And so the months pass by, the snow retreats from the land as flowers bloom once more, and a semblance of normalcy returns to your lives. It takes a few days of getting used to this after the Inter-Academy Tournament, after Arnheim, but things have largely settled into an everyday familiarity. You have returned to the comfort of your own dorm room instead of the cellars of the Treiser Manse. You are back to attending your classes, taking notes on strategy and logistics, tactics and command, trade and commerce. You continue to learn how to fight properly with a dagger while also refining your existing proficiency with the buster sword.
Viscountess Wilhelmina Adelaide Marienberg returns a month after all of you. With her, as expected, is Lilith, now serving as Wilhelmina's personal maid and attendant. Her social circle seems to regard her return with a mix of happiness and anxiety, like they aren't entirely sure how to treat her anymore. Part of it, of course, is that Wilhelmina is now the highest-ranking person in the area, and no one is entirely sure whether to remain casual with her or stand on ceremony to reflect that change. But part of it is also just the change in personality and an understanding of her circumstances: Her remaining parent is gone, and now she has an entire noble house to lead and fiefdom to rule. The viscountess has never been the warmest of people, but there used to be a sort of wry wit there; even that is gone now, and she mostly seems particularly distant.
Still, Wilhelmina does not shirk away from classes or training, disregards her rank in her pursuit to become a Caldran mercenary, and pushes herself just as hard as she used to, albeit with a hint of detachment, as if she is mostly just going through the motions. She doesn't discourage anyone from addressing her as "my lady" or other titles appropriate to her station, but nor does she demand it. She still socializes with her friends, albeit in a more withdrawn manner, and Azalea seems to be trying to look out for her as arguably her closest friend. At a cursory glance, it seems almost like Halissen never happened at all.
This isn't true, of course.
A pall has settled over Faulkren and almost certainly all of the Confederacy. It is impossible for the fall of Halissen to not weigh heavily on the minds of every Caldran. While all have always known that Caldrein isn't winning the war, that they were losing ground every day, it has been four years since the last major military defeat, when the Tenereians took Wynholm after a year-long siege. The broad sense of the war not going well has been replaced by an increasingly acute sense that Caldrein may very well lose, and that unhappy anxiety has colored the general mood of interactions both in Faulkren Academy and the town that is its namesake.
Something else has changed among the apprentices at Faulkren Academy. It is subtle at first, and easily attributed to the general stress that everyone is under. But as the months pass, the pattern becomes too consistent to miss.
It starts at first with the tenor of conversations among the apprentices, which do not drift far from the ongoing war. That these discussions are tinged with an increased level of hostility towards Tenereia is unsurprising, but they now carry a naked disdain for the very values and systems that Tenereia is alleged to represent, of demagoguery and populism, of aggravating fracture points among the people in a divide-and-conquer paradigm of governance. That spies deceived criminals and scoundrels - understood to be aseris and humans - with screeds of their disenfranchisement and promises of being raised to a higher station has become the tacitly accepted narrative across the Confederacy to explain how Halissen fell so quickly to the invaders, that spies and saboteurs drew upon the disaffected to open the gates to the waiting Tenereian army.
You don't know if that story is true. Whenever you think about it, you always find yourself being brought back to one snowy morning at the bottom of the hill on the outskirts of Arnheim, where those same accusations were thrown by an enraged elven mob against their fellow aseri and human refugees, when you and Squad Four drew steel and cut down some of your countrywomen so that others might live. You recall the despair and hate of that day, not just from the accused but also the accusers; there was such a genuine anguish among the elven mob, of the naked pain of betrayal that couldn't be faked. What is true and what is false? You really don't know.
Your fellow apprentices leave the racial aspect out of it, at least. No one is outright accusing aseris or humans of being potential traitors, supplicating themselves to the Tenereians for the scraps they offer in return for treachery. But at the same time, you can't help but notice that there seems to be a tacit expectation that aseris and humans need to be more vocal about their loyalty and more opposed to a foreign regime whose alleged values of demagoguery and populism are said to benefit those same aseris and humans. It's as pretending that there isn't a bias towards elves in this country is the price for their acceptance in polite society. Watching your aseri and human peers verbally genuflect in conversations is incredibly awkward to watch, and you aren't surprised that there is a gradual realignment of friendships over the months, as social groups become increasingly homogenous in both race and class.
