Loria had her hands in her lap, the fabric of her pants clutched in sweaty palms. “That boy,” her father hissed as the door swung shut behind Cliff, “has no concept of respect.” His eyes were narrowed and his nostrils were flared in an expression she recognized from whenever she angered him as a child. “Are those truly the standards for discipline in the Courier college?”
Loria winced, her tone panicked. “You have to understand, father, Cliff, he – he’s stressed, and-” She cut off when he turned his narrow-eyed glare on her.
“Why are you defending him, Loria?” A breath huffed out his nose, and he shook his head. “It’s one thing for him to act like that, but for my daughter to-” He let out a low, guttural growl.
“Of course, you’re right, it’s just-” She cut off, clicking her jaw shut. “Never mind.” A bead of sweat had formed on the back of her neck, and she suppressed a shiver as it trickled down her back, pausing as it flowed over each bump of her spine. What was she thinking, trying to justify Cliff’s actions?
From across the table, Nym’s father let out a forced chuckle. “Well, there’s a lot going on with the festival – hopefully, everyone will be in a bit of a better mood when the festivities actually start.” He eyed Loria’s father for a moment. “Thank you for the meal, and – I’d like to have a few minutes to catch up with your parents, Loria, if you don’t mind.” He turned to his daughter. “Why don’t you kids run back to your dorm? You’ve got your presentation tomorrow, Nym. Can’t have you sleepy-eyed in front of the crowd.”
Pressing her palms against her eyes, Nym made an annoyed noise. “Don’t remind me. I’ve still got to finalize my script notes and then run through it a few times to work out the kinks.” Suddenly standing up, she looked between Thalos and Loria. “Dad’s right – let’s head back. Let them have their time to reminisce on their glory days.”
Nym’s father gave her a sideways glance. “Careful, Nym. I’m not that old, and neither are you – don’t think you’ve outgrown one of my famous lectures.”
“Oh no,” Nym said, her voice completely level, “anything but that.” After a moment of glaring at each other, they both broke out into a laugh, and Loria couldn’t help but feel jealous. She glanced at her own father, who was still glaring angrily at the door while her mother whispered soothing words into his ear. “Come on,” Nym continued. Loria nodded, standing up and following behind Thalos and Nym as they left the room.
When they were safely in the hallway outside the dining room, Nym let out a hefty sigh, turning towards Loria and wrapping her in a tight hug. Flinching at the sudden contact, Loria eventually managed to return the gesture halfheartedly, patting Nym’s back a few times. After a moment, her friend pulled away, giving Loria a pitying smile. “That was an unbelievable disaster.”
Despite the cocktail of negative emotions swirling in her head, Loria let out a wry laugh. “Well, it went about as well as I expected – though Cliff’s awful mood was an unexpected headache.” The dinner had been her father’s idea. He’d arranged for it in one of the academy’s smaller dining rooms. He wanted a more private occasion to meet the rest of her team than the luncheon that day, where he’d been surrounded by people who just wanted a chance to talk to the Fireshell General. She’d tried to convince him not to force Cliff to attend, but he was insistent and – well, he was her father, what was she supposed to do?
“For what it’s worth, I was excited for the dinner – the food was great,” Nym said, linking arms with Loria as they made their way out of the administrative building to return to their dorm. Technically, they were still on probation, but with the disciplinary interviews complete and the festival beginning in earnest, the restrictions on their movements had loosened slightly. Or, at least, Loria felt a little less pressured by them. She still had a sour taste in her mouth about the whole affair – namely because half of her interview had revolved around what they’d been taught in the Courier courses. Add that with her earlier conversation with Roose, and she couldn’t help but feel anxious for the resolution of their inquiry.
“Well, yes, but you weren’t dragged away from your research to come here,” Thalos said. Nym glared at him, and Thalos shrugged. “That’s not to say I agree with how Cliff acted – a little stress doesn’t mean you can behave like a child, but-” He hummed a moment in thought. “On the best of days, he doesn’t like being strong-armed into doing stuff.”
