that Ursus is defeated, you must give Katherine the blessing to continue her studies.”
Alexander looked upon his daughter, and suddenly, as if the sky had fallen around him, all the muscles and wrinkles upon his aging face began to tremble as if being puppeteered by a hundred strings. His gray eyebrows drooped in unequivocal sorrow, and he grasped his head in his palm to shield his tears.
For that brief moment all aura of unapproachability shattered around him, and it was as if Alexander Heriz had become an ordinary human being again, just a wistful father who had no choice but to see his daughter off into the grand, uncaring world. Professor Aionia lowered her shoulders and relinquished her guard; tears were pooling in Katherine’s eyes in rhythm with her father’s, and all the Circuleum had become as quiet as a feather.
Headmaster Abraxas approached him to lay his hand upon his friend’s shoulder, as Alexander once did for him, but the Archon moved away from it.
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He looked up, and spoke at last.
“I am a man of my word,” he declared, laying his fist upon his heart, “I give my permission for Katherine to stay at Aeternitas and resume her studies, as long as she wants.”
The crowd sluggishly restored its energy, and a chorus of solemn cheers broke out once more.
Alexander approached Elwin and shook his hand.
“Elwin Eramir, I trust you to be there for Katherine through thick and thin, just as you have shown me today.”
“I will.”
Alexander Heriz turned to Katherine, and Sandora stepped aside; he embraced his daughter quickly and deeply, as if it was the last time they would see each other again. And in that brief exchange Elwin saw his own father in Alexander’s place, and Mirai saw hers; what a strange and agonizing thing it was, that called fatherhood.
Alexander did not, could not say anything to his daughter after that embrace; there was no adequate word to express what he felt and what word of caution to say to Katherine. Instead he looked at her tearfully for a long, long time. The time had finally come where she would brave the risks of the world without him.
Before turning to leave, Alexander made a word of goodbye to Professor Aionia and to Headmaster Abraxas.
“Though this day wounds my heart,” he whispered, his voice almost catching in his throat, “it rouses great hope in me to witness that the Artens of Aeternitas are like none other. What DEIA AETERNITAS takes away, she grants in equal measure...”
Headmaster Abraxas and Professor Aionia bowed their heads.
“How small we are, in the tapestry of fate,” he enunciated wryly.
Ursus, drained and defeated, wearily stumbled to his feet. He picked up his fallen Quan, and fastened it back, limping to Elwin.
“Though we may have met on the field as opponents,” he chuckled aloud, “it was an honor to fight you. I hope that the fates shall guide us so that in the future, we fight together as one, instead of against one another.” He extended his hand to Elwin; Elwin took it, and both shook it as warriors.
The headmaster and the professors saw Alexander and Ursus depart, both of their shoulders heavy with what they had to leave behind. The rest of their entourage shuffled out in turn.
“Goodbye.”
“Goodbye too, Alexander. May the FOUNDERS be with you.”
* * *
With Alexander having taken his leave aboard his skycraft, songs once again filled the Circuleum, as the Fradihta and the upperclassmen hoisted Elwin, Mirai, and Isaac up on their heads and marched out in a triumphant parade. Everyone was eager to touch Elwin’s robes and hair to inherit a share of his prowess; Katherine, her inner thoughts a tempestuous ocean, made herself small and trudged without a sound, for the first time in her life unable to set her eyes upon anyone nor utter a word.
News of Elwin’s victory over Ursus spread like wildfire over the campus, and within a single day all of the Fradihta, and all the Four Houses knew of it: how he endured, how he sliced clean the Quan from Ursus’s arm and stood where no one could have stood! His feat echoed through the campus like a new legend, and opinion of Elwin whispered in many places began to metamorphosize. In those that had witnessed his triumph, all doubts and misconceptions about Elwin had been dispelled; but those who did not see it for themselves remained somewhat skeptical, and a circle led by Lucian spread a hardy rumor that the entire battle was a conspiracy which Elwin arranged, thanks to his father’s past connections. Lucian, despite losing some of his credibility for his slander of Elwin in the past, still remained at the pinnacle of general popularity; he was adept at nearly every Mahamastra, was sharp with wits and tongue, and as if such blessings weren’t enough, the MAHANIR had given him a handsomeness that few could match. All things considered, Lucian had always considered himself superior to Elwin in every regard, but suddenly he found who he’d thought of as a mere ant climbing the ranks of recognition and respect as much as he, threatening to douse his chances of becoming the champion of the end-of-year tournament.
A tournament which – if he lost – would spell the end for him and his little sister.
“You need to step up your game, Lucian,” said the figure.
“I don’t need to step up my game,” Lucian muttered towards the figure of much hatred. “You think I’m going to lose? Are you worried?”
“Worried not for your loss, no. Rather, I’m very much concerned for your sister and yourself.”
Lucian grit his teeth, and looked away. The figure continued.
“I’ve given you many chances. With your skill and brilliance of word, I trusted you to ensure that Elwin Eramir has no place in the Academy. Yet you failed. Look where your failure has placed you.”
“I didn’t fail!” spat Lucian, almost marshalling his Quan. “How in the world could I have expected the MAHA-damned Archon’s arrival?”
The figure raised a single eyebrow. “Your tone surely is loud and poor in respect. I wonder what would happen if your classmates heard you, passing by. Perhaps they would be kind so as to defend you from your fate, even if they realized who you were and what you hid.”
Lucian dug his nails so hard into his palm that it began to bleed.
“Elwin prevailing against Ursus is not my fault!” pleaded Lucian.
“Sure it isn’t. It was most certainly unforeseen. But from your tardiness, you’ve lost the advantage of your ammunition. Half of the Academy no longer speaks ill of Eramir. You will have to defeat him in the Tournament,” chided the figure.
The desperation and rage that gripped Lucian manifested itself through the crackles of his sweat, boiling to steam.
“Is there no way to remove him before the tournament begins? To maim him badly?” implored Lucian.
“Good luck doing that while he is under the protection of the hospital wing.” The figure replied so nonchalantly that Lucian wanted to tear their eyes out.
“Just to remind you – should you rob breath from Elwin Eramir, and be discovered, life for you and your little sister shall end just as equally as if you’ve lost the tournament. What do you choose?”
Lucian weighed his options. It was too risky.
“The Tournament. I’ll win in the Tournament.”
“A wise judgment.”
“But don’t you at least know what the rounds are going to be? If you’ve tasked me to win, why do you have to make it so hard for me? This entire thing was your plan, your idea, your need! I never wanted to do this!” All of Lucian’s face contorted in anguish, his body almost collapsing to the cold hard stone.
“You are not doing this for me. You are doing this for your little sister and yourself. Affirm that, and understand that Elwin Eramir is your enemy now, your rival. He is no longer an ant, and you must drill him so in the contests that will follow.”
Lucian clutched his head and gazed only upon the earth.
“I will give you news as I acquire them, Lucian. But for now, it shall be wise to train in any way you can.”
When Lucian looked up, the figure had disappeared.