This is not a changing dynamic isolated to Faulkren Academy. If anything, the tension is thicker among the adults in town. War refugees from Halissen have crossed the Elfert River into Apaloft; most of them flock to major cities such as Arkenvale, but some of them come instead to Faulkren. They are few in number at first, and you don't even realize their presence until you hear gossip about local businesses doing their best to provide employment to refugees despite the struggling local economy, hit by the war like everywhere else in the Confederacy. The display of Caldran solidarity initially fills you with pride. It is when you start seeing a handful of beggars on the street in town one day, however, that you realize that more are arriving and straining either the town's ability to accommodate them...or its residents' sympathy.
You can't help but notice that most of those left out in the cold are aseri or human. Sometimes, they're outright run out of town.
This is not a pressure that you personally have to cope with, though. Amidst the rising tension across demographics in Caldran society, you find yourself broadly welcome across most lines. In town, shopkeepers still greet you politely and offer you fair prices, something that some other apprentices do not consistently experience. Almost everyone at Faulkren Academy still greets you with friendly smiles, something you notice is true for the few other dryad apprentices. The aseri and human apprentices, though, particularly those of common birth, seem to be a bit more stiff with you in your interactions. Once, deciding that she is generally amiable and trustworthy about this, you ask Emilie why this is so.
The apprentice from a human freeholder family looks awkward, fidgeting and squirming and determined not to look you in the eye as she quietly murmurs, "Well...you know how you seem really close with Lady Elizabeth, right? How she invited you to Stengard during summer vacation? And how you were seen with Florence on a date in Llyneyth?"
Emilie trails off. Not that you really need her to complete that explanation. You understand the subtext well enough: People consider you to be consistently close with both elves and highborns, and have tacitly decided that you're probably going to favor them.
Despite this, though, you aren't outright being rejected, at least not yet. On the one hand, that everyone seems to be walking on brittle social ice is stressful and exhausting, and you're relieved that everyone largely still seems to like you. On the other hand, after mostly having forgotten about it since you've gotten used to life at Faulkren Academy, you are being reminded that for the plainsfolk, dryads are friendly immigrants from the woods, innocent of Caldrein's historical grievances...because they, like you, are not really Caldran.
You're not entirely sure you prefer this to the alternative.
"You know, I've never seen you pray to the Sacred Spring before."
The observation is directed at Stephanie. The observer is one of her friends beyond your own social circle. Your roommate has never been the most social Caldran mercenary apprentice at Faulkren Academy, but she has accumulated her own circle of friends over the last year and a half. It is with these friends that she walks back to the West Wing, back to your dorms after your afternoon classes, where you - also heading back to the West Wing as her roommate - are conveniently within earshot.
It is with a sense of foreboding, then, that you watch Stephanie walk on and bluntly reply in the presence of her friend and the other members of her social circle, "I'm not Primordian."
"Oh," the friend mouths blankly, as if studiously trying not to give nor receive offense. And it probably would've been better if the conversation left it at that. That her friends recognize the awkward air that has settled upon them, an awkwardness best left uninterrogated. That people just assume that Stephanie, like Sieglinde, is just the odd atheist. But instead, her friend asks, "Why not?"
You do wish that Stephanie is a bit more diplomatic - a bit more cognizant of just how much Primordialism is tied to the Caldran identity, just as Conceptualism is tied to the Tenereian identity - when she flatly answers, "I'm Conceptualist."
Faces around Stephanie instantly sour. It isn't just her friends who frown; other apprentices within earshot stare in muted disbelief in a way that makes you instantly uncomfortable, like Stephanie has just said something incredibly scandalous. Stephanie, for her part, largely manages to keep a stoic, impassive expression that only creases slightly into a frown when another of her friends asks, "Doesn't that...just make you a Tenny?"
"Does being Primordian make you Ornthalian?"
The second friend bristles. "That's different," she says testily. If the looks and body language of those within earshot of the conversation are any indication, she is hardly alone in that opinion.
Stephanie fixes her friends with a hard look. "My family has been praying to the Pantheon for generations before the Confederacy of Caldrein existed. Thousands of families are the same. Your foremothers were Conceputalists too, once upon a time."
"Yeah, but..." the first friend mutters uncomfortably, "...maybe now is a good time to not believe in your pantheon."
