AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
This struck the fear of God in my soul. Surely Kei won't do that.
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On the Road to Elspar [Book 1] (Dryad Mercenary Schoolgirl Quest)
- Thread starter Kei
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
- Location
- earth
I dropped a review over on RR, as well as a follow+favourite.
But I'm really not sure how well the second person format will go over on RR.
There's another quest on here I follow (yrsillar's Destiny series) where he's crossposting the work over to RR but he changed the character perspective to third person, and it's currently finding great success on that site. I'm not sure if you're unable to do it for time or other unrelated reasons, but I would suggest reconsidering?
But I'm really not sure how well the second person format will go over on RR.
There's another quest on here I follow (yrsillar's Destiny series) where he's crossposting the work over to RR but he changed the character perspective to third person, and it's currently finding great success on that site. I'm not sure if you're unable to do it for time or other unrelated reasons, but I would suggest reconsidering?
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Clearly she needs to make a voting gacha. You get draws every month based on how much you stuff into the Patreon, and each draw is either 1 vote for Rs, 5 votes for SRs, or 20 votes for SSRs
I will have you know that I don't actually play Fate/Grand Order, despite the best efforts of @Usandru and especially @GretelOstrich .
Thank you so muc...
/me laughs slightly with haunted eyes.
I'm not mocking you or anything, I'm just a bit daunted by the prospect of having to re-edit everything from second- to third-person over a quarter of a million words. Which, mind you, isn't just a matter of changing pronouns, but also potentially having to syntax and structure to better fit a third-person format. x_x
I'm thinking about just paying someone through PayPal to do this for me if it's what it takes at this point. If anyone's interested, please go ahead and send me a private message; I don't know what else to do at this juncture. x_x
2.8.1 To Llyneyth (Part 1)
I may have mentioned this in the past, but On the Road to Elspar was originally storyboarded for a fantasy East Asian setting (fantasy China/Japan/Korea). But that Asian-esque aesthetic and culture and trappings would've been relatively unfamiliar to a largely English-speaking audience, and I was eventually persuaded to revert to a more familiar European-esque fantasy setting instead, seeing how trying to successfully write original fiction already has enough barriers. Still, bits and pieces from that original Asian influence still remains, albeit with some traditionally Western fantasy modifications. See for yourself.
[x] Press Stephanie about her connection with the Caldran knight orders.
"S-Stephanie?" you whisper across the darkness - lit only by the sliver of pale moonlight coming through the crack in the curtains - from one bed to another.
"Yes?" comes Stephanie's voice from across the room. At least she's still awake.
You take a deep breath; you're honestly still not sure how to broach the subject with your roommate at all, so you decide to be as truthful and as direct as possible. "Sister Eleanore, the kn-knight who was with us..." You pause as you take another deep breath, knowing that this is possibly the point of no return, that there is no playing dumb after this, even as the creaking of Stephanie's mattress suggests that her weight in bed has suddenly shifted. "Her sword ran with lightning. A-As in, I think lightning was r-running through her blade."
Stephanie doesn't reply immediately. Or at all. You can hear your heartbeat over the silence that follows your explanation. You can tell that she knows now. She knows that you know. You suppose that both of you being quiet is little more than an attempt to give both of you enough time to prepare for the conversation that is to come.
Then, barely above a whisper, you ask: "Y-You're a knight, aren't you?"
Again, no immediate answer. But you are almost certain that the outline of Stephanie underneath her sheets tenses up. You're beginning to wonder if Stephanie is pretending to be asleep or simply refusing to talk about it when a slow, hesitant voice comes from her direction: "It's...complicated."
You nod; you hardly expected otherwise. That doesn't stop you from waiting for the story with bated breath. "Do you want to...t-talk about it?"
"Not really."
The bluntness of that stark refusal catches you off-guard. "Oh," you murmur blankly, feeling a little silly. But after a moment, you point out, "Elizabeth is still going to be c-curious. And I-I don't know what I can do to help you with that if I don't know the t-truth."
There's a harsh, uncharacteristically sarcastic edge to Stephanie's tone as she bitterly half-laughs, "You're going to ask me to talk about something I don't want instead of asking her to knock it off?"
This catches you off-guard, and you're simultaneously plaintive and defensive. "I-I don't know how to ask Elizabeth to stop!"
Again, that unhappy half-laugh bordering on a sneer. "I'm surprised, seeing how much time you spend with her."
That actually makes you just a bit angry. "Just because she's my friend doesn't mean I command her," you find yourself snapping bitterly. "No one is in a hurry to look to me as squad leader. I never wanted to be." For a moment, you're almost confused, convinced that this isn't actually you. The reality that you're snapping at your roommate - with whom you've gotten along with so well after more than a year - is almost surreal.
Stephanie, too, seems surprised as she turns towards you from where she's lying in bed, her wide eyes glistening in what little moonlight is reflected there. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she awkwardly murmurs, "Sorry. That was unfair." There is another long stretch of wordlessness, and you're beginning to wonder if your roommate is trying to use this outburst to avoid the subject altogether when she sighs, "It's probably as you expected. I spent time at a monastery, learning the disciplines of the knight orders."
You nod in your bed - Stephanie can probably see it with her superior aseri vision anyways - partly anxious, partly relieved, partly excited. This mystery that has been by your side for so long is finally being unraveled. "When did you join?"
"Since birth. I was born to two knights. For a long time, the monastery was all I knew."
"Which one?"
"I'd rather not say."
That's fair, you suppose; there's only so far you're comfortable pressing, anyways. "Wh-Why did you leave?"
"There was more that I could learn. I wanted to learn something...different. Something I could bring back and change how we trained, how we dedicated ourselves to...the Lady of the Forge, the Maiden of the Hunt." It's interesting to listen to Stephanie hesitate there, as if she's trying to figure out which deities are safe to bring up in this conversation. "You have probably noticed that my technique leans heavily on dueling single opponents, not fighting multiple opponents on a battlefield."
That sounds like a noble goal, albeit with one glaring issue: "Is that going to be u-useful when you return, though? Bringing back something d-different, I mean. The knight orders w-won't come to Caldrein's aid."
Stephanie pauses for a moment, although it seems more like she's trying to figure out a way to express her thoughts rather than trying to obfuscate any answers she may provide. Her eventual answer ends up being quite roundabout. "When the surviving military and religious refugees arrived in Caldrein, it is said that the fae came to the elves among them. In a...surprisingly intelligible message," she shrugs under her sheets, almost as if she acknowledges how difficult that is to believe, "the fae instructed them to retreat from the lowlands, to build monasteries where we would be secluded from the unrest happening below. They taught the first knights how to channel our souls through our weapons, a sacred art passed down through the generations."
That's interesting and mysterious, but the most obvious question pops into your head: "Then the fire from your blade isn't...magecraft?" Which isn't really that surprising; you knew that magecraft doesn't work like that the moment you saw Stephanie channel fire through her katana. But knowing what something isn't doesn't really provide that much in the way of answers. And you're still indulging the fact that she hasn't really given you an answer to your actual question.
There is a rustling from beneath the sheets, and Stephanie emerges from her bed, sitting up on the mattress. You, too, pull yourself up out of bed and sit on its edge as Stephanie reaches for the katana resting against her bedstand - the instructors have allowed you to keep your weapons starting from the second-year, although it's rumored that this was influenced in no small part by the Squirrel attack last year - and unsheathes it in a single smooth motion. "It's not fire either," she explains, even as she holds the hilt of her katana in both hands. A few short heartbeats later, the curved blade is suddenly alight, a flickering fire running across its length. You watch, mesmerized, as the flame lights up Stephanie's calm features and the room around you. Unlike the flame that engulfed her practice sword the last time you saw Stephanie do this, the flames take on a light violet color, giving its glow an almost ghostly air. You wonder why the coloration is different; maybe it's because the blade is metal compared to the wooden training sword you last saw said fire channeling through. "I suppose the parallels are impossible to miss. Just like magecraft, the fire my spirit conjures is a mimicry, but where magecraft seeks to replicate fire, my spirit merely expresses itself as fire. It is an even paler mimicry than magecraft itself."
"...Sorry, I don't understand at all."
Stephanie looks at least a little sympathetic; this is, after all, completely different from - if not outright contradictory to - anything you've ever learned about magecraft. "The difference is perhaps just a matter of details...maybe. No one really knows if the soul is also basically just a form of mana. But whatever the soul is, it provides the power for me to channel my spirit through the blade as an extra source of energy. Part of that energy expresses itself in the common elements of magecraft; mine happens to be fire, just as Sister Eleanore's happens to be lightning." Then. almost as if anticipating the most obvious question, she raises her hand and quickly adds, "I don't know why it works like that."
"Oh."
"Either way, it's not really fire, it's more like..." Stephanie seems to struggle with a good description for a long moment. "With magecraft, what you have is for all intents and purposes real fire, just created by other means. What I do is conjure a form of energy that pretends to be fire, takes on certain properties of fire, but isn't fire, and doesn't entirely express itself as fire." She pauses for a moment before an idea comes to her. "Can you hold up your sword for a bit? I want to show you something."
You nod, going over to the foot of your bed and removing the protective leather cover from your buster sword - there's no way you're keeping that giant slab of iron against your bedstand like Stephanie's katana - and soon you're seated at the edge of your bed facing Stephanie, your buster sword held up in your hands.
Her katana still engulfed in flickering violet flames, Stephanie announces, "I'm going to strike your buster sword with my katana. I won't hit it very hard, just enough for you to feel the force, alright?"
"Al-Alright," you say; you can't help but feel a little nervous as you gulp and tighten your grip around the hilt of your buster sword, trying to be ready for anything while not know what "anything" may be.
