Awkward.
If he were forced to pick a word to describe the current atmosphere, awkward would have been it. With tense being a close second.
The team’s common room had already divided itself in two. Or perhaps, two and a half would be more apt, given that while his dwarven teammate had wasted no time in sidling up to him, his orcish one was hanging back a bit.
And across from the three of them sat the team’s two elves. Of dark and light complexion respectively, the two young noblewomen seemed united in their mutual distaste for both him and the two peasants they were apparently going to be forced to spend the next four years with.
“I realize that your standards for companionship are likely low, but must you encourage them like that?” the high elf finally grunted, blue eyes glaring at him contemptuously.
He cocked his head in genuine confusion. “Like what?”
“Letting them sit with you like that. As if they’re our equals. Standards need to be set.”
Before he could respond to that, he was actually beaten to the punch.
“We are your equals,” the dwarf said, her tone incredibly smug despite the fact that she could barely see over the rim of the table they were sitting at. “Even if you two and our green-skinned friend have yet to realize it.”
William didn’t miss the way the orc in question jumped a little at those words.
“You’re an upjumped merchant,” the high elf spat.
Her companion had still yet to say a word. She just… continued glaring. At him.
“Outside these walls, yes.” The dwarf shrugged. “But within them? I’m a Marine-Knight Cadet. The same as you.”
“We are not the same! I am a daughter of the-”
“No one cares. Well, no one except you. And I suppose some of the other stupider blue bloods.”
The elf stood up, her chair rocketing across the floor with the force of her movements. “I’ll not sit here and be called stupid by a-”
The sound of a thundercrack cut her off, making everyone but William jump as it echoed off the walls of their room.
Idly, he lowered a finger, the last words from his invoked contract still lingering on his lips. A little drastic, but he’d prefer to cut this high-school level drama off at the pass. Not least of all because most of the people present were or soon would be college aged.
Which admittedly, was its own brand of drama, but still ultimately preferable to what preceded it.
“Alright, I think that’s enough of that,” he said into the silence that followed his spell. “Like it or not, we’re stuck with each other for the next four years. Let’s try and make the most of it.”
Turning his gaze to the high elf, he tried his best to appear commiserating. “First of all, I’d like to apologize for my words in the auditorium. They were ill-thought and callous. I don’t know who you are. I don’t know your story. I shouldn’t have pretended I did in order to insult you.”
It was actually rather amusing how… wrong-footed the young woman looked by that. “I, uh, that is considerate of you to say.”
He noted that her word choice was specific. She didn’t accept his apology. Not yet. She wanted to, if only because that was the natural flow of the conversation. Peer pressure and all that. But her training as an aristocrat prevented it.
That training was also why she’d been so wrong-footed by his easy apology.
Because apologies held weight in noble circles. They were an admittance of wrong-doing. And rarely was that wrong-doing resolved with just words. No, by admitting wrong, he’d basically just tacitly offered her some kind of favour.
Which was fine. Not ideal, but fine. The first step toward reconciliation required someone actually take said step after all.
Was it right? Had his words actually been wrong?
Probably not, he thought.
But who cared? He was a grown ass man, not an insecure teenager.
He lowered his hand, giving everyone an easy practiced smile. “Ok, with that out of the way, how about we all introduce ourselves like we should have when we first sat down,” he said, doing his best to take control of the room. “Our standing friend first, because I can’t keep referring to you as ‘blondie’ in my mind.”
The young woman actually flushed a bit at that, even as she delicately righted her chair, glaring all around as if daring someone to comment. Something the dwarf looked about to do before he idly kicked her shin under the table. She in turn gave him an incredulous look, before pouting and remaining silent.
“Well, I suppose that the basics of civility can be observed,” she muttered. “As I was saying before I was interrupted, I am Olzenya of House Sumond. A… pleasure to meet you all.”
William smiled. “Good, it’s a pleasure to meet you Olzenya.”
The woman eyed him for a moment before nodding stiffly in acknowledgement, straightening the lapels of her vaguely Napoleonic era jacket as she sat back in her chair.
At which point the Dwarf spoke up, her gaze very much on him as she ostensibly addressed the entire room. “Well I’m Bonnlyn Mecant. Craftswoman and trader by nature, soldier by obligation.”
