“Eighteen!”

With a smooth, almost mechanical motion, Eleanor pushed herself back up until her arms reached full extension.

Hands planted slightly wider than her shoulders, body held straight from her head to her heels—almost like she had a broom handle stuffed down the back of her tunic. Then, before the next number had even been called, Eleanor was dipping back down until her chest grazed the turf, where she waited.

For an exercise she’d only been made aware of less than a minute ago, she thought she wasn’t doing too poorly, all things considered. In fact, after a quick glance at her wobbly-armed group mates, she seemed to be doing a great deal better than most.

The girls who’d, not so subtly, mocked her while their assessor patiently explained the technique, were having an especially hard time of it—red-faced and sweating after only thirty or so seconds.

Not counting the constant up and down motion, the ‘form,’ as they’d called it, wasn’t too dissimilar from how she might go about polishing the floors of the convent’s chapel. Back then, she’d been able to maintain her form for hours at a time, and this exercise notably lacked the leg pumping component entirely.

As it was, she honestly felt like she could keep on going for a while yet, and so was suitably dismayed when the count abruptly stopped at twenty. Given the fact that many of her group mates hadn’t even made it that far, instead collapsing in a heap well before the late teens, it was clear that her dismay was not a widely shared emotion.

Perhaps sensing her disappointment, the assessor immediately asked if she wished to keep on going. To “Show these gentle ladies how the road to knighthood is actually paved,” as she’d put it. Eleanor was eager to agree.

In the end, much to the slack jawed astonishment of, not only her infamously stone faced assessor, but many of the surrounding groups’ as well, Eleanor’s rapid count rounded down to one-hundred and fifty-eight consecutive pushups. Plus a dozen or so extra, near the end there, but her form had been so atrocious that she didn’t think them worth counting.

Having found what she’d call her own limits, and then having blasted right on past them, Eleanor was practically aglow with good cheer. And so was Y. Jun, apparently, since it looked like he couldn’t have stopped applauding even if he’d wanted to.

Eleanor never noticed the spite filled glares her group mates aimed in her direction, nor the silent conversation held between red-faced aristocrats, and their undoubtedly high grade familiars…

***

And thus began an almost comical routine, in which her increasingly animated assessor would set Eleanor improbable tasks, only to have her soar right over even the woman’s wildest estimations, to the express incredulity of all those watching—a not inconsiderable audience by that point.

She ran laps around the arena, tested her balance, agility, and even ran a few circuits of the obstacle course while assessors made to pelt her from the sides with weighted exercise balls. The physical assessment became so extreme at some points, that she might’ve even thought it a punishment of some kind, were it not for the look of evident pride brightening her assessor’s normally stoic demeanor.

Meanwhile her group mates, though they tried their best to keep up, couldn’t help but fall behind Eleanor’s seemingly inexhaustible levels of stamina. Although, Eleanor thought to herself, if they actually knew just what she’d done to achieve these levels of physical fortitude, maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to envy her. More than once she contemplated explaining to them her circumstances, but the glares she always got when she turned their way inevitably stayed her hand.

Eventually, after every metric had been tested, and Eleanor was thoroughly spent, a grinning assessor led them toward where they’d take the final portion of the exam.

***

“While it’s true that mental and physical fortitude make up the basic requirements of any prospective squire, let it not be forgotten that martial ability ranks highest among any competent vanguard’s diverse range of abilities. That said, we will now be testing your combat potential in a relatively controlled environment.”

There was a general murmur of excitement at this.

“Unlike in the previous tests, you will be allowed to leverage any bonded familiars to your advantage, should you have them.”

Again, there were excited whispers exchanged, coming primarily from the holders this time.

“As they are likely to be a fairly large component of your power base, it only makes sense that they’d also play a role in your assessment. Remember, base line competence is all well and good, but we are training you to save lives, not win ribbons at competitions. If you have a significant advantage over others, best use it in service of the greater good, rather than squander your gifts in the pursuit of fairness.”

Going by the smug expressions on the few holders present, it was clear that her last statement did not particularly need stressing.