Loria nodded. Cliff described himself as ‘stubborn as a mule’, and that stubbornness had never been more obvious than when he stomped into the dining room covered in grit and grease, just about grinding his teeth in annoyance. Her father had sent a subordinate of his to drag Cliff along, and he’d taken that as a personal offense. He’d just about lectured her father, and when she tried to explain that the Fireshell General’s time was very valuable, he’d scoffed. “Time is time,” he’d said, “mine, your poppa’s, or the Goddess’s.” Eventually, Thalos had managed to talk him out of his moodiness long enough to scarf down a dinner. Of course, as soon as he was finished eating, he’d excused himself to get back to work. Needless to say, it wasn’t the best first impression – especially after Cliff had missed out on the luncheon. Her father had glared daggers at him the entire meal, and Cliff had managed to work in passive aggressive snipes to whatever little bits of conversation he joined in.
They exited the building and Loria’s skin prickled with the cool of the evening. She shivered, and Nym leaned into her for warmth. Next to them, Thalos buried his hands in his pockets. Autumn was in full swing, and the nights were getting longer and colder. “Honestly,” Loria said, “I was most worried that they’d get in some big argument about how we handled the incident in the Hands-on, but they didn’t even get that far.”
Nym frowned towards her. “What do you mean? He’s your father, right? I figured you’d have similar ideas about decision making, wouldn’t you?”
Loria made an unsure noise. “Maybe, but – he’s always been a little overprotective. He might not like the idea of me handling the most dangerous parts of our plan, especially because it resulted in my PMT blowing up.” She hadn’t really talked to her father about her need for a new PMT yet – she’d brought it up in passing but he’d just given her a glower before pushing off the discussion for later.
“The Fireshell general,” Nym said incredulously, “overprotective? He sure doesn’t seem like the type.”
“Reputation isn’t everything. Your father is known to be a whirling ball of death on the battlefield,” Loria countered, “but he’s been cracking jokes since he got here.” Honestly, Nym’s father was shockingly jovial. Every mention of the Puppetmaster that Loria had ever heard was always for some combat achievement – even her father had a respect for the man’s skill in battle, and that was something he only reserved for the finest of fighters.
“Yes, yes,” Thalos said, “your fathers are impressive, I get it. Can we get back to the dorm?” Loria grimaced, and Nym’s eyes widened, and they both rushed to apologize. He shot them a confused look, cutting off their sputtered words with a shake of his head. “What? No – I’m not-” He sighed. “Listen, if I got upset every time someone mentioned their parents – well, I wouldn’t survive living with Cliff. He brings up his ‘momma and poppa’ at least once a day. I’m just cold.”
“Cold, huh?” Nym reached out, seizing Thalos by the arm and dragging him close until they were a trio, huddled up as they made their way back to their dorm. For a moment, he looked, unsure, down towards his arm, but if he had any objections at being manhandled, he kept them to himself. “Now that I’ve got you both by the arm,” she continued, “I’m not letting go until you agree to suffer through my Nightwyrm presentation.” She hummed a moment in thought. “I’d like to ask Cliff, too – I’m sure he’d be able to think up questions far more annoying than anything I’m going to get tomorrow, but – well, I’m afraid if I try to drag him away from his work, he might actually punch me in the face.” She paused. “Well, better me than Loria’s father, I suppose.”
“I’m not so sure,” Thalos muttered. Loria leaned forward to glare at him past Nym, and he put on an amused face. “Oh, come on, Loria – even you have to admit that Cliff punching the Fireshell general in the face would be interesting.”
***
“Afternoon, everyone,” Lieutenant Ulster started, his eyes scanning the class before fixing on the group of men and women in the back of the room. It was a rare occasion where their Advanced PMT class had not met at the sparring rings, instead gathering in their seldom-used classroom. Loria knew why, of course, though she wasn’t sure if she felt excitement or trepidation about it. “I won’t waste time on preamble. Today, we’re lucky enough to have several special guests in attendance. Of course, all guests to our harvest festival are special, but for me, one in particular stands out.” He raised an arm, and Loria’s father made his way through the classroom until he was beside the lieutenant. “Of course, you already know the man beside me as The Fireshell General, Kratus Faldmen – I knew him long before that moniker, back when I was a fresh-faced graduate from the academy and he was my first CO.” The pair turned towards each other, faces suddenly serious, and exchanged a rigid, professional salute. After a moment, though, they both broke into smiles, and Lieutenant Ulster reached over to squeeze her father’s shoulder. “He’s an old friend, and lucky for us, he’s agreed to give us a short lecture on his philosophy towards PMT combat – he might even field some questions, if there’s time.” He turned towards her father. “The Floor’s yours, sir.”
