I didn’t realize the school has a popularity ranking. At least, not until Joel shot to the top of it before the week was even halfway done. I had stuck him in the junior class, even though his age would place him as a freshman. Apparently, that didn’t matter too much, since even girls in my class were swooning over him on Tuesday.
I mean, he is admittedly good looking, inheriting the best from both his parents. He’s also a little shit, and arrogant to a fault. Nobody seems to mind that too much, however, as it just ‘adds to his appeal’ according to the gossip. People seem to mistake his arrogance for aloofness, and proof of his superiority. Non-existent superiority, at that.
I’m beginning to think that introducing him to school was a bad idea. Especially after he trashed the cool/bad guys in his class, who were apparently known for violent behavior and good looks. That instantly propelled him to “Prince” status. Whatever the hell that means. This isn’t some sort of shoujo manga, you know?
And all this new-found attention is doing wonders for his already over-inflated ego. At least punches are still effective against him. I think I would go insane if there wasn’t something I could hold over Joel.
Well, at least nobody’s connected the dots between me and him yet. The last thing I need is more attention. In fact, I was very happy to see that I wasn’t on that school-wide popularity listing. Trust me, I checked, and was glad to see that I wasn’t really attracting too much attention.
Now, I just have to continue avoiding people’s attentions. Should be a walk in the park.
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Godard wasn’t sure if Revy was an idiot or not.
On one hand, she had reached the top of the school-wide academic rankings. On the other, she’s sometimes extremely delusional.
Earlier in the day, she had come up to Godard, and nearly melted the hearts of everyone nearby when she asked—“What’s popularity ranking? Joel’s spot?”
It wasn’t that she was saying something particularly heartwarming, but rather that everything she says comes out in a way that makes people tilt their heads, smile contently, and say “Cute~”. Godard had gained quite a bit of resistance to Revy’s looks and actions over the years—as had the entire friend group. They had to.
So, he was able to calmly explain the existence of the popularity ranking to her, as well as recount how Joel had experienced a meteoric rise ranking wise. He was currently in the top ten, after having attended a single day of school. She then asked if she was on the popularity ranking. Godard told her no, knowing that any other answer would just upset her.
He left out the fact that the guys in charge of the popularity ranking couldn’t put her on it, since she apparently “transcends the notion of popularity.” Godard didn’t understand it, and he felt that neither would Revy. Therefore, he left out that bit of information.
What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?
Honestly, Revy was a total mystery to them all. It had come as a complete and utter surprise when they found out that she was an exiled Al’Verath. That particular High-Family has a reputation of being strong, but corrupt. There were many things that they were only able to get away with due to their political clout and power.
And rather than answering some of their questions, Revy’s origins raised many more. Like, why is her Awakening so weak, considering the raw power of the rest of her Family? There’s also the question of why Joel chose to stay with Revy.
Godard didn’t think that anyone would have fallen for Revy and Joel’s explanation—the one where Joel claimed that he came to Jor because Revy “seemed nice enough to take him in.”
That excuse stank of shit, and Godard was absolutely sure that there was something about the whole situation that Revy was keeping from them. Hell, there were likely many, many things she was keeping from them. However, this annoyed Sabrina and Haven more than Godard, Kormic, or Ussen. This was mainly due to the fact that Sabrina and Haven have had to live by the information they've gathered. Sabrina, because she’s the daughter of the city lord and has to understand the under-workings of the city and all the various different ways they interact with other worlds and powers. Haven uses information of a more personal level, rather than the industrial type stuff Sabrina deals with.
Not knowing something bothers them a lot more than it bothers the others. Godard’s family are smiths. They don’t care for politics or information all that much. All that matters is the quality of the product. Similarly, Kormic grew up in a military family infamous for just how few shits they give towards higher powers. And Ussen, well, his family have been merchants for generations. Money is all that matters to them.
So, they didn’t care that Revy was keeping secrets. To them, it simply doesn’t matter, nor does it affect what they think of Revy or what they do around her. They’re friends, and that’s what matters to them.
