“As you’ve seen,” I say in a nonchalant tone as if I don’t notice their disbelief, “along with my casting abilities, I am very strong and durable. So much so that I can confidently say that without magical aide, no one in the Hall can match me in strength or speed.”

“How?” Marthe asks. “Are you even human?”

No. “Of course I am. This is simply a benefit of being married to a battle maniac with a pure physical affinity.”

“Pardon me, Lady Tome,” William says carefully, far more tense than usual. Poor guy can’t look me in the eye. “I recognize what a pure affinity is but I don’t understand how that explains your…display.”

“Willie, Willie, Willie.” That statement doesn’t make sense. A pure affinity explains everything. “How about you, Marthe? Do you know what a pure affinity is?”

“Are you calling me stupid?” She sneers. Someone isn’t cowled by my strength. Or at the very least, she is much better at hiding it. “A pure affinity allows someone to use an affinity without constructing a spell.”

“Just making sure you were paying attention in your initiate classes. As the lady said—”

“Who are you calling a lady?!”

I gape at her. Only Marthe would take that as an insult. “As the feral girl said, pure affinities allow someone to use magic without spells. They simply conjure events through pure willpower and imagination. That means anything the physical affinity can do, my wife can as well. Without a series of complicated variables and coefficients. Buffing, healing, magic farming—”

“Melding,” he says in awe. “She’s a—”

“Alright, we’re not discussing this anymore,” I say sharply. “What she can or cannot do is unimportant. All that matters is what I bring to this team. I only explained this much so you aren’t concerned that me throwing around Arthur’s giant was a gimmick of some sort.” I grin. “If you have any doubts, we can have a small spar ourselves.”

“There’s no need for you to fight again,” Alana says bitterly.

“Aw. I thought for sure you’d want to try me.”

She glares at me before turning her attention toward the house. “…is he going to be alright?”

“You worried about him?”

“He may be a pig but I don’t want him dead.”

“I didn’t kill him. That’d be illegal.” And more trouble than it’s worth.

She gives me a dubious look that says she doesn’t believe my law-abiding act. “I have a good idea what Marthe can do but I’d like to see your skills, William.”

“Yes…yes, of course.” William makes a valiant effort to recover from recent events. He removes his glasses, holding them with indecision until Bell pulls his pants leg. “Coo~”

He jumps before scratching his neck in embarrassment. “Oh. Hello?”

I feel an urge to roll my eyes. “Bell may be the size of a child but she is quite intelligent. Give them to her.”

He hesitantly hands the expensive tool to my imp before nervously straightening his shirt. “Combat is not my specialty. Please go easy on me.”

Alana’s bad mood softens and she gives him a friendly smile. “Do your best.”

“Yes, do your best,” I echo, trying not to feel bitter. Really, it’s just a smile. She’s being nice to him because he looks like a harsh word will break him in two. Besides, he’s not her type. He can’t be. She’s grown up around tough men and wants to fight monsters for a living. She couldn’t possibly be interested in someone with twigs for arms and pasty skin.

…could she?

[Would you like to know, Master Lou?]

No I would not, you little ball of temptation. I am not threatened by him. I refuse to be.

They take a dueling distance from one another. Alana draws her sword, holding it in that distinctive stance that points the blade behind her. “Ready?”

“One moment if you would.” His fingers move to push up his glasses before he realizes they aren’t there, his hand awkwardly falling to his side. “This won’t be much of a competition if we abide by the standard rules, of which there is no casting before the duel. I am embarrassed to admit that I am too slow at conjuring water to do so before losing a fight to anyone, let alone yourself.”

Too slow? A spell’s speed is determined by both the spell and the amount of mana used to power it. For my fire affinity, I can just use the variable for fire and a flame appears. If I want to make a larger flame, I can either use variables to describe the size or use a higher mana coefficient.

Conjuring water is a bit more complicated but if he’s so slow he needs to ask for a moment, he either doesn’t know the variables for the amount he wants or has a small coefficient that makes him leery about throwing his power behind it.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

Honestly, this tells me everything I need to know about his combat ability but Alana graciously allows it. “Fair enough. Go ahead.”

“I am obliged.” William closes his eyes as he concentrates. Saints. That’s a terrible habit. How does he expect to win a fight if he has to close his eyes every time he uses a spell?

“Coo!” Bell scales my body and settles on my shoulders, little hands in my hair. [You are too unkind, Master Lou. They are initiates, babes amongst casters. They can hardly be expected to be competent. The pirate boy is an exception, having already experienced years of combat. Your sun is inexperienced but has been training for far longer. William is what I would expect of the average initiate.]

Really?

[You often forget how unusual your circumstances are.]

I suppose. After my rebirth, the first being I contended with was Kierra. Being chased around day after day by that crazy woman did not make me feel powerful. Besides her, I spend my days with Geneva, whose knowledge makes me question my intelligence, and Bell, who can easily rival the kingdom’s strongest casters. My benchmarks for measuring strength are extremely skewed.

All I can think as I watch a ball of water slowly forming in front of him is how vulnerable he is. It’s hard to remember that he is only at the beginning of his life as a caster. He’s further ahead than most having been accepted into the Hall.