“Obligation?” The dark elf all but hissed, the first words she’d spoken since they’d met.
“Aye,” the Dwarf responded without even glancing the other woman’s way. “The family have wanted an ‘in’ into the noble market for a while now and me being born with magical potential was just the ticket they needed.”
“So you don’t want to be here?” The orc asked quietly, as if she couldn’t quite believe her words.
“I didn’t say that.” This time Bonnlyn actually took her gaze off him, her tone commiserating as she glanced at her fellow ‘peasant’. “This is a great opportunity to tap new markets. Me being here is the smart move and I intend to make the most out of it I can. I’m just saying that the art of poking other people full of holes isn’t exactly my true calling.”
Then her eyes flitted back to him. “Though if a certain someone wanted to poke my holes, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
William regarded her dryly. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Bonnlyn, though I hope you’re a better blacksmith than you are a seductress because that was awful.”
That actually made her laugh, even as the rest of the room regarded the redhead with varied levels of disdain. Even the orc seemed taken aback by the abruptly saucy comment.
“Oh, you’re fun,” she chuckled. “Maybe these next four years won’t quite be so bad after all.”
Well, that confirmed in his mind that her comment hadn’t been some hail-mary shot at getting into his pants. Or at least, it hadn’t just been that. Just as he was trying to get everyone else’s measure, it seemed she was too.
In her own way.
Turning his attention from Bonnlyn, he saw that for the first time since they’d walked in, the dark elf wasn’t glaring at him.
Sure, she was glaring at the dwarf now, but he’d take what he could get.
After a second or two though, the dark skinned woman seemed to realize it was her turn to talk. Idly wiping a stray white hair from her face, her silver pupils regarded the entire room before she spoke.
“Marline. Of House Greygrass,” she muttered, fingering the sleeves of her own darker variant of Olzenya’s outfit.
Though in doing so, it actually took William a few seconds to realize that was all she intended to say.
“Nice to meet you too Marline,” he said, reining in that moment or so of hesitation while making sure to regard her with a smile.
One she didn’t return, but he didn’t really expect her to at this point.
Which was fine. These were early days yet.
More to the point, as he turned to the last resident of the room, he was happy to see that no one had attempted to wrest control of the introductions back away from him.
Oh, Bonnlyn had made a token attempt by ‘interrupting’, but it was a perfunctory thing at best. And likely an entirely accidental byproduct of a boisterous personality. Something he’d easily stepped around by responding to her brazenness without being flustered.
Instead, he’d simply breezily moved onto the next person, thus guiding the tempo of the conversation.
It’s easier to take control of a room if no one realizes you’re doing it after all, he thought.
Which sounded like an act of complex Machiavellian social engineering, but was really just a matter of confidence. After all, most people were pretty hesitant to speak first in a group full of strangers. To that end they were usually quite happy for someone else to take the reins of those first tentative interactions.
Even if they never admitted it.
And by taking on that task, he’d already positioned himself as the leader of their little group by being the one to facilitate their introductions.
Sure, a million and a half things could tear him from that post in the next few hours, but as humble as it was, this was a foundation to build from.
“And that leads to our last, though assuredly not least, member of this little group.” William noted how the orc shifted uncomfortably as all eyes in the room turned to her. And it didn’t take a genius to guess why a former-slave might be uncomfortable with too much attention.
“You, uh, didn’t introduce yourself,” she deflected.
He cocked his head to the side. “Of course, how forgetful of me. William Ashfield. Chef, mechanic and now Marine-Knight cadet.”
…Also a chemist, an accountant and a half-dozen other things as well - as a result of skills he’d picked up both this life and the last - but no one but him really needed to know that right now.
“You’re the Kraken Slayer!” Bonnlyn shouted just a second before Olzenya looked about to say the same thing – much to the elf’s irritation.
He very definitely didn’t let his eye twitch. “An exaggeration. I injured a kraken using a trauma-boosted lighting bolt after it attacked a ship I was riding and knocked out my escort. Rest assured, it was not a feat I could ever repeat.”
“You hurt a kraken with lightning?” Marline asked quietly, something other than irritation in her gaze at last as she eyed him contemplatively.
He shrugged. “I did. As I said though, it was a trauma-boost.”
