“The boy is not well. Not stable.” Elena sighed.
“And you think to tell me this now.” Her husband replied with a shake of his head, his words booming off the stone walls of his cramped office. “After the die has been cast, the move played. Now after weeks of training, you get cold feet and realize he is defective?”
“I did not say he was defective.”
“What else am I to take from your words?” Dar pressed. “If you are so concerned, then speak plainly.”
“Mistress Elena is mistaken-”
ZEKE’s attempts to interject were shut down by a quick, snarled response from the Governor. “I did not give you leave to speak. You will speak when asked, or not at all.”
“Dar.” Elena chided her husband’s tone, though only just. His mood was bad enough without pressing him on his behavior toward Ezekiel. Instead she turned her attention to an incantation. The artificial lights in the rooms corners flickered as though flames caught in a gale wind, ambient reality and magic both twisting and distorting until the magic snapped back into place.
Her arcane workings had produced a nearly two foot wide orb of inken darkness. The orb swirled and shifted, then resolved itself into a monochrome depiction of the courtyard. One figure danced there, dark steel singing through preordained patterns. A lunging thrust toward the ankle that pivoted into vertical block, directly into a shoulder charge. A horizontal cut into a pommel strike and a brutal front kick before the momentum reversed for an upward slash. Alarion pummeled the empty air through half a dozen complicated routines, then reset to the center of the courtyard, and began anew.
“He has been at it for sixteen hours.” Elena explained. “The first two he spends with the Ordinates in remedial education. The next two are in the Void Arena where he subjects himself to whatever new poison, disease or arcane affliction Ezekial has dug up from the archive, because we have long since run out of the most obvious ones. Then another four hours of sparring with Ezekial or your equerry-”
“How well does he do?” Dar interjected without looking up from the mesmerizing routine of violence.
Elena glanced to ZEKE who seemed poised to respond. “Well enough. They still have to hold back, obviously, but my understanding is that he is making steady progress. Ezekiel would be able to expand on your question.”
Dar grunted in reply, gesturing to the arcane display. “And this is his evening? Working endlessly through repetition of the Rite, until what? He gets tired?”
“Until he is utterly exhausted. Or until he completes his quest.” Elena corrected. “The first few nights the goal was to correctly perform an error free first form, once. Then twice, then ten times. Most of those did not keep him up much later than dusk. Then he moved onto the second and so forth. He has been stuck on a full completion of the Rite for over a week now.”
“And that is your concern? That he has struck a plateau?” Dar asked, though one look at his wife’s face told him he’d missed the mark. “Then your concern is what? That he remains stubborn? Was it not you who told me this was his flaw?”
“No!” Elena protested. “But also yes. That single-mindedness rises above the level of a mere flaw. He willingly subjected himself to abuse to train his skill, that should be proof enough of my concern. But beyond that, there is an… emptiness to him, I do not know how to explain it. He has been here for six weeks, and I know him no better than when we arrived. He pursues his education with zeal I have never seen, but if you were to ask him, I am not sure he could tell you why. He is frightened at the idea of abandonment, and I worry he is driving himself to insane lengths to stave off that fear. There is something about him that is fundamentally broken and must be addressed before it festers.”
Dar sighed. Reluctantly he turned his attention to the Steelborn. “You disagree?”
Ezekiel said nothing.
This time the sigh was deeper. “You may speak.”
“Most gracious, my Lord governor.” The Steelborn replied without a hint of rebuke in his tone or posture. “I respectfully dissent from Mistress Elena’s views. The boy is not broken, he is a savant. A naturally gifted Awakened.”
“He has an aptitude of two hundred and thirty eight.” The governor replied dryly. “Did you think my wife somehow unaware of this fact?”
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“My apologies. I am being misunderstood.” Ezekiel replied diplomatically. “His aptitude is not the gift I am speaking of.”
“Will one of you speak plainly?”
“Again, Apologies. Consider how the boy was found.” Ezekiel proposed.
Dar thought back to a report he’d read weeks earlier. “He assaulted some scavengers.”
“He killed one of the scavengers.” The Steelborn corrected. “He was provoked by their entry into his territory, but even then not many are willing to jump so immediately to violence. I saw similar behavior when I confronted him on arrival. Or when he faced your wife’s fictitious dragon. He does not necessarily seek violence, but when it arrives he’s willing to escalate instantly in a way that would put even a seasoned soldier to shame.”
Dar glanced at Elena with a frown. “And you say that she is wrong? What you are describing sounds like a matter for serious concern.”
