Farruine, Argent Q.
ID#: X13-117
Age: 16 (91YS. 18th Day of Corals)
Hair: White
Eyes: Green
Height: 5’10”
Class: X13
Rank: C2
Level: 4
Proficiencies: Mid-Ranged Combat, Forestry, Dungeoneering
Specialization: Alchemy/Herbology
Standing: Favourable
*Notes: Wields a unique set of ranged weapons, known as ‘Argent Pistols’, capable of creating a wide array of effects based on individual loads.
Argent sat at the desk in his dorm room, absently tapping the wood with his quill as he stared down at his student handbook. It was still uncanny the way it updated itself in real time, always changing in accordance to the events taking place around the school… But his attention wasn’t focused on the newly filled portions of the book.
It’s only been two weeks, but I've already increased to level four… The entrance exam must have really pushed my limiters up.
He thought to himself, pleased though by the same token bitter. It had been embarrassing to learn that he had been the lowest level member of their entire class, taking the exam at level three. The closest to him had been Jaroth and Leif, who had both been level four during the time of the exam. The other students of X13 had been double his level or more, with Naiara sitting at the top of the class with a ridiculous level eleven standing. Eleven! Those kinds of numbers were in league with legitimate full-time mercenaries, if not higher than some of the more amatuer! Dropping his quill and letting it roll slightly across the desk, Argent put his face into his hands and groaned.
In this world, level referred to the amount of skill you had achieved within the realm of your aspects. As a person grew in competence with their abilities, advancing their capacity and control over the aspects which were open to them, they could increase the limits of those aspects or possibly even gain access to new ones. Typically this meant gaining access to stronger, more varied abilities within that aspect’s realm of the Arcanasphere. It was generally accepted that for each level a person possessed, they would have access to one unique ability per aspect they had open, though these numbers had been proven to not always be the case. Some individuals, particularly in the caster-type specializations, had been shown to possess only abilities from a single aspect regardless of how many they had opened. In short, there was no guaranteed way of judging what a person had up their sleeves, but level was by and large a reliable indication of an individual’s overall strength… And he was at the bottom.
“Uuughh… What am I doing?”
Argent questioned no one in particular as he clasped his hands over his face, venting his frustration if only a little. He knew he wasn’t much of a fighter, but he had never expected to be so far behind the curve. He was going to have to work hard. He WOULD work hard. Harder than anyone else.
“You can do this.”
He hissed to himself through grit teeth, removing his hands from his face and instead thumping his balled fists onto the desk.
“You uh.. You alright in here, bud?”
Gauge’s voice came from the doorway, and Argent spun in his chair to find the young rogue standing there with a bemused grin on his face. The alchemist gestured for the other boy to let himself in, and Gauge would do so, making his way casually across the room to sit on the bed. Tipping his head to one side, he gave Argent one of his more serious looks.
“Really though, something eating at you? Not usual for you to look so… Down.”
“I’m fine, really, I just.. I’ve been frustrated about my level. Even after ranking up, I’m still the lowest in our class.”
“Ahh, that. I mean sure, nobody likes to be last, but do you really feel like you are?”
The rogue rested his chin on one hand, gesturing outward with the other as Argent blinked at him questioningly.
“Think about it. Between quick problem solving under stress and all the fancy self-made tools you pack around, you’ve held your own in terms of performance. If you want my opinion flat out, those pistols easily make up for gaps in power by one or two levels if not more.”
He straightened up, tapping a finger against the side of his head with a grin.
“What you lack in raw power you’ve compensated for with equipment and ingenuity. That’s like adventuring one-oh-one! And yeah, yeah... Gear alone won't always be enough to tip the scales, but it's enough for now. Besides, it’s not like I’m that far ahead of you.”
Argent couldn’t help but smile, the rogue having definitely made him feel better about the situation. It was true that Gauge was only a level beyond him, and the majority of the higher members of the class had not leveled at all since arrival. Of course that was to be expected, as the demands grew exponentially the further one progressed. Still, at this moment it helped alleviate some of Argent’s tension.
“Thanks. I’ll try not to let it get me too wound up.”
“That’s the spirit. Now c’mon, we’re gunna be late if we don’t get a move on, and you know how Class Prez is about people being late.”
“Sure thing.”
Today was what the academy curricular referred to as a ‘core day’. Each day of the week being categorized into different types which dictated how classes would be handled, using the old world standard. Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays were core days. Days during which each class would have lessons directly from their primary instructors with side courses dictated by their homeroom instructor, in their case this was Instructor Liamra.
Wednesdays were ‘specialty days’. All the instructors in the school taught block courses on these days and students were free to attend whichever interested them, so long as they attended a class each block. It was still a school day after all, and skipping out was heavily punished.
Saturdays and Sundays were known as ‘lecture days’. During these days, some teachers would provide workshop sessions and study halls, but no attendance was mandatory. Students could pursue whatever extra coursework they pleased or take the days to themselves.
Learning the day system had been difficult for a few of Class X13’s members. Haana and Leif in particular treated the concept as though it were completely alien, Shizuka also, though she had adapted much more quickly. Argent and Gauge both had roots in the Southern Kingdom, and the old ways were common to them. The southernmost regions of this world were, after all, the bastion of tradition from the ancient empires long before the Rift Event had reshaped the planet.