Which ostensibly meant that the aether he supplied his patron was of a more emotionally charged variety than the norm. Which in turn meant the fae being had deigned to reward him by adding a ‘bonus’ onto his contract.
Something that was far from guaranteed. Fae, by their very nature, were strange and mercurial beings. What they considered worthy of super-charging a contract was impossible to predict and almost never consistent.
“That’s still rather impressive,” Olzenya said begrudgingly. “After all, it must have been a considerable injury to scare the beast off.”
He shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable at the praise despite himself. “Just a tentacle.”
Bonnlyn scoffed. “Just a tentacle he says.”
“They do have eight of the things,” he pointed out. “Hardly a maiming by any stretch, given that the limb will regrow in time. Which in turn makes the name I’ve apparently been saddled with all the more ridiculous.”
“I suppose it does,” Olzenya actually seemed to perk up a bit at that.
Bennlyn just scoffed. “Ridiculous or not, you should embrace it! It’s already out there now. You should try to profit from it.”
He smiled stiffly, before trying to change the topic. “Perhaps. For the moment though, we seem to have steered off topic.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Once more, the orc seemed to flinch as every eye in the room turned to her, idly gripping the legs of her pants.
“Oh, uh, Verity. That’s my name. No last name. Obviously. I’m from the Greenhill estate.” She flinched. “Not that I’m part of the Greenhill family. They just own mine. Or did. Used to. Y’know. Before I got signed up to be a Marine-Knight.”
It was actually rather interesting, how fast the young woman could get the words out. He idly noted that none of the other girls seemed particularly surprised by the revelations of the green skinned woman’s origins.
“Oh, the academy emancipated your family too?” Olzenya of all people asked, a genuine note of curiosity in her voice. “They don’t do that for all cadets.”
Verity – and it was noteworthy that she had a ‘human’ name – could only shrug. “I guess?”
Marline too had turned her evaluating gaze from to the orc. “They only do that for prospects they really want. Do they have your family working somewhere in the capital?”
“Uh, just outside it. Offered them a job on some farm there. Paid work rather than the… other kind. As field workers, given that’s what we used to do.”
Now William too was sizing up the orc. If the Academy went through that much trouble for the orc, well it implied she had talent worth the extra investment.
And suddenly, not being part of some noble’s retinue doesn’t seem quite as bad as it did before, he thought.
Sure, he was still with the ‘dregs’ of the academy, but at least one of them – likely two given Bonnlyn’s plebeian origins – was a talented dreg.
Plus, this has made taking over as ‘leader’ a lot easier, he mused.
Admittedly, he’d not have had to do that if he’d been allowed to form his own retinue, but that had never been truly likely. Honestly, he’d originally placed fifty-fifty odds on being placed in some allied noble’s retinue or his fiancée’s.
Being busted down to general intake had honestly never even crossed his mind – which was just proof positive that no plan ever survived first contact.
“Well, I’m at least glad to know we’ve got at least one upcoming star amongst us.” He gave the orc his most charming smile, watching her flush in response – because as much as inconvenient as the gender dynamics could be in this world, he’d be damned if he didn’t make use of them. “We’re lucky to have you on our team.”
He deliberately ignored some muttered words from Olzenya about being ‘talented for a plebeian’.
Nothing to be done about it now.
What mattered was that for the moment at least, he’d at least gotten the team over the first hurdle together.
And in doing so, he’d cemented himself as the ‘center’ of the group.
Now comes the hard part, he thought as genuine conversation slowly started to blossom around him – stilted at first, but it was a start. Turning them into the best team in the academy.
They needed to top the academy leaderboards.
Needed.
Because if they couldn’t do that, the last ten years he’d spent planning and preparing were basically worthless.
And he wouldn’t allow that to happen.
So, it’s the best or nothing, he thought.
--------------
Olzenya resisted the urge to scowl as she emerged from the veritable prison cell the Academy dared to call a room.
Cramped didn’t even begin to describe it. Between the torture device pretending to be a bed, her desk and locker, there was barely enough room to stand, let alone engage in her morning exercises. Thus it was that she was forced to perform them in the ‘communal living area’.
Fortunately for her ‘good’ mood, none of her teammates had yet seen fit to rise from their slumber, the doors to their own cells remaining stubbornly closed.
Something to work on, she thought.
