Truth be told, Angelina hadn’t even been aware that the Academy had alchemy labs. Certainly, she’d never had cause to visit them in the two year she’d spent here.
Though, as she looked at them now, she had to wonder if she wasn’t alone in that. Separate from the rest of the campus, the squat decrepit structure had clearly seen better times.
Old, she thought as her eyes roamed over the peeling paint and worn architecture. Possible early sundering or even late colonial.
Which would put the structure at somewhere close to six hundred years old.
Say what you will about us elves, we build to last – though we also have a bit of a problem keeping up with the times, she thought as she strode toward the front entrance, showing her ID to the rather ancient looking human woman manning the front desk.
Admittedly, she knew that to be an odd thing to think given that she herself was an elf – but she was also only nineteen. According to her mother, though her body had long since stopped growing, her mind would take a little longer to follow suit and settle down and develop a proper ‘elvish’ mindset.
Personally, Angeline would rather it didn’t. Not if it meant being totally blind to the changing needs of the future battlefield.
The fact that barely a month ago House Blackstone – the only human ducal house – had made history by being the first, and thus far only, house to announce they they’d be creating a dedicated shard-carrier was as far as she was concerned a black mark against elf-kind as a whole.
Even as a cadet, she could see that shards were the future of aerial combat – not conventional airships.
“A little closer dear,” the old lady manning the desk said, jarring the elf from her thoughts as the older woman peered at the bit of treated paper.
Angelina moved it closer, even as her thoughts ruminated on the fact that the woman across from her was likely barely eighty – or something, she was bad at guessing humans’ ages - and already she looked like a wrinkled old prune.
Angelina’s sister was the same age and barely looked a day older than Angelina herself did.
Well, perhaps getting a little stuck in my ways after my first century comes to an end isn’t so bad comparatively, she thought.
Proof positive that even if their relative longevity meant they became a little more resistant to change than humans, that was a small price to pay to live almost twice as long.
Plus, it’s not like humans are entirely immune from getting hung up on the past, she thought.
“Thank you dear,” one such human said, before sitting back down to scribble something in an equally ancient looking logbook.
Glancing over the entries in it, the elf couldn’t help but note the long gaps between the dates of the entries within.
With one set of notable exceptions.
William Ashfield was scrawled out a number of times. Mostly on the weekends and evenings.
Though how he’s finding the time is beyond me, she thought.
Her own first year at the academy, it had been all she could do to drag herself out of bed in the mornings and back into it in the evenings. The thought of setting aside any time for anything beyond cleaning her clothes, some light studying or maintaining her room hadn’t even been a consideration.
Though perhaps if it had, I wouldn’t be about to have this meeting, she thought bitterly.
She shook her head, banishing the thought. It hadn’t been her call alone. The entire team had agreed to it.
“Go ahead dear,” the old lady said finally. “If you use any of the facility’s reagents, please be sure to note them down in the logs.”
“Of course,” Angelina smiled – even if she had no intention of even touching so much as a fish scale.
A man might have been able to get away with midnighting as a mage-smith, but she could only imagine how bad the rumors would be if she did the same. It would basically be a tacit admittance that she thought she couldn’t hack it as a warrior and needed a fallback.
With those thoughts in mind, she moved with slightly more haste than was strictly needed as she walked through the halls of the building, peering into dusty empty rooms in search of her prey to each side as she did.
It didn’t take long.
With his back to the door, the first year was hunched over a desk, whatever he was working on illuminated by the mage-light overhead. Breathing a sigh of relief, Angelina stepped into the room only to wince at the smell.
An acrid chemical stink wafted through the air, intermixed with something that smelled like rotten eggs.
She was just thinking about how to greet the lad, when a voice made her jump a little. “Can I help you, Cadet Hearthlore?”
A little annoyed at being so easily surprised, she scowled a little as she noticed that while he had correctly identified her, the human hadn’t actually turned from his work.
“How’d you know it was me?” she asked, trying to keep her irritation from her tone.
Rather than answer, the man gestured idly toward what she now noticed was a small mirror pointed towards the entrance to the room. One that was angled in such a way that all she could see through it was her fellow cadet’s unimpressed gaze.
Paranoid was the first thought that came to mind as she took in the primitive security measure.
Which in turn had her slightly curious as to what the boy had to be paranoid about. Perhaps he’d pulled another surprise from the Ashfield libraries in much the same way he had that recent Flashbang spell that had so taken the academy as a whole by surprise.