Her father nodded, and Lieutenant Ulster stepped off to the side. “The lieutenant says you’re lucky to have me visit, but I strongly disagree.” His eyes scanned the classroom, a comfortable smile on his face. “No, in fact, I think I am the lucky one – few things make me happier than seeing the brightest young minds of Marifond.” When his eyes reached Loria, they held eye contact for a moment, but he didn’t so much as widen his smile. If Nym’s father was the one making the presentation, he might stop to crack a joke at her expense, but Loria’s father wasn’t the type to dote. “I’ve had the pleasure of watching young, promising soldiers rise through the ranks, and each year I can’t help but feel more and more optimistic.” He paused, and his smile turned almost teasing. “Let’s hope you can live up to my lofty expectations.”
***
Clapping his hands loudly, Lieutenant Ulster walked to the front of the room, nodding his head as he looked around the room. “Thank you, General Faldmen,” he started when the applause had ended, “I’m sure everyone in here – myself included – will take your lessons on PMT combat to heart.” It hadn’t been a particularly novel lecture: he preached the virtues of being adaptable and analytical and warned against being complacent or careless. Of course, he’d drilled those same lessons into Loria’s skull before she ever even used a PMT, but his words also echoed just about every lesson Lieutenant Ulster ever gave. Honestly, even if the big man hadn’t introduced her father as his former CO, it wouldn’t have been hard to guess – their lessons were so similar that most people would have picked up on it. Despite the familiarity of the content, most in the classroom, guests included, had been paying rapt attention to what her father said. That wasn’t because of his PMT lessons or even his reputation, though – he’d punctuated every bit of advice with an anecdote: stories of killing a crazed monster or routing a particularly violent group of bandits. From anyone else, it might have sounded like bragging, but from her father, it felt – natural. He didn’t need bravado to bolster his achievements – his record spoke for itself.
“Now,” Lieutenant Ulster continued, glancing at the wall-mounted clock, “there’s still some time left in our class for today, so, if the general is alright with it, I’d like to give you all some time to ask him some questions.” He glanced at her father, who nodded immediately.
“As long as the questions don’t brush on any national secrets,” he said with a smile, earning a chuckle from the room.
Immediately, several hands shot up, and he pointed towards one of them, a girl in the front row. She stood up and offered her own, somewhat sloppy salute that her father returned, nodding with satisfaction. She was one of the cadets – Loria hadn’t ever really spoken to her, but she seemed nice enough. “Can you show us the Fireshell?” she asked, her overeager voice betraying any seriousness that might have come with the salute.
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Loria let out a small sigh – she’d expected that to be the first question – and her father nodded slowly. “I suppose just the name doesn’t do it justice, hmm?” He stuck out his hand in front of him, and his skin seemed to suddenly sprout pale blue flames. A gasp went up around as the flame spread, wrapping his arm all the way up to his shoulder. Immediately, the heat from the flames buffeted the room – Loria knew what he was showing was only a taste of the absurd heats the fire could rise to. Despite the flames, though, his uniform remained unburnt. It wasn’t made of special material or anything – her father could carefully control who or what the fire actually burned. He stuck his hand out, flexing his fingers, and the heat went up another notch. Normally the room would have remained cool, but part of his demonstration, she imagined, was to have them feel the heat. “Is this good enough?” her father asked, “Or-” Suddenly a helmet of flames wrapped itself around Lieutenant Ulster’s head. “It works on others, too.” He paused. “Perhaps you’d like a closer demonstration.” Just like with Lieutenant Ulster, flames sprung up around the girl who’d asked the question, wrapping her torso in a vest of fire.