Stephanie does not bother responding to that, and the whole group falls into uncomfortable silence through the remainder of their return to the dorms. You decide against bringing the subject back up when you and your roommate return to the privacy of your room either, and quietly hope that it's just an awkward moment among friends that will soon pass.
But afterwards, you notice that - regardless of who decided it to be so - Stephanie and her friends don't socialize anymore.
"I-I'm worried about Stephanie."
From where she's lounging in bed, dressed in her nightclothes and half-reclining on a pile of extra pillows that cannot have possibly been included with her dorm room, Elizabeth raises an eyebrow at you. "What has Dark, Fluffy, and Mysterious done now?" she drawls. "Started a new legend with a new mask?"
You grimace, wondering why you thought coming to Sieglinde and Elizabeth's room while Stephanie is out was a good idea. You need someone to confide your worries about, after all, and your two fellow squadmates are the most obvious options. Aside from all of you being in Squad Four, Sieglinde and Elizabeth - opposites though they often are - have otherwise been completely immune to the changing dynamics that seem to be happening countrywide. Never mind showing absolutely no change in attitude towards aseris and humans; the two elven prodigies don't even particularly seem to care about the interracial anxiety that has otherwise colored all other interpersonal interactions as of late.
It is just now occurring to you that that last item - though admirable in a platonic sense, completely detached from any sense of systemic prejudice - is perhaps a reminder that Sieglinde and Elizabeth are...well, Sieglinde and Elizabeth, the two members of your squad that are complete social disasters in completely different ways.
But you're here now, and it would be awkward if you just said "never mind" and left after working up the courage to come here and talk about this to begin with. "I think she has l-lost friends because she's a Conceptualist," you explain.
Elizabeth actually barks out a laugh at this. "She admitted to being one?" she says with a lilt in her voice. Is she being mocking? Or does she sound impressed? You're not entirely sure. Maybe it's both. That would be very Elizabeth, in a way. "She's more daring than I thought."
You don't find yourself particularly fond of Elizabeth's reaction. "This isn't funny," you mutter.
Surprisingly, Elizabeth shrugs and freely admits, "It isn't. But you overestimate the decency of people if you think we can do anything about it, though."
You grimace. Maybe your opinion of your peers is overly generous, but surely the three of you can do something about Stephanie's situation. "W-We aren't resented as much, though. Maybe i-if we..."
"We're different from Dark, Fluffy, and Mysterious," Elizabeth cuts in, and there is a hint of impatience in her voice, as if she thinks you should've known better at this point. "We may be weird and have no patience for their petty little social games, but the masses just see me and Ravenhill as two more highborn elves, and the highborn elves know neither of us are interested in their stupid biases. And you're a dryad. Everyone considers you a noble savage, divorced from existing historical prejudices. Nothing the three of us say will help Mysterious Mask."
You cringe a little at Elizabeth just explicitly spelling out how your freedom from emerging prejudices since the fall of Halissen is, in and of itself, another form of prejudice. You also can't help but notice Elizabeth isn't actually referring to Stephanie by name. Part of you feels offended on behalf of your roommate. Part of you doesn't know what to think.
So you instead turn your attention away from Elizabeth, and instead ask Sieglinde, "Wh-What do you think?"
To her credit, from where she is seated at her desk, book in hand, dressed in her nightgown, Sieglinde almost seems subtly uncomfortable as she averts her gaze. "I do not understand why she is a Conceptualist." she admits. "That anyone would put their stock in fantastical deities is beyond me." But then she looks at you and shrugs. "I have long warned of the dangers of nationalism and how it consumes everything around it."
And of course Sieglinde is not going to be of much help here either. You think back to when Squad Four was defending refugees in their evacuation to Arnheim, how she was cold and unsympathetic to the anger and grievances of an orphan girl, concerned more with what she instead viewed as hints of early radicalization. Sieglinde has always been more interested in broader issues than individual persons, and you suppose it's not going to be much different with Stephanie.
But then - as her gaze returns back to her book - Sieglinde adds, "I would not worry overmuch for Stephanie. She is strong. She has been through worse. She'll be fine."
That level of confident insight about a squadmate whom Sieglinde has largely kept a cordial but not particularly close relationship surprises you a bit. "How do you know?" you ask.
Sieglinde pauses for a moment. "We...may have met before," she admits. "When we were children."