Still, she had pride enough not to take a few steps to the right in the hopes of seeing what it was exactly that the human was working on. Just being here was a shameful enough admittance of defeat to begin with. She didn’t need to sully herself further by trying to pilfer the secrets of another house.
Plus, I probably wouldn’t even understand what I was looking at if I did, she quietly admitted in her mind.
Again, alchemy was a layman subject that really had no place in an academy for warriors.
“Again, how can I help you, Cadet Hearthlore?” The man prompted again in a tone that suggested her moment of hesitation had not gone unnoticed.
For just a moment, she wondered where all the respect for one’s elders had gone, before she grunted.
“I’m here to call an end to our little weekend training sessions.”
Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, clearly that wasn’t it. Not that she blamed him for that. She was a little surprised to be saying it herself.
Weekend Float slots were worth their weight in gold. Sometimes more than gold, given that they couldn’t always be bought with such.
Success in the academic rankings had real world consequences in terms of a house’s prestige. Thus, just about every opportunity for a cadet to hone their skills was one that should be taken.
Even if slaughtering a bunch of first years each week hardly qualified as proper practice.
Though that was the problem.
What had started as a slaughter had rapidly turned into something else entirely.
“Is this about earlier?” William asked. “Because I can promise you, Bonnlyn won’t be arguing against the Instructor’s rulings again anytime soon.”
Oh, Angelina had no doubt about that. Last she’d seen, the diminutive dwarf was still running laps when she walked up here.
Though running was perhaps a more charitable descriptor of what was happening than what she’d strictly seen. A less generous observer might have described it as half-hearted limping.
Normally the Instructors avoided pushing a cadet to the point of injury – they weren’t the old Imperial Legion after all – but sometimes a point needed to be made. And when a cadet was audacious enough to actually, even politely, argue an Instructor’s rulings, that point had definitely been passed.
The girl was just fortunate that, because it was the weekend, the academy’s healers weren’t likely to be spent even this late into the day. Something that had undoubtedly played a role in the Instructor’s particularly ruinous choice of punishment.
The dwarf would be up and about on Sunday without so much as a blister or sore muscle. The memory of them would remain though.
“That’s not it, even if my team were unimpressed by that little tantrum,” she said.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
“I’d argue that it wasn’t a tantrum so much as a difference of opinion. With just the orb-view to go off, you have to admit that Marline was rather close to your mithril-core when that bolt hit her. Even if she retracted her statement after the Instructor’s ruling.”
Despite his words, his tone made it clear who it was that William believed was correct in that particular ruling.
Which was fair enough.
Angelina trusted her team equally implicitly. Perhaps even moreso given that, unlike William’s team, her’s would be her retinue once she graduated.
They would be her companions for life after all, and if she didn’t trust them, there would have been little point in having them.
“But,” he continued. “I’m willing to let the slight against my teammate slide in the name of getting to why you feel the need to bring our little arrangement to an end.”
Sighing, she nodded.
“Win or not, my team thought that bout was too close for comfort.” She knew she could have lied, and she would later, but here and now it was just them.
For bringing them to this point, she felt the boy at least deserved the truth. Even if she’d be blaming the end of the bouts on ‘first year upstarts getting uppity’ to her peers.
William frowned. “You’re quitting because we nearly pulled off a miracle win?”
“Unlikely? Yes,” she snorted. “Miracle? I think you’re underselling how fast your team has improved.”
And they’d been damn good to begin with. She had no idea which of their parents had paid for their son or daughter to be placed on a team with the rest of the intake’s prodigies, but the academy had certainly held up their end of the bargain.
Personally, Angelina was pretty sure it was the dwarf. She was fine for a first year, perhaps even above average, but on a team of monsters like the rest of the Team Seven, merely above average stood out.
And given that she came from a family of merchants… well, they might not have had the same degree of political pull as a noble family, but as far as the academy were concerned plebeian gold would spend just the same as that given by a noble.
At her words, despite the momentary flicker of pride that flashed across his features, William frowned. “You’re still trouncing us. It was four against two before Marline went down. And her going for the core was an act of desperation.”
Angelina believed that. Taking out the other team’s mithril core was an instant win, but it was rarely anyone’s go to strategy given that it was held in the most heavily guarded bit of the ship.
Sure, some idiots might discount a ship’s plebeian compliment of defenders as not worth worrying about in their first few matches, but that mindset generally didn’t last long.
