Disappointment bubbled in Nym’s belly as she repeated it in her head, over and over. Her Magical Rating was lower than her father’s, and that was okay. It was completely fine – just because she had a lower MR did not mean she couldn’t surpass him someday. He’d told her himself, it wasn’t the Gift that mattered, nor its strength, but the person who used it. She shivered slightly, trying to force some confidence. She would be a great Courier, no matter what.

“Nym, are you listening?” Penny asked.

Nym turned to her new roommate, smiling sheepishly. “No, sorry – I was, uh, thinking about something.” Penny puffed her already thick cheeks indignantly and Nym was struck by how much the girl looked like a chipmunk. She was even shorter than Nym, with a brown bob and a face dusted with freckles. Her eyes were almost too wide, and she had a bounciness about her that reminded Nym of a little woodland creature, though not in a bad way.

“I said – what is your PMT keyed to? Mine’s my father’s old Magetool – he said he would get me a new Mark 5 when I graduated, but we’re not there yet, right? It’s all water and earth – I have a martial node in there, but it’s the defensive version, not the general version – I don’t really like to fight, or really, I don’t like to get all sweaty, but that’s another thing entirely.”

“Right,” Nym replied, suddenly remembering why she had stopped paying attention. She ran a thumb along the seam of her PMT’s wooden case. “My father got me an Umber-manufactured PMT for my sixteenth birthday. It’s keyed for fire and water, plus a general martial node.” She was planning on devising a new setup for her PMT, something that would work well with her Gift, but to do that, she would actually have to be able to consistently use her Gift while fighting. So far, that was beyond her.

“Wow!” Penny said, her eyes widening even further, “A PMT from Umber? Can you show me?”

“When we get there, sure,” Nym said absently, looking ahead at the rest of their class. They were walking along one of the cobblestone paths that connected the dorms to the rest of campus, making their way to a sparring ring. She and Penny were towards the back of their little group. Templar Roose was at the front, talking brightly with Cliff and his roommate. The tall, tan boy seemed not to have any worry about standing out, and his roommate, a dour boy she thought was named Thalos, seemed content to be dragged along by Cliff’s energy.

“What do you think of him?” Penny asked, her voice dropping to a hush.

Nym frowned slightly. “Who?” So far, Nym liked her roommate, even if she was a bit talky, but she was not about to start gossiping about boys with the girl.

“Our Advisor, Templar Roose – I know what he said before, but why do you think he’s advising a Courier class? I’ve never heard of a Courier leaving the Alliance.” She leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think he was kicked out?”

Nym shook her head. “I have no idea.” Truthfully, she had as many questions about the man as Penny did. More, probably. Unlike her roommate she had heard of people leaving the Couriers’ Alliance, normally when her father complained, after a few too many drinks, that the job was going down the drain. Leaving the Alliance to join the Church, though, she had a tough time imagining. Every courier she’d ever met – which was quite a few – was no fan of the Church, and some were even openly hostile with the Church’s Magepriests. There was a lot of history there, old grudges that the clergy refused to forget and some Couriers took very seriously. An old principle of the Alliance had been to serve as a counterbalance to the Church’s influence. It wasn’t official anymore, but some still took it as law.

Penny spent the next several minutes going over her theories as to why Roose left the Couriers, each less believable than the last. Nym’s best guess had nothing to do with forbidden lovers or tragic betrayals – she figured he’d done or seen something that had lost his faith in the Alliance, and that faith had found its way to the Church. It made sense, when she thought about it. Couriers were, at their very core, mercenaries. Sure, they were mercenaries who were supposed to only take reasonable payment and whose laws and traditions encouraged philanthropy over everything else, but they were mercenaries nonetheless. Since the rise of Magetools, people like her father, who saw membership in the Alliance as a personal sacrifice, were on the decline. Maybe Roose would have never left the Alliance if the Couriers were closer to their roots. Or maybe she was overthinking things. She couldn’t be sure unless the man told her.