Stephanie inhales slightly before she delivers a pretty standard swing at your own blade. Indeed, it isn't a particularly hard strike as metal meets metal; you imagine it only has about as much force as Mia cheerfully slapping her friends on the back as a surprising greeting. But for some reason, the katana strikes your buster sword with more force than it feels like it should, as if what Stephanie was swinging lightly was not actually a slender katana but a thick greatsword. Furthermore, instead of trailing behind the blade as you might've expected, the violet flames flowing across Stephanie's katana surges forward with her swing, and you suddenly feel a heat wave - nothing powerful, reminiscent only of the warmth of a fireplace, but still far more than you expected - suddenly crash against you, a strange physical force feeling like it's trying to push you back. Your nightclothes ripple against that wave of energy, even as your hair and the leaves amongst them flutter for a moment.
You stare, more than a little dumbfounded. You are beginning to really understand Stephanie's power - the power of the knight orders, in fact - and how this is completely different from magecraft. It is not lost upon you, in fact, that Stephanie uttered no incantation - a necessary prerequisite for spellcasting for all but the most powerful of mages - and the flames on her blade sprung forth almost immediately upon command. In fact, all of this is recontextualizing what you saw on the night that the Squirrels attacked, as Stephanie fended off a direwolf that had the drop on you. With every swing of her katana, the direwolf flinched back, and at the time, you thought it was something as simple as flinching your hand back once it was burned by a small flame. But now that you've been on the receiving end of her demonstration, you're beginning to think there is a second - or at least complementary - explanation: That your roommate was actually generating enough physical force through non-physical means to push back a direwolf, that a stronger, faster swing of her sword would not have resulted in just a heatwave, but something like a giant flaming mace.
You're still not sure you really understand the difference between Elizabeth's description of magecraft as a simulacrum of natural phenomena and Stephanie's description of channeling spirit through her blade as a pretense of such. But the nitty-gritty is not as important as the obvious elephant in the room, and it is here you understand why your roommate has gone through such a roundabout way to explain why the knight orders are not coming to the Confederacy's aid. "Do you think it's...r-real?" you ask, lowering your buster sword so its blunt end settles against the floor. Then, realizing how silly that question sounds when you've literally just watched your roommate ignite her katana on fire, you blush and stammer, "I-I-I mean, th-that story about the fae teaching the first knight how to do this. I-I'm not saying that the knight orders are l-lying, but...it's been four, maybe even five centuries. And e-even Lady Aphelia has trouble talking with the fae. D-Do you think the story about the fae is real?" You don't want to begrudge others of their religious beliefs - the Primordians already have something close to a monopoly on this, at least in Caldrein, and you don't want to alienate those of other faiths over arrogant assumptions - but it would be more than a little frustrating if the divine reasoning behind the refusal of the knight orders to come to Caldrein's aid is based on a fictitious myth taken as truth.
"It sounds strange, I know," Stephanie admits as the violet flames across the blade of her katana extinguishes, as dark settles back into your dorm room, and she slides the weapon back into its sheath. You, too, return your buster sword to its letter cover and the foot of your bed. "But all the monasteries I've ever been to agree on this story. And I don't see why they would lie about it. It's easy to think that it was just a tale that someone made up to sound grandiose, or that maybe we misunderstood the fae entirely...but that doesn't explain why we can do this. It would've been so easy for some ancient grandmaster to claim credit for it by herself, but instead we've been told for centuries that it was the fae that taught us this. So I think it's true that the fae taught us how to channel our soul through our weapons. I think it's true that they told us to retreat to mountain monasteries." And here her face scrunches up just a bit into a slight frown. "But I don't know why. We're not growing, not in any meaningful way. Yes, with every generation, our skills with the blade improve, we channel more power through our weapons...but we're not doing anything with them. We're not wielding them for any cause other than to become better at it, because the fae promised it'll bring us closer to the goddesses or something. It's the centerpiece of our faith, and I believe this happened, that there's a purpose for this, that the fae taught my ancestors this for a reason...but I can't imagine it means cutting ourselves off from the rest of the country, from the rest of the world. I want to believe that maybe we misinterpreted the fae, or maybe there are answers that can be found outside the confines of the monasteries."
You nod quietly for a moment. You know little about the Conceptualist faith, nevermind the denomination that the knight orders have nurtured for centuries. You have no real opinion either way about the founding myth of the knight orders, but the very fact that you have seen two different knights wielding power that you don't understand gives some very real credence to that story. And you definitely sympathize with why Stephanie left the monasteries and ended up here. "You haven't found the answer, have you?" you whisper.
"Of course not," Stephanie scoffs. Not at you specifically, just venting some of her frustrations. "I wish it were that easy. I suppose all I have learned thus far is how to wield my katana in different ways, in the ways of war instead of duels."
You nod again. Then, of course, there's the irresistible question, that question almost certainly influenced by how long you've been training as a Caldran mercenary apprentice. "Is it something you can teach me?" Then you realize maybe it sounds a bit selfish or conceited of you, and you quickly stammer, "I-I mean, not me specifically, just..."
"No, I understand," Stephanie reassures you, assuaging your panic. "I can't, though. I'm...not supposed to teach those outside the knight orders. It's not something I particularly agree with, but it still takes many, many years of training to be able to do thus. I started training when I was four; I wasn't able to channel spirit through my katana until I was thirteen, and I spent most of every day doing little else but train. I was faster than average, actually; most people take more than a decade or two to be able to do this."
So this is almost certainly out of the question unless you intend to spend a decade or two doing little else with your life other than even beginning to grasp this fae-taught power. You doubt this war will give you or two decades, so you instead turn the focus back on Stephanie, bring this back to the previous topic. "Is this wh-why you don't want to go to Llyneyth?"
Stephanie averts her gaze, nods slowly, and sighs. "My departure was...not something that was agreed upon." She fidgets uncomfortably. "There's a chance that the knight orders may send some guests to the tournament this year. Some of those people may know me. I don't want them to know I'm here."
The truth has finally come out, and it wrenches your gut. You've already made your decision, and you've resolved to commit to it. Stephanie isn't making it any easier, though, or assuaging your creeping guilt. You know this is the right decision - not just for yourself, but for all of Squad Four - but it is still with great reluctance that you avert your gaze and murmur, "I-I need to tell you that I'm sorry." You're not looking at her, but you're almost certain that Stephanie is looking at you now when you reveal, "I'm taking us to Llyneyth."
You risk a look at Stephanie, and she looks at your wide-eyed with an expression that looks like her heart just skipped a beat. "What?" she whispers.
"I made the decision earlier today." Then, hurriedly, to make sure she doesn't take this personally, "It d-doesn't have anything to do with what you told me! It was just...b-bad timing."
Stephanie looks a little dejected as her ears droop, as her bushy tail is almost unsettlingly still on her bed. "So...you've already told the instructors that you're signing up?"
"No, I haven't told them yet."
Your roommate blinks, looking almost a little relieved. "Oh. That's good. Then..."
You don't want to get Stephanie's hopes up. "I'm doing that tomorrow."
Compared to the surprise just now or even the stomach-sinking expression before that, Stephanie now looks genuinely shocked, her eyes wide and her brow almost contorted into a frown. It takes a long, uncomfortable moment - and it's painful trying to keep your own apologetic gaze locked onto Stephanie's instead of looking away - before her expression slacks into something worryingly expressionless. "You realize that I don't want to go?" she asks.
"Yes," you whisper.
"You realize I have very real reasons why I don't want to go?"
"Y-Yes."
"And you're doing it anyways."
"I-I am. I'm sorry, I wish you told me sooner."
"I just did," Stephanie snaps, sounding truly angry now, heat coming into her voice. "You haven't even told anyone else yet. You can choose not to go. You can take back that decision."
You flinch a little, not only because your roommate is genuinely upset at you now, but also because you're startled to find a little bit of an edge in your voice - harder and colder than anything you've ever sounded - when you reply, "I don't want to."
Your roommate is perhaps too angry to notice that change in your voice as she demands, "Why not?"
"Because I want to go. I want to see what it's like in Llyneyth. I want all of us to learn and prove myself. I want to see how well our squad can deal with tough challenge together. I want to see if I can be a leader."
Stephanie blinks incredulously, and for a moment, it looks like she's almost going to laugh bitterly at something she finds absurd. "Are you kidding me?" she demands with a ridiculous lilt to her voice. "We're going to have chances to learn things in the future. You'll get to learn and prove yourself in the future. There's no good reason to treat this as the one and only chance for you to do so."
Your gaze hardens into something approximating a glare. "This will be the only time we will be able to participate in a tournament against other Caldran mercenary apprentices like this. We have not worked very well together as a squad. I want this to be a chance for us to come together."
Stephanie's own eyes narrow. "And this is more important than me trying to avoid any knights attending the tournaments as guests?"
"For me it is. I can't take only your concerns into account. I have an entire squad to take care of."
"A squad that's only going to last for as long as we're apprentices, for which you'll be squad leader only until we graduate! This is a child's game, Neianne. There's no guarantee you'll even still be a leader, or that we'll even be fighting together, when we get sent off to the front. You're taking this too seriously."
Something about how your roommate is treating all this - how she's treating you - causes something deep inside you to snap. Before you know it, your hands have balled tightly into fists, and your voice is raised and you're snarling right back: "And you've never taken my leadership seriously! None of you have!" Stephanie physically recoils at your first real burst of anger towards her - towards anyone - and stares at you, stunned. You are rather stunned yourself too, but your emotions are currently ignoring the more rational train of thought. Part of your brain is worried that you're loud enough that your fellow apprentices in the neighboring rooms can hear you even through whitestone walls, but that part is being overpowered by the white-hot impulse to open those floodgates, to let out all the frustrations and insecurities that you've been carrying not only today in particular, but ever since the start of the academic year. "I didn't want the squad to split up this morning, but everyone was happy pretending I wasn't there to make a decision! You and Sieglinde and Elizabeth! You're fine with pretending I have no input in a squad decision just so you can avoid crossing paths with Sister Eleanore because you thought she might recognize you! And that would've been fine if I wasn't squad leader, but now I am! And now that I have to make a decision, you think I'm just being selfish or taking things too seriously or have something against you!"