Funny to think that now I'm almost as far north as a person can travel… In so many ways, it is like stepping into a different world entirely.
The thought stood out in Argent's mind distinctly as he sat down for their first class of the day, glancing in particular at Leif’s wolven ears as they lightly twitched atop his head. That was another detail of the south which separated it so much from the rest of the world, the unabashed prejudice against non-human races. The old traditions were just that, old, born in a world where the ‘higher races’ and ‘hybrid races’ had not existed. Even now the Old Church clung to a fanatical bias against non-humans of all types. The notion was enough to bring a frown to Argent’s face, but he tried his best to bury the depressing train of thought and focus instead on Instructor Liamra as she opened their first period class and gave them their itinerary for the day. After Homeroom with her, it was physical conditioning with Instructor Hanill. They would then be released for a meal break before picking up Aspect Arts with Instructor Heiran, moving into battle courses with Instructor Bridger, and ending the day in Monster Studies with Instructor Ward.
“Any questions, my lovies?”
Vivian spoke over the groans which had been caused by the revelation that they would be training under both Instructors Hanill and Bridger in the same day. Fenn's already pale face drained of colour simply at the mention of the hulking, mecha-armed warrior that was Souva Hanill.
“Probably still has nightmares from the entrance exam’s obstacle course.”
Gauge whispered to Argent, giving the sorcerer a pitiable look. The alchemist couldn’t deny that he felt for the boy. His own memories of Souva were anything but pleasant, and the man did nothing to improve that impression every time he put the class through the wringer.
“I have a question.”
Seren spoke up from her table at the back, though over the passing days the seating arrangements had gradually shifted into specific cliques. She now shared the table with Cassius and Matthias, their little group an obvious hierarchy of sorts within the class despite Naiara’s standing as Class President.
“Yes, miss Ulfrecht? Don’t be shy~”
Their homeroom pixie kept up her mask of pleasantries, though everyone knew full well that Seren was anything but shy. The dragon-eyed girl stood up, leaning forward with one hand on the table and the other on her hip as her blood red gaze settled on Vivian.
“Why is our class so Gods-be-damned small? And why are we the only first years with an ‘X’ in our title?”
Argent hadn’t truly given the matters much thought, being as pressured by their coursework as he was, but admittedly both were very good questions. The majority of the other classes at the DCA were thirty members strong, and they were regularly numbered one through six each generation; Classes one and two being the first years, three and four the second years, and five and six the thirds. He’d been so worried about keeping up with their workload that he hadn’t stressed the nature of things, but now that it was pointed out at face value everything about their class did seem extremely unorthodox. All eyes in the classroom turned to Vivian, and the pixie stopped fluttering and landed on the podium with a sigh, folding her arms and looking out at the class.
“Well, I suppose now’s as good a time as any to tell you all. It’s nothing we intended to hide, we were simply letting you settle in before springing things on you, but since you asked… I’m sure by now you’ve all noticed that the majority of this class is substantially stronger than the average applicant we get here at the DCA-- Your levels of performance are, well, unnatural. The ‘X’ in Class X13 is a shorthand designation for ‘Experimental’, and the number indicates that you are the thirteenth group of students in DCA’s history to undertake this particular curriculum.”
Argent shrunk back in his chair at that revelation, convinced he had felt more than one pair of eyes move his way as the words ‘majority of this class’ were spoken in regards to their strength. The situation their instructor described seemed odd, but also potentially positive? In the alchemist’s mind, being part of a separate program developed in the wings of the academy sounded like more of an opportunity than anything. Cassius apparently did not agree on this front, as he lashed out next.
“Huh? What the hell is experimental supposed to mean?”
“It means we're guinea pigs.”
Fenn commented blankly, his violet eyes still as disinterested as ever. Beside him, Leif’s tail began to wag hurriedly, small sproutlets beginning to grow from the desk as he gripped the wood with his clawed hands.
“Guinea pigs are delicious!”
“Shut up, dog brain!”
Cassius spat back, drawing a loud growl from the beastkin as the two glared across the room at one another. Leafy growths began sprouting from the table as Leif's wild arcana leaked through his grip, at which Fenn rolled his eyes before beginning to remove them with small spurts of flame. Before things could get too far out of hand, Vivian pulled the attention back to herself.
“It means a lot of things. More work, more opportunities, more possibilities. I don’t know if you’ve realized by now, but you twelve are the only first years who took the entrance exam you did. Everyone else was given a simple physical assessment and a written test.”
“We WHAT?” “Huuuhhh?!” “Are you kidding me??” “What the f--”
Outbursts from all across the room filled the air, incredulous stares burning into the pixie as her students struggled to grasp the implications at hand. Instructor Liamra put on her unflinching smile and continued.
“Several years ago, the Grand Master of the DCA decided that many aspects of our system were not providing the necessary challenges and experience to cultivate the best of our students. Especially the more… Gifted, ones. He spent much of his time developing what he described as a ‘unique and demanding curriculum’, which would ‘test the limits of the strongest students and cultivate a new era of legends.’ In other words, this class is his own personal vision.”
“Indeed.”