***

“I know you all probably want to get settled in your dorm rooms and get to know your new roommates, but I think this will be far more interesting than an afternoon of awkward conversation,” Templar Roose said with a smile. He’d led them to a broad stretch of flattened clay. White rings of different sizes were spaced evenly throughout. They were by one of the smallest rings, about ten paces across. “These are, as you may have guessed, the Academy’s sparring rings. You’ll get quite familiar with them throughout the year, both in your combat courses and in our Courier courses. Our class, by its nature, will put more focus on individual combat proficiency than either the Military or the Church – but I digress.” He clapped his hands in front of him. “Today, we will be engaging in a series of one-on-one spars, to get more comfortable with each other and more comfortable with fighting.” His eyes scanned across the class. “I asked this before, but please, raise your hand if you have your own Magetool.” Around them, twelve hands went up, including Nym and Penny’s. Cliff and his roommate kept theirs down, plus Percy – who’d thankfully changed from his awful suit - and a skittish, spindly girl whose name Nym couldn’t recall.

Roose smiled apologetically. “For today, you four will have to just watch, I’m afraid.” Cliff clicked his tongue, turning to Thalos to mutter something that Nym couldn’t hear. The other boy shrugged, and Cliff snickered. “The rest of you,” Roose continued, addressing the twelve who still had their hands up, “keep your hand up if you’ve done any real fighting with your PMT – spars, monsters, whatever – use your own judgment.” Nym was surprised when more than half of the hands went down. Penny’s fell, along with seven others, leaving just four hands still in the air. Her own father had dragged her out into the wilderness almost immediately after giving her the PMT. She’d spent most of her weekends since then fighting monsters – low level ones, of course, but she was at least somewhat comfortable in a fight with them.

On the other hand, their lack of experience made a bit of sense. Most people here were probably not from military families but rich, aristocratic families who wanted the boons of having an Academy education without all of the obligations that joining the Church or the Army would bring. She was loathe to admit it, but that was increasingly how the Courier College was used at the Academy. In other countries it was better, she knew, but here, the reputation of the Courier College had fallen with their political relevance in Marifond. She, at least, wasn’t planning on taking their pedigree for granted.

“Alright, you can put your hands down,” Roose continued, “As you can see, many of us don’t have much experience when it comes to, well, fighting. That’s completely fine – I hadn’t touched a PMT until I enrolled in the Academy – but, as my father used to say, a tool that’s never used is just ugly wall decoration. From today, we’ll be working on getting comfortable using our PMTs.” He paused, looking past them towards the admin buildings. “Ah – the final piece of our puzzle has arrived.”

Nym turned to see a man, cigarette jutting out of his mouth, with a cart bouncing along the path behind him. “This, everyone, is the reason I was late to our meeting. The school year has not started yet, so technically I can’t reserve any of the medics’ time, but my friend here agreed to oversee our little introductory lesson.” The doctor looked like whatever he had been pulled away from had been quite busy. There were heavy rings around his dark eyes that glared through black, greasy hair, and his wrinkled, gray shirt was splotched with stains.

A moment later the grumpy looking medic came to a stop next to Roose, scowling as he puffed smoke through his nostrils. “These your victims, Roose?”

Ignoring the barbed question, their advisor continued. “This is Dr. Harkin, the man who agreed to stop you from killing each other.’

“Roose,” Dr. Harkin muttered, plucking the cigarette from his mouth to rub, irritated, at an eye. “Honestly, this is why I didn’t want to – there’s a proper way to explain this.” He looked up sharply. “Alright children, pay no mind to what your advisor there said. My job is not stopping you from killing each other. That is your job. This is a spar, not a duel to the death – treat it like one or I’ll have you kicked out of here before you even start.” He eyed Roose bitterly, but the man just smiled back innocently. “However, you should be fighting these spars at full strength, and accidents happen when you go all out. If there is any accidental injury, I am prepared and willing to fix you up.” He took another puff of his cigarette, pausing to look at each member of their class. “In summary,” he finally said, “Don’t go barbarian on me, but if you make a mistake, I’ll patch the damage.” He glared at Roose, and the Templar nodded back at him, his smile never slipping.

