By the end of class, Xander was sweating and shaking. He had, just barely, maintained jetflame for a full five seconds, which had gotten praise from Master Rokyn and then a command to try it again. And again. Until his ardor was completely drained, and then Xander had to cycle until he could try again. It was about as intensive a training regime as Xander’s Stone body and weak foundation could handle safely, and even though the motions involved hadn’t been demanding, his spirit was taxed and it was taking that toll out on his body. Dhomyn was similarly spent, a thin sheen of sweat covering the ogerblooded’s forehead.

With the intent to declare rivalry, Dhomyn had become less antagonistic for the rest of the class. His advice had been short and curt, but Xander was getting the impression that was just how he communicated with everyone. No more cutting remarks about how impulsive Xander was, no more needling.

Xander wiped a towel across his brow and offered a fresh one to Dhomyn. He took it and similarly dried his forehead. “We don’t need to do the rivalry,” Xander said, his voice low. “Master Rokyn wouldn’t count it as a loss of face for either of us if we changed our mind.”

Dhomyn shook his head. “I was wrong about one thing,” he admitted, a grudging note to his voice. “You’re not selfish. You’re not malicious. I don’t think you mean poorly.” Xander waited for the but, and it wasn’t long in coming. “But you’re still reckless, and you’re still foolish. You’re going to get someone killed or worse, Broken. Which is the same thing for us right now, just a question of how much humiliation happens first. I’ll count it as a blessing from the gods if you don’t tear anyone else down with you.”

Xander scowled. “You’re wrong about me. You haven’t even explained why you think I’m reckless. For the love of all the gods, at least give me that much.”

Dhomyn nodded. “You didn’t hesitate to take the pill.”

Xander gaped at him. “That’s it?”

Dhomy shrugged. “That’s it. Someone like you, someone who is just going to jump into that without even considering...what else will you do without considering? I now believe you’ll mean well, but that just makes it worse. Good intentions do not pave heavenly roads.”

“Can I at least explain why I did?”

“Wouldn’t matter.” Dhomyn threw the towel across the room, perfectly landing the wad of fabric in a bin for cleaning. “You didn’t think of it first. Whatever you reason it, it’s a retroactive one. I’m not interested in your revisionist history.”

Xander sighed. There was no more point to pushing this further. At this point, the best Xander could do was capitalize on the formal declaration of rivalry. He waved to Lilyn as he and Dhomyn left, trailing Master Rokyn, so she’d know where he’d gone and hopefully tell Anoki. While they walked, Xander let his mind work.

Sacred artists had, throughout history, formed rivals with others. Sometimes from other schools, sometimes within their own school, sometimes with a member of their clan or tribe and other times someone on the outside. They weren’t formal affairs back then. Just two people who hated each other and wanted to destroy the other one. It had been, in past times, considered a loss of face to not have a worthy rival. As if you were too weak to be worthy of someone’s time, or so pathetic only those below you would make you their rival.

The problem was, sometimes those rivals would reach the rank of Sage or higher, pushing each other constantly to avoid falling behind the other’s progression. And rivals would frequently battle. If Dhomyn and Xander had a duel, the absolute worst case scenario would be two dead Stone stage students. A loss, but nothing worth crying over. If two Sages dueled, the absolute worst case could be leagues upon leagues of land uninhabitable for generations. If two Sovereign stages dueled, nations could fall. Cities had burned in the wakes of rivalries.

So the Empire had banned cultivations from forming rivalries. Not directly, of course, no one could legislate away hatred, but by banning two people from ever duelling more than twice in the same year, enacting a complex legal system to address grievances between two individuals, and even forcing relocation if hatred between two people ran on for too long.

It had worked, in a sense. The legal system had been a blessing to the Empire, and that part was still in place today - although now it was mostly used by the weak if the strong sought to abuse them too harshly.

In another sense, it had been an abysmal failure.

Cultivators had progressed far less during the two centuries the ban was in place, and a sense of ennui had settled into sacred artists across the Empire. The problem was there had been nothing to replace the benefit of the rival - namely, that it gave you a constant, unending goal that was always within your reach. The goal of becoming the strongest in the Empire was often too distant to motivate. The goal of protecting family or land or people could work - but many a sacred artist had failed just once, and that had broken their resolve. There were still people who could find non-rival motives to progress, of course, but far fewer of them reached the higher stages every year, and the Empire was left vulnerable to enemies from across the Inner Wilds or the Husks of the Outer Wilds.

So the solution had been, like everything in the Empire, to add bureaucracy into the proceedings. Now, rivalry was something that was formally declared, and paperwork defined the exact terms of the rivalry, including what could or could not be done.

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And the system had worked. Soon, rivalry stopped becoming a matter of hatred. A strong enough dislike became a reason to declare rivalry. Bakers would rival pastrymakers in the same town, even if they were good friends outside of business. Sacred artists started to progress, and since the system was extended to those outside the normal ranks of cultivators, the Empire as a whole had flourished from craftsmen taking advantage of the system.