A gruff, dignified voice spoke from the doorway, commanding the attention of the entire room with its deep tone. Its owner was a tall, strongly built man with strikingly handsome facial features despite his greying hair, which was groomed neatly into a warrior’s ponytail. Dressed in the DCA’s formal uniform of violets, silvers, and blacks with the school crest emblazoned upon the shoulder piece of his mantle, he entered the classroom with a purposeful stride. His eyes were a piercing silver blue, like a bright daytime sky laced with heavy clouds. His advancing age was apparent, but there was a sense of strength and alertness to him, particularly within the depths of those eyes.
“G-g-grand Master! Welcome!”
Instructor Liamra sputtered, offering the man a crisp salute. At her words, Naiara immediately stood and ordered the room to attention, rendering a salute as the rest of the class followed suit. The greying old master gave them a warm smile, waving a hand dismissively to indicate everyone was free to keep their seats.
“Now, no need for the formalities over a casual visit like this… I simply overheard a bit of commotion from the hall, and presumed I might step in for a moment.”
“O-of course sir. You are always most welcomed.”
“Thank you, Vivian. Now then, let's have a look at this inspiring new class of ours shall we?”
Each of them had already met with the Grand Master individually during their initial processing, but he took the time now to appraise them just the same. With small exchanges he made it clear that he knew them all individually, remembered their names, and understood the general scope of their abilities. It was a small gesture, but it put the class at ease and made them feel recognized as the dignified elder settled back into place at the front of the room.
“So, with re-introductions out of the way… Let me do what I may to assuage your misgivings for the moment. I will start by saying; at this point I do rather feel that twelve largely successful classes are more than enough to justify no longer referring to this curriculum as ‘experimental’. So, as it pleases you, I would like to suggest that the moniker of ‘X’ in your title now be used as shorthand for ‘extended’.”
He gave Vivian a nod as he said this, and the pixie dutifully noted the sentiment. The entire class hung on his speech now, for better or worse, and so with a subdued smile the Grand Master squared his shoulders and continued.
“This is not a punishment, nor a penalty. It is not even required of you. Should you desire, you may be placed in class one or two at your request. I designed this program to suit the needs of students with strong potential, students whose talents would be squandered on the academy’s basic coursework. Things in this class will be dangerous, and perhaps even dubious-- but I promise that you will grow in ways which would otherwise escape you.”
The last words came with a bit of a chuckle, and Argent swore there was a mischievous glint in the depths of those unnaturally bright cerulean eyes.
“After all, no matter how prestigious our institution may be, we are at the end of the day a training facility for the young and green. Much of our starting program is aimed at students with little to no practical field experience or skills. But while most come here to find their footing, others such as yourselves arrive at our doors with strong foundations and unique experiences beneath you, and we would be amiss to throw you in with your less accomplished peers. Rather than place you in a cirriculum where you would benefit next to nothing and serve no purpose other than to make your classmates feel inadequate, the hope is that here in this class, you can stand amongst those that match you and challenge you.”
The Grand Master let his gaze drift around the room, tenting his hands in a warm, patronly gesture.
“Push yourselves, push each other, ever seeking to grow beyond your limits. This is my directive to you all, should you choose to remain a part of X13.”
As the weight of these words settled over the room, the stillness was suddenly broken by the sound of clanking metal boots echoing through the hallways outside with heavy stomps. Instructor Hanill was revealed as the source as the massive warrior appeared at the doorway, the drapes of his mantle rushing violently behind his movements as he cut into the room. The militant man looked ready to break into his customary yelling, his chest swelling with an intake of breath before he noticed the Grand Master from the corner of his eye, suddenly shooting into a position of attention and rendering a stern salute.
“Sir! Pardon my distraction, I did not mean to interrupt.”
“That’s quite alright, Souva. At ease, at ease. I apologize for stepping over the time meant for your block of instruction, this was a bit of an impromptu assembly.”
“Sir, not at all Sir. My time is yours.”
The Grand Master must really be something else, if even Instructor Hanill regards him so respectfully… This seems to go beyond a matter of position. I wonder what history they must have?
Argent mulled the thoughts over in his head, observing that his classmates had fallen into a collective state of shock over seeing the oppressively brusque Souva Hanill transformed into a mild-mannered knight before their very eyes. His typical attitude and bearing was that of a hardened mercenary surviving off the bloodied gold of conflict rather than any semblance of knighthood, and yet here before the Grand Master he appeared as professional and courteous as any royal retainer. It was a side of him Argent had never seen, and admittedly it made him think better of the man. Holding himself this way brought a poise and sense of nobility to Souva which would have been at home in legends and bedtime stories.
“Nonsense, no need for that. I’ve all but wrapped up what I intended to say. What kind of establishment would I be running if I kept these children from their training?”
“By your leave then, Sir.”
The Grand Master nodded with a reserved smile, and just like that the illusion was shattered.
“ON YOUR FEET, YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE DREGS!”
The sound of chairs being overturned and papers flying off tables cascaded throughout the room in a swell of rampant chaos as students scrambled to collect their things and make a rapid exit. Naiara grabbed her pack and vanished completely into shadows whilst Shizuka shot up from her chair, landing in a crouch atop the desk before rolling off and into a dash which brought her out the door at such speed she was barely visible. Remelia sat calmly all the while as the madness broke out around her, tucking quills into her satchel one by one.