Because for all that she’d been forced to team up with a plebian, an upstart and a madman, she refused to languish in obscurity. Her older sister’s schemes might have placed her here, but they needn’t keep her here.
She needed only perform well enough to draw the eye of another noble.
She’d made a mistake yesterday, lost control of the room by misjudging her fellow noble – though fortunately Marline was of a more reasonable sort. In doing so, rather than take command of the room’s plebeians, she’d instead made an enemy of them.
Because that damnable man had played the part of an ally rather than an overseer.
An intelligent move on his part that put the three-fifths of the group under his sway.
Though whether the human knew that, she had no clue. It was entirely possible he really was just that lacking in noble decorum.
Her insults the previous night likely held a grain of truth after all, even if she’d outwardly retracted them.
Either way, she needed to somehow get either the man or the orc on her side so that she could more effectively command their team.
She didn’t even consider the dwarf. Some things just weren’t worth it.
Truth be told, the human was likely a long shot too. Which really just left the orc, who at least seemed aware of her betters and her stations.
So now I just need some leverage over her, she thought as she moved through another set of sword forms – her imaginary blade whirling through the air. Given that she apparently has some talent, the carrot would likely be the wiser-
The rest of her thoughts were cut off by the door to the main hall opening. A door that was supposed to be locked.
Caught more than a little off-guard given that she was clad in little more than her bedclothes, she nonetheless managed to scowl mightily at the academy servant who carelessly strode into her team’s quarters, humming a little tune as she pushed a small cart before her.
When the woman finally did notice Olzenya standing there, she jumped a little.
“Ah, my apologies young miss,” the human said, her broad capital accent coming through in full. “I didn’t expect anyone to be up at this time.”
Olzenya made no attempt to hide her harrumph. “If you’re here to clean, it seems an odd time for it.”
Something strange passed over the other woman’s face – a hint of smugness? – before she shook her head. “Nothing like that. I’m simply here to deliver your uniforms. Ideally, you’d have woken to find them waiting for you on the table.”
Ah, she’d been wondering about that.
“Very well,” she gestured magnanimously to the table. “You may leave them and go.”
The woman did so, leaving the table piled high with black uniforms with gold inlay, all of varying sizes.
“Thank you,” an irritating familiar voice called absently through a yawn.
The servant paused, eyes going wide – as did Olzenya’s - at the sight of her male teammate, in little more than a pair of boxer shorts, as he stepped from his room with a yawn on his face and his arms stretched high over his head.
“I, ah, it’s no issue, young master.” The servant stuttered, torn between fleeing, flushing and staring.
Though she chose the latter as Olzenya glared in the staring woman’s direction. Casting one final glance back, the human woman trundled away, closing the door to their quarter’s behind her.
“Bye,” the man actually called out.
Finally, ‘alone’ once more, the high elf turned a gimlet eye on her teammate, even as the others started blearily appearing from their own rooms – before freezing in place at the sight of their male teammate practically flaunting himself.
“Have you no shame!?” The high elf finally hissed, her cheeks flushing as she glared at the human. “Put on some damn clothes!”
The man just glanced at her as he wandered over to the table. “I am wearing clothes. Or at least one piece of clothing.”
He tugged at the rim of his boxers.
“You’ll not hear me complaining,” the damnable dwarf whistled as she emerged from her own room, not being subtle at all in her staring.
At least the orc had the decency to look a little flustered. Her fellow elf… looked surprised, but that was all. Which helped Olzenya reign in her own worst impulses. If her fellow noble could keep from staring at the veritable satyr they’d been saddled with, so could she!
…Mostly.
“Don’t encourage him,” she hissed at the dwarf, before twisting back to the male ‘noble’. “And don’t encourage her!”
The man actually had the audacity to grunt as he picked up his uniform, inspecting the workmanship of the seams.
“Why did you even come out like that?” she finally muttered.
“I sleep like this,” he said back casually as he threw the pants over one shoulder. “And I thought it smart to get this out of the way now.”
“What’s ‘this’?” Marline asked, the dark elf’s tone cautious as she regarded the human clinically.
“The awkwardness,” he responded. “In case you all failed to notice, this room has exactly one shower. Or rather, one bank of shower heads.”
Just as he finished, the ‘rise’ bell rang out.
“And given that we’ve got about ten minutes between that bell going off and first muster, we really don’t have time for individual showering.”
