Of all the denizens of Forum, it is conceivable that the professors of the academy were the most punished by the influx of new students. Many of them were royal engineers and had been happily employed creating new tools and devices at the king’s behest, indulging an old man’s fancies on what seemed to be a bottomless budget. The new king was merciless when he learned their contracts specified they would maintain the lectures for the academy without specifying the size of the academy.
In the past, classes were little more than fabrications on paper to grab hold of students and bring them directly into workshops for additional labor, but the children of the nobility expected to be in classrooms, to have meaning and structure. More precisely, their parents expected such reports. The children had no better than average attentions, often finding the classes to be a mere formality while they conspired with one another and built their own networks for the future. The true men of learning could do little more than grit their teeth like sailors in a storm, praying it would be over soon.
It didn’t take long for them to learn that a few of their new pupils were not to be trifled with.
One such man was Theo Montem, a knight at an age slightly above when it would have been expected he marry and yet with a status that explained the delay. Born to a family of professional soldiers, he had abstained from the company of women so long rumors of homosexuality had begun to circulate. The very day Fredrich von Arandall was crowned by the angel Acheliah, Theo was raised up from a mere retainer to the head of the newly formed Warden Knights. Among other duties, he was both Lucius’ superior and his open-air jailor.
To the frustration of the academy professors, he was also brilliant. Whenever called upon he had the answer in a flash, particularly when it came to the history of Vassermark. Low-born in comparison to his classmates, he knew more of heritage, honor, and symbology than the future rulers of the kingdom, much to their chagrin. Of course, such knowledge should have been expected of a man tasked with investigating and arresting any revolutionary sympathizers.
He also sat next to Lucius whenever the opportunity arose, filling the back of classrooms with one-sided chatter as if the two were friends. “I envy your brazenness, Solhart, to have a child with your mistress and act like nothing happened.”
“It’s not uncommon,” Lucius said, playing with the pages of his tome. He had it laid out before him to give the appearance of reading.
“It’s rather uncommon to bring her in public. Particularly to a feast with the king!”
“She’s something like a friend to the princess.”
“And beautiful too. Few men return from war with such a prize!”
“Few men return from war.”
“Now, now, a conqueror shouldn’t be humble. Every man whose ever fought for you couldn’t speak higher of you. Even the king acknowledges your skill. Should Skaldheim attack now, you would be called to the front.”
“They won’t, though.”
Theo leaned closer, a snake approaching a bird’s nest. “And what makes you say that?”
The question was a threat. Not enough to convict Lucius by itself, but evidence to justify any narrative Theo or the king might wish to portray, and it was within earshot of half a dozen other students. The actual answer was thus the incorrect answer. It would be nearly treasonous to say that Skaldheim would see no point in declaring a war before it’s enemy tore itself apart, so he answered, “Just as Vassermark would not be able to march to war without Acheliah’s blessing, the same can be said of Skaldheim. That is why she struck a deal with them. We’ll have peace with them for a few more years.”
“Young Lord Solhart,” the professor called, a shaft of chalk crumbling within his grasp as he drew the entire room’s attention to him. “Perhaps you would like to inform the class a bit about Lady Acheliah’s past. You were present at the feast where she utilized a most peculiar and famous spell. Considering your… bardic company… perhaps you know the name of the spell?”
Lucius glanced over the board, finding it covered with dates and names he hadn’t been paying attention to. Regardless, he answered, “I don’t believe she has a name for it, but others call it the rain of steel feathers.”
The professor clasped his hands behind his back and began strolling toward him. “Correct, but do you know why it earned that name? And I don’t mean the simple similarity.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Theo was still watching Lucius, as was the rest of the class. The moment the professor walked past her, Aria vi Solhart gave him a meaningful gaze as if to tell him it was something he should know. He answered, “If you’re asking how it first became famous, it’s because she used it to quell the Naiad Cult Uprising in the two-hundreds after she developed it to quell the founding blood feud of the Feugards.”
A chair toppled over as Jules II von Feugard rose at the front of the room, eldest son of the Feugard family. “This is a place of learning, not of slander, Solhart.” Had he been the heir of the family, he would have been an embarrassment. As it was, everyone knew his sister kept him at arm’s length, even for the short time he had been recalled from the Misty Isles so that a more suitable steward could prepare the plantations for planting. The boy was meant to be marriage material, but he had only learned a temper while away.