Godard also knows that Sabrina and Haven feel the same way, under the itch for information. No matter what they find, they’ll still stand behind Revy.
If they find anything. Apparently, there’s a disturbing lack of information about her in the city servers. Sabrina thinks that someone went in and erased some of the more vital things, like place of birth, relatives, psychological evaluations, doctor records, and even—oddly enough—her height and weight.
But again, Godard doesn’t care about those things. He thinks.
Well, there’ve been times when he wonders…. But that doesn’t matter. Hopefully.
Anyway, Godard left school, and his friend group all went their separate ways. Most of them had their own commitments and jobs to do after school, and Godard was no different. His family owns a smithy, and he was learning the trade from his father and older brother. His mother worked with the business side of things, arranging various deals and commissions for them to complete. He also has a little sister who attends the middle school.
When he got home, Godard could hear the pounding of metal on metal from the work studio behind the house. He immediately went into his room, and changed into a set of sooty and dirty work clothes, and threw on an apron over that. He left the house, and entered the smithy proper, smiling as he observed his father and brother working in tandem to forge a new weapon. From the looks of things, they were working on the falchion order that had come in a week or two ago.
There was a beauty to the forging process, in Godard’s opinion. The rise and fall of the hammer, the glow of the metal, the flakes of scale falling off every so often, the sparks from a particularly hard blow. All of these things combined to make one of the most functional pieces of art ever made. And Godard was happy to be a part of the process.
In fact, he had only been allowed to handle the hammer after memorizing all the different sorts of bladed weapons that exist, their functions, and how to forge them. He also had so spend quite a bit of time simply observing his father and brother working—The so-called learn by seeing.
There are some things that he can only learn by watching his relatives at work. For instance, there are certain forging techniques that have been handed down through the family line and never written down. There are also instinctive elements to forging that can’t be explained, and have to be gauged solely by the experience of the smith. By watching others at work, Godard could start cultivating instinct without utterly ruining material.
However, that whole process of observation was ultimately extremely boring. Why wouldn’t it be? After all, Godard wasn’t actually doing anything.
Thankfully for him, that ended once he turned thirteen, and underwent the Awakening. His father judged it as a good time to start him up on actual smithing. That very first day, Godard forged a knife under the direction of his father. It was absolute shit.
Godard felt bad, and talentless after making such a bad knife, but his father had only laughed, and pulled out an old, and even worse knife.
“This was my first blade.” He said. “Everyone does badly on their first try, no matter how much preparation they have. It’s a fact of the trade. You can even ask to see you brother’s knife—his is even worse than mine. And look how well he’s doing now!”
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He paused for a second, stroking his thick beard.
“Smithing takes real, physical practice. It’s not something that anyone is inherently good at. You just need to try your hardest from now on, and everything will be just fine.”
So, Godard practiced. He practiced really, really hard. Both in real life, and in Ashenload, since the game essentially mirrors real life, and can serve as a practice ground for any amount of skills and professions.
And now, five years later, Godard can walk into the smithy and confidently smith blades to fill orders.
Today, he walked in, and saw his father and brother pause briefly during their work. Both of the big and brawny men wiped the sweat from their brows, and smiled a greeting at Godard. He smiled back, accustomed to this little tradition and a thousand more.
He tried not to mind the fact that both the men had goat feet, and curling horns along with their massive muscles. They were in their Awakenings in order to leverage greater strength onto the metal, something that Godard envied a far bit. His own Awakening was unsuited for hard labor, and frankly quite embarrassing.
Godard walked over to the bit of the smithy set aside for his own work, and picked up a large and flat bar of metal. He didn’t need his Awakening anyway. He could work just fine without it.
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Sabrina and Haven walked home together. It made sense, since they lived in the same house together. It was a place provided by the city lord—Sabrina’s father.