A crossbow bolt was just as deadly as a bolt-bow shot when in motion after all and if you tried to make a run on the core you’d be running into a lot of them.
Plus, just getting through the security door means either killing the captain for her key or keeping a spell in reserve, she thought.
Which made the outnumbered dark elf’s feat of just getting within arms reach of the thing all the more impressive – even if the human in front of her was the one who ‘sacrificed himself’ to buy her time to do so.
“Regardless,” Angelina shook her head. “You’re getting better. Last week my team was down to two when we won. With each week it feels less like I’m going up against a team of first years and more like another team of second.”
Again, there was a flash of pride and momentary satisfaction before he smothered it.
It was admirable in a way – she knew a lot of nobles who’d be downright insufferable if she was having this conversation with them.
And it was painful enough with her opposite number being smug about it.
“I’d have thought that would be a benefit, not a negative,” he said. “The more of a challenge we are the better we serve as practice partners.”
Angelina shrugged. ”That’d be true, if we were just talking about the arena.”
Hell, even then, morale hadn’t exactly been great once her team actually found themselves struggling against a bunch of first years.
Rose had been in a funk for a week after…
Angelina shook her head, before continuing. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter how beneficial these bouts are if my team is losing prestige outside of it as a result.”
It wasn’t much at the minute, just a few whispered words here and there. They were building though – and she knew they’d explode the moment her team actually lost a bout. Something like that wouldn’t just remain in the academy. It’d spread to the wider world.
To her family’s liege. To their political rivals.
It’d be blood in the water.
No amount of practice time was worth that kind of negative attention.
“So, you’re quitting us?” William frowned, proving his lack of political acumen by actually sounding like she was the one being foolish – when he was sat in an alchemy lab tinkering with something that quite literally smelled like shit. “I hope you’re not expecting a refund.”
She sniffed – before instantly regretting it. “No, you can keep our downpayment.”
No matter how much it hurt. Her team had had to pool their stipend to buy an entire semester’s worth of practice slots.
At the time it had been a no-brainer, even against a bunch of first years.
Now she was actually losing that cash for nothing though? Well, she suddenly felt the sting.
Again though, there was little choice.
The boy continued to frown before shrugging. “Ok then, I suppose that’s that.”
Standing up, Angelina was actually a little surprised as he gave her a small bow – even if his body remained stubbornly between her and whatever he’d been working.
“Regardless of how it ended, I just want you to know that my team and I are thankful for the time you spent with us. As seniors, you taught us a lot.”
Angelina couldn’t help herself, she flushed a little.
She couldn’t help it.
“I, ah, if you really wanted to thank us…”
Smirking, the little shit had the audacity to cut her off. “I’m afraid this will have to suffice. Just know that I truly am thankful.”
Smothering a pout, Angelina nodded even as she gathered what remained of her tattered pride. It wasn’t like this was her first time being rejected by an attractive guy after all.
Though it was certainly the fastest it had happened.
“I wish you luck going forward,” she said as she turned to leave. “And with filling out spots.”
She doubted it would be hard. Sure, there’d be some that would be leery after her own team dropped off, wondering why they’d give up such a valuable arrangement, but they’d be the minority.
Most would just see an opportunity for more Float time.
“Ah, Hearthlore?”
Angelina paused in the doorway as she turned back to the human. A human who’d actually had the audacity to return to his seat. Honestly, he wasn’t even looking at her – directly – when he called her name.
“Yes?” she asked, a little irritated.
“Would you mind telling me the names of those teams that were most… vocal in their mockery of your own team’s bouts against ours? I do so wish to try my mettle against those that believe they could do so much better.”
And just like that, her irritation fled her as a most glorious idea blossomed in her mind.
“Cadet Ashfield.” She grinned. “I’d be delighted.”
-----------------
Two visitors in one day, Dorothy thought as she waved at the departing… elf.
Honestly, she still wasn’t entirely sure. Her eyes were going and unfortunately no amount of healing magic could contend with the rigours of age.
Not for the first time, she found herself envying the long lived race as she thought to two of her teammates. Back when her eyes hadn’t been quite so bad, it seemed like they hadn’t aged a day to look upon them and she was sure that was still the case.
Banishing such melancholy parts, she noted down the girl’s departure time as best she could using the big grandfather clock in the corner.
Though as she did, she had to wonder just how a ‘proper’ a visit the girl’s had been given how quickly she’d left.
Certainly, it hadn’t been long enough to brew even a simple healing potion or burn salve.