“Dr. Harkin was also kind enough to bring a chest of sparring weapons,” Roose said, slapping the top of the cart. With a few quick motions, he threw open the top and pulled the front apart to reveal a rack of weapons. “It’s a pretty standard set, so if you have anything special you want to use, I’ll have to ask you to bear with us for today. Later on, we can get something for you approved.” He paused a moment to think. “One more thing. Don’t worry about wrecking the ring. We’ve got a groundskeeper who comes by daily to fix these things up. I don’t want you worrying about a little property damage!” He nodded with a grin. “Now – we’ve talked enough. Barton and Cal, get up here, you’re first!”

***

Nym watched as her roommate prepared for her spar. Penny had a Popstick clutched tightly in her hands, the barrel of the rifle trembling in her white-knuckle grip. Nervousness was plain on her face, and a bit of the feeling bled into Nym’s own mind. Penny’s name had been called for the fourth duel, and after the first three, Nym hardly blamed her for feeling nervous. Frankly, so far, the spars had been embarrassing.

The first fight had gotten off to a rocky start. The two fighters had clearly been amateurs at fighting with a PMT, standing still and lobbing poorly-aimed magic at each other until a conjured block of ice caught one in the shoulder, prompting an immediate surrender. The second had gone the opposite direction – neither used any sort of discrete magic from their PMTs, instead opting to brawl with each other using weapons. Roose had stepped in to end that one after a particularly vicious whack across the side caused one girl to lose her temper.

The third was a little better, and the two fighters at least attempted to weave together their magic with physical attacks. Their attempts mostly failed, though, and instead of using magic and weapons simultaneously, they ended up just switching rather quickly between shooting off magic and recklessly swinging their weapons until one got sunk in the ground right before he knocked the wind out of the other, ending the fight in a draw. Still, it had at least begun to resemble what Nym expected from people fighting with Magetools. It was a pale imitation of any serious combat she’d ever seen, but it was better than nothing.

Penny’s PMT trembled on her arm as she stared across the ring at her opponent, a rather elegant looking girl named Jenna. The two girls were opposites in most ways that Nym could see. Where Penny was small and jumpy, Jenna was tall and serene. Where Penny had a Popstick, Jenna had a dueling saber. And, of course, most importantly at the moment, where Penny looked ready to start crying from nerves, Jenna looked no more flustered than if the duel was an everyday thing.

Roose stood between them, his cassock fluttering slightly in the late-summer wind. “Are you ready?” he said.

“Yes,” Jenna said simply, bending her knees slightly and adopting what Nym recognized to be some sort of dueling stance.

Nym’s roommate fidgeted a moment before speaking. “Um, Templar Roose?”

“Yes, Penny?”

“Are we allowed to use our Gifts?” Nym blinked. Penny hadn’t mentioned she had a Gift. It wasn’t exactly polite to talk about your Gift, as most people saw it as quite conceited, but Penny had already trampled over half a dozen conventions of politeness since they’d met. Nym’s eyes widened when she recalled that Penny had mentioned Gifts, to ask Nym about hers. She felt a brief rush of embarrassment when she realized that she had failed to ask her roommate if she had her own Gift – well, that, or Penny hadn’t given her a chance before leaping into another question.

Roose’s easy smile widened. “Of course, Penny - Dr. Harkin said full strength, right?”

With a slow nod, Penny took a deep breath. “Okay,” she finally said, squaring up to aim her Popstick. “I’m ready.”

“Alright,” Roose said, moving off to the side of the ring. “Three, two, one… Start!”

Immediately, Penny was Dashing to the side, popping off five quick shots from her rifle. Jenna had predicted this, though. At the same time Penny was taking the shots, Jenna was already closing the distance between them, weaving left and right to dodge the bullets. Her sword was extended in front of her, held with an expert grip that spoke of some kind of formal dueling experience.

A ball of fire burst into existence above Jenna, hurtling forward with a shrill whine. Penny countered by summoning her own orb of water in the air. Fire met water, and they exploded into steam. The ring was suddenly shrouded with the gas, and Nym squinted, trying to spot either of the girls through the haze. She frowned when she realized that the steam would only hurt Penny. She was using a rifle to Jenna’s saber, and it would be impossible to shoot with any accuracy through the steam. Her frown deepened when the steam began to clear. Jenna had found Penny, and she was going after her with quick, repeated strikes with her sword. Nym’s roommate was doing her best to block the strikes with the barrel of her rifle, but it was clear that Jenna was faster and more experienced – if they were using real weapons, Penny would have already been cut to ribbons. At the rate things were going, she’d would be overwhelmed in seconds.