There really wasn’t much to talk about on the way back, so they stayed silent. This was a practiced ritual between the two of them, and often the only bit of reflection time they would get in a day. All other hours were simply too hectic to stop and think about things.
Unfortunately, the school and their home were too close to enjoy the time for more than thirty minutes.
They immediately changed into comfortable sets of clothing, and met up again at a small circular table in the middle of their library and workroom. It was an odd sort of place, with shelves filled haphazardly by books off all shapes and sizes, makes and genres. Any wall space not filled by shelving was instead occupied by massive sheets of paper. The papers were covered by names, bits of string, and photographs.
Most notably, there was a sheet of paper as large as any of the others on one wall, with a single name in the center, and lots of white space. Only one or two lines of string extended from the name to other things.
The name read Revian Snow.
The girls sat at the small wooden table, and let silence hang for a few seconds.
“So, I guess we should update Revy’s profile, right? We now know for certain that she’s related to Joel, and is in exile from the Al’Verath family.” Asked Sabrina.
Haven sighed.
“I still say we should just take that down. I’d rather not have to investigate a friend.”
“Yes, I know. But she’s an exile from the Al’Verath family. Joel’s run away from that same family. Who knows what sort of trouble we could get into should we be missing a vital piece of information? Anyway, we’ve been over this before. It’s necessary.”
“Ugh. Fine then. So, what should we put on the paper, then? Besides the family relations, of course.”
Sabrina thought for a second.
“We should put the supposition about Revy being more powerful than she really is on there. That’s a fairly significant part of what we know about her, and the key to quite a few things. We should also consider the question of who exactly her parents are or were. How much power do they have, does Revy have any siblings?—stuff like that. Lastly, I think we should also consider the possibility that she’s capable of hacking in the city mainframes ad changing data as she desires. There’s been significant evidence to suggest that she’s able to do it, and has on innumerous occasions.”
Haven nodded, and wrote a few words on paper scraps before pinning them up on the board with Revy’s name on it. She then linked the scraps to the name with pieces of string.
Once she came back to the table, Haven asked Sabrina a question.
“Do you know what dad’s doing about that sudden influx of top-level mercenary teams entering the city? So far, we’ve observed one reasonably famous team enter, exit, then reenter the city in a small window of time, then another team—this one extremely infamous—entering the city after them.”
Sabrina thought for a while, before asking her own question.
“How many low-level teams have entered the city recently?”
“Not many. Same as normal, I’d say.”
“So, they’re probably here for a high-level mission, available to only the best of teams. And given that two powerful teams have been dispatched, there’s probably a lot of cash up for grabs. I’d say that we should check in on the mercenary guild, and see if we can get a little cut of the pie. Ideally, we could offer information to the teams in exchange for some cash.”
“Ah, that would only work with one of the teams, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the first mercenary group is Starfall team 1.” Said Haven. Sabrina nodded.
“The second team, the one that just entered the city about six hours ago, are the Angelic Beauties.”
Sabrina gasped a little upon hearing the name.
The two girls fell into conversation and planning sessions for the rest of the day, discussing what should be done about the Angelic Beauties. Eventually, they decided to simply not touch the issue. Whatever mercenary mission they’re on isn’t worth the potential harm that would come from making a mistake around the group.
Sabrina and Haven wouldn’t want to touch that group with a mile long pole.
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Kormic never really enjoyed hurting people. It just went against his nature, you know? But, when one comes from a military family, you do what you must.
Don’t mistake his reluctance for inability though—He loves learning martial arts just as much as he hates applying them in actual combat. But again, you do what you must.
He also loves teaching the novice children that come to the family dojo, looking to learn martial arts for whatever purpose. That’s what he does most days, and this was no exception. Right after school ended, he made his way to the dojo. Once inside the dojo, he changed into his gi, and waited in practice room 3.