“It is only the most base level of it.” Ezekiel explained. “Consider how he took to the sword so readily. I have served the House of Hunger for centuries, and no pupil has ever adopted a weapon so quic-”
“His aptitude is absurdly high.” Dar cut in to remind him.
“Aptitude enhances retention of ability. It does not give innate ability. Alarion was able to strike two wounding blows on a foe far superior to him with a weapon he had barely learned to lift, let alone properly wield. Most would struggle to swing the weapon at all.”
The governor cocked his head. “I thought the dragon was tailored to the boy.”
“That is what we told him.” Elena replied. “Which it was, technically. But as his classes are a bottom tier survivor class, and an odd luck advancement, it drastically outclassed him in pure physicality.”
“It was supposed to dissuade him from adopting an improper style by proving far too difficult. Present him with a bad match up, then give him the solution we wanted him to take in the first place. Neither of us imagined him defeating it.” Ezekiel explained. “And it goes beyond pure physicality. He discovered an inventive method to use the weapon gifted to him by his questing power, and saw a Skill Circuit with his survival power that I had never even conceived of. He is gifted beyond his mere Aptitude.”
“So you think he is ill in the mind.” Dar gestured first to his wife, then to Ezekiel. “And you think he is gifted.”
“The two are not exclusive.” Ezekiel lifted a hand to forestall the governor’s clear irritation as he clarified. “Broadly, yes. There is some reflection of his trauma, I am sure, but I believe this is his nature. Those with very high Aptitude have a known penchant for... oddity.”
“Thank you for the clarification.” Dar’s tone conveyed anything but gratitude. “Wife, what would you suggest?”
“That we give him time. Mandate that he pause, catch his breath. Perhaps we could bring him under observation…” Elena trailed off as Ezekiel shook his head beside her. “Something you wish to add.”
“Your idea is flawed. He will n-”
“That metal skull of yours is flawed.” Elena shot back hastily. “He needs to recover.”
“And we have no time to let him.” Dar interjected before the argument could continue. “Even if your tactic was best, and I suspect your tin man seems to have a better sense of the boy than you do, we do not have the time to give him leave. I received word this morning that a Magistrate has been appointed, meaning that a Demand for Cause will not be far behind.”
Elena winced. “So soon?”
“We knew this would be a risk.” The governor replied with a conviction he did not feel. “Our timeline is measured in months, not a year or more as we might have hoped. We cannot afford to have the boy stand idle, even to his benefit.”
“We also cannot afford for him to burn out entirely.” Came her retort.
“If I may.” Two sets of angry eyes turned toward a metal man who pushed through his argument unperturbed. “A compromise. An opportunity to put my thesis to the test. Escalate his training, send him for a Subjugation.”
“Ezekiel.” Came Elena’s all too common refrain, her voice dripping with dismay.
“You realize he is of even less use dead.” Dar observed, reading the expressionless face before he added, “You intend to send Sierra to accompany him?”
“She can practice her stealth, and stay out of his way.” The Steelborn confirmed. “A social voice to keep him grounded and to warn him away from the truly dangerous parts of the isle. If he succeeds it will drastically move up our timetable. He is already on the cusp of a combat class, so an epiphany cannot be far away. Days of combat will save weeks of drilling, and he’ll arguably have more time to relax and reflect.”
“Between bouts of fighting for his life.” Elena scowled. She could already see the way the wind was blowing from a quick look at her husband’s face. Instead of fighting an inevitable decision, she bartered for a lesser loss. “Two weeks and five healing potions.”
“Three weeks and two potions.”
“Three potions, and an Escape Icon keyed to the manor.”
“Done. Though he keeps control of the Icon.” When Elena’s face showed a mark of confusion, Ezekiel quickly explained. “If you give it to Mistress Sierra, she is like to pull him out sooner than he would agree to.”
“How nice to see true compromise between those who are not responsible for the decision.” Dar quipped to the chagrin of both. “You are willing to bear the brunt of the blame if this plan of yours goes awry.”
Ezekiel regarded the Governor steadily for several moments, before he uttered a firm “Yes.”
“Then it is done. See the quartermaster for your needs.” Dar said with a dismissive wave. As the two turned to leave, the burly man added, “Machine.”
Ezekiel stopped, though he took longer than was fully proper to turn to address the Governor. “Yes?”
“My warning felt too vague. Allow me to be more clear.” Dar rose to his feet, looming over Ezekiel, even at a short distance. “If this plan of yours goes awry, you can expect to be dismantled.”
Ezekiel’s only outward reaction was a slight incline of the head, neither bow, nor nod. Mere acknowledgement.
“Just so. I would expect nothing less.”