Suddenly, Jenna yelped as if she’d been struck, stumbling to the side. Penny took this opportunity to scramble backwards, lining up a shot with her rifle that Jenna barely managed to avoid. Again, though, she yelled like she’d been hit, and she whirled, trying to find the source of whatever hidden attacks were coming. Of course, that meant she wasn’t looking at Penny, and Nym’s roommate fired of a pair of quick shots, both landing true, the second knocking Jenna’s saber from her hand. The Popstick she was using was much lower power than those used by soldiers or even farmers. It would still bruise if it hit you in a tender area, but it wouldn’t do any lasting damage.

“I yield,” Jenna cried, shaking her struck hand and wincing in clear pain. Penny was momentarily shocked before she collapsed to her knees, her Popstick falling to the ground as she rubbed at all the sore spots left by Jenna’s saber.

“And it’s over!” Roose called, clapping enthusiastically as he stepped between the two girls. “Very good show, you two. Penny, if you would dismiss your Gift?”

“Right,” Penny replied with shock, gingerly picking up her rifle from the ground. There was a soft sound of impact on one side of the ring, but Nym couldn’t identify where it came from. Jenna and Penny chatted enthusiastically as they returned their weapons to the cart. Some of the others had been bitter at their losses, but Jenna looked to be experienced enough at dueling that she didn’t take it personally.

After returning their weapons, the pair started towards Nym. She watched her roommate with a contemplative frown. How exactly had Penny won? She figured it must have something to do with the girl’s Gift, but, as far as she could tell, there was little more than random, sudden attacks on Jenna. Could she just make, perhaps, fists of air to strike out? That would be a powerful Gift, depending on how strong she could make the air.

As Penny and Jenna drew near, she was about to test her theory when suddenly there was a tall boy standing between them.

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“So, is your Gift limited to the number of objects or based on some location?” Cliff asked, staring down at the comparatively petite Penny.

“What?” the girl asked, stunned.

Cliff clicked his tongue. “If I had to guess,” he said, “it’s an area, right? You can freeze the momentum of objects passing through a specific plane, hmm? That’s why you didn’t freeze either of your last shot’s, I’d guess – you can’t while you’re using your Gift at another location. And then later, you can redirect that momentum – it must be any direction, right? Or else you wouldn’t have been able to hit Jenna-” He turned to the other girl. “Great fight, by the way, that was really something.”

Nym looked between Cliff and Penny with confusion. What was he talking about – momentum?

Penny looked, somehow, more shocked than Nym felt. “How did you-”

“Your first shots, you didn’t aim them at all,” Cliff said, shaking his hand in front of him, “Not that your aim was bad – you weren’t even looking. I had an itch that there was something to that – and then, when the first, ah, surprise hit Jenna, well, I noticed it was from the direction of where you started the fight.” He shrugged, sketching a line in the air with a finger. “But,” he continued, “not in the exact direction you’d first shot.” He shrugged. “From there I had the pieces. You shoot the bullets but halt their momentum in the air, wait for an opportunity. Boom, boom, boom, and there goes the saber, knocked from Jenna’s hand.” He said, sketching three more quick lines in the air. Belatedly, he turned to the taller girl, who looked less shocked and more amused. “No offense,” he added with a sheepish grin.

“None taken,” the tall girl said, looking between Cliff and Penny. “What do you say, Penny? How’d he do?”

“That’s-” Penny said haltingly, blinking at Cliff like she’d just seen a ghost, “exactly right.”

Cliff nodded, giddy with himself. He seemed to realize, suddenly, that all three girls were staring at him like he’d grown an extra eye. “Well – ah,” he started, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your celebration on your win, Penny, and – ah, better luck next time, Jenna, I guess.” He shrugged awkwardly before nodding once and turning to jog back to Thalos.

“You paused the bullets in the air,” Nym mumbled to herself, finally catching up. That explained the sudden attacks on Jenna.