Stephanie is genuinely at a loss for words, staring at you in disbelief, maybe even a bit of hurt. "I..."
"I made this decision not because I was trying to hurt you," you sniffle bitterly. There's something caught in your voice, and your eyes are burning a little. The anger is receding, leaving you only with the faint feeling of resentment. "I didn't even make it because almost every instructor I know is trying to press me into making it. I made it because I want to. More importantly, I made it because I think it's what I think is best for the squad. As squad leader, I'll do what I can to help you with the knights, but you should've told me about this a long time ago. This is my decision, and it's final."
For a moment, you're two angry, upset, spend girls staring each other from where you are seated on the edge of your beds on both sides of the dorm room. There is an uncomfortable silence that lingers, and you are suddenly overwhelmed with the dreadful feeling that maybe you've pushed too hard, that maybe you've crossed a line.
Slowly, Stephanie's features settle from shock to a stoic nothingness that stretches her features taut, that betrays nothing on her expression. Her voice, though devoid of any obvious emotion, has a tight edge to it as she turns around in her bed and settles back under her sheet, lying down with her body turned away from you. "Fine," she murmurs quietly. "Whatever you want, squad leader. Good night."
That reaction, more than anything else, sinks your your heart to your stomach. Reaching out - almost rising to your feet - you start, "Stephanie, I-I..."
"Good night, squad leader."
That hurts. You almost half wish that Stephanie would just yell back at you. That would feel...not great, not at all, but at least it'd seem normal. But that she's just giving you the cold soldier, that your roommate and your friend who has stood by you for so long is stiffly calling you "squad leader" for the first time...it hurts.
There's a finality to Stephanie's voice that you dearly wish to challenge. You dearly wish that you can try to talk with her a bit more, try to convince her that this was the right decision for you to make, that all of you can help try to make this work.
But your emotions are spent, and that anger - that facade of courage just now - has already passed, leaving way only for unhappiness and self-loathing. You open your mouth for a moment, hoping some words will come out, anything that might get the two of you talking again.
Instead, you sink back down to bed, hiding under your sheets. There really is nothing for you to say.
"Where's Dark, Fluffy, and Mysterious?"
You look at Elizabeth blearily across the breakfast table as she daintily forks a roll of scrambled egg in her worth. You didn't get much sleep last night, and the sun choosing today of all days to come out from behind the clouds and torment your eyeballs isn't helping matters at all. You suppose that you can take a tiny bit of solace from the fact that - judging by the reactions of Elizabeth, as well as Sieglinde seated beside her as the only other occupant at the table in the Great Hall - that the two did not overhear the argument last night happening right next door.
Not that it helps matters any. You'll have to address this eventually. Most likely sometime today.
Looking over at Stephanie's empty seat, you murmur, "I...she already l-left when I woke up." That's true enough, even if you're omitting a lot. It's not difficult to imagine that your roommate is deliberately avoiding you. Your elven squadmates almost certainly suspect something as they exchange a quick, furtive glance. Whatever they're thinking, however, they don't give voice to it.
You were hoping that Stephanie would at least appear for breakfast, and that you would weather her anger and explain to the rest of the squad - together - about your decision to have Squad Four participate in the Inter-Academy Tournament in Llyneyth. But Stephanie never shows up for breakfast, and classes eventually start. You know that Stephanie wouldn't skip class, that she'll show up eventually, that she'll have to sit with the rest of the squad. But as classes are about to start, it doesn't help your conscience at all when Stephanie shows up at something close to the last possible second, her expression deliberately neutral, her expressive aseri body language betraying very little. You almost flinch at the sight of her as she walks up and wordlessly takes her seat beside you without so much as looking at you.
Elizabeth is not helping matters at all. "I see Dark, Fluffy, and Mysterious has a dark, fluffy, and mysterious cloud over her head," she chimes with a mischievous grin. You wish you had the courage or, perhaps more importantly, the emotional energy to tell her off; you are not remotely ready for this right now. But before you can say anything, Elizabeth - seeing how Stephanie doesn't even react to her words - seems to figure out what's going on, and with a clear hint of amusement to her voice, she asks you: "We're going to Llyneyth, then?"
Your shoulders slumping, you murmur, "Th-That's my decision."
Elizabeth makes an amused, interested hum, as if she's just the audience of a play that has taken on a surprising twist. And for a moment, you feel very resentful of this elven noblelady who took you into her home, treated you as a guest, gifted you a nice dress, and brought you to Council. You hate how she just treats this emotional fraying between you and Stephanie like something meant to entertain her.
But nothing comes of it as the instructor marches in, and the classroom quiets to a hush as class begins. Not that it means anything to you today, seeing how you can barely concentrate. Your thoughts are entirely elsewhere. You keep sneaking glances over at Stephanie, who does not pay you any heed, looking studiously forward with a face that betrays no emotion.
It doesn't feel great, either, when class ends and you work up the courage to walk up to the instructor to inform her that Squad Four will be participating in the Inter-Academy Tournament. Lucille gets there before you, at least, although she's no happier about this than you are; there's almost a resigned air as she reports her squad's participation in the tournament, as if she fully understands that she's expected to compete whether she wants to or not. The hesitation and anxiety gnaws at your heart as it is your turn to declare Squad Four's candidacy; you realize that there's no going back after this, that you're dooming Stephanie to her concerns. You still think it's the right thing to do, that's it's the best decision for Squad Four as a whole, but it doesn't bring you any solace at all. And you're almost overwhelmed with a feeling of bitterness when the instructor reacts not with sympathy or understanding over even pride, but relief. As if she's just happy that Sieglinde and Elizabeth are going to be competing in the tournament, as opposed to any concerns you or Stephanie may have.
As you walk alone out of the classroom, it feels like no one really cares about the painstaking process that led you to this decision, or what it has cost you socially and emotionally.
But just as you leave the classroom, you are intercepted by a stout middle-aged human, stepping right in front of you. "You Neianne?" demands the head cook of Faulkren Academy.
"Y-Yes," you stammer, surprised. You haven't exactly talked a lot with the head cook, but your impression of her has always been of a boisterous, hearty woman with an easy laugh. Now, though, she seems annoyed, if not cross.
"Your roommate is that aseri girl, ain't it? Stephanie?"
Your heart sinks. "Yes."
"Tell her to bugger off from the kitchens, will ya?" she snaps. "I don't know what's going on with her, but we actually work in the kitchens, and I don't need an apprentice in the way, eating her meal in front of my girls while they're toiling their arses off to feed the lot of ya."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Don't need you to be sorry," scowls the head cook before turning away and returning to the kitchen, "just keep her away from my damn kitchens."
At least you know where Stephanie was this morning. Not that it helps any. And if you thought the day couldn't get any worse, you were wrong.
"Oh, you'll buy me a new one, will you? Thanks so friggin' much, squad leader."
You don't hear the beginning of this argument, if it can really be called that. You are out in the courtyards of the Academy, trying to clear your mind, when you stumble across this altercation. You watch quietly from around a fortress wall, watching Lucille shrink back from Penelope. "Well..." Lucille murmurs with obvious inner turmoil, "I just thought...it might be easier if..." The words die in Lucille's throat.
"I got by just fine before you came along," Penelope snarls, stepping forward into Lucille's personal space; despite their likely discrepancy in lifelong nutrition, the human still stands almost half a head taller than the elf. "I don't need you coming in with your handouts so I can pretend to like you the way everyone else does." On the ground nearby, near the flat stone that Penelope was using as a seat, a damaged-looking dagger belt has been put aside, perhaps implying that she was trying to repair it.
Lucille recoils as if struck across the face. "I don't...I wasn't trying to, I just thought that maybe with the tournament...I didn't think..."
"You don't think, because you're a highborn elven twit with more gold than brains."
Before Lucille can reply, before Penelope can snarl at her any further, a raised voice suddenly cuts into the conversation, causing you to jump a little: "Okay, that's enough." A stormy-faced Ashlyn has suddenly appeared, approaching the two of them with some speed before physically pushing herself between Penelope and Lucille.
The elf's eyes grow wide as she pleads, "Ashlyn, it's..."
"Oh come on, Lucy, it's not fine. We're both sick of watching it and seeing you miserable all the time." Ashlyn's peasant accent has always been notable, but she normally tries to maintain a steady, neutral, more leveled enunciation. Now, though, that accent is cutting through Lucille's objections with almost shocking nonchalance despite the gap in their social status, even as Ashlyn continues to glare at Penelope, who is somewhat taken aback at this sudden intervention. Behind the peasant girl is Melanie, approaching with slow, deliberate movements. In contrast to Ashlyn's frustrated anger, there's a coldly furious look on her face as she glares daggers at Lucille's squadmate. You've come to expect it from her by now - after what happened at Roldharen, at Midwinter's Feast, it's hardly surprising - but it's still more than a little disquieting to see from someone like her, that aseri who has always been so shy and polite and demure around you and everyone else. She keeps her distance, but you can almost swear you notice her restrain herself from making a casting motion with her hands.
Penelope recovers, making up for lost time by doubling down on aggression. "Oh, so you're taking her side, is it?" she snaps.
"I'm taking my friend's side over some mouthy bitch treating her like garbage, yeah," Ashlyn replies coolly. A few centimeters taller than Penelope, she doesn't flinch as Penelope leans into her space the way she did Lucille's.
"Siding with an elf just because she buys you nice things and lets you ride in a fancy carriage," Penelope says, her face twisted into an accusatory snarl. "You're from Arkenvale too, right?"
"Outside've it," Ashlyn agrees, face hardening further. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Her family practically owns yours!" Penelope says, jabbing a finger in Lucille's direction. The elf in question flinches, looking more shocked than ever.
"I don't need you to tell me what my family's situation is."
"What, so you can be a good little whore and just ignore how you're going against your own kind and..."