“MY CLASS STARTED TEN MINUTES AGO-- THAT MEANS YOU OWE ME A DEBT, AND IN MY WORLD PAYMENT IS COLLECTED IN SWEAT AND BLOOD! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! NOT EVEN THE GODS WILL SAVE YOU IF I AM ON THAT FIELD BEFORE YOU ARE!”
Argent groaned audibly, his steps now marked with a noticeable limp as he made his way into the DCA’s dining hall after Instructor Hanill’s hour and a half of physical instruction. The Knight's sessions were always brutal, but he had seemed particularly determined today to make up for the time he had lost due to the Grand Master’s lecture. Even more unfortunate, Argent lamented, was the fact that he seemed to be one of Instructor Hanill’s favourite targets. Athletic though he was, it was undeniable that his physical capabilities paled in comparison to many of his classmates… Which made the extra attention understandable. If nothing else, Argent supposed he should be grateful that he was not the worst off, Fenn and Matthias seemed to receive more attention than even him. Adding to the pain of their routine smoke sessions was the fact that Instructor Hanill resented, or at the very least harshly judged all the males of the class. Seeing the girls easily outpower them in almost every way did not impress the hulking warrior who made it his personal responsibility to turn them all into veritable machines.
Blocking out the trauma of the previous period and turning his attention to the food lines, Argent felt a bit of his stress melt away. He had come to love the diverse extent of the dining facility here, with cooking to represent even the most exotic cultures. Spiced meats and curries from the Dunes, elegant noodle soups, thinly arranged cuts of fish and marinated beef from the Rim.. Breads, fruits, vegetables, and herbs from Elfhame’s forest cities. Dwarven stews, Fae drinks, and old world country fare. All this and more existed within the arranged lines, with even more options available from the counter if one saw fit to wait for a dish made to order. The small squad of Chefs manning the kitchen from the back were always enthusiastic to take requests from the full expanse of the DCA’s menu.
Argent had developed a taste for the foods of the northern reaches since his time at the academy, despite his nostalgic attachment to southern comfort foods from the Old Kingdom. The resulting mishmash of selections saw him settling down at the table with a hot bowl of stir-fried noodles and a tray stacked with steamed meat buns, accompanied by a side of two biscuits topped with fried eggs and gravy. He glanced down the length of the table, no longer surprised to see that most of the class was not present. Cassius and his clique always ate elsewhere, and to be honest Argent wasn’t sure if some members of the class ever came to the cafeteria at all. Remelia though, she was a familiar face here amongst the cafeteria rows. Argent couldn’t help but watch her for a moment, transfixed by the ungodly portions of food piled up on her plate. The small, deceptively fragile looking girl sat in wordless bliss as she munched at her meal, entirely off in her own world. Her legs swung happily beneath the table in gentle kicks, feet unable to reach the ground due to her size, as she nibbled her way through piles of meat and vegetables in quantities that would shame a bear. Despite knowing full well she was not beastkin, Argent swore that while Remelia ate, the floofy portions of her stark white hair twitched like happy kitten ears atop her head.
Granted, I don't really know what she is at all...
He thought to himself, reminded again of her unnatural qualities as she took notice of him and tipped her head to fix him with her jet-black gaze. Blinking twice, she chomped at the portion of bone-in meat she was holding, chewing and swallowing before finally speaking up.
“What is it..?”
She asked in her curious voice, soft yet painfully monotone, not waiting for a response before taking another bite. Argent shook his head, raising his hands as he replied.
“Oh, nothing Remelia.. Sorry..”
He apologized gently, feeling bad for staring. Shizuka looked up from her seat across from the small eating machine, where she was nursing a mug of tea. With both girls looking at him now, Argent felt a light sweat on the back of his neck beginning to form before Gauge dropped down into the seat across from him with a loud clatter of silverware.
“Gods be damned, what a day! Not even halfway in and i’m already running on fumes.. And that homeroom session, huh? What did you think of the Grand Master?”
Argent found himself grateful for the rogue’s boisterous appearance, smiling over at him as he settled into place and began to take heavy gulps from a glass of reddish fruit juice.
“..Gramps? ..He seemed tired today, I guess.”
Remelia responded blankly, and Argent was immediately less grateful for Gauge’s presence as the rogue spat juice all over him from across the table. Coughing and sputtering, pounding himself on the chest a few times as he struggled to stabilize, Gauge turned his attention to the petite little girl with a bewildered expression. Even Shizuka looked mildly surprised, her ears standing up a little more straight as she turned her silvery eyes towards Remelia, who in turn seemed completely oblivious towards the attention being placed upon her. Casually nibbling her way through another portion of her meal before looking up to find the other three all staring at her, Argent wondered if he had experienced a time loop as he watched her carefully chew and swallow before responding once again.
“What is it..?”
Gauge just about fell out of his chair.
“What do you mean, what is it? Remelia! Did you just say the Grand Master was your grandfather? Did you call him ‘Gramps’?!”
Remelia nodded, her tufted hair bouncing around her face.
“Mm.. Yeah. He likes it when I call him that.”
“That’s not the point! Gods, Remelia, what are you doing here?! Why aren’t you at the Royal Academy or something? You could be training at the Citadel of Blades!”
