“He’s developing a reputation for being particularly vigorous.”
It didn’t need to be said who ‘he’ was. Tala’s reluctant fiancé had been a hot topic of conversation within the dorm of her team since before he’d even shown up at the academy.
Though how much of that was down to their genuine interest in the eponymous ‘Kraken Slayer’ and how much of it was down to them finally sensing a weakness in the proverbial armour of their leader was entirely up in the air.
Either way, more than one of the girls present grinned as Tala’s head shot up from the book she’d been reading.
“Which one?” The normally unflappable young woman asked without preamble. “The dark elf?”
The boy’s little late night training sessions with the knife ear were hardly unknown to her. And, while her supporters had reported that nothing untoward had occurred thus far, Tala was of the opinion that that was a matter of time more than possibility.
She knew what young women were like. She lived with four of them.
And she supposed she was one, even if she liked to think she held herself to a higher standard than some of the animals she had unfortunately come to call close friends.
Though speaking of animals…
A shiver ran through her. Because what if it was the orc her fiancé had been seen hanging around with? That would be…
It wouldn’t cancel the engagement. Given the plans of Houses Blackstone and Ashfield there were few enough things between the sky and sea that could do that. Their goals were too important to be jeopardized by the scandalous behaviour of some young buck acting out.
With that said, it would be her who’d have to live with the shame…
And given his previous behaviour, she thought grimly. Well, it would be far from out of character for him to fuck some damn greenskin in an attempt to-
“Or rather his team is,” Cherie singsonged from her position on the nearby sofa – finally finishing her earlier statement. “On the Floats.”
Tala’s response was instant – as was her wrath – as she plucked up a nearby pillow and threw it at her cad of a teammate.
“You cow,” she grunted as the young woman narrowly ducked under the incoming fluffy projectile – a wide grin emblazoned across the blonde’s face.
Shaking her head, Tala sank back into her seat.
“Two weeks with not a loss to be seen,” Cherie continued. “That’s eight back to back victories. If you don’t count the second year bouts, which I ain’t going to.”
“I would,” Sala opined from the back of the room. “Because I sincerely doubt he’s learning anything from slamming his team’s face into a wall over and over. All he’s doing is hurting his scores.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Cherie shot back. “According to some of our little birds, they actually managed to down two of those second years a week back.”
The other girl rolled her eyes. “A feat they failed to repeat this week because the second years stopped going easy on them.”
“And they were ready for the Ashfield’s new spell,” Maurine pointed out from the back of the room. “That Dark Elf of theirs is apparently a demon with it if she gets below decks.”
Ah yes, the Flashbang. An ‘offensive’ spell that was usable in the Floats and could be used consecutively with even a modicum of aether.
Rumour of it had already spread around the school – because even if it wasn’t a terribly potent ability, anything that might give a team an advantage on the Floats or in the Skeleton was to be coveted.
She’d already penned a letter to the head of house Ashfield asking after the ability, but she had little doubt that her missive would be one amongst many. Though with any luck, hers would be the only one that subtly – enough that should the message be intercepted the query would be opaque - questioned as to whether the spell had been developed as part of Ashfield’s plans for a coup?
The fact that it was noticeably more effective against elves had not gone unnoticed by her. And if said spell truly was part of the house’s expansion plans, what the hell were they thinking unveiling it at the academy?
Then again it wasn’t like the thing was some kind of incredible game changer. A handy little tool in the hands of the less magically gifted certainly, but hardly worth mentioning when compared to real war magic.
The only reason it was generating so much interest within the halls of the academy was because it was harmless enough to be used in an arena where actual combat magic was disallowed.
Perhaps the creation of this new spell is simply a means to raise funds? Tala considered.
After all, while the theft of magecraft was a particularly heinous crime in the eyes of the nobility, the purchase of new spell paradigms was nothing new at all.
And said spell would be up for purchase.
Attempting to hoard it would only result in similar yet totally different applications being created. With the logic being that if the house of origin truly wanted to keep their special magecraft to themselves then they should have kept it as an ace in the hole.
…Or my fiancé simply stumbled across it while living at the Ashfield estate and chose to make use of it to further his own ends, heedless of the consequences, she thought.
Which was, again, not entirely out of character for her mental model of her future fiancé. It was rather frustrating that the man could both be the key to the upcoming Ashfield/Blackstone Alliance – and also a gigantic spanner in the works.
Too many unknowns, she thought as she shook her head, absently listening to the ongoing argument between her teammates.
