"Archibald Vanderbilt?" A tournament aide called.
Archie rose immediately and straightened his uniform. "Yes."
He grabbed the Jacob Caibo's arm to get his attention. "Tell her I say congratulations."
"Will do. Good luck," Jacob said.
Archie waved acknowledgement and followed the tournament aide towards his Prep Room. Quite unfortunate to not be able to congratulate Camilla in person, and even more saddening that she was not there to wish him luck. A few people he knew vaguely called out encouragement to him, which he acknowledged absently.
His opponent was the 27th seed. A girl named Isabella Schwarz. She'd shown some affinity for Production projectiles in her first match, much like many of the other middling seeds, but she was a magical nobody from a nothing family.
That's quite enough of that. Archie thought. You're beginning to sound like that Grace Lin.
Worse than that, he was beginning to sound like his father.
Archie straightened unconsciously as the tournament aide led him through the twisting corridors below the stadium. His armpits were sweating through his antiperspirant and cologne. He hated when he got nervous like this. Maybe it was a blessing that Camilla hadn't been there to see him off. Didn't want her thinking he smelled.
His father had called him this morning, out of the blue, and yet what he had said was totally expected.
"Archibald?"
"Yes?"
"Your mother and I will be watching your match later today. I hope you won't let us down."
"Yes. I won't."
"Good. Good luck."
Click.
That little 'good luck' at the end. Just so he could pretend he'd been cordial, caring. More for Archie's mother than for Archie himself.
Archie didn't let it get to him. For every ounce he despised his father, he still took the man's money, still lived in his house, used his name, his reputation. He knew what he was: a spoiled rich boy who had a bad relationship with his father. He couldn't complain about his situation. Just like he couldn't let himself talk down on others, sneer at them, like Grace was sometimes wont to do. That was why dignity was so important. Pride too.
But not the pride of the arrogant, no, the pride of the chivalrous. Living by a code of conduct. That had kept him in line, keep him from abusing his inherited station and power. In this day and age, living by a code of conduct, being prideful, chivalrous, actively trying to have dignity, would all seem absurd to others, perhaps even obnoxious.
Verily, he had never mentioned it to Jacob or McGinnis, yet they were not him, and he not them. They simply would not understand that when you had money, power, influence, absurd amounts of it, you couldn't live like everyone else, pretend you were like everyone else. You had to behave somewhat absurdly in order to bear the absurd weight of responsibility those things brought upon you without turning arrogant and abusive.
Archie ran a hand over his face and tried to quell the thoughts and clear his mind. No point getting into that circle of logic now.
They reached the Prep Room and Archie strode in.
"You have fifteen minutes. Then I will knock and call you for your match," the tournament aide said. "Would you like to request a Pre-Match Advisor?"
"No, thank you," Archie said.
The tournament aide closed the door. Archie sat down, clasped his hands in front of him and took a deep, calming breath. He visualized the things that motivated him.
Camilla. She was the reason he did so much. Any man would be attracted by her beauty, her magical strength, her smile, and he was as well, but to him it was more than that, something he couldn't quite break down into components. The strength of her will, her determination. The fact that she lived—as he did—beneath the shadow of her family, and yet somehow found the strength to live with a fire—such a fire that he had admired and tried to emulate for years. That silent connection, that she lived with the same anguish he did.
Archie knew Jacob Caibo liked her, but his was a boyish thing. An infatuation with the pretty girl next door. Winning would show her he was strong, capable, decisive, could fight. Everything a man should be. Winning would take him one step closer to marrying her. She'd turned him down once last summer when he'd asked her at the seasonal magical society gala i and he had acquiesced and given her space, realizing that perhaps sixteen was indeed too young despite the fact they'd known each other for almost ten years, but he wouldn't give up as easily as that. Not on the love of his life.
His father. His family. Anger flared in him, a hot iron stirring up smouldering coals. He pushed it down. Anger brings about nothing grand or beautiful. He would make his family proud. His mother. His father. His uncles and aunts and cousins and everyone who bore the name Vanderbilt, alive or dead, all the way back to ol' Cornelius, the Commodore. His family was a weight, but it was weight that broadened your shoulders, strengthened your body and mind. Any dignified man knew that.
