III; House of Bren

  Sitting atop a small, slightly brittle wood crate next to the training dummies, I watched this professor whose name I still didn’t know waiting to address my new peers. There was Medlyn, the girl with hair like snow, standing by eagerly awaiting her teacher’s words. Then there was Gett, the cunt who called my body paltry.

  After that were the other ones, the ones with names they didn’t bother to tell me—or never got the chance to, I’d suppose. Standing close to Gett was a girl with the same black hair and the same grey eyes, but Gett obviously didn’t seem to like her—for whatever reason. Then, alongside Medlyn, there was a boy with dirty blonde hair and yellow eyes, and there was another boy with dark brown hair and brown eyes—I could only imagine he’s a mud magi or something or the sort.

  Finally, far away from everyone, was a girl with straight blonde hair that fell to her shoulders - and this was who I took the most interest in, for she had red eyes. They weren’t like mine, obviously, as mine are pink—and I do find it passing strange that I’ve the girl’s colour—yet I couldn’t imagine any type of red eyes someone would have that wouldn’t be of fire magic.

  The girl I assumed, from her eyes, was of the same magic as me had an odd nose too—not really odd I suppose, but different from most I knew. It had a prominent bridge, very prominent, and it gave the sense that she wasn’t like the rest of us—or most of the rest of us. Gett and the black-haired girl beside him had a nose slightly similar, mind you, but it certainly wasn’t as … regal.

  As everyone settled down and became attentive to the professor, he held his hand out towards me, sitting down. “Gram, this is the House of Bren. Likewise, this is Gram, your new peer. I trust you’ll make his acquaintance in due time.”

  I lightly waved. House of Bren, huh?

  The boy with the dirty-blonde hair and the yellow eyes raised his hand.

  “What is it, Ran?”

  Ran … odd name.

  With his yellow eyes, quick as—well, as lightning—darting to my feet, he questioned our professor: “Why doesn’t he have sandals?”

  “Punishment.” The Professor scratched his nose, too annoyed by the reason for the punishment to go any further. “Any other questions before we begin?”

  Almost instantly, Medlyn raised her hand.

  “What is it?”

  Keeping her hand up—which was a rather weird sight, I must say—she asked her question: “What’s his Magia? Why are his eyes pink?”

  “That’s two questions,” the professor scolded her. “His Magia is Fire, and his eyes are simply an odd variant of it. Nothing more.”

  Bit of an invasion of privacy, leaking my information to these people, but frankly, the fact I still didn’t know this professor’s name was killing me. So I raised my hand.

  Looking over to me, he sighed. “What is it, Gram?”

  “What’s your name?”

  As he scoffed, in the corner of my eye I saw Ran and the ‘mud magi’ hold their laughter. “Riscard… I probably should’ve told you that earlier, but with the accostment of someone’s belongings, I had more pressing matters.”

  “Accostment, Professor?” a sweet voice with a certain articulation to its words questioned. At its source, I saw the blonde girl with the red eyes.

  Odd. Why do I think her voice is sweet? Am I really so vapid as to like someone simply because they have the same magic as me? Is this what they call love at first sight? “Medlyn stole my shoes and—”

  “—what did I say about lying?” Professor Riscard cut through my voice. “Do not worry about it, Alice. And Medlyn,” he pointed at her, with her face red from anger, “hold your tongue. If you play part to his words, you give them power.”

  Ignoring whatever Medlyn’s reaction to that was, I looked to the blonde girl, Alice. She still had yet to look at me, yet I couldn’t help myself from looking at her. Why’d she question him about the accostment, and nothing else? Was she a noble? Is that why she has the nose and the voice?

  Speaking of her voice… I’d like to hear it again. I raised my hand.

  “What?” Professor Riscard asked me.

  “Can everyone in the class kneel before me and my crate and personally greet—”

  “—absolutely not.”

  I tilted my head, raising my eyebrows at him. “Why not?”

  “Why would we do that?” Medlyn practically screamed.

  From the corner of my eye, as I stared at Professor Riscard, I saw Alice nearly snicker, and from it I felt a bit odd. I didn’t mean to make her laugh, yet now I had, and now I felt weird about it. Now I don’t want to make her laugh, in fear that she’d laugh again.

  Finally, although it took a while, Medlyn’s words registered in my head. Turning to her, I smiled. “Because I’m your beloved Lord Magi.”

  Right as she was about to scream out so many profanities I wouldn’t want to hear, she held her tongue—like her teacher told her to. I guess this Riscard’s respectable enough, if she thinks so. Wait… why the fuck do I care what she thinks?