“You think he heard our conversation?” Jenna asked, nodding cordially to Nym as the pair of girls stopped beside her.

“I doubt it,” Penny said, voice in awe, “he used different words, and – well, I tried to keep my voice quiet. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my Gift a secret, but I’d rather not advertise it.”

“Well,” Jenna replied, smirking towards Cliff and Thalos, “so much for that.” She turned to look at Nym. “How long would you say our fight was?”

Nym blinked at the sudden question, but quickly recovered. “Thirty seconds, forty-five, maybe?”

“He figured it out faster than I did when I first got it,” Penny complained, “and it’s my Gift!”

“Well, if he’s to be trusted, that’s his Gift,” Jenna said, “I thought he was joking or being arrogant, but now…”

Nym blinked, realizing she’d forgotten something. “Ah – congratulations by the way, Penny. You too, Jenna. It was a good fight!”

Penny shook her head aggressively. “No, I got lucky – next time, she’ll know what’s coming, and, well, you saw how much better she was at fighting without tricks.”

“If anyone got lucky, it’s me,” Jenna said, “If you’d used anything besides water to block my fireball, you could have kept your distance. Besides, I think you’re underestimating how hard it is to track movement in a fight – if your opponents always have to track where you’re shooting from and when, then, well, at the very least it’ll sap their focus.”

“Maybe,” Penny said, though she didn’t sound convinced.

“What about you, Nym?” Jenna asked.

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready for your fight? You haven’t sparred yet, right?”

Nym blinked. Watching Penny and listening to Cliff, she’d nearly forgotten that yes, soon she would be the one standing in the ring. The two girls’ fight had been nothing if not exciting, though, and she was more eager than she expected to get have her turn.

She smiled nervously. “I just hope I can match you two.”

***

The mesh glove of her PMT slipped easily onto Nym’s hand. She shuddered at the jolt of contact, that familiar yet bizarre feeling of her senses being extended. She’d always described her Gift as feeling like an extra limb, and the PMT felt almost the same way. There was something almost… artificial about it, though, a smoothness and separation from the rest of her magic. Her father had once compared it to lifting something with a pulley instead of with your own hands.

She clenched her fist around the impossibly fine chain mail that made up the glove. It seemed to contort to her hand as she did, fitting more snugly than when she’d slid it on. That was the biggest difference between her PMT and Penny’s Mark 4, the glove. Penny’s had larger, clunkier rings, and a pair of straps to stop the thing from shaking so much. Hers, on the other hand, was much more seamless with how it fit on her hand. It was a comfort thing, mostly, but if you’re fighting with your life on the line, a little more comfort can be all the difference in focus needed.

“What will it be, Nym?” Roose asked, gesturing broadly at the cart of weapons.

“Uh – a quarterstaff, please,” She replied. With a smile and a nod, he plucked a long, straight pole from the cart and handing it to Nym. She cradled the staff in her palm, stepping back to give it a few practice swings. It was lighter than the one she used to fight monsters, but that made sense – she wasn’t trying to crack the skull of her sparring partner.

She turned to glance at the girl. “And you, Loria?” Roose asked. Without a word, the girl grabbed a spear off the rack, like Nym giving the weapon a few practice swings and stabs. Nym swallowed. She knew that the tip of the spear was blunted, but still, Loira’s movements were looking particularly savage, so it was impossible not to be a little wary.

“It’s good, sir,” Loria said stiffly. Everything the girl did and said was stiff from Nym’s perspective. According to Jenna, who happened to be her roommate, she’d barely said half a dozen words when they met in their room for the first time. Though, looking at here here, Nym got the sense that she was not frigid, just formal.

“Okay, then. If you two are ready, make your way to the ring, and let’s get this thing started,” Roose said.

Taking a deep breath, Nym turned and was about to start walking when she heard a voice. “Wait,” Loria said, “Ah – Nym, right? Would that happen to be short for Nymia? Nymia Durand?”

Nym looked at the girl. “Yeah,” she said, “But why do you-”

“Then your father is Aramis Durand, correct?” Loria asked, smiling slightly, “I had heard the Puppetmaster’s daughter was about my age, but I wouldn’t have expected to share a class with her.” She nodded cordially and started to walk off.