You stare for a moment. Then, shocked, you exclaim, "You've n-n-never told me this before!" Why is this the first time you've heard about this after a year and a half together? Even Elizabeth is looking on with a raised eyebrow in interest.
The tall, raven-haired elf actually looks mildly sheepish. "I only realized during the Inter-Academy Tournament. I wasn't trying to keep it a secret."
That must've been a long time ago, then. And if Sieglinde met Stephanie that far long ago... "S-So," you stammer, trying to tiptoe around the subject without being too obvious for fear of betraying your roommate's secret by accident, "you know that Stephanie was, u-um..."
"I do," Sieglinde nods, and you're relieved to have that weight taken off your shoulders. You're also intensely curious how Sieglinde even met Stephanie as children and the circumstances in which that happened. That's not a conversation you can have right now, though, not with Elizabeth - seemingly the only one in Squad Four out of the loop on this subject - present. And speaking of your elven mage...
"So what was she?" the blonde elf smirks, her voice coated in mischievous mirth. She has gone from half-reclining on her pillows to flopping forward onto her belly atop her bed, her arms folded under her chin and her legs kicking back and forth above her knees. "Don't leave me out on this juicy secret."
But Sieglinde's voice turns dry as she mutters in a monotone, "Ask her yourself."
"What?" Elizabeth demands with mock offense. "Am I being left out?"
"You give her enough grief as is," Sieglinde rolls her eyes, not even bothering to raise her gaze from her book to look at her roommate. "If you want to know, then at least have it be on Stephanie's terms."
Elizabeth's lips unfurl into a catlike grin. "Are you sure you want that? Stephanie doesn't usually take kindly to me poking about her business. What if we end up beating each other up again?"
"No," you interject, and you'd be more surprised about how firm your voice sounds if you weren't already preoccupied by how much you need to put your foot down on this. Both of your squadmates look up at you in surprise, but you aren't deterred as you say, "If the three of us get to sit out on everything that's happening, then we need to support Stephanie. No more giving her a hard time, not even in jest, at least until this whole stupid thing blows over."
There is a moment of stunned silence. Neither elf is accustomed to this sort of assertiveness from you. Even Elizabeth's legs have stopped kicking back and forth. Finally, quietly, Sieglinde murmurs, "I don't think 'this whole stupid thing' is going to 'blow over' anytime soon. If ever."
"Then no more giving her a hard time," you declare. You admit that most of that statement is directed towards Elizabeth, by far the most likely person in the room to give Stephanie a hard time. Given your temporary falling out with Stephanie in the weeks leading up to the Inter-Academy Tournament, though, you suppose you're second on that list. Still, this is where you're drawing the line.
Elizabeth looks flatly at you for a moment before flopping around onto her back in bed, sighing, "You're boring." But she doesn't outright refuse, which you suppose is enough. For her part, Sieglinde gives you an impassive nod, and there's almost a hint of approval in her eyes.
As the months pass and as interpersonal drama persists, you find yourself with some free time to yourself, to be allocated to your personal social circles.
Prior to leaving Arnheim, you and Florence did agree to write to each other occasionally. Now that you're considering that it's been long enough since then that writing a letter doesn't feel terribly inappropriate, you realize that you don't really have any experience writing letters to people. Perhaps Sieglinde can help.
Amidst all the tension, it is noticeable that the relationship between Lucille and Melanie hasn't changed at all. This is hardly surprising; Lucille has never seemed to care about the divides that separate people from each other, and Melanie has always seemed devoted to her. It would be nice to check up on them.
A somewhat odd kinship has formed between Stephanie and Vesna. They have been interacting with each other more, where previously they were largely strangers to each other. Perhaps it's because they're both Conceptualists. In another strange twist, Azalea has also been spotted talking to them sometimes, possibly due to feeling alienated from Caldran society much in the same way you do.
And then there is the one time where you pass through the library, and happen to see Elizabeth in the corner talking with - of all people - Wendy. Both of them have hard-to-read expressions, but their conversation - muted as it is - actually seems rather civil. You wonder what they're talking about.
[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill and Florence Regilaine
[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia and Melanie Aster
[x] Stephanie, Vesna Rainer, and Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine
[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya and Wendy
Choose two.
Pretty significant interlude incoming.