“It’s the dark elf and the… orc,” Sala grudgingly admitted. “I’m not saying he’s useless or anything, he’s definitely above average for a first year, but that alone wouldn’t be enough for this kind of success. You only need look at the scoreboards to see that the Instructors stacked the team.”
Sala wasn’t the only member of the team to wince at the mention of the orc. It was one thing for a former slave to outperform the plebians of House Royal, quite another for them to do the same to other academy houses.
Though perhaps her performance might serve as a reminder to the southerners as to exactly what their ‘barbaric’ neighbours are guarding against, she thought.
Orcs might not have been intelligent as humans or even elves, but they held a natural talent for violence that was second to none. Which, when combined with favourable terrain and their particular brand of low cunning, made for a damned dangerous enemy.
History was full of houses that had forgotten that fact and that was how those houses were reduced to little more than history.
Sunland houses were named as such because they rose and fell as often as the sun.
Not House Blackstone though, Tala thought with some quiet pride. Unbowed and unbroken before orc and elf.
“Though now that we’re on the topic, why is your family so interested in this guy?” Cherie said. “From what you’ve said, the overgrown toff has shut you down every time you’ve so much as tried to talk to him. You don’t have to put up with that. Not when there are matriarchs out there that’d chew their own arm off to marry their sons to you.”
Her teammate wasn’t strictly wrong. House Blackstone commanded great respect across Lindholm. As evidenced by the fact that they were currently the Crown’s chief political rivals in the ongoing slavery issue.
Still. The girl was also vastly overstating the number of noble born sons of correct rank that existed within the confines of Lindholm.
Humans even moreso – and Blackstone took great pride in their… unsullied lineage. More to the point, the Ashfields were a wealthy and very well positioned countship.
One that, if they succeeded in their bid to take control of the dukedom of Summerfield, would firmly push the nation’s balance of power away from the Crown and towards House Blackstone.
…Of course, none of her team knew that.
They only saw a boy from a middling household doing his level best to snub the heir of a dukedom.
“The Ashfields have things my family wants. If I have to deal with a little rebelliousness from my groom-to-be to attain those things, I’ll consider it a small price to pay.”
“She’s not wrong,” Sala grunted. “It’s a marriage contract, not a love story. The only thing that matters is whether his dick works. Anything beyond that should be seen as a bonus.”
“Just because your betrothed looks like a donkey kicked him in the face doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t wish for a little more,” Cherie sniped.
Sala didn’t rise to the bait though. “And she’s got ‘a little more’. He doesn’t look like he was ‘kicked in the face by a donkey’ and his dick works.”
“He’s just an asshole.”
“To her, because he’s being a child. From what our sources tell us, he’s quite sweet to his team. So we know he’s just acting out because he’s not happy with the match,” Sala leaned back, eying Tala. “And that can be fixed easily enough with a little persuasion.”
Slowly, the girl opened her legs in an exaggerated fashion. Around the room, the other girls either coughed or laughed at the sight.
“I don’t think it’s quite that simple,” Tala grunted.
“Yeah,” Cherie grunted. “Because there’s reluctant dick – and then there’s being dumped into the academy because you’re reluctant… dick.”
Yes, that was a move that was supposed to bring home the reality of his privilege to the reticent man and hopefully force him to grow up a little. Unfortunately, it had worked, only in a manner that the Ashfield matriarch hadn’t expected.
Rather than buckle down or wilt under the adversity, by all accounts the man was flourishing.
A flower that only blooms in adversity, Tala thought.
Some part of her found that attractive. House Blackstone was not soft, and a man like that would sire strong daughters.
“Reluctant or not, he’s proven his bonafides since arriving. And with luck his move into a more… proper environment next semester will allow us to reap the boons of his change of heart without us suffering the negatives of his previous behaviour,” Tala said.
She was a little annoyed she couldn’t get said move done faster, but even her influence had limits. The academy had both rules and traditions – ones that she risked infringing upon if she pushed harder.
As much as it burned her, it was better to simply wait another few months before bringing her fiancé to heel.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Though as she glanced over at Cherie, she noticed the reluctant frown that had spread across the girl’s face. “Well, uh, that was the second reason I brought your guy up. I mean, like you said, he was sent here to shape up and stuff, right? Well, what if his recent success makes his mother, you know, reconsider your ‘request’ to have him transferred to one of our first year teams?”
Tala twitched.
She hadn’t thought of that.
Sure, the Ashfield-Blackstone alliance had made Janet Ashfield more amenable to Tala’s requests, but if the woman thought for a moment that her son’s improvements would backslide without his current team…
A team containing an orc.