The dark elf frowned. “How do you know that?”
Indeed, Olzenya was a little curious herself. She’d obviously tried to do as much research on the academy as she could, but obviously her sisters had hardly been forthcoming with details and her mother’s and aunt’s experiences were likely to be out of date.
And intended for houses beyond the Royal line, she thought venomously.
“Handbook,” he grunted. “In the desk drawer.”
Ah, she’d missed that. And given the way the rest of her cohorts did, they had too. Hell, she’d practically gone straight to sleep after retreating to her room and renewing her patron’s contracts.
Yet the ‘satyr’ had apparently had energy enough not only to search the place but actually sit down and read something.
“Point is,” he continued. “We’re about to spend the next four years living together. In very tight quarters. With all the awkwardness that entails.”
Olzenya hated the way the thought of that excited her a little. Not least of all because she could see the same emotion flitting across the dwarf’s face – and she’d be damned before she had anything in common with that horny monkey.
“I see,” Marline grunted, her tone unreadable. “We’re going to be sharing showers.”
“Yup.” He gestured down at himself as he threw his clothes over his shoulder and retreated to his room – presumably to grab a towel. “So, either get used to getting up before the rise bell or get used to seeing me in the nude because I ain’t losing out on beauty sleep because you’re a bunch of prudes.”
That was… surprisingly pragmatic.
“Well,” Olzenya coughed as the man once more disappeared. “I think I can be professional enough to get over a man in dishabille. In the name of saving time of course. Sleep will likely be a precious commodity going forward.”
She ignored the way the dwarf stared at her, as she walked over to grab her own clothes.
She wasn’t lying after all. The man had a point.
Sharing showers was only natural.
And if she happened to catch a few glimpses of her teammate in the process, well, there was nothing to be done about it.
“I’ll get up early in future,” Marline grunted. “I’ll also wait for you all to finish today.”
Bonnyln just chuckled, even as the little gremlin wasted no time in stripping down. “Suit yourself, weirdo. Because this alone has almost made the whole merchant-marine thing worth it.”
Olzenya rolled her eyes, before noticing that the orc hadn’t moved.
Indeed, she looked rather frozen.
“Orc, is there an issue?”
“She has a name,” the dwarf muttered.
“I-I don’t have a towel,” the greenskin murmured.
Olzenya sighed. She really should have seen this coming. And she didn’t want them to lose points because one of their team went to class dripping wet or stinking to high heaven.
And besides, this was an opportunity to get the other woman into her debt. At least in some small way. A show of compassion to make up for last night’s blunder.
“It’s alright,” she said, feigning reluctance. “I’ve got a-”
She didn’t get to finish her sentence.
“Here’s one of mine.” That annoyingly chipper male voice called as he reappeared, clad in nothing more than a towel, while he threw another at the orc.
Who actually managed to catch it before the balled up piece of fabric hit her in the chest, though her mouth remained open the rest of her seemingly paralyzed as the man dashed past on the way to the team’s bathroom.
“I-thanks?” she called after his retreating back.
“Don’t mention it,” he grunted. “Feel free to keep the towel.”
Olzeyna just scowled at the lost opportunity.
—--------------------
Verity had seen a boy naked. She also had a nice new uniform. A shiny black and gold thing.
The uniform. Not the boy.
The boy had been pink.
In the shower.
Another new discovery that she found she much preferred over a dip in the river or a bucket and rag. Not entirely because the shower had a naked boy in it, but it certainly played a role in her newfound enjoyment of the novel way of cleaning.
And she’d get to do it every day!
Though next time she’d tried not to stare as much. Ignoring the fact that William had been very nice to her in the time she’d known him, both ma’ and pa’ would box her ears something awful if they found out she’d been acting the perv.
Still… perv or not, she’d certainly gotten an eyeful this morning.
So it was that she actively had to fight down the urge to hum a jaunty tune as she and her fellow cadets were given a tour of the Academy’s many facilities.
While the first day had mostly been an opportunity for cadets to arrive and be introduced to each other, the second was set aside for tours of the facilities. Classrooms. Obstacle courses. Four entire warehouses filled with decommissioned airship hulls that would apparently act as mock arenas for training exercises.
“What about the airfields ma’am?” A cadet from another group asked.