"Oh, bugger off!" Ashlyn snaps, shoving Penelope back a step with a sharp thrust of her palm. "My own kind? What would you know about 'my kind'? Just because we both happen to be human?" She laughs - almost snarls - with a clear undertone of sarcasm and bitterness. "I don't remember you ever coming out to help break your back and work a field, city rat!"
Penelope's eyes go wide, speechlessly shocked by that last barb beyond what you'd expect. The way Ashlyn said it almost feels as though there's subtext that's going over your head. You barely have time to think about this when Penelope explodes into action, punching Ashlyn square in the jaw. "Who are you calling a...!" Penelope cuts off as an elbow is driven into her chest. From there, you watch in horror as two girls, born into harsh circumstances, trained by professional fighters for over a year, devolve into a mess of cursing and staggering blows. You didn't want to interfere with what feels very much like personal business between all of them, but the situation has gotten dire enough that you're rushing forward from behind whitestone walls, trying to stop those two from hurting each other any longer.
Then, suddenly: "Stop, stop, stop!" You jerk around to see Lucille rushing forward, doe eyes brimming with anxiety, seemingly intent on putting herself between the two taller, bigger girls. "Please stop fighting!"
As she physically interposes, trying to push them apart, Penelope's fist - intended for Ashlyn's nose - catches Lucille directly in the face. The noblelady falls back bonelessly, the force of the blow practically throwing her off her feet, her eyes suddenly glazed over and unfocused.
Penelope stares, plainly startled at having laid out the wrong girl. Ashlyn also instantly loses interest in the fight, falling to her knees beside Lucille. "Lucy, are you alright?" she says, holding the elf in her hands, trying to shake her back from her daze. "Lucy!" She turns back towards Penelope, snarls, "Spring damn you, how hard did you hit her, you bloody twat?"
You scurrying the remaining distance over to Lucille side, staring down at the elf helplessly, sharing a look of camaraderie and concern with Ashlyn. The elf seems conscious, at least, just stunned. A red mark that may very well become an obvious bruise is spreading across her face.
Penelope keeps staring down at Lucille, something close to guilt crossing her face. Lucille's elven features look particularly small and delicate as she lays there at their feet, blinking slowly up at Ashlyn in confusion. Penelope opens her mouth, as if to say something, as if maybe she was going to apologize, but whether it would have been, further insults or an apology, you never know. No sound comes out. Penelope frowns, seems to try again. Then a strange, frantic look comes into her eyes, and her hands shoot up to her throat.
"Wh-What's wrong?" you ask. The person in question doesn't respond.
"What's wrong with...?" Ashlyn trails off as she follows your gaze up to Penelope, whose eyes have startled bulging, her hands desperately clawing at her throat, her mouth wide as if she's trying and failing to suck in a breath. Ashlyn stares for a small moment, blood trickling from a split lip, before she gasps, whipping around to stare at the fourth apprentice present. "Mel, stop!"
Melanie has a tome in her hands, staring at Penelope with a look beyond hatred as she chants under her breath. She doesn't spare Ashlyn a glance, nor does she stop what she's doing.
"Melanie, no!" Ashlyn says again, charging at Melanie as if to physically stop her.
You, too, try to join her, but as you come within meters of her, what originally seemed like swirling energies around her turns out to be forceful gales spinning around her, pushing both of you back with the force of a whirlwind, nearly knocking you off your feet. There isn't any indication that the aseri even notices you; for all you know, the winds around her are meant to stop Penelope from trying to attack her, and all her hateful attention is now focused on the human in question.
Almost as an afterthought, the back of your mind reminds you that this is an aseri who has been working so hard at magecraft, who has been pushing herself to be able to cut a wyvern scale with wind magecraft. This power coming from her is only to be expected.
You're still desperately trying to push back that wind preventing you from reaching Melanie when Ashlyn suddenly turns around, dropping back on her knees to the elf lying on the ground. "Lucy!" she says, shaking Lucille's shoulders harder. Beside you, Penelope falls to the ground, face going pale. You realise with horror that the air has been pulled from her lungs with magecraft. "Lucy, Lucy, she's killing her!"
"Wha...?" Lucille blinks slowly, her eyes still trying to focus on Ashlyn's face, on anything. "Who?"
"Melanie!"
"...Melanie?"
"She's killing Penelope!"
Lucille wastes a precious split-second processing this information, but soon her dazed confusion gives away to icy horror as her eyes flick over to where Penelope is silently choking. Then she lurches up to her feet. "Melanie, no!" she cries.
Lucille's voice pierces Melanie's concentration where Ashlyn's didn't. The aseri's eyes flick to Lucille, then back to Penelope. She doesn't quite stop yet. "She hurt you!" she hisses.
"It was an accident, Melanie. Stop!" Lucille rushes over and - almost as if the winds that pushed you and Ashlyn back didn't exist at all - effortlessly steps up to Melanie before grasping her by the arms, looking up at her with a panicked, begging note in her eyes. "Please stop! Please!"
Melanie finally, reluctantly stops. Beside you, Penelope lets out a ragged gasp, and begins to cough and wheeze and fill her lungs with that missing air. Ashlyn sags in relief, nearly collapsing onto the ground.
"...She hurt you," Melanie says again, still glaring daggers at Penelope as if this justifies any possible cruelty inflicted on the offending human.
"It was an accident," whispers Lucille. Her voice is brittle, and she's clinging onto Melanie desperately, as if she's the only thing standing between her and Penelope. She may very well be. "She didn't mean it. I don't want anyone to fight."
"Are you out of your damn mind, you crazy bitch!?" Penelope screams at Melanie through ragged breaths from where she's still on all fours on the ground, her anger superseding even the need to fill her lungs with air again. And for a moment, as Ashlyn gives a warning glare at Penelope, as Penelope realizes that her outburst may have been a mistake, Melanie tenses up, as if prepared to hurt the human again. But Lucille squeezes her even tighter, and all that fight slowly deflates from the mage.
It takes a long while before all of you just wordlessly disperse. There really isn't anything else to say.
Not telling Stephanie that you figured out her identity and pretending nothing happened would've prevented her anger and resentment here. She would've been unhappy that the squad is going to Llyneyth, but she would've directed her anger towards herself because she kept this secret from everyone at Faulkren, and Neianne "didn't know any better". She'd feel that she has no one to blame but herself.
Of course, there is no guarantee that Stephanie would or wouldn't find out about this later, nor that she would or wouldn't be any less angry about the omission.
[x] Press Stephanie about her connection with the Caldran knight orders.
[x] Don't use this knowledge to press Stephanie into falling in line with your decision to participate in the Inter-Academy Tournament.
"S-Stephanie?" you whisper across the darkness - lit only by the sliver of pale moonlight coming through the crack in the curtains - from one bed to another.
"Yes?" comes Stephanie's voice from across the room. At least she's still awake.
You take a deep breath; you're honestly still not sure how to broach the subject with your roommate at all, so you decide to be as truthful and as direct as possible. "Sister Eleanore, the kn-knight who was with us..." You pause as you take another deep breath, knowing that this is possibly the point of no return, that there is no playing dumb after this, even as the creaking of Stephanie's mattress suggests that her weight in bed has suddenly shifted. "Her sword ran with lightning. A-As in, I think lightning was r-running through her blade."
Stephanie doesn't reply immediately. Or at all. You can hear your heartbeat over the silence that follows your explanation. You can tell that she knows now. She knows that you know. You suppose that both of you being quiet is little more than an attempt to give both of you enough time to prepare for the conversation that is to come.
Then, barely above a whisper, you ask: "Y-You're a knight, aren't you?"
Again, no immediate answer. But you are almost certain that the outline of Stephanie underneath her sheets tenses up. You're beginning to wonder if Stephanie is pretending to be asleep or simply refusing to talk about it when a slow, hesitant voice comes from her direction: "It's...complicated."
You nod; you hardly expected otherwise. That doesn't stop you from waiting for the story with bated breath. "Do you want to...t-talk about it?"
"Not really."
The bluntness of that stark refusal catches you off-guard. "Oh," you murmur blankly, feeling a little silly. But after a moment, you point out, "Elizabeth is still going to be c-curious. And I-I don't know what I can do to help you with that if I don't know the t-truth."
There's a harsh, uncharacteristically sarcastic edge to Stephanie's tone as she bitterly half-laughs, "You're going to ask me to talk about something I don't want instead of asking her to knock it off?"
This catches you off-guard, and you're simultaneously plaintive and defensive. "I-I don't know how to ask Elizabeth to stop!"
Again, that unhappy half-laugh bordering on a sneer. "I'm surprised, seeing how much time you spend with her."
That actually makes you just a bit angry. "Just because she's my friend doesn't mean I command her," you find yourself snapping bitterly. "No one is in a hurry to look to me as squad leader. I never wanted to be." For a moment, you're almost confused, convinced that this isn't actually you. The reality that you're snapping at your roommate - with whom you've gotten along with so well after more than a year - is almost surreal.
Stephanie, too, seems surprised as she turns towards you from where she's lying in bed, her wide eyes glistening in what little moonlight is reflected there. After a long, uncomfortable moment, she awkwardly murmurs, "Sorry. That was unfair." There is another long stretch of wordlessness, and you're beginning to wonder if your roommate is trying to use this outburst to avoid the subject altogether when she sighs, "It's probably as you expected. I spent time at a monastery, learning the disciplines of the knight orders."
You nod in your bed - Stephanie can probably see it with her superior aseri vision anyways - partly anxious, partly relieved, partly excited. This mystery that has been by your side for so long is finally being unraveled. "When did you join?"
"Since birth. I was born to two knights. For a long time, the monastery was all I knew."
"Which one?"
"I'd rather not say."
That's fair, you suppose; there's only so far you're comfortable pressing, anyways. "Wh-Why did you leave?"