“Hhmm…”
Remelia hummed thoughtfully, working her way through another bite as she gently tilted her head look at the ceiling as though considering the notion. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned her blackened eyes back towards her classmates.
“..Mother said I should go to the Citadel, but.. I wanted to come here.. It seemed more fun.”
Argent couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the response. Across the table Shizuka’s expression crept into a smile as Gauge nearly dropped face-first into his stew.
“Well, we’re glad to have you here, Remelia.”
“Mm. Thanks, white fox.”
“Huh? Wait, what did you--”
Before he could raise the question about the nickname he had been given, Remelia hopped down from her seat and wandered off into the crowds of the dining hall. Shizuka rose to her feet and gave a polite bow in parting before following after the smaller girl, leaving Argent to turn his attention back to his meal. It was probably for the best, as time was passing quickly and his rumbling stomach was desperate for all the food he could shovel into it. To this end he remained largely quiet for the remainder of the meal, nodding here or there between bites while letting Gauge do the talking. The rogue was entirely too happy to shoulder the conversation, going on and on about the Citadel of Blades. Most of it was common information anyone who had traveled beyond the southern calms would know; that it was the heart of Orodea, the center of Tenebris itself. A massive structure which was as much a temple as it was a castle, housing not only the Imperial Courts but also serving as the living quarters for the royal family and Tenebris' top-ranking officials. Classes taught within the Citadel were reserved only for the most gifted amongst the already elite, personally overseen by military officers and royal specialists. Gauge expressed particular interest in the rumor that the daughter of the current Praetor had begun her formal training this year, commenting that Remelia could have very well been training alongside her.
“More fun? What could be more fun than meeting the literal Princess--”
His lament was cut short by the medly of bells and gongs which indicated the change in instructional blocks. Sighing, the Rogue set down his utensils and rose from his seat, Argent doing the same as they blended in with the other students making their way out of the dining hall. Aspect Arts passed without much incident, being a class which Argent actually felt confident in. His level might have been lower than his peers but he understood the aspects well and was familiar with his own, and the fact that he possessed the higher aspect of Creation had immediately caused Instructor Heiran to take note of him. He could only wish that the following course would go so smoothly, but ‘smooth’ was not the way Instructor Bridger ran her class. A violent, fiery woman, she thrived on chaos.
“Ranged combatants, to the skirmishing field! Melee combatants, to the range!”
Her powerful voice barked out. The commands drew muffled complaints from the class, but none dared voice their distaste at volume. It was a typical example of their instructor’s desire to create the most hectic environment possible, constantly throwing the students into situations and scenarios which were ill-suited to their natural abilities.
“It is my job to train you to survive in battle; in the worst conditions, when everything has gone wrong, when there is nothing and no one to help you. You will not learn survival by riding upon the comfort of your talents! You will learn survival by being forced into the mud.”
Sharp eyes watched her students as they divided into their respective categories based on their preference of primary weapon type, and although many of the students possessed some degree of skill in both close combat and ranged, Instructor Bridger narrowed them down into two even groups of six. Argent was of course considered primarily a ranged combatant, his specialized pistols being a defining feature of his kit. In line with him here on the skirmishing fields were Naiara, Gauge, and Haana… Soon to be joined by Fenn and Matthias, as Instructor Bridger came to the determination that the primary spellcasters should be lumped in with the ranged combatants. With their little group all assembled it wasn’t long before she was in their midst, all but hurling wooden training implements at their heads.
“Everyone select your weapons! Once you are ready, you will fight either me, or each other. Your choice.”
She stated matter of factly, the essence of command in the tone of her voice. Ketta Bridger, having operated in the mercenary world under the nickname of ‘Twintails’ due to the signature style in which she wore her rich mahogany hair, had been known as a merciless killer before the Grand Master recruited her for the academy. Even amongst other sellswords she held a reputation for being one of the most brutal, carving her legacy upon the mangled corpses of unfortunate foes. Eyeing the hefty broadsword sheathed scout style behind her waist, Argent swallowed the knot in his throat, struck with the distinct impression that he did NOT want to fight against this woman even in a training match. His classmates seemed to share the sentiment, edging away from Instructor Bridger as she stood impatiently tapping her boot. It was difficult to tell with her expression fixed in its resting scowl, but Argent could have sworn that she looked disappointed for a brief moment.
“Tch.. Fine, then. Argent, Naiara, on the field. Now.”
The alchemist felt his heart drop into his stomach. It might not have been Instructor Bridger, but the wolven beastkin ranking at the top of their class was not a much better option. He would have hesitated to fight against Naiara even with the full arsenal of his argent pistols locked and ready, but to do so with a wooden sword? A sense of dread lingered over him as he watched the Class President stride out onto the grass, Instructor Bridger barking after her.
“Forgetting something, Naiara? Where’s your weapon? You planning on punching that boy out?”
Naiara continued out onto the field, coming to a stop at her position and hopping in place a few times to loosen up, her tail swishing restlessly back and forth as she dropped her cloak and rolled up her sleeves. Spreading her fingers the way an animal might flex its powerful paws, she stretched her grip outwards for a long moment before balling it inwards, raising her fists high as her footing swept into a threatening martial stance.
“Yes.”