The prestige. Who didn't want to win the Tisdale Tournament? Who didn't want to hear the crowd roar, feel the eyes of the magical world, as they took their brief moment upon the stage, here and gone again before you could blink? Only the once. Only the single year and then you would look back on it for the rest of your life. He'd waited his whole life for this. What dignity was there in defeat?
He ran through his gameplan several times and then spent a few minutes meditating and clearing his mind.
A knock at the door.
"Mr Vanderbilt? It's time."
----------------------------------------
"Congratulations. Archie also says congratulations," Jacob said as Camilla came back to her seat.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
It was just the two of them in the row. Blake had disappeared to the washroom and Grace was getting food. A part of Jacob wished Camilla would sit a couple seats down from him. Another part wanted her to sit right next to him.
"I'll have to thank him," Camilla said. She moseyed over and sat down right next to Jacob.
He tensed momentarily, a little surprised. You have to do it now. NOW!
"Camilla, about what happened after the thing with Tanaka..." He blurted. He pointedly looked at the arena floor. A tiny voice in his head still blustered that she had followed him without him knowing and had gotten involved, that he had already made an apology, but he knew it was better to do this now, get it out of the way before his match so it wasn't hanging over his head.
In his periphery he saw her turn to face him.
"I hadn't thought about your father, I'm sorry for that, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the night at the morgue. I should have trusted you. Can you forgive me?"
Camilla sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "Hmph. I just don't know why you would trust Tanaka and not me."
Jacob was surprised by the question. "I... I think I just didn't want to drag you into it. Get you in trouble."
He did look at her now. She was looking at him and didn't seem angry, though Jacob was starting to realize that Camilla wasn't always easy to read.
"You don't think I can handle myself?" Camilla said slowly.
Jacob sensed a cloaked dagger somewhere in those words, but instead of lying, which was his automatic response, he forced himself to tell the truth and damn the consequences. "Are you kidding? You're the strongest, best mage I know."
"Do you really mean that?"
Every time I see you fight I'm amazed. Every time you cast a spell you make it look so effortless I get ashamed of myself and wonder if I'll ever be even remotely competent. Every time I think of you it's of the future greatest mage to live. I can't fathom anyone being better than you. "Yes," he said lamely.
She must have read something in his eyes because she made a satisfied little noise and sat back. "Apology accepted."
Jacob breathed a silent sigh of relief. Then he took a gamble. "So, with regards to what I just said: If I win today will you train with me this week?"
Camilla giggled for some reason. It was a weird sound coming from her. "Of course, moron."
Blake stumbled back into the row, followed quickly by Grace, who held two bags of popcorn.
"What's up?" Blake said.
"Nothing," Jacob said.
Grace peered at them. "Nothing, huh?"
"Grace Lin you should not be eating before your match," Camilla said.
"Can't help it," Grace shrugged.
"Popcorn's not that bad," Blake said.
"...From Manhattan, New York, it's Archibald Vanderbilt."
"Shit!" Blake threw himself into his seat. "It's Archie's match."
Archie strode out onto the arena, waved to the stands, and took a deep bow.
"From Tijuana, Mexico, it's Isabella Schwarz!"
A stout girl with olive coloured skin and curly black hair down to her shoulders marched defiantly out onto the arena.
"Contestants, get ready."
A cool wind blew across the clay and into the stands as the two contestants stared each other down and the crowd held its breath. Jacob wondered what Archie's strategy would be. He was a strong Decomp mage, but had used Production in the first round.
"Start!"
Isabella took off to the side, following the curve of the boundary line around. She hurled her hands out to the sides. Two projectiles curled out of them. They looked like translucent boomerangs the size of Jacob's arm. They spun out, glinting in the sunlight, then curved towards Archie from either side.
"What are those?" Jacob asked Camilla.
"Advanced type of forceward. Nothing special."
Jacob grunted.
Immediately after releasing her boomerangs Isabella raised her fist into the air. Light poured down around it, encasing her fist like armour. She punched, and a fist shaped projectile shot at Archie.