The exact terms of a rivalry could vary. And within an Academy...Xander asked a question. “Master Rokyn, is there a standard rivalry agreement when it comes to students here?”

Master Rokyn’s eyes sparkled. “And if I told you there wasn’t, would you regret your decision?” He laughed, not waiting for an answer. “Yes, yes there is. Student rivalry here are a bit...archaic. We believe the old ways allow for the best advancement, for the most part. Rivals are allowed to duel with almost no limits, save for killing blows. Those are forbidden. In addition, rivals may not sabotage each other’s class work - we expect you to out perform each other through skill, not subterfuge. Any action that could lead to your rival becoming Broken or allowing their demon to take control of their body is strictly off limits. And finally, for reasons that will become clear later, neither of you is to call upon divine aid in defeating your rival. Ever.” Master Rokyn tapped his chin in thought. “I am going to insist that you both add to that a requirement that you do not cause permanent injury before the end of the Trials. That would be tantamount to a death blow with the time you have, after all.”

Xander nodded, and Dhomyn’s face remained set in the same determined expression he’d had before, so Xander could only assume he was fine with those terms or was slightly constipated. “And the victory conditions?”

“Ah, yes, of course.” Master Rokyn rubbed his hands together. “Well, should your rival die in the trials or by some means other than your hand, you will - of course - be the winner of that rivalry. Beyond that, if your rival reaches a stage of advancement above yours and holds it for a month before you reach it, then you have lost, if your best your rival in three consecutive duals, you have won, and if one or the other moves away so the rivalry cannot continue, then the one who remains is the winner - unless, of course, the move happens by assignment from the school or Imperial decree. And finally, of course, if you or the rival both decide to end the rivalry, or go one year without engaging in honorable combat, then the rivalry is declared null and void - unless, in the latter case, the lack of combat is due to one party's cowardice.”

So a fairly standard one between sacred artists. Xander didn’t ask about stakes. Those were standardized. For Stone, Steel, and Ivory, the loss of a rivalry resulted in one year of servitude to the victor, the loss of one years wages to the victor, or the completion of a quest or surrender of an item that would be of equivalent value - the victor’s choice. Above that it could get more creative and flexible, but since his rivalry with Dhomyn was starting in the lower ranks, Dhomyn would have to negotiate for a more creative forfeit if he won. Xander already knew he’d take the years wages if he won, and expected Dhomyn to do the same.

For some reason, most people did not want a rival to serve at their side for a year, seething with hatred.

Quests were only worth doing if you had something you wanted beyond your means, although they could be used to try to kill the rival one last time after their defeat, by giving them a dangerous and difficult task that was still technically allowed. Neither of them had much in the way of valuable objects right now, and by the time they did, Xander hoped that there was nothing he couldn’t risk losing.

From the gleam in Dhomyn’s eye, Xander had to question the assumption Dhomyn would take the wages. The other man had something in mind, and it looked like it would be unpleasant.

Then there was no more time to wonder. They were at the hall of records. Behind the desk sat a woman who looked somewhere between thirty and three hundred, her silver hair tied back in a bun, and a sour expression streaking every line of her face. “Ah, Alendra,” Master Rokyn said, leaving on the desk. “So lovely to see you today. You look like you are having a wonderful afternoon.”

“My youngest is getting married,” Alendra said, in a tone that made it sound like she was telling them she’d had porridge for breakfast, and it had been cold. “After six years, we finally found a proper spouse.”

“Splendid, splendid,” Master Rokyn said. “I’m sure you’re beside yourself with joy.”

“It’s one of the happiest days of my life.” Alendra sounded like she was reading off a particularly dull grocery list from three years ago. “What can I do for you, Rokyn?”

Just Rokyn, Xander noted. He bowed, and Dhomyn did the same. If she could use his first name, this was Master Alendra.

“These two fine, strapping young lads have decided to start a rivalry on their very first day in this august institution.”

“So you told them it was that or to stop being petty, and they chose to be even more petty?” Master Alendra asked.

“Oh, Alendra, you know me far too well. Is that husband of yours still dead?”

“For six years now, Rokyn.”

“And is six years an appropriately long mourning period?”

Master Alendra tapped the desk, signaling the students to rise. “If it’s you asking, Rokyn? No. I think I shall need another century, or until I meet a man who isn’t you.”

“Delightful,” Master Rokyn said. “Well, can you be a darling and get these two their paperwork?”

“I will absolutely not be a darling,” Master Alendra said, pulling the papers out of a filing drawer in her desk. “I’m doing this because it is my duty, Rokyn.”

“But of course.” Master Rokyn clapped Xander and Dhomyn on the backs. “Well, you two go ahead with this. I’ll be waiting outside, as I think I have antagonized dear Master Alendra quite enough for this hour. Once you’re done, I’ll show you to the mess hall. I look forward to seeing what heights you push each other to reach. Try not to maim each other, I’d hate to become cross with one of you.”

And with that, there was nothing to do but sign. Xander had, on the first day, found a rival.

If nothing else, it would make him look better to the other students. He hoped.