Instructor Bridger blinked, taken aback for a moment, before Argent felt his blood run cold at the sadistic smile which crept slowly over her face. Raising her arms in a gesture of acceptance, she backed off onto the sidelines with amusement clear in her voice.
“Have at it, then.”
Argent tried to maintain his composure. Leaning down beside the piles of available sparring weapons, he couldn’t help but become keenly aware of the sweat on his palms as he perused the training implements, his eyes stopping on a pair of daggers as he considered them. Although they were slightly different in design, the daggers felt like the most similar option to his usual seax knives, something he was at least familiar with even if he typically used them more as contingency tools than actual weapons. Most aspects of his usual kit were items he relied on for utility rather than combat. Picking up the sparring daggers he weighed them in his hands, looking over at Naiara where she patiently watched him from her ready stance.
What I wouldn’t give for even one of my pistols...
He thought ruefully to himself, wishing for the comforting weight of alchemical silver and a handful of shells… Still, as nervous as he was and as brutal as Instructor Bridger’s courses tended to be, this was still a training environment. Pummel him as she might Naiara was not going to kill him here in this muddy sparring field, so if the purpose was to gain confidence in melee as a primary combatant, should he not be aiming to learn a more traditional melee weapon? Daggers of course had their place, often used to great effect by assassins, spellblades, and other nimble fighters, but Argent was none of those things. He lacked the raw speed and martial talent necessary to fill those boots, not to mention the aspects.
“Today, Argent!”
Instructor Bridger barked loudly, causing him to jump. Naiara may have been patient but their teacher was not, Argent could feel her scowl burning a hole in his back as his mind raced to decide, reaching out for a plain wooden sword. It was nothing special, not a longsword or greatsword, not a saber, nor an estoc; But a simple arming sword. Thinking it through, it seemed suited for him in that regard. It was a basic, all-around weapon with no dramatic strengths or weaknesses, large enough to be considered a sword but small enough to be easily worn upon and drawn from the back. Which is where the blade would have to go, given the many pieces of equipment which already occupied his belt. Locking his grasp around the hilt of the weapon, Argent forced himself to his feet and moved onto the field to face Naiara.
The wolf girl’s eyes were emotionless and still as glass, but the dullest hint of a frown tugged at the corner of her lips as Argent took up his clumsy stance before her. Rotating her wrist slowly on her lead hand Naiara unclenched her fist to present an open palm towards the sky, wagging her fingers twice in a 'come at me’ gesture. Argent steadied himself in that moment, offering a silent prayer to the skies as he nodded in acknowledgement to Naiara's prompting. The fear was still deep in his stomach as he knew full well he was getting into something beyond his abilities, but there was no other option than to give it his best. Taking a deep breath, he released the air sharply and rushed forwards as quickly as he could maneuver, angling his weapon high for a downwards diagonal slash.
As quickly as his attack started it was over, the escape of oxygen from his lungs assisted by the impact of his back against the ground. It had happened too quickly for Argent to comprehend, his vision dotted with tiny specks of starlight as he looked up at the figure of Naiara looming over him, arms folded across her chest. Observing from the sidelines Instructor Bridger had gotten a clean view of the takedown, letting out a low whistle as Argent hit the earth. Naiara had shot forward immediately, her leading arm striking upwards to follow beneath Argent’s sword arm. Using her forearm she caught him in the meat of his tricep as his swing reached its peak, blocking the strike’s path of descent and guarding her from being hit by fluke should the following trip have caused the attack to carry through as Argent fell. In that single, simultaneous timespace her off hand struck outwards hard at Argent’s chest while she targeted his legs with a low sweeping kick, sending him toppling over himself and flat to the ground.
“Too slow... Too obvious. Don’t telegraph your movements.”
She huffed, ears twitching as she flicked a portion of hair away from her face.
“Get up. Try again.”
Argent struggled to his feet, finding Naiara already back and in her stance by the time he was able to breathe properly. Gritting his teeth he adjusted his grip on the sword and moved to attack her again.. And again.. And again. Halted each time as quickly as the first. His experienced female opponent easily read and exploited any flaws in his advance, hitting him with quick and efficient counters as though she had rehearsed every step of their battle, no matter how he varied his approach. Strangely enough it was Naiara herself who seemed to also be controlling the academics of the situation despite the beating she was dishing out, issuing commands and critiques for every exchange.
Each time she leveled Argent she offered correction before forcing him back into the fight, back onto his feet to face her. Instructor Bridger was left to manage the other transpiring fights, though she certainly seemed to be keeping an eye on the beatdowns. Battered and bruised Argent fought to maintain his stance as Naiara pressured him to engage once more. Wiping away a small trail of blood which had dripped down into his eyes, seeping from a shallow split just inside his hairline. He breathed slow, focusing on his movements. This time coming in low and angling his blade to swing inwards at an upper diagonal angle, allowing him to quickly rotate his wrist for the combination of a horizontal following cut. He did what he could to keep his movements tighter, cleaner, as though he were using a knife. Internalizing the instructions Naiara had been giving him between each exchange his attacks had become quality enough that they might pass for beginner’s swordsmanship, something which mattered very little against her. Naiara evaded his first cut by doing nothing more than swiftly tilting her upper body back and out of range with calculated ease. By the time he had transitioned into the second cut, she caught his arm within her guard, stripping the sword from his grasp as she kicked him hard in the gut and forced him back.