The girl yelped, swatting at the flames on her chest for a moment before her eyes widened and she gingerly pressed her fingers against the flickering flame. Loria knew it would feel like an odd, rubbery gel – a viscous, tacky fluid that was both stiff and malleable. It was where he got his name, of course – her father’s Fireshell was famous for both its defensive properties and how punishing it was to anyone stupid enough to attack someone wrapped in it. The girl’s eyes flicked down to her own torso before she looked over at Lieutenant Ulster and her father. “Is that – I mean, how many people can you put the shell on?”
Her father’s smile widened slightly. “That,” he said as all of the conjured Fireshell winked out, leaving only the fading heat behind, “is, unfortunately, classified.” From the back of the room, someone was suddenly clapping, and soon everyone in the room joined in. Her father seemed amused by this response, but, for some reason Loria couldn’t place, it just made her feel tired. Maybe it was because she’d heard all the basic questions a thousand times before – why doesn’t the fire burn? How many people can you cover? How hard can it be hit before it breaks? Honestly, she almost wished Cliff was there – she was pretty sure his questions would be novel in his own scatter-brained way. She smiled to herself as the applause died around her – she should have thought of it at dinner the night before. If she’d asked her father to demonstrate his Gift, she was sure Cliff would have forgotten whatever feelings of annoyance he’d come into the room with. Though, after a round of Cliff’s questions, her father might have still come away with a less-than-favorable impression of her friend.
“Is it true that your Gift is hereditary? Is, ah – the Flamebreaker – your son, does he have the same Gift?” Loria winced. While she was thinking, the next question had come from Gallio, and while he wasn’t glaring at her or anything, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d asked it specifically to make her uncomfortable. He was an ass, though she had to admit he’d made rapid improvements since the start of the term.
Her father shook his head. “My son – that is, Captain Faldmen, he’s a man of his own talents. Our Gifts have some overlap,” he admitted, “but he’s worked hard to carve out a name for himself, and I won’t diminish his efforts by connecting his achievements to my own.” He paused, and a complex look came to his eyes. “Since he awakened to his Gift, he’s put in countless hours to master it and grow his strength alongside his experience. Suffice to say, I’m proud of him.” An itch formed between Loria’s shoulder blades, and she glanced up at the clock, grimacing when she saw there were still several minutes left.
“What was Loria like when she was a child?” a voice called out, and it was all Loria could do to stop herself from turning to glare at Vincent. She knew he, at least, wasn’t trying to be mean with the question. She got along about as well with him as she did with anyone outside the Courier college, and his tone was genuinely curious. Still, she wasn’t exactly thrilled with his question.
Her father seemed to share her reticence, and his expression turned strained as he chewed on his answer. “Well,” he finally said, “I wouldn’t want to embarrass my daughter, now would I? Besides, that question is probably best for her mother – I was quite busy with work for much of Loria’s young childhood, unfortunately.” He looked at Loria for a moment before his normal smile returned. “Now, are there any other questions? I believe we still have a few minutes.”
For a few more minutes, her class pelted him with inane questions, but Loria wasn’t listening. A lump had formed in her throat, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t will it away.
***
Men and women filtered in and out of the lecture hall, though the seats themselves stayed about half-full. There was a frantic scramble of work on the stage as the members of the monster research club tore down the previous presentation and started assembling Nym’s. Unlike the girl who’d gone before her, Nym didn’t have a life-size replica of the monster she was studying. On the contrary, her presentation was comparatively bare-bones – just three wide posters pinned to particleboard. One was split down the middle with two drawings: an anatomical diagram of the monster and an artistic rendition of a fight with one, including its signature nightfire.The other two were full of big text – big bullet points that summarized much of what she would be talking about.
The girl herself was on the stage, fussing with the posters to put them in the exact arrangement she’d planned. She didn't quite look nervous, but Loria knew she’d been stressing about the presentation since the moment their exams ended. For a moment, Nym paused in her movement, covering her face with a hand to yawn.
From beside Loria, Penny leaned over. “She was up all night muttering to herself,” Nym’s roommate said, “honestly, after hearing it so many times, I could probably give this presentation.” She paused, furrowing her brow. “It’s estimated that the Nightwyrm grows to maturity in four years, though due to a variety of factors, including their size, hostility, and ferocity, one has never been raised in captivity. Additionally, because of their high-pressure habitats, any attempt at hatching an egg in environments habitable for humans has been unsuccessful.” Her tone had taken on a shrill imitation of Nym’s tone, and Loria felt herself smiling.