"There was more that I could learn. I wanted to learn something...different. Something I could bring back and change how we trained, how we dedicated ourselves to...the Lady of the Forge, the Maiden of the Hunt." It's interesting to listen to Stephanie hesitate there, as if she's trying to figure out which deities are safe to bring up in this conversation. "You have probably noticed that my technique leans heavily on dueling single opponents, not fighting multiple opponents on a battlefield."
That sounds like a noble goal, albeit with one glaring issue: "Is that going to be u-useful when you return, though? Bringing back something d-different, I mean. The knight orders w-won't come to Caldrein's aid."
Stephanie pauses for a moment, although it seems more like she's trying to figure out a way to express her thoughts rather than trying to obfuscate any answers she may provide. Her eventual answer ends up being quite roundabout. "When the surviving military and religious refugees arrived in Caldrein, it is said that the fae came to the elves among them. In a...surprisingly intelligible message," she shrugs under her sheets, almost as if she acknowledges how difficult that is to believe, "the fae instructed them to retreat from the lowlands, to build monasteries where we would be secluded from the unrest happening below. They taught the first knights how to channel our souls through our weapons, a sacred art passed down through the generations."
That's interesting and mysterious, but the most obvious question pops into your head: "Then the fire from your blade isn't...magecraft?" Which isn't really that surprising; you knew that magecraft doesn't work like that the moment you saw Stephanie channel fire through her katana. But knowing what something isn't doesn't really provide that much in the way of answers. And you're still indulging the fact that she hasn't really given you an answer to your actual question.
There is a rustling from beneath the sheets, and Stephanie emerges from her bed, sitting up on the mattress. You, too, pull yourself up out of bed and sit on its edge as Stephanie reaches for the katana resting against her bedstand - the instructors have allowed you to keep your weapons starting from the second-year, although it's rumored that this was influenced in no small part by the Squirrel attack last year - and unsheathes it in a single smooth motion. "It's not fire either," she explains, even as she holds the hilt of her katana in both hands. A few short heartbeats later, the curved blade is suddenly alight, a flickering fire running across its length. You watch, mesmerized, as the flame lights up Stephanie's calm features and the room around you. Unlike the flame that engulfed her practice sword the last time you saw Stephanie do this, the flames take on a light violet color, giving its glow an almost ghostly air. You wonder why the coloration is different; maybe it's because the blade is metal compared to the wooden training sword you last saw said fire channeling through. "I suppose the parallels are impossible to miss. Just like magecraft, the fire my spirit conjures is a mimicry, but where magecraft seeks to replicate fire, my spirit merely expresses itself as fire. It is an even paler mimicry than magecraft itself."
"...Sorry, I don't understand at all."
Stephanie looks at least a little sympathetic; this is, after all, completely different from - if not outright contradictory to - anything you've ever learned about magecraft. "The difference is perhaps just a matter of details...maybe. No one really knows if the soul is also basically just a form of mana. But whatever the soul is, it provides the power for me to channel my spirit through the blade as an extra source of energy. Part of that energy expresses itself in the common elements of magecraft; mine happens to be fire, just as Sister Eleanore's happens to be lightning." Then. almost as if anticipating the most obvious question, she raises her hand and quickly adds, "I don't know why it works like that."
"Oh."
"Either way, it's not really fire, it's more like..." Stephanie seems to struggle with a good description for a long moment. "With magecraft, what you have is for all intents and purposes real fire, just created by other means. What I do is conjure a form of energy that pretends to be fire, takes on certain properties of fire, but isn't fire, and doesn't entirely express itself as fire." She pauses for a moment before an idea comes to her. "Can you hold up your sword for a bit? I want to show you something."
You nod, going over to the foot of your bed and removing the protective leather cover from your buster sword - there's no way you're keeping that giant slab of iron against your bedstand like Stephanie's katana - and soon you're seated at the edge of your bed facing Stephanie, your buster sword held up in your hands.
Her katana still engulfed in flickering violet flames, Stephanie announces, "I'm going to strike your buster sword with my katana. I won't hit it very hard, just enough for you to feel the force, alright?"
"Al-Alright," you say; you can't help but feel a little nervous as you gulp and tighten your grip around the hilt of your buster sword, trying to be ready for anything while not know what "anything" may be.
Stephanie inhales slightly before she delivers a pretty standard swing at your own blade. Indeed, it isn't a particularly hard strike as metal meets metal; you imagine it only has about as much force as Mia cheerfully slapping her friends on the back as a surprising greeting. But for some reason, the katana strikes your buster sword with more force than it feels like it should, as if what Stephanie was swinging lightly was not actually a slender katana but a thick greatsword. Furthermore, instead of trailing behind the blade as you might've expected, the violet flames flowing across Stephanie's katana surges forward with her swing, and you suddenly feel a heat wave - nothing powerful, reminiscent only of the warmth of a fireplace, but still far more than you expected - suddenly crash against you, a strange physical force feeling like it's trying to push you back. Your nightclothes ripple against that wave of energy, even as your hair and the leaves amongst them flutter for a moment.
You stare, more than a little dumbfounded. You are beginning to really understand Stephanie's power - the power of the knight orders, in fact - and how this is completely different from magecraft. It is not lost upon you, in fact, that Stephanie uttered no incantation - a necessary prerequisite for spellcasting for all but the most powerful of mages - and the flames on her blade sprung forth almost immediately upon command. In fact, all of this is recontextualizing what you saw on the night that the Squirrels attacked, as Stephanie fended off a direwolf that had the drop on you. With every swing of her katana, the direwolf flinched back, and at the time, you thought it was something as simple as flinching your hand back once it was burned by a small flame. But now that you've been on the receiving end of her demonstration, you're beginning to think there is a second - or at least complementary - explanation: That your roommate was actually generating enough physical force through non-physical means to push back a direwolf, that a stronger, faster swing of her sword would not have resulted in just a heatwave, but something like a giant flaming mace.
You're still not sure you really understand the difference between Elizabeth's description of magecraft as a simulacrum of natural phenomena and Stephanie's description of channeling spirit through her blade as a pretense of such. But the nitty-gritty is not as important as the obvious elephant in the room, and it is here you understand why your roommate has gone through such a roundabout way to explain why the knight orders are not coming to the Confederacy's aid. "Do you think it's...r-real?" you ask, lowering your buster sword so its blunt end settles against the floor. Then, realizing how silly that question sounds when you've literally just watched your roommate ignite her katana on fire, you blush and stammer, "I-I-I mean, th-that story about the fae teaching the first knight how to do this. I-I'm not saying that the knight orders are l-lying, but...it's been four, maybe even five centuries. And e-even Lady Aphelia has trouble talking with the fae. D-Do you think the story about the fae is real?" You don't want to begrudge others of their religious beliefs - the Primordians already have something close to a monopoly on this, at least in Caldrein, and you don't want to alienate those of other faiths over arrogant assumptions - but it would be more than a little frustrating if the divine reasoning behind the refusal of the knight orders to come to Caldrein's aid is based on a fictitious myth taken as truth.
"It sounds strange, I know," Stephanie admits as the violet flames across the blade of her katana extinguishes, as dark settles back into your dorm room, and she slides the weapon back into its sheath. You, too, return your buster sword to its letter cover and the foot of your bed. "But all the monasteries I've ever been to agree on this story. And I don't see why they would lie about it. It's easy to think that it was just a tale that someone made up to sound grandiose, or that maybe we misunderstood the fae entirely...but that doesn't explain why we can do this. It would've been so easy for some ancient grandmaster to claim credit for it by herself, but instead we've been told for centuries that it was the fae that taught us this. So I think it's true that the fae taught us how to channel our soul through our weapons. I think it's true that they told us to retreat to mountain monasteries." And here her face scrunches up just a bit into a slight frown. "But I don't know why. We're not growing, not in any meaningful way. Yes, with every generation, our skills with the blade improve, we channel more power through our weapons...but we're not doing anything with them. We're not wielding them for any cause other than to become better at it, because the fae promised it'll bring us closer to the goddesses or something. It's the centerpiece of our faith, and I believe this happened, that there's a purpose for this, that the fae taught my ancestors this for a reason...but I can't imagine it means cutting ourselves off from the rest of the country, from the rest of the world. I want to believe that maybe we misinterpreted the fae, or maybe there are answers that can be found outside the confines of the monasteries."
You nod quietly for a moment. You know little about the Conceptualist faith, nevermind the denomination that the knight orders have nurtured for centuries. You have no real opinion either way about the founding myth of the knight orders, but the very fact that you have seen two different knights wielding power that you don't understand gives some very real credence to that story. And you definitely sympathize with why Stephanie left the monasteries and ended up here. "You haven't found the answer, have you?" you whisper.
"Of course not," Stephanie scoffs. Not at you specifically, just venting some of her frustrations. "I wish it were that easy. I suppose all I have learned thus far is how to wield my katana in different ways, in the ways of war instead of duels."
You nod again. Then, of course, there's the irresistible question, that question almost certainly influenced by how long you've been training as a Caldran mercenary apprentice. "Is it something you can teach me?" Then you realize maybe it sounds a bit selfish or conceited of you, and you quickly stammer, "I-I mean, not me specifically, just..."
"No, I understand," Stephanie reassures you, assuaging your panic. "I can't, though. I'm...not supposed to teach those outside the knight orders. It's not something I particularly agree with, but it still takes many, many years of training to be able to do thus. I started training when I was four; I wasn't able to channel spirit through my katana until I was thirteen, and I spent most of every day doing little else but train. I was faster than average, actually; most people take more than a decade or two to be able to do this."
So this is almost certainly out of the question unless you intend to spend a decade or two doing little else with your life other than even beginning to grasp this fae-taught power. You doubt this war will give you or two decades, so you instead turn the focus back on Stephanie, bring this back to the previous topic. "Is this wh-why you don't want to go to Llyneyth?"
Stephanie averts her gaze, nods slowly, and sighs. "My departure was...not something that was agreed upon." She fidgets uncomfortably. "There's a chance that the knight orders may send some guests to the tournament this year. Some of those people may know me. I don't want them to know I'm here."
