Kirs looked down at her notes, going over the list of candidates again. It wasn’t looking great. She and Ranvir had arrived at the academy. The year had started a few weeks ago, and they’d quickly been setup with a list of available recruits from third-year up.

At first, she’d hoped that they’d get it over with quickly. Ranvir hadn’t been that picky with his requirements for students. The only hard requirement was a desire to learn more about what the tether was and not having a hard stance on the Triplet Goddess.

Even that, someone who wasn’t wholly religious, had proved surprisingly difficult. Kirs had grown up going to the church on big occasions, but it was more of a community event than a religious one. Her parents hadn’t been overly concerned with their own faith or that of their children. Neither had most of the people she’d met during most of her life.

Yet, many of these people were. She calling them dogmatic might be overshooting the mark, but not a lot. The few people of the faith she’d talked had been mostly quiet in their faith. An unshakable confidence that didn’t lend itself to shouting at your interviewers for even questioning doctrine.

Granted, they’d interviewed over a hundred-and-fifty people and only two had yelled at them. It was still uncomfortable to have a fully grown man of the second-stage red-in-the-face and screaming at you. Those were moments when she was glad Ranvir was there.

The man, mustached and heaving for breath, his face so ruddy as to resemble wine, was slowly approaching them. Fists clenched, jaw muscles flexing like a pulse in his temple. She couldn’t sense what happened, but he must have embraced the pressure.

His eyes rolled into his head and he fell to his knees. Kirs blinked in surprise, opening them to see Ranvir standing over him. His wings were spread wide, purple eyes glowing menacingly. Kirs didn’t have a soul-sight—after hearing the specifics about it from Ranvir and Kasos, she decided on soul-sight as the most accurate. Even without that extra sense, she felt an inch of the dread that must’ve overwhelmed the man.

Face pasty white and with shaky arms, he tried to get to his feet. Ranvir seized him by the back of his neck, long black talons resting against the man’s cheek.

“I—I—,” Ranvir ignored him, hauling the man outside.

Kirs was only just getting around the desk when she felt the temperature drop and her ears popped. Ranvir bellowed at the line of students, loud enough that no one on the academy could’ve missed it.

The words didn’t bear repeating, but it was a long line of insults to the Triplet Goddess. Then he tossed the interviewee onto the grass, shouted, “Next!” and stepped back inside.

“That was a bit much,” she said, wincing at him as he took in deep breaths.

He nodded. “But we’re trying to find ones who will look deeper than the surface, or who can tolerate casual heresy.”

Kirs considered his words, putting them up against the situation at the school. Foreigners with powers unrelated to the Triplet Goddess. An examination of the powers that would require questioning the faith.

“I still think you went overboard,” she decided.

Ranvir paused halfway to his seat. Turning around, his purple eyes inspected her. Calculating, she thought. His face had grown inscrutable in the years they’d been apart. He’d grown dangerous. Part of her would always see the confused kid who’d been trying to figure out how the library worked, but that person was buried under so many layers. Would she ever see him again? Or was he gone forever?

“Then tell them,” Ranvir said. He took his seat and knitting his fingers together.

Kirs did. A dozen people had already left at that point. She decided to just congratulate the remainders on being level-headed and not jump into action when they didn’t understand the circumstances.

----------------------------------------

Kirs moved down the list of possibilities. They were on their last day of interviews and the pickings were sparse. She rolled the pen between her fingers as she considered.

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

“You’re certain they aren’t chosen by skill or talent?”

Ranvir nodded. “They are mostly middling, but plenty fall on either side of the average.”

She’d asked each where they came from. There was an over-representation of people from the country-side around the capital. Of course, there were some from other places, but they were rarer than these near lying villagers.

“What do you think it means?” she asked after explaining to Ranvir.

“Something political.”

She gave him a deadpan look. “Really? You think so?”

He turned his head to look at her, then shrugged over-exaggeratedly. Part of her really envied Esmund right about now. Just messing about at home, not having to sit through hours of dull conversation with mush-brained men.

“Are they stupider than average?” she asked.

“You’re stupider than average.”

Before she could reply, the next applicant knocked, then opened the door. “Student Kol,” he said, saluting before stepping fully inside.

“Student Kol,” Ranvir said, gesturing for him to stand in the middle of the room. “You’ve heard what I said. What do you think?”