Up to this point Archie had been crouched in a slight stance, not a whisper of magic emanating from him. Jacob wondered if he was paralyzed from anxiety or something, but the big boy looked completely unfazed.
Decomposition exploded out of Archie. A ring of clay lifted up out of the ground, ten feet into the air. Isabella's boomerang projectiles smacked into the clay and shattered. The glowing fist cratered the walls, cracking the hardened clay.
Silence.
Isabella blossomed with Production magic, holding her fist back, ready to cast again, circling the ring wall. Archie had disappeared from sight, encircled by clay. From the seats, Jacob could see over the edge of the ring of clay, but couldn't see far enough down to see Archie.
Isabella lanced another golden fist at the wall. At that exact moment the walls of the ring expanded outwards in all directions, rushing out like a ripple in a lake's surface. Isabella's golden fist shattered into the oncoming wall, cracking it but not breaking it.
On the other side of the expanding ring-wall, Archie was squatting low, and moving. A low wave of clay rippled forward, and he rode it like surfboard, keeping pace with the rushing ring-wall.
Jacob bolted straight. "I didn't even feel that second spell."
Camilla grinned. "He covered it with the identical spell pushing the walls out."
Jacob realized something else. "Isabella can't see him approach."
The rushing ten foot wall stood between her and Archie's land surfing.
Isabella ran forward and jumped, she threw her hands down and blasted what to Jacob felt like slightly different forcewards down into the ground, boosting her up into the air. She sailed over the ten foot wall.
Right into Archie's path.
Archie raised his hand and his surfboard of clay rose up into a diagonal pillar, an earthen finger reaching out for Isabella, with Archie crouched astride its tip. Isabella started to cast something, but Archie threw his arm out to the side and brought it forward in a wrestling lariat and clocked Isabella across the torso.
She went spinning end over end and landed hard on the ground, rolled once, and lay still. There was a moment of silence as the judges waited for Isabella to move. When she didn't, the announcer called out:
"Schwarz is out cold! Vanderbilt wins."
The crowd roared.
"Wow!" Blake said. "That was better than Tanaka."
Archie's pillar of earth lowered him to the ground smoothly, and he stepped off as if he were coming to the bottom of a stairwell. He strode over to where Isabella was and knelt down beside her. A few moments later she stirred and he helped her to her feet and raised her hand in his and bowed to the crowd. The applause renewed.
"Ever the gentleman," Grace snorted, feigning a British accent.
"Grace Lin?" Another tournament aide. It felt like their group was half the fights today.
"Oh shit, yes! That's me!" Grace said. She turned to them. "Wish me luck!"
"Good luck!"
She disappeared. A moment later Archie came up. His chiseled features were neutral, not a single crease or line marring his face. His posture was perfect as always.
"Whoa dude!" Blake said. "What the hell was that?"
"Good job Archie," Camilla said.
Archie smiled faintly. "Thank you all."
He took his seat next to Jacob. To look at the guy you would think he had just got back from the bathroom.
"That was pretty crazy, man. I see why you're skipping class now," Jacob jabbed.
Archie grunted. "Quite the waste of time to go if you already know what they're teaching. Might as well put your hours to good use. This is the most important part of this term."
"You think?"
"I know. It's the only combat. The practical exams at the end of the term will have 'functional casting under pressure' but as you yourself have said, Jacob, nothing compares to the real thing."
"True."
"I look forward to fighting you next round, should you win today," Archie said.
Jacob tensed. "Me too," he managed. He hadn't even been thinking about having to fight Archie. Don't start now. Focus on Wilkins.
The next fight was Tobi Yengue at 22nd seed against the 10th seed Xavier Hudson who had been absent from MW Club the past week. Camilla vanished before the match, called down by Grace. After Grace's match there was two people he didn't know, and then it was him.
Jacob felt oddly calm as he watched Tobi get pinned in by a rapid fire blast of wards from Xavier. Maybe it was Archie rubbing off on him, or maybe it was that he wasn't as nervous anymore after Altman. He could fight. He could win. He could take control of his life.
Tobi lost, which was to be expected against someone as strong as Xavier. Xavier was ranked directly above Jacob, but Jacob didn't think he would stand a chance against him.
Next up it was Grace.