It wasn’t a long wait, though it also wasn’t very short. Eventually, kids of ages 7 to 13 began filtering in through the doors. They were also dressed in the traditional martial art’s gi, and had belts of varying color. Kormic was proud of his group, since they were reasonably hard workers, and talented on top of that. One of the girls in the group, an eleven year old named Gabrielle, had the distinction of being the most talented martial artist Kormic had ever seen. He’s confident that she’ll be able to reach his own level and beyond given a few years and a growth spurt.
Sometimes, he’ll let a little indiscipline slide by and bring the group sweets or something similar. That was Kormic’s favorite thing—seeing the kids enjoy life so much. They’re always so full of hope and dreams, and optimistic on top of that. Just seeing them helps to convince himself that everything will work out in the end, one way or another.
Two hours later, the children left the practice room sweaty and tired, but with grins on their faces. Kormic really enjoyed teaching, and kids tend to pick up on that.
The kids would change back into street clothes and go home to do homework, have dinner, and relax. No such thing would happen for Kormic.
Kormic smiled, baring his teeth while walking into practice room 1.
Inside, his father and older brothers were already waiting. They all had similar looks on their faces. They all watched Kormic enter the room with eagerness.
Kormic also enjoyed this part of the day, despite his reluctance to cause other’s pain. Actually, he turned it into a bit of a personal challenge—Can he take down everybody during their daily spars in ways that were painless? It’s for this reason that Kormic preferred to use the sorts of martial arts that redirect energy, rather than relying on your own punches. It was a little infuriating to his family, since he’d gotten to the point where they really had to try in order to land a hit on him.
It’s all great fun, really.
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Ussen’s not a good person. He’s fully aware of this fact, thought he thinks that others are not.
You see, his father, and his father’s father, and so on, so forth—were merchants. They bought and sold goods, and built a fortune and a veritable mercantile empire over the generations.
Not.
That’s the cover story. The one that explains away their wealth, and the fear they can drive into other people. Sure, they are merchants to an extent. They do buy and sell goods. But they don’t specialize in it. Not even close.
When Ussen gets home, his relaxing day ends. That’s because every minute not spent at school is spent training for him. Even when he plays games, he has to be on his toes for sudden attacks and opportunities.
Because his father isn’t a merchant. Nor will Ussen be a merchant.
However, one could say that they are still in a rather cutthroat business.
Long story short, they run an assassin ring. One of the more powerful in the galaxy as well. Certainly the most powerful one found at such a distance from central zones. Ussen’s being trained as his father’s heir.
Look, I know what you’re thinking—Why the hell is an assassin attending high school? Well, that’s another part of his training. Assassins have to fit in with society, right? And there’s no better training for that then actually having to fit in. Especially in high school, which is all about fitting in.
In the end though, Ussen is a killer. There’s nothing he can do about that, and he’s gradually learning to live with his actions and existence.
The guilt does get to Ussen sometimes. The fact that nobody knows about this other side of him wears down on him. The fact that the acquaintances he has at school have no idea what he truly is tears at him inside.
But, it is what it is. He deals with it.
Today, Ussen’s called to his father’s office as soon as he gets home.
“I have a new job for you.” He says, his expression stern and callous as always.
Ussen doesn’t know why, but he feels a bit of a chill.
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I hit the washer. The damn thing stopped working today, for some reason. I have a sneaking suspicion that Joel has something to do with it.
Sighing, I eye the machine, as if staring intently would reveal why it had made a clanking noise and ground to a halt.
Really, it’s just been one problem after another for me lately, no?
Even worse, I kinda get the premonition that some pretty big trouble is coming my way. And, as someone who uses a psionic type power, I’ve learned to trust my intuitions and feelings. More often than not, they turn out to be frighteningly accurate.
I think I’ll start carrying out some… “safety measures” from now on. It’ll be a bit of an inconvenience, but’s that’s better than getting hurt after all. Or worse.
Right. I think it’s time to do some more research, and also some reconnaissance. Whatever does come, I want to be ready. Preferably, I also want it out of the way as quickly as possible. My normal, everyday life is too important to be halted for minor inconveniences.