No, not acceptable. Tala’s life was hard enough without the added complication of worrying about her fiancée shaming her with an unwise decision constantly hanging over her.
William would transfer.
“You need to twist the story,” Sala opined. “Make it look like it’s less his team and more his proximity to you. He’s getting lessons from some second years right?”
Tala nodded. “Weekend training slots.”
Something she well knew the value of. Even with her influence and rank, her team had only managed to snag, steal and arrange four such slots per weekend this semester.
“Then see if we can’t shake loose one of our current practice partners so we can have it with your fiance’s team instead. Whatever his feelings on you, he’s not likely to reject more time on the Floats.”
Tale grinned. “And then I can frame his improved behavior as a result of his proximity to me.”
Cherie was grinning too. “And you might actually manage to dislodge that stick from his ass if he’s forced to spend some time around you.”
“Decent plan, though it’ll mean dealing with his orc,” Maurine said from the back of the room.
A move which put a rather large damper on the girl’s growing enthusiasm.
All of her friends hailed from northern houses. All of them had seen the true face of the greenskin menace. Most of the room had lost family to it.
“Needs must,” Tala sniffed.
Hell, she would even reign in her tongue around the beast if it helped make her husband-to-be finally realize that his betrothed was no monster.
And once he was actually in the Sunlands he’d come to understand what the beasts were really like.
For just a moment, Tala’s mind was filled with memories, old and bitter.
Burnt out villages. Butchered soldiers. Wrecked keeps.
She shook her head. “This alliance needs to happen. For my family’s future prosperity.”
For the good of the realm – even the elves - though it seemed as always, only the North saw the truth of that.
---------------------------
“And here I thought you’d brought me down here to perform some alchemy,” Bonnlyn muttered as William continued rolling pie dough.
“It is alchemy, of a sort,” he said as he aimed a winning smile in the direction of a pair of nearby kitchen hands.
It was amusing how the grizzled older women tittered like young maids, even as they continued the tiring work of stirring the giant soup vats they were standing over. Even the head cook had a light dusting of crimson on her cheeks as he regarded her, though whether that was down to the heat of the oven she was sliding bread into or him was anyone’s guess.
Personally, I’m leaning toward the latter, he thought as he continued mixing. Because if she was actually immune to my boyish charms, I wouldn’t be in here.
Certainly, there weren’t any rules against cadets entering the kitchen per se, but that was likely more down the situation just not coming up all that often.
Glancing over at where Bonnlyn was chopping vegetables, he was happy to see that they were coming out reasonably uniform. Which wasn’t too surprising given that while the young woman had little to no experience in the kitchen, she was apparently far from unfamiliar with a craftsman’s workshop.
And while carving wood was very different from dicing vegetables, the skills were transferrable enough.
“So, is there any reason you’re cooking me up a traditional dwarvish pie?”
He froze, before smiling. “You knew?”
“I guessed,” she responded. “Though you made it easy by asking for dark-shrooms when we walked in. Which I’m honestly surprised they have here.”
He nodded slowly. He supposed that was a bit of a giveaway. The deep dwelling and slightly alcoholic mushrooms were something of an acquired taste based on his readings on the subject. Not exactly something you’d see served in the halls of a predominantly elven academy.
“Which leads me to believe you’re trying to cheer me up,” Bonnlyn continued. “Because I sincerely doubt anyone else on the team would appreciate a good slice of dark-shroom pie.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Verity’s down for pretty much anything.”
The reason for which wasn’t hard to guess given her history.
“She might, but she’d probably be under the table by the end of the second slice. Big body aside, I’m willing to bet she’s a lightweight,” the dwarf chuckled as she emptied her chopping board into a bowl. “But that’s neither here nor there.”
“You want to know why I’m out here cheering up you specifically.”
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you in the time we’ve known each other, William, it’s that you never do anything for no reason.” Bonnlyn eyed him. “In fact, I’d be willing to bet that Verity’s just about the only member of our little coterie of misfits who hasn’t figured that out.
He wanted to argue, but she wasn’t wrong.
“One of Tala’s goons approached me earlier,” he admitted. “She wants a meeting.”
That caught the redhead’s interest. “I thought the two of you weren’t talking, given you basically declared war on her when you last met.”
He appreciated that the young woman refrained from saying his plans to challenge his fiancé to a duel at the end of the semester aloud.
Say what you would about the slightly risqué dwarf, she wasn’t dumb. Oh, she was definitely the weakest member of the team when it came to combat practice and was tied for second worst with magic, but that was entirely down to both those things being entirely new to her.