“Now, line up. First in line, take the stairs down to the arena floor where you’ll find an assorted weapon rack. Take your pick of the selection and ready yourself as best you can.”

With everyone but Eleanor jumping to obey, it was likely inevitable there’d be a brief scuffle between hopefuls—after which a few of the quicker girls were sent sulking back to the end of the line, while the three familiar holders stood primly at the head of the cue. Sticking towards the back of the line herself, Eleanor tried to express her sympathies for those so violently rebuffed—she even thought she saw the beginnings of a black eye on one—only to receive mean glares in return.

Looking towards the assessor, in hopes she might reprimand the three holders in some way, she only found a passive look of disinterest. Though, then again, should she have reprimanded them in the first place? Perhaps this was already a part of the test, Eleanor realized. After all, if they hadn’t been strong enough to keep it, they shouldn’t have snagged the first spots in line.

In any event, it wasn’t long before the first in line, the slender girl with the Python familiar, stepped down onto the sandy arena proper. Without even glancing at the long rack of weapons built into the arena wall, the girl spoke confidently.

“I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?” asked the assessor.

“What kind of question is that? Shall I repeat myself?”

“Understood. Preferred challenge level?”

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“Extreme.”

There was an audible intake of breath at this, as everyone but the assessor, the other holders, and Eleanor looked aghast. Eleanor because she didn’t know what was happening, and the others… well, she didn’t rightly know. One of the holders, the one with the feline familiar, chuckled darkly to herself.

“Understood.”

And with that, the assessor nodded toward a number of waiting attendant’s, who then ran along the round promenade to one of several large capstan’s—massive wheels laid crosswise, with spokes poking out far enough to allow multiple people to push against, in turn rotate the wheel, and operate the suitably sized pulley system beneath. Heavy chain links clanked together and there was an audible groan of timber, before one of several portcullis’s lining the inner walls of the arena, began to rise.

And—once the portcullis had risen high enough—out from the impenetrable depths of the tunnel beyond, emerged a rift spawn of truly ridiculous scale. It was also one that she recognized. As if she’d read it yesterday, the excerpt she’d memorized on this very rift spawn flashed through her mind.

[Zephyrstag (Peak D Grade)] — This six-eyed demonic elk variant is a creature of wind, strength, and physical mobility. If allowed to reach adulthood, it has been known to grow up to six feet at the shoulders, and a full ten and a half should one include their massive antlers. Possessed of the ability to unleash razor-sharp wind blades from the currents perpetually dancing about its antlers, without a shadow of a doubt this is a creature that truly earns its designation as the very best the D grade has to offer.

Rapidly inflating its chest, the Zephyrstag raised its head and let out a truly bone chilling cry. One which resonated up through the soles of her feet and had every hair on Eleanor’s arms standing up on end. Barely seeming fazed by the display, the distant figure below didn’t even wait for the beast to finish, before she gestured with one hand, summoning dozens of beads of water to hover around her.

Then, with another more forceful gesture, she sent the floating beads shooting forwards at impossible speeds. There and then gone, it took barely a second for them to cross the distance and impact the massive stag. Instead of splashing off harmlessly as she’d been expecting, however, the water beads neatly punctured the massive rift spawn. Piercing it through in several places and creating tiny holes that soon welled up with blood.

Staggering, the Zephyrstag cut itself off with a hoarse cry. With a shake of its antlers Eleanor first mistook for another sign of its disorientation, several nearly invisible blades shot forward at comparable speeds to the shooting beads of water.

Before they could connect however, a wall of water appeared, as if from thin air, to absorb the wind blades before they’d even come close to their target. Then, without even dismissing the wall of water, more beads appeared—rocketing forward almost as soon as they were summoned, the liquid defenses anything but an impediment to their path.

The fight more or less continued like this, brutal and one sided, as the holder slowly punctured the majestic stag to death. There was a single close call, wherein, with a sudden burst of winds, the stag launched itself forward in a last-ditch attempt to close the distance.

But, with the advent of a shifting wave of water, the girl was able to rapidly reposition herself while never ceasing in her defenses, or her attacks. Peppering the rift spawn the entire while, until all the fight had gone out of it.