The truth has finally come out, and it wrenches your gut. You've already made your decision, and you've resolved to commit to it. Stephanie isn't making it any easier, though, or assuaging your creeping guilt. You know this is the right decision - not just for yourself, but for all of Squad Four - but it is still with great reluctance that you avert your gaze and murmur, "I-I need to tell you that I'm sorry." You're not looking at her, but you're almost certain that Stephanie is looking at you now when you reveal, "I'm taking us to Llyneyth."
You risk a look at Stephanie, and she looks at your wide-eyed with an expression that looks like her heart just skipped a beat. "What?" she whispers.
"I made the decision earlier today." Then, hurriedly, to make sure she doesn't take this personally, "It d-doesn't have anything to do with what you told me! It was just...b-bad timing."
Stephanie looks a little dejected as her ears droop, as her bushy tail is almost unsettlingly still on her bed. "So...you've already told the instructors that you're signing up?"
"No, I haven't told them yet."
Your roommate blinks, looking almost a little relieved. "Oh. That's good. Then..."
You don't want to get Stephanie's hopes up. "I'm doing that tomorrow."
Compared to the surprise just now or even the stomach-sinking expression before that, Stephanie now looks genuinely shocked, her eyes wide and her brow almost contorted into a frown. It takes a long, uncomfortable moment - and it's painful trying to keep your own apologetic gaze locked onto Stephanie's instead of looking away - before her expression slacks into something worryingly expressionless. "You realize that I don't want to go?" she asks.
"Yes," you whisper.
"You realize I have very real reasons why I don't want to go?"
"Y-Yes."
"And you're doing it anyways."
"I-I am. I'm sorry, I wish you told me sooner."
"I just did," Stephanie snaps, sounding truly angry now, heat coming into her voice. "You haven't even told anyone else yet. You can choose not to go. You can take back that decision."
You flinch a little, not only because your roommate is genuinely upset at you now, but also because you're startled to find a little bit of an edge in your voice - harder and colder than anything you've ever sounded - when you reply, "I don't want to."
Your roommate is perhaps too angry to notice that change in your voice as she demands, "Why not?"
"Because I want to go. I want to see what it's like in Llyneyth. I want all of us to learn and prove myself. I want to see how well our squad can deal with tough challenge together. I want to see if I can be a leader."
Stephanie blinks incredulously, and for a moment, it looks like she's almost going to laugh bitterly at something she finds absurd. "Are you kidding me?" she demands with a ridiculous lilt to her voice. "We're going to have chances to learn things in the future. You'll get to learn and prove yourself in the future. There's no good reason to treat this as the one and only chance for you to do so."
Your gaze hardens into something approximating a glare. "This will be the only time we will be able to participate in a tournament against other Caldran mercenary apprentices like this. We have not worked very well together as a squad. I want this to be a chance for us to come together."
Stephanie's own eyes narrow. "And this is more important than me trying to avoid any knights attending the tournaments as guests?"
"For me it is. I can't take only your concerns into account. I have an entire squad to take care of."
"A squad that's only going to last for as long as we're apprentices, for which you'll be squad leader only until we graduate! This is a child's game, Neianne. There's no guarantee you'll even still be a leader, or that we'll even be fighting together, when we get sent off to the front. You're taking this too seriously."
Something about how your roommate is treating all this - how she's treating you - causes something deep inside you to snap. Before you know it, your hands have balled tightly into fists, and your voice is raised and you're snarling right back: "And you've never taken my leadership seriously! None of you have!" Stephanie physically recoils at your first real burst of anger towards her - towards anyone - and stares at you, stunned. You are rather stunned yourself too, but your emotions are currently ignoring the more rational train of thought. Part of your brain is worried that you're loud enough that your fellow apprentices in the neighboring rooms can hear you even through whitestone walls, but that part is being overpowered by the white-hot impulse to open those floodgates, to let out all the frustrations and insecurities that you've been carrying not only today in particular, but ever since the start of the academic year. "I didn't want the squad to split up this morning, but everyone was happy pretending I wasn't there to make a decision! You and Sieglinde and Elizabeth! You're fine with pretending I have no input in a squad decision just so you can avoid crossing paths with Sister Eleanore because you thought she might recognize you! And that would've been fine if I wasn't squad leader, but now I am! And now that I have to make a decision, you think I'm just being selfish or taking things too seriously or have something against you!"
Stephanie is genuinely at a loss for words, staring at you in disbelief, maybe even a bit of hurt. "I..."
"I made this decision not because I was trying to hurt you," you sniffle bitterly. There's something caught in your voice, and your eyes are burning a little. The anger is receding, leaving you only with the faint feeling of resentment. "I didn't even make it because almost every instructor I know is trying to press me into making it. I made it because I want to. More importantly, I made it because I think it's what I think is best for the squad. As squad leader, I'll do what I can to help you with the knights, but you should've told me about this a long time ago. This is my decision, and it's final."
For a moment, you're two angry, upset, spend girls staring each other from where you are seated on the edge of your beds on both sides of the dorm room. There is an uncomfortable silence that lingers, and you are suddenly overwhelmed with the dreadful feeling that maybe you've pushed too hard, that maybe you've crossed a line.
Slowly, Stephanie's features settle from shock to a stoic nothingness that stretches her features taut, that betrays nothing on her expression. Her voice, though devoid of any obvious emotion, has a tight edge to it as she turns around in her bed and settles back under her sheet, lying down with her body turned away from you. "Fine," she murmurs quietly. "Whatever you want, squad leader. Good night."
That reaction, more than anything else, sinks your your heart to your stomach. Reaching out - almost rising to your feet - you start, "Stephanie, I-I..."
"Good night, squad leader."
That hurts. You almost half wish that Stephanie would just yell back at you. That would feel...not great, not at all, but at least it'd seem normal. But that she's just giving you the cold soldier, that your roommate and your friend who has stood by you for so long is stiffly calling you "squad leader" for the first time...it hurts.
There's a finality to Stephanie's voice that you dearly wish to challenge. You dearly wish that you can try to talk with her a bit more, try to convince her that this was the right decision for you to make, that all of you can help try to make this work.
But your emotions are spent, and that anger - that facade of courage just now - has already passed, leaving way only for unhappiness and self-loathing. You open your mouth for a moment, hoping some words will come out, anything that might get the two of you talking again.
Instead, you sink back down to bed, hiding under your sheets. There really is nothing for you to say.
"Where's Dark, Fluffy, and Mysterious?"
You look at Elizabeth blearily across the breakfast table as she daintily forks a roll of scrambled egg in her worth. You didn't get much sleep last night, and the sun choosing today of all days to come out from behind the clouds and torment your eyeballs isn't helping matters at all. You suppose that you can take a tiny bit of solace from the fact that - judging by the reactions of Elizabeth, as well as Sieglinde seated beside her as the only other occupant at the table in the Great Hall - that the two did not overhear the argument last night happening right next door.
Not that it helps matters any. You'll have to address this eventually. Most likely sometime today.
Looking over at Stephanie's empty seat, you murmur, "I...she already l-left when I woke up." That's true enough, even if you're omitting a lot. It's not difficult to imagine that your roommate is deliberately avoiding you. Your elven squadmates almost certainly suspect something as they exchange a quick, furtive glance. Whatever they're thinking, however, they don't give voice to it.
You were hoping that Stephanie would at least appear for breakfast, and that you would weather her anger and explain to the rest of the squad - together - about your decision to have Squad Four participate in the Inter-Academy Tournament in Llyneyth. But Stephanie never shows up for breakfast, and classes eventually start. You know that Stephanie wouldn't skip class, that she'll show up eventually, that she'll have to sit with the rest of the squad. But as classes are about to start, it doesn't help your conscience at all when Stephanie shows up at something close to the last possible second, her expression deliberately neutral, her expressive aseri body language betraying very little. You almost flinch at the sight of her as she walks up and wordlessly takes her seat beside you without so much as looking at you.
Elizabeth is not helping matters at all. "I see Dark, Fluffy, and Mysterious has a dark, fluffy, and mysterious cloud over her head," she chimes with a mischievous grin. You wish you had the courage or, perhaps more importantly, the emotional energy to tell her off; you are not remotely ready for this right now. But before you can say anything, Elizabeth - seeing how Stephanie doesn't even react to her words - seems to figure out what's going on, and with a clear hint of amusement to her voice, she asks you: "We're going to Llyneyth, then?"
Your shoulders slumping, you murmur, "Th-That's my decision."
Elizabeth makes an amused, interested hum, as if she's just the audience of a play that has taken on a surprising twist. And for a moment, you feel very resentful of this elven noblelady who took you into her home, treated you as a guest, gifted you a nice dress, and brought you to Council. You hate how she just treats this emotional fraying between you and Stephanie like something meant to entertain her.
But nothing comes of it as the instructor marches in, and the classroom quiets to a hush as class begins. Not that it means anything to you today, seeing how you can barely concentrate. Your thoughts are entirely elsewhere. You keep sneaking glances over at Stephanie, who does not pay you any heed, looking studiously forward with a face that betrays no emotion.
It doesn't feel great, either, when class ends and you work up the courage to walk up to the instructor to inform her that Squad Four will be participating in the Inter-Academy Tournament. Lucille gets there before you, at least, although she's no happier about this than you are; there's almost a resigned air as she reports her squad's participation in the tournament, as if she fully understands that she's expected to compete whether she wants to or not. The hesitation and anxiety gnaws at your heart as it is your turn to declare Squad Four's candidacy; you realize that there's no going back after this, that you're dooming Stephanie to her concerns. You still think it's the right thing to do, that's it's the best decision for Squad Four as a whole, but it doesn't bring you any solace at all. And you're almost overwhelmed with a feeling of bitterness when the instructor reacts not with sympathy or understanding over even pride, but relief. As if she's just happy that Sieglinde and Elizabeth are going to be competing in the tournament, as opposed to any concerns you or Stephanie may have.