Nym stared after the girl. “Wait,” she called, “How do you know my father?” He was a good Courier, she knew, and, if some of his grander boasts were to be believed, he was even famous in certain circles. But those circles were small and limited mostly to Couriers and those who associated with them. She certainly hadn’t expected to meet anyone who would recognize him – well, maybe among the staff, but not among the students.

When Loria looked back, her smile had turned into a grimace. “Our fathers have worked together before, I think.” Without further explanation, she turned back towards the ring and moved to one end. Nym watched the other girl for a moment before shaking her head. For now, she had to focus on the spar. Later, she could ask who Loria’s father was. Was he another courier? Or maybe the mayor of some city her father worked with? The owner of a business he’d contracted with? She shook her head again, clearing her mind of trivial questions. Her father had once told her that the person most likely to get killed was always thinking about the next battle, not the one she was in at the moment. She wouldn’t get killed here, obviously, but she would like to put up a fight.

She moved to her own end of the ring, taking deep breaths to balance her nerves. “Are you ready, Nym?” Roose asked.

A slight shiver ran down her spine, and she had to admit that she was probably more nervous than she should be. She had plenty of experience fighting monsters, of course, but much less fighting actual people. She occasionally sparred with her father or his friends, but they were so much stronger than her that it was closer to play fighting than anything real. Loria, though, was her classmate, someone she’d have to compete with for the next three years. And each spar had been more competitive than the last, so she expected Loria to be at least as good as Penny or Jenna. “I am,” she said.

Roose looked to the other girl. “Loria?”

She spoke without hesitation. “Yes.” She was staring at Nym with hard, level eyes.

“Alright then!” Roose said, “let’s get our last fight for the day started.” Nym took a deep breath. Her plan was simple, really. Take things slow, keep her distance and test Loria’s edges until she found her rhythm. She’d done it a million times with monsters – find a weakness, wait for an opening, and jump in. She fell into her practiced stance, holding her staff in front of her. “Ready? Three, two, one – Start!”

Before the sound of Roose’s voice had even died, five fireballs popped into existence over Loria’s head. The girl began sprinting towards Nym, and two of the balls of flame spun off in opposite arcs towards her. An instant passed as the shock of the sudden aggression washed over her. Five fireballs – that was – there was no way she could manage anything like that.

She blinked, and she was back in the fight. With an effort of will, she reached out with her PMT, growing a curved wall of ice to block the right fireball as she dodged the left. Already though, Loria had launched a third straight towards her, and it was all Nym could do to duck under it, rolling to the side. She hopped to her feet, trying to square up her stance, but before she could, pain exploded across her back, and she was sent sprawling forward. As she tried to scramble back up, something pressed into her chest.

She stared, wide-eyed, up at Loria, who was looking down at her with an even expression, the fifth fireball still hovering over her head, not even needed to thoroughly embarrass Nym in the fight.

“That’s it, then!” Roose called. Loria retracted the spear, and the fireball extinguished itself into empty air.

Loria was still staring down at her coldly. Nym felt herself flushing, embarrassment from the loss finally hitting her under the other girl’s penetrating stare. She forced herself to her feet, glancing herself over. The martial node in her PMT had prevented much of the damage, but the clay had torn some skin off her knees as she rolled around, and the fireball’s impact would keep her sore for a few days. She wasn’t really hurt, besides her ego.

“I’m not satisfied with that,” Loria said. Nym glared at the girl. Why was she taunting her? “Are you?”

They stared at each other for a moment, Nym searching Loria’s expression for any kind of bitterness. She was surprised to find none. “No,” Nym finally forced out, trying to press aside her pride and frustration, “I was-”

“You don’t have to explain,” Loria said, the barest hint of a smile lifting the edges of her mouth. She turned to their advisor. “Templar Roose, I’d like to have a rematch with Nym.”

Roose, who’d been walking towards them, suddenly looked awkward. “I’m not sure that’s such a-”

“I want it too,” Nym said, cutting him off. She looked towards Loria, and the girl nodded at her. She wasn’t sure why Loria wanted to give her another opportunity, but she wouldn’t waste it. She’d been stupid, expecting a spar with a person to go like a fight with a Skitterbug – one was an unintelligent, oversized beetle, and the other was Loria, who clearly knew what she was doing.