The group they were in all had the same uniform. Royal black and gold, which marked them as part of the general intake program. The only real difference between the groups was the number on their sleeves.
Each group had its own, corresponding to their room.
The number on her and her friends(?) sleeves was seven. Which was supposed to be lucky, though she’d never found out why.
Instructor Griffith, as she’d introduced herself, shook her head. “We won’t be visiting there today. Or at any point this year. Flight training begins in the second year of the academy. Your first year will be focused on deck combat, magical aptitude and general theory. Not flying Shards.”
More than a few people sagged at that, though no one was stupid enough to say anything. Not even the nobles – who she could still spot even though they now all wore the same uniform.
It was in the way they walked and talked. It held a kind of understated confidence that just didn’t come naturally to people like her.
Even William, who was quite nice, did it.
Then again, so does Bonnlyn, Verity mused as the group continued on. And she’s supposed to be a peasant like me.
Though not a slave.
And that was a significant difference.
She absently shook her head, refusing to let any kind of self-recrimination rear its ugly head. She wasn’t a slave anymore. She was a merchant-marine cadet. She’d earned it.
William had said as much – and he was a noble!
Even Ozleyna seemed impressed when she told that the academy bought and freed her family too.
Personally, Verity hadn’t thought anything of it. She’d thought they did that for every slave that did well in the tryouts.
Perhaps she hadn’t needed to take down all the other competitors in the final melee?
She shrugged as they entered another building – she supposed it didn’t matter now.
“And this is the laundry room,” Instructor Griffith said as she gestured to a great many familiar looking taps and buckets. “Cleaning supplies will be kept here and are not to be taken out of this room. You are expected to keep your clothes clean at all times. Failures in that department or improperly wearing the uniform will result in demerits.”
Not for the first time, Verity thanked the all-gods that Bonnlyn had helped her with her own.
Not that she couldn’t figure out how to get it on, but putting the clothes on and putting them on properly was apparently two different things.
It seemed a little silly to her, but she knew better not to question and had tried to commit as much of it to memory as possible. Though she had no idea how successful she’d been on that front.
I suppose I’ll find out tomorrow, she thought as the rest of her house-mates glanced around the room.
Olzenya raised a hand. “Excuse me ma’am, but where are the servants and receiving baskets?”
“Instructor,” the dark elf corrected absently. “And servants? Receiving baskets?”
“For us to leave our clothes for cleaning?” The high elf cocked her head.
For just a moment, Verity could have sworn the ghost of a smile slipped across the Instructor’s face. “You misunderstand me cadet, the cleaning and maintenance of your clothes is your responsibility and yours alone.”
If anything, the ripple that ran through the room at her words was more pronounced than when she’d said that they wouldn’t be flying Shards for another year yet.
“Cleaning? Ourselves?” One girl sounded close to fainting.
“Such is the onus of House Lindholm.” Griffith had zero sympathy. “You aren’t like those other houses. For all they might parade themselves around the academy with their heads held high, they’re ultimately little more than peacocks being fitted with spurs. Perhaps they might perform well in the inter-academy competitions, but those are mere tourney fields - not a real war. Make no mistake, you as cadets of the Royal House are the true war hawks. You’re here to learn how to be Royal Marines, not just Marine-Knights. Women and men like yourselves are the real first line of defense and the real reason why both the Solites and Lunites have failed three times to drag Lindholm into their personal quagmire.”
She eyed the room, as if daring anyone to correct her. “To that end, you’re expected to learn how to care for your gear and uniform. If you don’t know how, then learn. No one’s here to hold your hand. Resources are available to you, it’s up to you to figure out what they are and make use of them.”
For just a moment, Verity could have sworn the instructor’s eyes were directly on her. “If you fail, that failure and the debt you’ll owe to the crown because of it will be entirely on you.”
The good mood the orc had slowly been nurturing over the course of the morning dimmed a little at that.
Only a little though.
Because she wasn’t an idiot. A little unworldly perhaps, but not stupid. She knew how things worked.
And she also knew that the Royal Family hadn’t bought her contract for nothing. Because nothing in life was free.
Especially not for an orc.
So, she’d work hard.
Prove she was worth the investment.
And hopefully her family would remain free as a result.
So long as that happened, she’d be willing to do just about anything.
----------------------------------------