And not being a natural prodigy in one like Verity.
With that said, prior to the discovery of her magical aptitude, she’d been set to take over a small mercantile empire.
That wasn’t a role one could take up if they were slow on the uptake.
“I did too. I was going to turn them down flat, but… Tala’s offering up a position as their opponent in one of their weekend spots.”
Given his eventual plan to take said team down, the value of that couldn’t be overstated. Oh sure, it would give Tala insight into his own team, but he was pretty sure she was getting that anyway.
He’d certainly not missed the fact that a few members of House Blackstone had started lingering around the arena when it was his team’s time to practice.
So no, he didn’t have much to lose by accepting the offer – and a lot to gain.
Not least of all because that would give us four weekend spots. Three on the floats and one on the Skeleton, he thought. That’s twice as much training time as the average cadet.
…Of course, that was also why he needed to talk to Bonnlyn.
He’d not failed to notice that the dwarf was… struggling with the breakneck routine the team had fallen into.
Nothing huge, but the small things were adding up. Minor mistakes in class. Occasional bouts of snappishness. Even her flirting had dropped off steeply in the last week.
So he wasn’t too surprised when she sagged. “It’s the Lunday isn’t it?”
He nodded reluctantly.
The Lunday was the last day of the week and prior to this latest deal the only opportunity his team had to take a break from the academy. Not for long, just a few hours in the morning before they returned for their bout in the Skeleton in the evening, but that only made that short window all the more significant.
“I can’t.”
The words from the dwarf were short and simple. She didn’t look at him as she said them, her eyes straight ahead as she continued chopping vegetables. More than he needed honestly, but he was happy to let her keep her hands occupied as they spoke.
Or rather, as she spoke because he wasn’t going to say much at all.
Instead, he simply nodded and continued shaping dough.
He could see her waiting for some kind of recrimination, it was obvious in the way she hunched her shoulders. She knew why he was pushing the team so hard. What would happen if his plan went to shit.
The fact that he’d be transferred away would be amongst the least of the outcomes.
…With that said, those were ‘him’ problems.
Bonnlyn liked him. Despite the extra work he was forcing them all through, he knew they’d bonded over the past month. The entire team had. With that said, she’d clearly found what she considered to be her limits.
So, he was going to stay quiet and let her get her thoughts in order.
Then and only then would he try to change her mind.
Eventually after a few more minutes of quiet work, she spoke up again.
“I need a break,” she said. “An escape. A chance to see home. Hearth. Speak to some fellow dwarves. Which I know’s not a big deal for you long-legs but… community’s a big thing for dwarves. I’ve never been without my kin for this long before.”
She dumped a now redundant amount of veg into her bowl. “I miss them. More than I ever thought possible.”
She started chopping again, even as her voice built up momentum. “I mean, it doesn’t exactly help that the team’s burning the candle at both ends. The academy’s hard enough as is, but you’ve got us doing all this other shit as well. The extra practice in the evenings. And on the weekends. Plus the duels. I mean, those things are fucking draining. Between the hangover from the venom if you get hit and just plain being bashed about, I feel like a zombie afterwards.”
William nodded. He could understand that. It likely didn’t help that Bonnlyn pretty much invariably went down first in most practice bouts. She wasn’t bad per se, but being strictly average made her the weak link that the other teams went after.
It didn’t much matter where they placed her, it still happened.
…A fact that now made him feel a little guilty given that he’d started exploiting that fact by… well, to say that he’d used Bonnlyn as bait in a few of the recent matches was an exaggeration, but not much of one.
Ignorant of his mental self-recriminations, the dwarf continued. “Maybe the rest of you were built for that but I’m not. I mean, aside from Verity, the three of you have been training most of your lives for this. Prior to a few months ago, I was learning how to run my family business.”
She threw the knife down with a grunt. “It’s just… too much. I’ve no fucking clue how Verity does it.”
Despite himself, he laughed, though it was a low, quiet thing. “I wouldn’t compare yourself to Verity. As you said, I’ve been preparing for this shit for most of my life… and she could still beat the stuffing out of me in a fight.”
Honestly it was ridiculous. He was ninety years old chronologically and he was being outperformed not just by an outright unnatural dark elf, but by a barely literate former slave.
Both of whom were eighteen.
He shook his head at the absurdity.
Sure, it was mostly just in things relating to physical activity – but even that should have seen him well ahead given the fact that he was a guy.
Well, at least where Marline was concerned.
Still, even compared to other orcs, Verity was something of a freak of nature.