All in all, the fight took less than two minutes.

“I wonder…? Can I learn to do something like that?” Eleanor asked in hushed tones of awe.

“Don’t ask me,” was R. Jun’s flippant response—legs kicked up on the seat in front of him, a long splinter of all things held between his teeth. “If you’ll recall, I’m not even from here.”

“Well, obviously but… hold on, wait a minute…!” in a moment of clarity, Eleanor brought her palm to her face—suddenly feeling like the stupidest girl in the world. “Of course! How do I keep forgetting that you’re also rift born? Or? At least part rift spawn? That means you should have an aspect, right? How has it never occurred to me to ask until now?!”

“It does sound like a pretty major oversight on your part.”

Eleanor paused, waiting for him to continue or otherwise elaborate.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Your aspect! Tell me! What is it?”

“Not when you ask me like that I won't.”

“But-!”

“Unfortunately, it would seem my lips have been sealed.”

Eleanor nearly growled with frustration. Where was the ever-helpful Y. Jun when she needed him? Actually, on second thought, he’d likely have been more obtuse, if anything. All the more frustrating for the simple fact that he wouldn’t have meant to be in the slightest. Eleanor sighed.

“Would you please show mercy on your humble master and let me know your aspect? Please?”

“Hmm… That’s somewhat better,” R. Jun replied. “I’m thinking of calling it the bladed aspect.”

“The aspect that brings people together!” Y. Jun chimed in.

“The weapon aspect would make the most sense,” said G. Jun.

“Or better yet, the war aspect!” came S. Jun’s response, much to her surprise. “I’m telling you lads, when it really gets going, it’ll be fucking mental. Reckon the terrible two have been itching to wreak some bloody havoc, haven’t you boys?!”

“Does anyone else find it disturbing that he insists on talking to our hands like they’re people?” asked R. Jun, to which there was a general chorus of ascent.

Eleanor blinked.

“I- you know, I don’t exactly know what you thought I was supposed to get out of all that.”

“Just think of it like, whatever weapon you choose to use, we’ll help you use it… better,” said G. Jun.

“Ah. I see.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No! No, it sounds like a great aspect. Really, really amazing! Very… umm… versatile.”

“You think it’s weak, don’t you?”

“Of course not! I was just… you know… hoping for something a little more flashy?”

“Flashy…?”

“You know, sort of like fireballs and lightning storms! Oh! I heard from Mary that there was this one woman who could shoot beams of light from her eyes, so intense, that they were able to melt straight through stone! Can your aspect maybe do something like that?”

“Beams of- is she… is she taking the piss?”

“No, I’m afraid that is a fair bit outside of our wheelhouse,” replied G. Jun.

“Oh…” Eleanor tried to hide her disappointment. “But weapons! Sure, I mean, I haven’t been in any way trained or anything, but… Like I can attack things better or something? That sounds really cool too.”

“Can I hit her?” S. Jun asked. “I’m going to hit her.”

The now victorious holder had already retaken her seat in the stands, and, after the arena floor below had been sufficiently cleared, the next in line soon descended to take her place. Much to Eleanor’s delight, the bouts of the next two holders were similarly intense and equally one sided, if wildly differing in their approach.

Both having picked the extreme challenge difficulty, the two faced off against an Emberback Gorilla and SilentSpider Monarch respectively—each of them ranked as at the peak of D grade. Eleanor watched with rapt attention as both applied their familiar’s aspect to devastating effect. Whether that be through hypnotizing blade work, flickering swords wreathed in crimson flame, or massive earthen spikes that brutally impaled their foe from afar.

Before she knew it, the first three assessments were over, and all that remained were the other non-holders, as well as her own match to look forward to. None of the following matches were nearly as over the top as the first three, though Eleanor still found herself surprised again and again, by the sheer levels of competence on display.

If her performance in the physical assessment had made her feel like she was hot stuff, the combat assessment brought her down to size quick enough. It also had to be noted that no one else dared the extreme challenge difficulty. Instead turning to the hard difficulty—a choice few even picking novice.

And then, all at once, it was her turn to take the stage.