The night continued even after the fight had finished, with discussion turning to more general matters. The factory heir dominated this aspect of the discussion, spouting vain boasts about his wealth, the productivity of the factory he was to inherit, and various trips he’d taken above-ground.

Gihan contributed occasionally, and the Field Captain hopeful cut in either undercut some boast of the Factory heir’s or make a joke at his expense. Haiyeun remained totally silent, as did the girl, though she nodded or shook her head occasionally when a question was directed at her.

Gradually, by force of habit and repetition, Iyojin came to remember their names - the Field Captain hopeful was Yongaiji, the factory heir was Waehan, and the girl was Geonbi.

Gihan drew her into the conversation a few times, prompting either monosyllabic or brief answers from Iyojin. It wasn’t that she disliked them, necessarily - although certainly Waehan was an irritation - but that oftentimes they seemed to expect an elaboration which she did not want to provide.

As the night wore on, they gradually became more intoxicated - Waehan and Yongaiji especially, practically swaying in their seats after an hour or so. Haiyeun, despite bringing drinks over for everyone, never partook of them himself, and Geonbi - despite putting back just as much as Waehan and Yongaiji - never seemed to stray from sobriety, at least not in any observable fashion.

Gihan seemed to content himself with a single glass of a strong-smelling, dark-orange liquid, which Waehan decried as ‘pompous swill.’

Iyojin herself stuck to Honeywater, though it was filling enough that she only finished one for every three drinks the others (excluding Haiyeun and Gihan, obviously) put back.

As the conversation between them degenerated - largely due to Waehan’s boasts becoming unintelligible - Iyojin found herself… almost enjoying things. Their drunkenness was obnoxious, to be sure, but there was a sense of unspoken camaraderies between them that seemed to draw her in simply by proximity.

She had never considered herself a particularly social person - she had learned not to be, after it had become clear that the others in her Orb were doomed to expulsion. She enjoyed talking to her Orb Mother, although those conversations had taken a distinctly negative turn since she had begun to panic over her project.

The thought of her project, then, made her consider. Had she been struck by any particular bouts of inspiration, in the course of their exchange? She didn’t know that she had.

But…

It had simply been so fascinating. Every heartbeat leapt to the base of her throat, her blood seemed to pound in her ears, and every clash sent a spike of adrenaline thrilling through her body. That, at least, had been inspiring, if only in that it had inspired her to do this again sometime.

How often did Kagino’s hold Executor matches? Gihan would probably know - she could ask him on the return journey.

Eventually, Gihan stood from the table, stretching out his neck and arms as he did so.

“Well it was a pleasure to see you all again,” he said, smiling that cocksure smile of his. “But I’m afraid that work at the Paperhall is never done.”

Yongaiji groaned. “Don’t I know it…” he slurred out, clapping Waehan on the back. The factory heir sputtered some of his drink out onto the table, then started up a hacking cough.

Gihan shook his head, the smile going from oily to exasperated. “Geonbi, can you take care of these idiots?” He raised an eyebrow at the mysterious girl, and she nodded, standing up without even swaying.

“Haiyeun,” she said, snapping her fingers in the silent boy’s direction. “Help me with them.”

The other Paperhall student stood at her order, rounding the table to place both Waehan’s and Yongaiji’s arms around his shoulders. Geonbi lead the way out, and Haiyeun followed at a slight more sedate pace, helping the two intoxicated boys struggle down the stairs.

Gihan rounded on her once they were gone, and gave a flourishing bow to indicate for Iyojin to take the lead. She did so, walking back to the hatch that had granted them entrance and descending.

“So,” he began, once they had begun the descent to the stable. “What did you think?”

“Of?” she asked, wondering if he was referring to the match, the bar, or his friends.

“The night as a whole, of course,” Gihan replied. “Is it something you would like to, say, do again?”

Iyojin frowned a little at that.

“Why did you bring me here tonight?” She asked, instead of answering. Gihan took it in stride, not even blinking as he answered.

“Part of it is networking,” he replied. “The others are part of the next generation of Cradle’s elite. Waehan, of course, is the heir to one of the richest Titan Honey Factories in the city. He wouldn’t stop going on about it, but that doesn’t change the fact that he does know what he’s talking about. Yongaiji was a little more modest, but he’s almost guaranteed the Field Captain position, and then he’ll most likely be Outrider Admiral in a few short years after that. I’m on track to an executive position within my father’s research and development collective - it’s important that we make contacts now, strengthen bonds so that Swarm Cardle is stronger as a whole in future.”

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

He didn’t mention Geonbi in that explanation, a suspicious part of Iyojin whispered to her. Or you, for that matter.

“And me?” she asked, as they rounded the corner to the stable.