Saints, he’s got an advantage over most of the kingdom who either don’t have the talent or the resources to be a caster. In any of the small villages that dot the countryside, they’d marvel at the spell I’m mentally deriding with wide eyes and treat him like the highest of nobility.

After five minutes, the ball of water is as wide as his chest. William sighs deeply. “I am prepared now, Lady James.”

“It’s Alana.” Her body tenses. “On your mark, Lou.”

“If both fighters are ready…begin!”

To my surprise, Alana doesn’t start with her usual blinding tactic, or any other spell. She simply runs toward him in a straight line. The reason comes to me quickly. It’s the same reason I didn’t jump into Arthur’s cloud of dirt. This is supposed to be a demonstration of what he can do. There’s no point if he loses immediately.

I’m relieved that William doesn’t close his eyes as he casts his next spell. The ball of water in front of him trembles as three fist-sized balls globules separate from the whole. I watch as they slowly condense, shrinking to half their size. Excellent control. But it’s slow, far too slow. He might not notice but I can tell Alana slows down to give him more time to complete his spell.

My opinion of William’s ability changes when he launches his first attack. The small ball of water moves through the air at a speed that is impressive given his previous display. I see Alana’s eyes widen as she quickly sidesteps the attack, speeding up her charge.

William throws the other two balls of water, launching the second a moment after the first. Alana dodges the first but has to block the second with her arm. She winces as her limb is pushed back and her eyes narrow. Oh, she’s not underestimating him anymore.

And William is not the slouch I thought he was. He uses the moment Alana hesitates to mold the rest of the water into a crescent shape. A lumpy one. He doesn’t have the time to mold it properly before she is on him and he’s forced to release it.

The wave is just as fast as his little balls but Alana’s prepared. In an amazing display of flexibility, Alana bends over nearly backward to dodge the wave of water aimed for her chest. She turns to keep her momentum, continuing her dash without a pause. Her sword snaps out, stopping right against his neck. A drop of blood wells from the shallow cut.

He swallows and slowly raises his hands. “I surrender.”

“Mm.” She pulls back her sword, running the edge over her pants to clean off the small drops of blood on it. “Your spells are basic but they’re good,” she compliments as she sheathes the blade. “You’re right, though. Fighting isn’t your specialty.”

He chuckles self-depreciatingly as they walk toward us. “Few water casters outside of Graywatch dream of fighting monsters.”

“Then what is your dream?” I ask. Maybe a touch harshly from the way he ducks his head.

“Eh-hem. I want to be a sculptor.”

“…with the water affinity?” I could understand if he were an earth caster but…

“I know what you’re thinking. My brothers looked at me the same way. It is a bit untraditional but sculpting with the water affinity allows me to use more mediums than stone. Certain alchemical liquids can ‘cut’ better than saws or chisels, working just as well on stone as they do wood or even gems. Not to mention the potential of ice sculptures. Truly, a marvelous field though it requires the cooperation of a fire caster or an artifact capable of controlling temperature.”

His eyes are shining as he rambles on about his passion, more energetic than I’ve ever seen him. He reminds me of my gardener and the tiny resentment I’ve been nurturing disappears. How can anyone hate that excited smile? “You’ll have to show me your work. The house could use a few more decorations.” The only ones we have are Gajin’s bouquets and Kierra’s skulls.

“Of course! I can only work on small pieces with the lack of space in our dorms but recently I’ve been—”

“Talk about your date later,” Alana snaps. “We should talk strategy.”

I try to catch her eyes as she heads for the table but she turns her head. Your voice sounded a bit frosty, my friend. Almost like me when I thought you were being too friendly. Don’t like the idea of me spending any alone time with a boy?

Saints bless with me with patience, why does she insist on playing this game? “Bell, give Willie his frames and drag Arthur over here.”

Alana tries to take the end seat but I counter her strategy by grabbing it and placing it next to another chair. She glares at me but sits down in the new position, side-eyeing me as I take place beside her.

“To be clear,” I whisper. “He could make a work of art beautiful enough to make the saints shed golden tears from the heavens and I still wouldn’t be interested in him.”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t. I’m simply making a little conversation. More random conversation, do you want to go shopping with me?”

She blinks, finally turning toward me. “What?”

“I’m going to assume you aren’t one for nighties? What do you usually sleep in?”

“I—” She pauses, her face flushing.

I really want to know what she was going to say but there’s no chance of that. “You’re not going to disrespect our beautiful bed by climbing into it wearing the same clothes you swing a sword in. So, shopping? On my purse.”

“As if. You’re trying to get me into something shameful.”

“Always, but don’t worry. The choice is yours. I’ll just be there to throw away my money.” I scoff at her disbelieving look. “I’m trying to get you into bed, not drive you away. Is it so wrong that I don’t want to turn over and rub against an oversized, rough, linen shirt? It’s a perfectly innocent request.”

“Nothing is innocent with you.” She sighs. “But I suppose this is relatively harmless. Besides, there’s other things I need.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I…” She gives me an indecipherable look. “I was thinking I might spend the gap months until our acolyte year back home. At Fort Victory.”

I suck in a sharp breath but before I can respond, Marthe smoothly interrupts. "Are we done here?"