“I thought it was five years,” Thalos said from Loria’s other side.
Penny puffed her cheeks, shrugging her shoulders. “Four, five – it all sounds the same muttered from across the room in the middle of the night.” They laughed, and after a moment, Penny frowned. “Say, Loria, have you seen Jenna? I figured she would come to watch Nym’s presentation – she usually finds these kinds of things interesting.”
“There’s a cocktail social for current and formerly-serving military guests,” Loria said, “Students are invited, too, and I guess Jenna’s attending with her parents.” Both of Jenna’s parents had served for some time in the military, though they’d since moved on to civilian careers.
“I see.” Penny nodded, but her brows furrowed together. “But, wait – why aren’t you there, Loria? I mean – your family’s about as military as it gets.”
Loria swallowed, and that same lump seemed to spring up in her throat. “I wasn’t invited – I think my father didn’t want me to deal with the attention he would get at an event like this.” Or maybe he didn’t want to deal with the attention she’d get – a Giftless daughter in the Courier college. Lots of questions with answers he would never be satisfied with. She blinked, surprised at the bitterness of the sudden thought.
“Oh, I – ah, I see,” Penny said, awkward expression on her face. “I guess Cliff is a no-show, too?” she said after a moment.
Loria turned to Thalos, who shrugged. “Cliff was gone before I woke up this morning, and he didn’t show up to lunch.”
“I saw him in Sister Aster’s class, but he slept through it,” Loria said. He’d also slept through their Courier class – Roose had told them to let him sleep, considering he was looking more and more exhausted by the hour.
Penny sighed. “I never thought I’d be worried about Cliff of all people.”
Loria nodded. She understood that this project was important to him, but he was pushing himself so hard he was liable to burn out before he was even able to present his research. She turned to Thalos. “You know him best – is he going to be okay?”
Thalos frowned for a moment, scratching his chin in thought. “Cliff has a way of looking like he’s hardly paying attention while internally having everything under rigid control,” he said with a shrug, “I guess I know him well enough, yeah, but this is the first time I’ve seen him actually look pressed.” He paused to think, and after a moment he nodded. “Still, Cliff grew up on a farm, right? That’s hard work – he should have a better grasp of his limits than I ever would.”
Penny made an unsure noise. “I hope you’re right,” she said. Loria nodded – if he collapsed before even presenting his research, he’d made an enemy of her father for nothing.
They chatted for a few more moments until things were ready on stage. Nym looked a bit nervous, but there was a familiar determination to her eyes that Loria recognized from whenever they sparred seriously. She smiled – if Nym was going all out, this would be fine.
“Good afternoon everyone,” Nym started, her magetool-amplified voice echoing over the lecture hall and its fifty-something occupants. From the side of the room, Nym’s father let out a shrill whistle, and beside Loria, Penny let out a squeal of encouragement. Smiling slightly, Nym continued, “Today, I’ll be presenting about the Nightwyrm, famous for its hostility to humans and how difficult it is to deal with for most Naturals and Augments.”
***
“And with that said, I’d like to move on to a special part of my presentation,” Nym continued breathlessly. She’d been talking for ten minutes, going over the habitat, biology, and behaviors of the Nightwyrm before recounting several historical encounters with the monster. It was a fairly dry presentation, but Loria had certainly learned a lot – at least, she had the first time she heard it. For one thing, it had confirmed to her that she never wanted to run into a Nightwyrm in the wild – at least, not without twenty more years of combat experience and an army of other fighters at her back. They were vicious, with huge claws and teeth, strong muscles, and a penchant for attacking, unprovoked, in the middle of the night. On top of that, their nightfire had some antimagic properties and tore through most Gifts and PMT magic like paper. Apparently, those antimagic properties made the Nightwrym something of a dream for many magetool researchers – if they could craft magetools that utilized its effects, it could be revolutionary for magetool weapons and defenses. Unfortunately, those same properties left researchers stumped on how to make anything functional with what little Nightwyrm material they were able to harvest.