“I told you, you’re too slow. But your movements are improving.”
The words swam in Argent's ears as he doubled over, his sword sticking roughly into the ground before him as his opponent threw it towards his feet like a dart.
“What do you want me to do, magically get faster?”
With the pain of a hardened boot fresh in his stomach the complaint came as a low hiss. Naiara tipped her head in a questioning manner, her wolvish ears twitching gently.
“Can you?”
“Of course not!”
“Then stop attacking as though you can.”
Her words hit Argent harder than her kick had. What she was actually saying sunk in, the gears inside his head finally rotating her meaning until it fit into place. The wolven fighter wasn’t mocking or disparaging him, she was simply stating a fact. He was too slow to attack her frontally. No matter how hard he tried to push himself in this moment he would not match her in terms of speed, the divide between them was simply too great. She was not telling him to attack faster, she was telling him to attack differently. His mind rushed back to the moments just after his escape from the dungeoneering test during their final exam, Instructor Liamra’s words coming back to him. The concept the test had been designed to instill in them.
Sometimes in this line of work, you will run up against a battle that is beyond you. There will be times when everything you have will still not be enough.
The point of the test had been to find the best outcome despite being hopelessly outclassed and overwhelmed. To find a way to survive. To find the answer. Forcing his breathing to regulate, Argent straightened into full standing position and readied his sword. Emerald eyes fresh with determination as he stared across the field at Naiara’s waiting form. His biggest issue now was not his own personal weakness compared to his opponent, but rather his lack of tools to even the odds. Given that this was a training environment anything beyond his sparring weapon, his body, and his aspects were off limits. Gradually a plan settled into place within his thoughts. It was haphazard and messy, utilizing arts he had not yet refined after gaining access to them upon reaching level four, but it was the best he could manage in the current situation.
“I'm ready.. Time to get to work.”
Argent uttered the words for his own benefit more than anything, but they also indicated to Naiara that he was prepared to fight once more. Her ears perked, the swishing of her tail coming to a stop as she felt the difference in Argent’s approach, something which seemed to please her.
“Don’t disappoint me.”
At her words, Argent made his move. From the sidelines Instructor Bridger clicked her tongue in condescension as she watched him make a straight dash for Naiara once again. It looked no different from any prior attempts, and it made her wonder if the boy didn’t simply like having his ass kicked. She had already written the fight off, beginning to turn her head away to look over the other students when the difference caught her eye. Argent raised his sword arm high as though to deliver a basic cut, but it was too early, the spacing was all wrong. Naiara, interpreting it as sloppy swordsmanship, made to dart inwards and intercept as she had so many times before. This was when the blow was halted, proved to be a feint as Argent stopped dead on his heel and pivoted, his off hand throwing his cloak from his shoulders and into Naiara’s face.
“Tch.. Does he really think obscuring her vision is going to stop her?”
Ketta muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head as she waited for Naiara to bat the garment aside and pummel the boy. Her eyes widened as a sudden rush of hot air whipped past, her twintails flying wildly behind her as Argent’s cloak exploded.
“What..? Explosive runes?!”
An aspect art permitting the user to create arcane markings which detonated upon being read by anyone but their creator, it was something typically used by jealous mages to guard personal journals or transcripts. In this moment, the glowing red sigils had been channeled over the alchemist’s cloak as it passed through his off hand to be thrown. As the fabric was tossed in front of Naiara and she made to push it away, her keen eyes couldn’t miss the glowing runescript as it unfurled before her. The explosion threw her backwards, scorching her clothing and fur as she tumbled across the dirt, managing by her martial and acrobatic prowess to roll into a crouched position and grind herself to a halt. Her previously emotionless expression fixed now into a snarl of grit teeth. Kicking off from her position and into a forward rush, Naiara closed the gap between herself and Argent at incredible speed, but the alchemist was not standing idle. Already his open palm extended towards the battlespace between them, a faint glow overtaking his hand.
A series of heavy threads shot out from his outstretched hand like a barrage of nets, each one exceptionally tough and sticky. The webbing was not fast enough to catch Naiara head on but it did prevent closing the gap, forcing the wolven fighter into a wide leap as she sprung from her position, performing an impressive aerial cartwheel in order to angle herself to the side. Argent followed her trajectory once she was in the air, manuevering to meet her at the spot where she would hit the ground. Watching him move it was clear he did not possess the speed to make it there in time… But his sword could. Rearing back and throwing the weapon at the place where Naiara would land, Argent sent his blade tumbling through the air in a vicious spiral. Even Instructor Bridger's eyes were glued to the scene as the weapon flew its course towards Naiara, who raised her arms in a cross-block to protect her face as she came to a landing, catching the sword defensively on the flats of her forearms and knocking it to the ground… Argent let out the breath that had been holding in his lungs, knowing full well that it was over. He had given it his best attempt and even if his tactical ploy hadn’t been enough to overcome this opponent, it was something he could take pride in. Naiara vanished from existence the moment after she blocked his sword, dematerializing in the blink of an eye only to reappear behind him as if she were his shadow. The heft of her spinning kick caught him upside the head with a reverberating thud which he felt all the way to his toes, the tumbling sensation of his knees buckling underneath him the last thing he recognized before his consciousness left him.