As you walk alone out of the classroom, it feels like no one really cares about the painstaking process that led you to this decision, or what it has cost you socially and emotionally.
But just as you leave the classroom, you are intercepted by a stout middle-aged human, stepping right in front of you. "You Neianne?" demands the head cook of Faulkren Academy.
"Y-Yes," you stammer, surprised. You haven't exactly talked a lot with the head cook, but your impression of her has always been of a boisterous, hearty woman with an easy laugh. Now, though, she seems annoyed, if not cross.
"Your roommate is that aseri girl, ain't it? Stephanie?"
Your heart sinks. "Yes."
"Tell her to bugger off from the kitchens, will ya?" she snaps. "I don't know what's going on with her, but we actually work in the kitchens, and I don't need an apprentice in the way, eating her meal in front of my girls while they're toiling their arses off to feed the lot of ya."
"I-I'm sorry."
"Don't need you to be sorry," scowls the head cook before turning away and returning to the kitchen, "just keep her away from my damn kitchens."
At least you know where Stephanie was this morning. Not that it helps any. And if you thought the day couldn't get any worse, you were wrong.
"Oh, you'll buy me a new one, will you? Thanks so friggin' much, squad leader."
You don't hear the beginning of this argument, if it can really be called that. You are out in the courtyards of the Academy, trying to clear your mind, when you stumble across this altercation. You watch quietly from around a fortress wall, watching Lucille shrink back from Penelope. "Well..." Lucille murmurs with obvious inner turmoil, "I just thought...it might be easier if..." The words die in Lucille's throat.
"I got by just fine before you came along," Penelope snarls, stepping forward into Lucille's personal space; despite their likely discrepancy in lifelong nutrition, the human still stands almost half a head taller than the elf. "I don't need you coming in with your handouts so I can pretend to like you the way everyone else does." On the ground nearby, near the flat stone that Penelope was using as a seat, a damaged-looking dagger belt has been put aside, perhaps implying that she was trying to repair it.
Lucille recoils as if struck across the face. "I don't...I wasn't trying to, I just thought that maybe with the tournament...I didn't think..."
"You don't think, because you're a highborn elven twit with more gold than brains."
Before Lucille can reply, before Penelope can snarl at her any further, a raised voice suddenly cuts into the conversation, causing you to jump a little: "Okay, that's enough." A stormy-faced Ashlyn has suddenly appeared, approaching the two of them with some speed before physically pushing herself between Penelope and Lucille.
The elf's eyes grow wide as she pleads, "Ashlyn, it's..."
"Oh come on, Lucy, it's not fine. We're both sick of watching it and seeing you miserable all the time." Ashlyn's peasant accent has always been notable, but she normally tries to maintain a steady, neutral, more leveled enunciation. Now, though, that accent is cutting through Lucille's objections with almost shocking nonchalance despite the gap in their social status, even as Ashlyn continues to glare at Penelope, who is somewhat taken aback at this sudden intervention. Behind the peasant girl is Melanie, approaching with slow, deliberate movements. In contrast to Ashlyn's frustrated anger, there's a coldly furious look on her face as she glares daggers at Lucille's squadmate. You've come to expect it from her by now - after what happened at Roldharen, at Midwinter's Feast, it's hardly surprising - but it's still more than a little disquieting to see from someone like her, that aseri who has always been so shy and polite and demure around you and everyone else. She keeps her distance, but you can almost swear you notice her restrain herself from making a casting motion with her hands.
Penelope recovers, making up for lost time by doubling down on aggression. "Oh, so you're taking her side, is it?" she snaps.
"I'm taking my friend's side over some mouthy bitch treating her like garbage, yeah," Ashlyn replies coolly. A few centimeters taller than Penelope, she doesn't flinch as Penelope leans into her space the way she did Lucille's.
"Siding with an elf just because she buys you nice things and lets you ride in a fancy carriage," Penelope says, her face twisted into an accusatory snarl. "You're from Arkenvale too, right?"
"Outside've it," Ashlyn agrees, face hardening further. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Her family practically owns yours!" Penelope says, jabbing a finger in Lucille's direction. The elf in question flinches, looking more shocked than ever.
"I don't need you to tell me what my family's situation is."
"What, so you can be a good little whore and just ignore how you're going against your own kind and..."
"Oh, bugger off!" Ashlyn snaps, shoving Penelope back a step with a sharp thrust of her palm. "My own kind? What would you know about 'my kind'? Just because we both happen to be human?" She laughs - almost snarls - with a clear undertone of sarcasm and bitterness. "I don't remember you ever coming out to help break your back and work a field, city rat!"
Penelope's eyes go wide, speechlessly shocked by that last barb beyond what you'd expect. The way Ashlyn said it almost feels as though there's subtext that's going over your head. You barely have time to think about this when Penelope explodes into action, punching Ashlyn square in the jaw. "Who are you calling a...!" Penelope cuts off as an elbow is driven into her chest. From there, you watch in horror as two girls, born into harsh circumstances, trained by professional fighters for over a year, devolve into a mess of cursing and staggering blows. You didn't want to interfere with what feels very much like personal business between all of them, but the situation has gotten dire enough that you're rushing forward from behind whitestone walls, trying to stop those two from hurting each other any longer.
Then, suddenly: "Stop, stop, stop!" You jerk around to see Lucille rushing forward, doe eyes brimming with anxiety, seemingly intent on putting herself between the two taller, bigger girls. "Please stop fighting!"
As she physically interposes, trying to push them apart, Penelope's fist - intended for Ashlyn's nose - catches Lucille directly in the face. The noblelady falls back bonelessly, the force of the blow practically throwing her off her feet, her eyes suddenly glazed over and unfocused.
Penelope stares, plainly startled at having laid out the wrong girl. Ashlyn also instantly loses interest in the fight, falling to her knees beside Lucille. "Lucy, are you alright?" she says, holding the elf in her hands, trying to shake her back from her daze. "Lucy!" She turns back towards Penelope, snarls, "Spring damn you, how hard did you hit her, you bloody twat?"
You scurrying the remaining distance over to Lucille side, staring down at the elf helplessly, sharing a look of camaraderie and concern with Ashlyn. The elf seems conscious, at least, just stunned. A red mark that may very well become an obvious bruise is spreading across her face.
Penelope keeps staring down at Lucille, something close to guilt crossing her face. Lucille's elven features look particularly small and delicate as she lays there at their feet, blinking slowly up at Ashlyn in confusion. Penelope opens her mouth, as if to say something, as if maybe she was going to apologize, but whether it would have been, further insults or an apology, you never know. No sound comes out. Penelope frowns, seems to try again. Then a strange, frantic look comes into her eyes, and her hands shoot up to her throat.
"Wh-What's wrong?" you ask. The person in question doesn't respond.
"What's wrong with...?" Ashlyn trails off as she follows your gaze up to Penelope, whose eyes have startled bulging, her hands desperately clawing at her throat, her mouth wide as if she's trying and failing to suck in a breath. Ashlyn stares for a small moment, blood trickling from a split lip, before she gasps, whipping around to stare at the fourth apprentice present. "Mel, stop!"
Melanie has a tome in her hands, staring at Penelope with a look beyond hatred as she chants under her breath. She doesn't spare Ashlyn a glance, nor does she stop what she's doing.
"Melanie, no!" Ashlyn says again, charging at Melanie as if to physically stop her.
You, too, try to join her, but as you come within meters of her, what originally seemed like swirling energies around her turns out to be forceful gales spinning around her, pushing both of you back with the force of a whirlwind, nearly knocking you off your feet. There isn't any indication that the aseri even notices you; for all you know, the winds around her are meant to stop Penelope from trying to attack her, and all her hateful attention is now focused on the human in question.
Almost as an afterthought, the back of your mind reminds you that this is an aseri who has been working so hard at magecraft, who has been pushing herself to be able to cut a wyvern scale with wind magecraft. This power coming from her is only to be expected.
You're still desperately trying to push back that wind preventing you from reaching Melanie when Ashlyn suddenly turns around, dropping back on her knees to the elf lying on the ground. "Lucy!" she says, shaking Lucille's shoulders harder. Beside you, Penelope falls to the ground, face going pale. You realise with horror that the air has been pulled from her lungs with magecraft. "Lucy, Lucy, she's killing her!"
"Wha...?" Lucille blinks slowly, her eyes still trying to focus on Ashlyn's face, on anything. "Who?"
"Melanie!"
"...Melanie?"
"She's killing Penelope!"
Lucille wastes a precious split-second processing this information, but soon her dazed confusion gives away to icy horror as her eyes flick over to where Penelope is silently choking. Then she lurches up to her feet. "Melanie, no!" she cries.
Lucille's voice pierces Melanie's concentration where Ashlyn's didn't. The aseri's eyes flick to Lucille, then back to Penelope. She doesn't quite stop yet. "She hurt you!" she hisses.
"It was an accident, Melanie. Stop!" Lucille rushes over and - almost as if the winds that pushed you and Ashlyn back didn't exist at all - effortlessly steps up to Melanie before grasping her by the arms, looking up at her with a panicked, begging note in her eyes. "Please stop! Please!"
Melanie finally, reluctantly stops. Beside you, Penelope lets out a ragged gasp, and begins to cough and wheeze and fill her lungs with that missing air. Ashlyn sags in relief, nearly collapsing onto the ground.
"...She hurt you," Melanie says again, still glaring daggers at Penelope as if this justifies any possible cruelty inflicted on the offending human.
"It was an accident," whispers Lucille. Her voice is brittle, and she's clinging onto Melanie desperately, as if she's the only thing standing between her and Penelope. She may very well be. "She didn't mean it. I don't want anyone to fight."