“My father, Aramis Durand, has been an active member of the Courier Alliance for over twenty years. Twelve years ago, in the middle of a fairly mundane escort contract, he had an encounter with a Nightwyrm. I’ve invited him to recount that experience to us today.” She stuck her hand out and gestured her father forward. There was a short round of applause as Aramis strolled onto the stage, beaming. “Well, Dad,” Nym continued, “can you introduce yourself?”
“Of course, Nym!” Aramis said, taking the microphone from Nym and turning to the crowd. “Hello everyone, my name is Aramis, but some of you might know me as the Puppetmaster. My daughter here-” He reached out to ruffle Nym’s hair. “Used to call me Bubby.”
Nym’s eyes narrowed, and a flush came to her cheeks. “Dad,” she muttered into the mic, “please.”
“Come now, Nym, you can’t expect me to introduce myself without adding a few choice details,” Aramis said. He stepped forward, gesturing broadly with his free hand. “Yes, I once fought a Nightwyrm – one of the most frightening monsters I’ve ever encountered, I’ll tell you. Well – aside from Nym when you try to wake her up before sunrise.”
Nym stepped forward to snag the mic from Aramis. “If you think that’s bad, wait until you see what kind of monster I turn into after you ruin my presentation.” She sighed, but her father just grinned. Beside Loria, Penny giggled, and the noise was echoed throughout the room. “Now please, the Nightwyrm.” Aramis nodded, sticking his hand out to take the mic, and – after a long-suffering look, Nym handed it over. Loria blinked, confused. Had they planned this? Practiced it, like some kind of skit?
Aramis took the mic up, scratching at the back of his head. “Sorry, folks. My daughter wanted me to keep focused, but I guess it’s too much for me – had to throw in a surprise to keep her on edge, you know?” Nym crossed her arms, trying to look annoyed, but she couldn’t cover the smile that had come to her face. It hit Loria like a punch to the stomach – this was just how they were, laughing, teasing, joking, comfortable. Loving. “Now – I’ll tell it like it was, exactly. Twelve years ago, late spring. I was working out of the Umber branch of the Alliance. It was a routine contract, but that didn’t mean it was safe. I was hired to escort a cohort of miners to a little mining village tucked in the Blackridge mountains. They do six-month shifts up there, and the owners of the mine hire Couriers to bring them each way – the village is a little bubble of habitable land surrounded by high-pressure regions.” He paused. “We had about thirty miners we were bringing along, none of them with much experience in a fight. My team and one more were contracted as escorts – nine of us in total. Now one night, I was keeping watch when I saw a shadow dart across the sky. You don’t survive ten years as a Courier without having a bit of a knack for reading danger, so I immediately raised the alarm. It only took a few seconds for our guys to have fog-lights pointed in the sky, and there, I saw it – light glinting off obsidian scales, a huge, winged figure, silent death the size of this room.” He leaned forward, eyes wide and smile fierce, clearly enjoying himself as he told the story. “It spat black fire at us, and it was all our boys and girls could do to hunker under whatever cover they could find. Most of our people were useless in the fight – the nightfire tore through any kind of counter-offensive we tried to mount. Of course, there was one exception.” He stuck his thumb up and pointed at himself. “The nature of my Gift, as it turns out, was the perfect foil to its antimagic ways – after all, no amount of nightfire is going to stop a fifty pound rock from smashing your skull.”
He leapt into his account of the fight, complete with sound effects and dashing back and forth on the stage. Honestly, on the surface, it seemed like the kind of thing that would be awkward and forced, but for some reason – it worked. It was clearly a story he’d told before, and he got laughs and cheers throughout the retelling.
When the story was nearing its close, Aramis was nearly out of breath. “Now, I didn’t kill the big brute, but I’d bet my life savings that if he could talk, his version of the story would be a lot less triumphant.” There were claps and cheers as he finished, and Loria tried to contribute her own, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her eyes were fixed on Nym’s face, on the pleased smile she was sending at her father’s back as he basked in the cheers. Loria hated herself for it, but she couldn’t help but resent that smile.