The sound of rattling was fresh in his ears as he came to, and for a moment Argent was convinced it was the sound of his teeth shaking around inside his head from that kick. Groaning a bit as he opened his eyes, he pulled himself upwards into a sitting position and found himself in his own bed. The sounds he had been hearing were coming from the middle of his room, where Gauge was sitting on the floor practicing some manner of dice trick. Shuffling the dice back into a cup and shaking them around before throwing them, cursing lightly to himself whenever his sleight of hand wasn’t quick enough to do whatever it was he was trying to do. Looking over as Argent stirred, the rogue quickly slipped the dice set back into a pouch and rose to his feet, making his way over to the edge of the bed.
“Hey, you’re up! I almost thought she’d knocked your ass into a coma.”
He stated, giving Argent a joking tap on the head. The alchemist managed a small laugh, still feeling disoriented and groggy. Noticing the dying light of dusk fading with the sunset beyond his window, he rubbed his eyes and moved to a sitting position on the side of the bed.
“What time is it..?”
“End of day, roughly twenty-hundred hours or so.. You missed Monster Studies.”
“Twenty-hundred? I’ve been out for five hours?”
Argent questioned disbelievingly, though the darkness outside suggested it was true. Suddenly the rich scent of oily food found his nose, and drew a deep gurgle from the pit of his empty stomach. Following the source of the smell, his eyes turned to a cafeteria platter placed upon his desk. Quickly getting up and making his way over to the tray, he gave his friend a grateful smile.
“Thanks for getting me dinner.”
Gauge shook his head.
“Don’t thank me. Class Prez and Shizuka brought that by for you.”
Argent paused after pulling his chopsticks apart, looking surprised.
“Naiara?”
“Yeah. She seemed pretty sorry about damn near kicking your head off.”
Staring down at the food, it did seem like the sort of things the two beastkin girls might have picked out. Fried pork cutlet over rice, a heavy bowl of ramen topped with spring onions and fishcake, with a side of tempura battered vegetables and a mug of green tea. All very northern foods the likes of which one would find peddled at street shops along the Rim. The meal had cooled somewhat but it was still a pleasantly warm temperature that made it easy to eat, and after a few mouthfuls Argent sat back in his desk chair with a contented sigh. Afterwards he turned his attention back to Gauge, satiated enough to make conversation in between bites.
“Did anything happen in Monster Studies?”
“Not a damn thing. It was textbook only today, I’ll help you fill out the study sheets.”
The two boys spent the last hours of the evening chatting and going over the homework, Gauge explaining the finer details of the notes he had taken from Instructor Ward’s lecture about the differences between Kobolds and Goblins. As the most common of the demi-human races of ‘lesser intelligence’, these two creatures were often the starting line for many up and coming adventurers looking to take on their first contracts. Goblins in particular were exceptionally nasty, born exclusively beneath the sphere of evil alignment and always looking to harm or kill where they could. They took legitimate pleasure in the suffering of other living things, going out of their way to commit all forms of unspeakable atrocity against other demi-humans unfortunate enough to fall prey to them.
Kobolds on the other hand fell under the neutral sphere as often as the evil. Living in tribally oriented societies which worshipped the old dragon gods, they practiced rudimentary magicks and were almost always led by an elder shaman. Both races fought and hunted in packs, though Kobold tactics were typically considered to be superior on average, with clear examples of front and backline positioning and careful use of their spellcasters. Goblins were known for operating more like an unruly mob than a fighting party, each creature seeking to slake its own wild bloodlust unless kept in check by a higher variant of their race. Both were also reported to train and utilize mounts depending on the area, Goblins often seen riding large Dire Rats whilst Kobolds lived in tandem with creatures known as Scaledogs. Lithe, canine-esque reptiles that if tribal Kobold legend was to be believed, were a gift from the Dragon Gods created by mixing their blood with that of wolves.
Dutifully finishing his papers, Argent committed as much as he could to memory. Having lived in rural areas of the countryside prior to his enrollment at the academy meant he was already familiar with the horror stories of Goblin raids, though he had been fortunate enough never to experience one at scale. The Calmlands of the Southern Kingdoms were kept under very dedicated guard and problems were rooted out without mercy or hesitation by local Knight Orders. Gauge didn’t have much to add himself, being also from the South and from the deep city at that, he had never run afoul of ‘greenskins’ as he called them. Though he did have a story to tell about a group of Kobold Elders who came into the city once a year to trade gemstones in the market. Argent listened with interest as the tale seemed to clearly solidify the potential differences of manner and alignment between the two races, highlighting the importance of careful discernment. While killing Goblins on sight was more or less the rule, he would personally feel incredibly guilty over accidentally massacring a pack of peaceful Kobolds. Wrapping up the binding of his journal and fastening it shut, Argent thanked Gauge once again as the rogue departed for his own room to retire for the night. Organizing his classroom supplies for the next day and silencing the gentle hum of the arcana crystals which lit the room, the alchemist climbed back into bed and fought to settle into a comfortable position. It wasn't hard to do, as he quickly realized that despite having spent a good portion of the day unconscious, he still felt sore and exhausted.
With his body tired and his mind and belly full, sleep was not difficult to find.