Roose looked at her, the awkwardness in his expression replaced with enthusiasm. “Are you sure, Nym?” he asked, “your injuries-”

“They’re fine, besides my pride,” Nym said, “please, sir.”

“Oh, well, I can’t say no to that!” Roose replied, grinning, “Only one more, though. It’s dinner after this, and I’m getting hungry!”

***

“Ready?” Roose called. There was a buzz from the rest of the class as Nym lined up her stance. They’d been as shocked as she was by Loria’s performance, she figured, and more than a few were looking at her with looks of pity. Penny, at least, gave her an encouraging smile, and Jenna nodded appreciatively. The rest, though, seemed to be anticipating another quick loss from Nym. Hopefully, she would prove them wrong.

“Three, two, one – Start!”

Immediately again, five fireballs manifested above Loria’s head as she took off running, but Nym was ready this time. Reaching out with her PMT, she drew a thin line of flame across the five balls, corrupting their integrity. They sputtered with loud pops as they burst like balloons. Loria slowed her dash to glance upward, and when she looked back at Nym, she was grinning.

The two girls met in the middle of the ring, spear clashing with quarterstaff in a series of loud cracks. Loria’s attacks were heavy and precise, but Nym was well-practiced with her staff, and she knocked the blows aside without much trouble. She dodged a stab to the left, knocked aside a downward slash, and parried a heavy strike with the spear’s haft. A new ball of flame suddenly popped into existence to her left, but Nym had expected something like this, and before the thing had even begun to move, it met a wall of ice. The ice shattered on impact, but the fireball was blocked. As this happened, Loria struck out with a particularly vicious stab, and Nym could do nothing but leap back and away. Despite her best effort, the spear still caught her on the side, and pain exploded across her ribs.

Wincing and taking a deep breath, she fell to one knee, planting a palm on the ground. She brought forth a fireball of her own, shooting it towards Loria who was coming towards her quickly. The attack hit nothing as the other girl easily slipped aside the flame. Tracking Loria’s movements, Nym said a silent prayer as she reached out with her Gift, her arm of energy pulsing through the ground until she found where she was looking for. It was much easier using her Gift through clay, and after an instant she reached her target. She hissed a breath as she commanded the clay to reach up, and grinned as a fist of earth wrapped itself around the other girl’s foot. Her celebration didn’t last though, as Loria almost immediately shattered the fist of clay with a quick swing of her spear.

Nym was on her feet again, breathing heavily from using so much magic so quickly. Loria was giving her no time to rest, though, and again the two traded blows with their weapons. This time, Loria hit her with two sudden fireballs, and though Nym managed to disrupt the first one with a burst of her own flame, the second slammed her in the shoulder, knocking her staff from her hand and sending her sprawling. Before she was even finished rolling, she summoned a wall of ice between her and the other girl. With a growl, she pulled her self to her feet, slamming her palm into the ice and sending her Gift rippling through. She didn’t aim at all, instead commanding the ice to lash out with a dozen angry fists.

The ice shattered, and Nym fell back, exhausted. On the other side of the wall, Loria was still standing, and a moment later, she had her spear pressed to Nym’s chest. Nym sighed. “I yield,” she said.

“Now that,” Loria said in a pained voice, “I’m satisfied with.” She winced, suddenly unbalanced as she stumbled to one knee. Dr. Harkin was next to her in an instant, frowning down at Loria with a concentrated expression.

“I don’t need any-” Loria started, slapping Dr. Harkin’s hand away.

“Quiet, brat,” the medic said. He turned to Nym. “I’m going to assume that wasn’t on purpose.”

“What?” Nym said, looking lower on Loria’s body. She gasped. Dark blood stains were spreading quickly along the girl’s gray outfit. “I – what happened?”

“It was a good attack, the one with the ice,” Loria said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to be quiet,” Dr. Harkin snapped. He pressed his hand – which, Nym now realized, was wearing a PMT – to Loria’s stomach, and a moment later she was breathing much easier. The grumpy doctor turned to Nym. “Your last attack left a few jagged chunks of ice in her torso. I’m not going to tell you not to use it, but don’t make a habit of injuring your sparring partners like this or you will be punished.”