“Sir, I think it’s dumb. You’re a heretic and a failure.”

“Failure?”

“You dropped out of the academy, Sir.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Ranvir said, looking down at his paper of general questions. “What year are you?”

“Fourth, Sir.”

“And are you excited to get to the front lines, or would you rather come study with us for a few years?”

“I’d rather fight, Sir. I don’t want to be among you and the women.”

Kirs sighed and dropped her head into her hands. This was a common consensus among some students. Men fought, women researched. Men killed and women ruled. It got less prevalent the further from the Elusria City one got, but it was still evident, to one degree or another, in nearly every village.

“You look forward to fighting for your country,” Ranvir said, writing down his notes. “That’s it for now. You may leave.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the fourth-year said, at the same time disrespectful and not.

Kirs could see tension fall out of his shoulders as he opened the door. “Oh,” Ranvir added. “Tell them we’re taking a break. Ten minutes, then we begin again.”

“As you say, Sir.”

“That’s one loyal soldier,” Ranvir muttered, scratching the last of his notes down.

Kirs’ head shot to him and she exclaimed. “That’s it. That’s what’s so special about them. They are all loyal to Elusria or the Queen.”

Ranvir pursed his lips, mentally taking a tally of the students.

“That’s why there are so many living in the surroundings around the capital, but relatively few who live far away or inside. Assuming an equal distribution, most of the people who awaken from the city are likely to be from the poorer, more populous half, or see it every day. The ones living far away see so little of their Queen, they loyalty to the country is in name only.

“But villagers who live close by have enough of a tie to see the benefits and get the propaganda, but not so close as to visit the city regularly.”

Ranvir shrugged. “It’s better than any reason I’d figured.” Then he sighed and got up. “That would track with her annoying behavior. Of course, she would limit us to the most zealous and narrow-minded people.”

“You’re only saying that because you don’t like nobles.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes. Loyalty to the Queen is not synonymous with either of those things.”

Ranvir stopped in the doorway, blocking it for Kirs. He looked at her for a long moment. “Are you sure?”

“That having faith in something or someone doesn’t make you a narrow-minded person? You believe in mana.” Then she pushed around him, feeling his gaze on her back as she stepped into the fresh… rain. It was better than a cramped room squeezed into the corner of one of their buildings on campus.

Students were practicing all over the green. The clash of stone and crack of ice most common. Flares of light and the distinct whip-snap of warp also sounded out occasionally. But it was the rare attack that was so uncontrolled as to be seen or heard like that.

A few students were hanging out around the door to their small room, but she’d ignored them as she passed by. Now she heard one of them talking to Ranvir.

“Hello, Sir,” she said.

Kirs considered stepping outside to stretch her legs, but rain and no small bit of curiosity kept her in the doorway. She turned to look in her friend’s direction.

A woman, taller than average, with short hair cut to her ears had blocked his path and stood with a hip cocked. Kirs recognized her. The only woman on their list. She was a second-stage obsidian, Cloak and Flesh. She’d been practicing for three-ish years longer than Ranvir.

When the Queen had first introduced a small group of women tethered who wanted to join the fight, she’d been among them. Kirs knew little about their training, but she was guessing it was sub par at best. At least, she’d gotten the impression that Estrid believed Ranvir to be training an elite force of tethered, no matter how many ways they explained the situation.

Ranvir frowned at her, then glanced at Kirs. With a sigh, he nodded. “Hello,” he said, voice restrained.

“I was just thinking.” Her voice dripped with an intensity that almost made Kirs blush and she could only see her back. “About what kind of training you might employ with your students at this new school of yours. Thinking about how I might like to join it, Sir.”

“Listen…” he closed his eyes. “I can’t remember your name. We’re not a military group.”

“I’ve seen the recruits who come here,” she argued, losing some of the heady steam she’d built up.

“Not my choice. Now, you have neither the temperament nor the inclination for our kind of work. Kindly move aside. I need some fresh air.”

Kirs caught a flash of the girl’s—she was technically a little older than Kirs, but it felt fitting given the circumstances—disbelief and had to run outside to hide her own mirth. The light rain prickled her skin and rapidly cooled her expression.

“That wasn’t too harsh, was it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.”