Not that they had the reagents for such in stock. These days it was mostly the barebones ingredients for stamina potions – the kind used by cadets hoping to get just a bit more studying time in before the end of year written exams.
Indeed, the old woman’s suspicions were only buoyed by the smile the girl had been wearing – obvious to even her failing eye sight.
The royal marine-knight – in title if not form - tried not to frown.
The Blicland alchemy labs might have fallen on hard times, but she’d hardly stand for the once vaunted institution – birthplace of enchanted ammunition - to be used as a hook up spot for horny young cadets.
…Even if she herself might have used the now demolished Seeker halls for such when she’d been a much younger woman.
Totally different, she thought with a nostalgic smile. The alchemy labs are a valuable service that have simply fallen out of vogue with the youth.
Even if in truth that had been the case even in her own youth. Back then it had been considered more of a necessary evil by those cadets that made use of the facilities.
By contrast, harrowing was and remained a dangerous and unreliable practice that drove its practitioners mad more often than not.
Sure, its proponents argued that the fact that the first airships had been borne of the practice, but those arguments so often ignored the price paid in minds lost in the process. Lesser certainly, but mages all the same.
It was for the best that the whole practice had been outlawed – even if she was sure some families still quietly continued the craft, hoping to unveil some kind of fantastical hidden knowledge.
She wished them only the worst.
To draw upon the power of the fae was one thing, but to attempt to touch minds with one?
Dorothy’s hand brushed against the iron of her necklace and she shook her head.
Rather than dwell on the madness of elves, her mind turned to the far more mundane matter of the young man who might be using her facilities as a place to indulge the desires of a satyr.
…Possibly.
The only reason she didn’t truly think that was what the young man was doing was because he left evidence of actual alchemy.
Probably…
It was possible the store room he claimed to be using was actually empty in truth.
It would go some way to explaining his paranoia around the subject.
Speaking of, she thought as the boy in question appeared from the halls and walked up to her desk.
“Hello ma’am,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m done for the day and I put my work in the back room.”
Dorothy’s gaze sharpened sceptically. “And you wish to once more confirm that no one will go in there.”
No doubt a little surprised by the sudden show of suspicion after visiting for weeks, the possible fraud continued on his charade. “Aye, ma’am.”
“Then I will once more confirm for you that no one besides the principal has the authority to open a room keyed to yourself other than yourself. Not even me.”
As much as she sometimes wished it wasn’t so. A guarantee of secrecy for a family’s alchemical formulas was all well and good, but sometimes there were entirely practical reasons for a room to be inspected.
Fire was the main reasons, but Dorothy could remember an incident back when her younger years when one such storage room began emitting the most gods’ awful smell.
It had lingered for weeks.
Now, awful smells weren’t unusual given the role of the alchemical storage rooms, which only placed emphasis on just how bad the smell was. Even now she gagged a little thinking about it.
The complaints had been endless, but there’d been nothing she or any of the staff could do about it.
It had taken months before they’d managed to badger the principal into checking out exactly who owned the storage room in an attempt to get something done about the smell.
In the end it turned out it had belonged to a cadet who’d been expelled months ago for ‘poor behaviour’. Something that Dorothy could well believe given that their final act as a cadet had been to book a storage room – and fill it with all the worst possible items they could.
Feces. Dead fish. Roadkill.
And no doubt plenty of other things that were quite unidentifiable after rotting for months.
Rumors held that fire spells were used when the thing was eventually opened and cleaned out.
Personally, Dorothy was reasonably certain that conventional water spells were used along with a few dozen very unfortunate servants.
Either way, despite that incident, the rule regarding the security of a student’s alchemical storage area remained in place. And if that failed to get it repealed, Dorothy failed to imagine what might – short of a student using it to hide a body.
Something she doubted this particular one was doing.
The only thing she smelled when walked past the room was a vaguely sickly sweet odour. Not metallic like blood, but something else entirely.
“Just wanted to make sure,” the boy said, before he walked away, whistling some unidentifiable tune. “Everything needs to be ready for when I show my team.”
Dorothy watched him go - suspicion flaring at his words.
First a random girl and now his whole team?
Oh, she’d be sure to keep an ear out when he came next.
If she heard but a single muffled moan, she’d come running as fast as her sore knees could move.
For the sanctity of the alchemy labs!
Then she sneezed, as sitting up suddenly caused some of the dust on her desk to be kicked up.
…She really did need to wipe down some of these surfaces.