“It’s been over five centuries. You’re not even descended from one of the brothers, so what are you–”
“Repeating lies is an insult to my honor, Solhart!”
It was Lucius’ turn to rise and the professor found himself caught between two fuming nobleman. I believe he sincerely considered trampling over some of the other students to get away. “Please inform me, since you must be an expert in this, it’s your family after all, what did I say that was wrong?”
Jules II jabbed a finger at him. “You are repeating the known lies of a charlatan. Do you always get your history from foreigners? Isu came to our kingdom to grift.”
Lucius couldn’t help but smile, because he knew exactly what defense the Feugard boy was planning. “Isu is the only firsthand account of the event unless you want to go ask Acheliah yourself. Or would you prefer the annals your family paid to have written some thirty years after the fact?”
Jules II snorted. “What an unscholarly attitude, as befitting a mere fighter. Professor, correct me if I’m wrong, but is it not the job of the learned to take alleged primary sources and correct their lies? The truer texts are those produced with the benefit of hindsight. They remove such nonsense as claiming all were killed when it’s obvious that if the writer had been there to see it they would have been killed as well! I would have you apologize, Solhart.”
Lucius laughed in his face. “Isu was a woman. That’s not even her true name, just a moniker. And the meaning of that should be obvious to everyone here. How many of you were at the Bureaucrat's Rebellion? You saw the spell she cast and yet I’m the only one here who felt it. Anyone care to point out the obvious as to why that is?”
Aria sighed, but it was her family’s honor at stake, so she chimed in to say, “Because you’re a man, and the spell only targeted men.”
Lucius rolled up one of his sleeves to show the lingering scars of stab wounds across his flesh as the Feugard boy stuttered for a response. “Isu was in fact the only woman present. That was why the spell was made that way, so that there would be someone to warn others of such destructive idiocy. The fact that she re-used it during the Naiad Rebellion and again at the Bureaucrat's Rebellion was simply convenience for her. It all comes from one angry brother unfit to rule.”
Jules II struck Lucius in the chest with his glove.
Theo was at his side in a flash. “My lord, you need to pick that back up,” he said as Lucius could barely contain his laugh.
“You expect me to just stand here and listen to that?” the Feugard boy shouted, pushing past the professor who immediately retreated once more to the front of the room.
“Solhart serves at the behest of the king. If you wish to have a duel with him, throwing garments around is meaningless. You’ll have to petition the king. If you write a letter now, perhaps it will be granted in a few weeks.”
Jules’s face flushed as he picked his glove back up and marched out of the room. The professor weakly cleared his throat and dismissed the class the moment the door was slammed shut.
“Perhaps that’s enough for one day,” the scholar said, quickly closing his books as the other students rose. He was the next out the door while many of the youths lingered to watch Lucius.
He stood tall, meeting one gaze after another with the knowledge there wasn’t a single student in his class who had not lost a family member during the coup. There were at least a dozen he suspected had encouraged Jules to confront him, and a dozen others that wanted nothing more than to have Theo cut off his head. It was this animosity that made the professor nearly invisible and none would remark upon his absence even when it extended a full two days.
“Brother,” Aria said, gesturing with her head toward the door.
Lucius noted which of the girls in the class scowled at the sound of Aria’s voice but said nothing as he departed with her. Theo let him leave with only a comment that he was expected in the evening. The two siblings in name walked in silence, ascending to the second floor where the halls were unheated and the foot traffic absent. Then he asked, “Should I have accepted the duel?”
She turned on him, scowling. “You shouldn’t have provoked him in the first place!”
“Why? To give those people more time to find a thousand ways to insult you from behind smiles?”
“Have you been ignoring your mail?”
“It’s been rather busy for me. When people decide to pick a fight, I need to settle it quickly and move on.”
“I’m not worried about Jules!” she snapped. “I know as well as you that you could kill that man, or any champion he names, in a duel. I’m worried about what’s going to happen when Mother gets here. Don’t you realize she’s on her way?”