I’d say it was pure luck that both her and Marline ended up on my team, but I’m beginning to suspect luck had little to do with it, he thought absently. I mean, sure, the extra practice definitely helps, but I was given very fertile ground to work with.
Too fertile.
Enough so that he was beginning to wonder if his mother’s instructions regarding his placement were more specific than he’d thought.
After all, the Ashfield matriarch never did one thing when she could perform two.
Slapping him into shape by placing him House Royal was one thing, but having him also succeed, earning some prestige for the house in the process?
Yeah, he could see her doing that.
And all she’d have to do was request that some of the intake’s more talented and driven members were placed onto his team.
Though if that is the case, it’s possible I might not need to worry about being transferred out at the end of the semester after all, he thought.
Though he’d not bet on it. Raising his profile by having him succeed would definitely be secondary in his mother’s eyes to keeping her new allies in House Blackstone happy.
“I’m not the type to give up. I’m really not. But being a good merchant is being able to recognize when an order comes in that you’re not going to be able to fill,” Bonnlyn continued talking, rambling almost, as if she was trying to justify her ‘failure’ to herself.
For just a moment, he considered a thought.
A thought he hated.
Deeply.
Just say you’ll sleep with her if she does this, a voice seemed to say. It’d be easy. She’s a young woman. They’re practically led about by their vaginas in this world. She’d leap at it.
And she would.
She’d continue to burn the candle at both ends, with the team continuing to work twice as hard as any other team in the academy.
But she’d do it if it meant she got that kind of ‘reward’.
Compared to what he planned, it was nothing. Just… taking advantage of a young woman’s libido to further his own ends.
And if she collapsed from exhaustion or something similar? Well, it’d hardly kill her.
Honestly, the fact that he was even debating it was absurd.
It was an easy solution.
Yet the thought tasted bitter in his mouth. Cheap and nasty, like stale liquorice.
“...Alright,” he said finally.
The dwarf glanced up at him. “Alright what? You going to transfer me? Say I’m a poor fit.”
There was just a small hitch in her voice at that suggestion.
He shook his head. “Ignoring the fact that I couldn’t do that for much the same reason my fiancé can’t, I wouldn’t anyway.” He looked her in the eyes. “You’re part of the team. For better or worse. And if what we’re doing now isn’t working for you, then I guess we need to adapt.”
There was no point in pushing his team to the limits of what they could achieve if he broke one of them in the process.
If Bonnlyn said she was at the end of her rope, he believed her. Sure, she apparently had her limits, but he’d never got the feeling she was a quitter. A little bummed at being the team’s weak link perhaps and definitely out of her depth within it, but hardly the sort to throw in the towel at the first opportunity.
“Next weekend. I’ll trade away our spots to a few second years for some favors and we can take the weekend off. You can visit the family on Solday and we’ll go out as a team on Lunday.”
The dwarf was staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “Wha- just like that!?”
He continued rolling dough. “Morale is part of a team’s fighting power.”
And while it wasn’t something he’d planned to do so soon, there were things he needed to leave the academy to do. Now was as good a time as any.
Though it’ll mean taking a second break later in the semester, he thought. Neither the suit or the pump are ready yet.
“T-thanks,” Bonnlyn sniffed quietly. “I… didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”
Slowly – after wiping his hands on his apron – he reached over and delicately placed his hand on the girl’s head.
She stiffened at first, but after a moment relaxed as comfortingly scratched her scalp.
Though after a few seconds she shook him off, blushing a little with her old fire as she glared up at him. “You know, coming from another guy, a scalp massage would feel sexy. Coming from you though it just feels like one of my uncles is giving me a pat on the head.”
He laughed, even as he washed his hands in the nearby sink – because for all that Bonnlyn wasn’t dirty, touching hair and then touching food was not sanitary at all.
“Well I’m sorry to hear that,” he laughed. “Uncle mode is all I’ve got unfortunately.”
The dwarf rolled her eyes as she turned to her overfilled bowl of mostly redundant vegetables. “Well, if that’s all you’ve got, I suppose it’s not too bad.”
William smiled.
Sure, his team had lost out on some valuable practice time – something that might well cost him just about everything down the line – but watching the young woman across from him practically come back to life again.
…Well, he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret it.
-------------------
Somewhere in the Ashfield manor, Lady Janet Ashfield reread the letter she’d just received – though not before glancing from it to the veritable pile of similar missives arranged on her desk behind it.
“What in the deep’s name is a ‘flashbang’ spell?” she asked aloud.