Nym was staring wide-eyed at Loria’s bloody stomach. She hadn’t wanted to really hurt the girl. But she hadn’t really been thinking about anything beyond winning the spar. “I – I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey,” Loria said, sounding much calmer than Nym did, “It was a good attack. A good fight, really. I’m glad we had that rematch.”

Nym looked between the girl’s face and stomach. “I – ah-” She shook her head, pausing to think. She had lost again, yes, and even hurt Loria, but, honestly, she felt good. That was the hardest she’d fought in a long time, maybe ever. “I am too.”

***

“Now, with that excitement out of the way,” Roose said, eyeing Nym and Loria, “we’ll call this the end of our combat orientation.” They were still huddled around the combat ring, and Nym’s eyes kept drifting to the little blood stain on the ground. Dr. Harkin had left after the last duel, dragging the cart of weapons back with him, muttering something about wasting his time. “Now, I’m sure some of you feel disappointed in yourself, especially seeing how talented some of your classmates are. But, I want to let you in on a little secret. Here – everyone, close your eyes.” Nym did as she was told. “That means you, too, Cliff.”

“But I didn’t-” Cliff started.

“Shut them, now,” Roose said. Cliff muttered something inaudible, but must have shut his eyes, because Roose continued. “Okay, I want you to raise your hand if you were disappointed with your performance in today’s fight – if you think that you could have done better.” Immediately, Nym put her hand up, and heard others’ hands move around her. “Okay,” Roose continued, “keep your hands up and open your eyes.” Nym looked around. Twelve hands were up, even Loria’s. “You might notice,” Roose said, “That every single person who fought today was disappointed with themselves somehow.” He let that hang in the air for a moment. “Alright, you can put your hands down.”

He stuck a finger up. “The first point of today’s lesson – and it was a lesson, even if you were just whacking each other with sticks and chucking fireballs – the point is, you will never be fully satisfied with how you perform, in a fight or in a spar. Sure, you’ll win sometimes, and you’ll lose sometimes. You’ll get stronger and stronger until what we saw today will only be a distant memory, but you will never be perfect. And that’s okay. Don’t be discouraged by your disappointment. Use it. It means you want to get better, you want to improve, and as students, that’s the best quality you can have.”

That was… surprisingly salient, coming from Roose, who’d hardly seemed anything but chipper since he’d introduced himself. Then again, the Academy wouldn’t have put him in charge of them if he didn’t have at least some wisdom.

“The second lesson is this – Loria, how long have you been training with your PMT?”

“Four years,” the girl answered immediately. Nym blinked. She’d gotten hers when she was 16, which was quite young, as she understood it, but she’d only really been training with it for a year, since she was 17.

“And how long have you been training to fight?”

Loria hesitated a bit longer before answering this one. “I’m – I’m sorry, sir, I can’t give you an exact amount of time, but it’s been as long as I can remember.”

A few mutters went around the class at that one. These answers from Loria, at least, massaged Nym’s pride a little bit. She hadn’t been training nearly as long as the other girl.

“And that’s our second lesson,” Roose said with a satisfied nod, “I’m sure some of you were lamenting your lack of talent compared to Loria or Nym, that they might be so blessed to be so good at fighting.” His voice gained a sudden seriousness. “Talent is nothing next to hard work. Loria has been training for many years to be as strong as she is, and I guarantee she won’t be satisfied until she’s trained for many more. You might look at them and see an insurmountable gap, one far too large to cross. But, I can tell you, thinking like that will not let you close the gap between you. The only thing that will is hard work.” He grinned again, and the levity returned to his voice. “With that, we’re done for the day. You have the night off, but find the auditorium tomorrow at mid-morning for the entrance ceremony.” He nodded. “Great work today, everyone. If you’ll excuse me, I owe Dr. Harkin a steak dinner and a drink for coming through today. Your dinner should be ready in the dorm’s dining room by the time you get back. Be sure to eat well, today was just a taste of what’s to come!”