"Are you out of your damn mind, you crazy bitch!?" Penelope screams at Melanie through ragged breaths from where she's still on all fours on the ground, her anger superseding even the need to fill her lungs with air again. And for a moment, as Ashlyn gives a warning glare at Penelope, as Penelope realizes that her outburst may have been a mistake, Melanie tenses up, as if prepared to hurt the human again. But Lucille squeezes her even tighter, and all that fight slowly deflates from the mage.
It takes a long while before all of you just wordlessly disperse. There really isn't anything else to say.
Not telling Stephanie that you figured out her identity and pretending nothing happened would've prevented her anger and resentment here. She would've been unhappy that the squad is going to Llyneyth, but she would've directed her anger towards herself because she kept this secret from everyone at Faulkren, and Neianne "didn't know any better". She'd feel that she has no one to blame but herself.
Of course, there is no guarantee that Stephanie would or wouldn't find out about this later, nor that she would or wouldn't be any less angry about the omission.
- Location
- Australia
My heart goes out to you, I know the soul-crushing/numbing feeling of having made so much progress then realising you need to gut and replace 30% (or far, far more) of your work. It's as if no matter what you do your back at square one anyway.
Perhaps you could try grammar checking software? I'm not sure how well they'd work but if you just change the pronouns then the software may be able to do the rest.
Alternatively, to make it easier to fall back on an old proverb - to eat an elephant, just use smaller portions. Space out when you upload chapters to RR, and just try to do the work in small periods whenever you feel like it but take a break before becomes overwhelming.
The best products are behind a paywall sofware-wise, of course, and I'm not sure what's the most cost-effective strategy, but I hope this suggestion helps.
Btw, is the RR referred to here Royal Road?
And so begins the rise of Darth Melanie, who clearly valued Lucy more then Ashlyn , as she after all did not interfer during the fight itself.
And we also see that teenagers being teenager stupid continues into this world and making this realistic.
Even if I am surprised a bit by the quick escalation, but then it clearly is because Mel values Lucy far to much as her primary Galpal.
And we also see that teenagers being teenager stupid continues into this world and making this realistic.
Even if I am surprised a bit by the quick escalation, but then it clearly is because Mel values Lucy far to much as her primary Galpal.
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Not going to lie, seeing how many people are viewing my thread after updating warms my heart. >_<
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
I really thought Penelope was improving in terms of attitude but I guess she's just completely incapable of being a decent human being, that's a crying shame.
- Location
- ⇙
Oof. Bad times all around.
At least Neianne is increasingly willing to speak her mind, so that's something I guess.
At least Neianne is increasingly willing to speak her mind, so that's something I guess.
serra2
Himouto! Sylvanas-chan
This is a bit confusing. Is it refering to the counterfactual situation where we didn't confront her?
Nah, see, this is running on Three Houses rules, where the interactions with Neianne helps temper their worldview and issues, while being outside the group causes your issues to fester.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Kei already has a volunteer.
"We are forced to be paraded around because you are a fuckup and so are about to be publicy humiliated" + teenage tempers are not a good combination.
ANd well I would argue that Penelope is working under a paradigma where for her gifts are never free, as every gift and alm is connected to a social obligation there.
Yes, sorry, I messed up my tenses. Fixed. x_x
See, I am a massive Fire Emblem fan and want to play Three Houses, but @VagueZ and I spent our budgets gifting @Gazetteer a Switch and Three Houses (certainly a bit of an undertaking, considering all three of us are currently in different countries), and now I'm even poorer. >_>
(I'm joking a bit. I do very much want to play Three Houses, but I'm honestly not excited by the Switch's game library beyond Three Houses - with the possible exception of Breath of the Wild and Pokemon Sword/Shield - so considering how poor I am, I could not justify spending US$360 - or even US$260 with the upcoming Switch Lite - for myself. And @Gazetteer is actually pretty enthusiastic about the Switch game library.)
Varder
Tired Cultist
- Location
- Hell
Pen doesn't learn. This is not how a rogue approaches a fight with a noble with a mage bodyguard dammit. Did Liz teach her nothing?
With Stephanie we got exactly what we asked. Eh, she's the least interesting from our squad, it's not a big loss. Resentment towards Liz though... I'm interested in how it will play out.
With Stephanie we got exactly what we asked. Eh, she's the least interesting from our squad, it's not a big loss. Resentment towards Liz though... I'm interested in how it will play out.
AnonymousRabbit
Rabbit Faced
jesus christ that's a yikes.
- Location
- Austria
Finally, Neianne.
Maybe one day you will grow enough of a spine to meaningfully disagree with Elizabeth.
But that sounds a bit too optimistic. We'll probably keep being her bitch for a long while.
- Location
- PA
So in short...Precisely what we thought the story was as far as the knights but uhh, not quite? That the Fae spoke up like they did is...Interesting but as far as Stephanie goes...
Well.
Here's my thoughts on the matter: The Knight Orders will not like this but at the same time...It also seems to me like if Neianne flopped her decision and someone guessed Stephanie was behind it, it might have been just as bad, especially after that squad mission went as well as it had- if anything, it would have potentially been significantly worse for it- as now the Knights look at Stephanie AND we pissed the nobles off in response.
As for Penelope? Frankly woman, you need to choose. Pride at being able to survive harsh conditions and poverty is one thing. Getting angry at an attempt at kindness like that...Well.
I suspect both our squads are going to end up marked as 'troubled' and getting more instructor attention as a result.
Well.
Here's my thoughts on the matter: The Knight Orders will not like this but at the same time...It also seems to me like if Neianne flopped her decision and someone guessed Stephanie was behind it, it might have been just as bad, especially after that squad mission went as well as it had- if anything, it would have potentially been significantly worse for it- as now the Knights look at Stephanie AND we pissed the nobles off in response.
As for Penelope? Frankly woman, you need to choose. Pride at being able to survive harsh conditions and poverty is one thing. Getting angry at an attempt at kindness like that...Well.
I suspect both our squads are going to end up marked as 'troubled' and getting more instructor attention as a result.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
I think we can recoup our losses with Stephanie if we make active effort to protect her and stand up for her at the tournament. Show that this wasn't just us being callous or careless.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Once again, the theory that Penny either just wants to die or has no self preservation instincts rises to the forefront.
Ughh, though. What did Steph expect?
Like, I understand how she feels but Little Leaf is right, it's a team of four not a team of one. Everyone's feelings and opinions need to be taken into account, and if Steph had come forward with this before, there could have been a united front bolstered by two (count them) two noble elves.
Instead we have this situation. At least Steph has a target for her anger that isn't herself.
Neianne is a protag too, so she'll be able to fight through with the power of friendship.
Ughh, though. What did Steph expect?
Like, I understand how she feels but Little Leaf is right, it's a team of four not a team of one. Everyone's feelings and opinions need to be taken into account, and if Steph had come forward with this before, there could have been a united front bolstered by two (count them) two noble elves.
Instead we have this situation. At least Steph has a target for her anger that isn't herself.
Neianne is a protag too, so she'll be able to fight through with the power of friendship.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
I will admit, my immediate gut reaction was "shit".
But, after reading the author notes I felt that it was still better (hopefully for their relationship in the long-run, but certainly for Neianne's character development) to be be upfront.
Having given it somemore thought, Stephanie has never been that close to Neianne anyway.
Though, unless something seriously changes, I guess I can abort my plans to invite Stephanie over next summer break.
But, after reading the author notes I felt that it was still better (hopefully for their relationship in the long-run, but certainly for Neianne's character development) to be be upfront.
Having given it somemore thought, Stephanie has never been that close to Neianne anyway.
Though, unless something seriously changes, I guess I can abort my plans to invite Stephanie over next summer break.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Steph is not as close to Little Leaf as the others, but, that is something we can fix with effort now that all the cards are on the table.
Spectral Waltz
Scatterbrained Writer
- Location
- Walking the Endless Corridors
There is that too, if Steph had told us sooner we would have had more time to take it into consideration, instead, she hid and hid and hid and well, if she isn't trusting us then why should we involve her in the decision?
I do like her, and I do think we should fix this if we can, but she did dig herself this hole, all we did was leave the shovel lying around.
I do like her, and I do think we should fix this if we can, but she did dig herself this hole, all we did was leave the shovel lying around.
- Location
- Austria
Ehh.
We all have our issues.
If Liza were not of noble background (very noble at that), her behaviour would have been helluva hole-digging too. It's just that her background allows her to escape consequences of her actions, unlike Steph.
Sieglinde...well, I am sure she has her skeletons aplenty.
We all have our issues.
If Liza were not of noble background (very noble at that), her behaviour would have been helluva hole-digging too. It's just that her background allows her to escape consequences of her actions, unlike Steph.
Sieglinde...well, I am sure she has her skeletons aplenty.
- Location
- France
That's due to her keeping her distance because of her secret, as well as Neianne deciding to reach out to other squad members first. Now that the cat's out of the bag, it can change.
Half a year later after the tournament passes, things will have likely mellowed out even without Neianne presumably making deliberate efforts to reconcile, so I think it's still worth it to invite her over. If she refuses then that's her choice, but the offer will have been presented.
Mother Nyx
Mother of Elpis
- Location
- The Kei Klub
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Eh, power is power is power.
Like, either way, Lisa would get away with what she did to varying degrees, I think.
Either she's a noble and they can't accuse her of anything without overwhelming evidence or she's a peasant and it's just a few commoners fighting each other where one is clearly more of an asset than not.
Her attitude notwithstanding they need students/assets like Elizabeth to point at and go look how strong our mercenaries are. And, she's just a student too, isn't it grand?
And, being clear, I love her attitude, lmao.
A lot of steppy energy.
Like, either way, Lisa would get away with what she did to varying degrees, I think.
Either she's a noble and they can't accuse her of anything without overwhelming evidence or she's a peasant and it's just a few commoners fighting each other where one is clearly more of an asset than not.
Her attitude notwithstanding they need students/assets like Elizabeth to point at and go look how strong our mercenaries are. And, she's just a student too, isn't it grand?
And, being clear, I love her attitude, lmao.
A lot of steppy energy.
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