Gihan’s Dragonfly was being fed from a large trough of Titan Honey just a few meters away, and one of the docksmen hurried to unhook his saddle Chitin and Bridging Silk from where it hung on one wall.

Gihan paused for a moment, seeming to mull something over.

“That…” he began, “is best answered after I ask you another question. One that I wasn’t planning on asking for… perhaps a couple of weeks.”

Iyojin stood and waited.

Gihan sighed.

“Very well,” he said finally. “But Geonbi will not be happy with me… Well, anyway.” He cleared his throat. “What do you know of the Inner Cities?”

Iyojin paused for a moment at the non-sequitur. “... That they exist,” she replied bluntly.

Gihan snorted out a surprised laugh at her bluntness. “Mm, well, that is certainly true,” he admitted, “but I was referring to a certain tradition that occurs in them every few decades.”

He paused, as though allowing her to guess what it could be, but Iyojin had no clue what he was referring to, so remained silent.

“Well, it is known simply as the Tournament,” he explained. “A different individual finances it every time, it is held in a different city each time, and it calls for participants from all across Inara.”

The docksman began to wander closer, saddle Chitin in hand, but Gihan waved him off without looking.

“This year, there is an under-eighteen bracket. Though prizes have not yet been announced, even participation in the Tournament nets one renown and prestige across the continent. Furthermore, another delegation from Swarm Cradle are entering one of the intermediate brackets. A few of us - the next generation, as it were - are planning to enter, impress that delegation, and secure our future.”

Iyojin’s heart began to beat faster.

The prospect of more of those clashes, between people with abilities she had never seen before, sent a thrill of anticipatory exhilaration through her body.

“Now, I’ve heard some of what your research is on, through the grapevine,” Gihan continued. “And I believe that, if we were to field a prototype of your final project, not only would it provide you with valuable data, but it would certainly impress the other delegation.”

At those words, Iyojin’s stomach dropped out from under her.

It wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if it would ever be ready - she was still half-convinced that the entire endeavour was a dead end, that she had simply proposed an impossible Weave, that any day now her entire future was going to be cut off when everyone realised that she had no plan.

Gihan had kept talking through her internal breakdown, and she tuned back in, desperate to keep the dread from her expression.

“... Intended to propose that you join our delegation, come along to the Tournament so that you can keep working on your project, provide any last minute adjustments or - if necessary - repairs.” Gihan paused. As though seeing some remnant of her despair in her eyes, he continued, “of course, you need not answer now - the Tournament is not for some weeks yet, so there’s plenty of time for you to mull it over.”

Iyojin simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“... Well, anyway,” Gihan said with a light cough. “We should be getting back to the Paperhall, now. The work doesn’t stop just because we’re looking farther ahead!” He chuckled, and they walked further over to the dock where his Dragonfly was perched.

Iyojin remained silent throughout Gihan’s donning of the saddle Chitin, and was so distracted that she accepted his aid up to the passenger seat.

On the flight back, she found herself wrestling more with his proposal.

She had no guarantee that her project would work - just an idea and the beginnings of a Weave. But… Gihan didn’t know that. He wouldn’t know that, not until it was time for it to be attached to his Chitin.

Perhaps that would work as a delaying tactic, worst comes to worst, a cynical corner of her brain noted. Simply inform him of some fundamental incompatibility in his Chitin? It could buy us some time, if-

She couldn’t believe she was contemplating this. Contemplating lying to one of her fellow students, not for her own gain, not for her project - simply because she enjoyed watching the fights.

But she was contemplating it.

Perhaps she would be inspired. There was no guarantee that this wouldn’t benefit her project. And besides, wasn’t her Orb Mother telling her to think about her future anyway? This probably counted - like Gihan had been saying, she was networking.

That won’t hold up if they discover you’re lying, the voice pointed out.

She was amazed at how quickly the cynical part of her and the conscientious part had switched.

The Dragonfly closed in on the Paperhall’s dock, and Iyojin dismounted as though in a daze. She allowed Gihan to escort her back to her room, still wrestling with the conundrum as she did so.

They reached her room entirely too quickly.

“Well,” Gihan said, gesturing grandly to the paper door to her room. “Here we-”

“I’ll do it,” Iyojin said, sliding the entrance open and taking a half step inside. She turned to look at Gihan’s rapidly blinking face. “You can use my project in the Tournament. I will accompany you there. Goodnight.”

She closed the paper door in his face, then walked stiffly over to her bed.

Then, pushing her hands through her thick mop of hair and making painful fists, she groaned aloud.

Her heart was pounding at the thought of what would happen when her lie was finally revealed - but equally, the notion of those fights, of clashes between people potentially far more powerful than those Executors in Kagino’s, sent thrills of anticipation through her entire body.

She drifted off to sleep still chasing the contradictory feelings round her head, no closer to a solution.