  Speaking of Riscard, I’m surprised he hasn’t told me to shut up. “Truly, I don’t know everyone’s name yet.” And frankly, it’s really ruining the narration I have going on in my head.

  “Right…” Professor Riscard looked at me for a moment with an inquisitive gaze—although what he was inquisitive about, I don’t know—before looking to the rest of the class. “All of you bar Medlyn & Gett, introduce yourself.”

  Ran was the first, walking over to me—and my crate. I must say, I feel rather cool sitting down while they’re standing. Holding out his hand, he smiled. “I’m Ran.”

  As I was about to shake it, Professor Riscard cut in: “It’s bad manners to shake one’s hand while sitting down.”

  Rolling my eyes, I rose from the crate and took hold of Ran’s hand. “Gram.”

  After him, the mud magi shook my hand. “Fedwin, pleasure to meet you.”

  Raising my eyebrows at the ‘pleasure’, I smirked. “A pleasure to meet you too.”

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  Following him was the black-haired girl beside Gett, who slightly bowed. “Isla. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And you.”

  The only one, I noticed, who didn’t walk over was Alice. Turning to me, she indifferently introduced herself. “Alice.”

  “Shame. Yours is the only hand I wanted to shake.”

  She scoffed. “Bit of an odd thing to say to someone you just met, no?”

  “Yeah.” Yeah, it was. I turned to Professor Riscard and tried as hard as I could to forget I just said that. “Have we learned magic yet?”

  Shaking his head, he pointed at the crate next to the one I sat on. I’d only just cared to look at it, and saw a dozen or so wooden swords inside. “You can’t hope to master magic if you haven’t mastered yourself. And the physical side is only the beginning, but you must begin somewhere.”

  And we’ve decided to learn with swords? The very—in my mind, at least—antithesis of magic? If there was a… pick… in here… at least I have experience with that. I wonder if any of these worms ever used a real weapon?

  Raising his hand and walking out a bit, Professor Riscard addressed all of us: “As we’ve now seven students, I will be the eighth fighter in your training.”

  “Who's fighting you?” Ran asked.

  “Alice,” Professor Riscard bluntly answered. “She’s the best of you in this regard. From tomorrow on, the winner shall fight me.”

  A competition, aye? Considering there were six students before me, I can only assume it was three sets of two, fighting until there was one. Pretty nice regime, even if I’ve no bloody idea what the point of it is. I thought you trained by… well, I don’t really know how you train, but I never thought it was by fighting your peers.

  “And who’s fighting Gram?” Medlyn asked—rather scarily, I might add.

  The professor looked at his students, slowly scanning, until his grey eyes locked on. “Gett. It’s probably best if you fight him.”

  “Why would it be best for Gett to fight him?” Fedwin asked. “He’s pretty good.”

  Professor Riscard smirked. “Because I said so.”

  Gett’s pretty good? I agree with Fedwin, why the hell am I fighting him straight off the bat? “Surely you wouldn’t allow me to fight a man, Sir Riscard? Make it even and whatnot, give me a girl.”

  “Just Professor, Gram,” he chuckled. “But no. You’ll fight Gett. Grab your swords, you’ll go first.”

  Sighing, I walked over to the crate and moved to grab a sword, but this rude cunt Gett cut me off, grabbing his first. Laughing, I took hold of a rather sturdy, short wooden sword, spun it - rather pathetically - in my hand a couple times, and walked out to the grass field in front of the training puppets.

  A couple metres or so away from me, Gett had readied himself with his sword—held by both hands—pointed towards me from his chest.

  It was quite obvious he’s been taught—whether by the professor or not, it makes no difference. “I don’t suppose you can tell me how to hold a sword?”

  “You’ll get the hang of it, I’m sure,” Professor Riscard nodded, raising his hand into the sky. “First to yield loses, Gram.”

  For a split second, I tried to mimic Gett’s stance, but soon realised it wasn’t that simple. Mine felt weird—and no doubt looked weird too. Too stiff, too rigid. Back in the village, I’d fought before—scraps, really, not actual fights—not with them—yet that was with my fists and feet… and that’s how I’ll do it today. It’s better than getting beaten the shit out of with a glorified stick.

  “Fight!”

  With rather curved steps, Gett approached me. Almost bouncing, as if he was ready to dodge any attack I might muster. But I’ll use that against him. Raising my own sword above my head, I waited for him to get near me.

  Stupidly enough, I never thought he’d speed up—but he did. He thrusted his sword at my face before I could even blink, my body somehow bouncing back in the nick of time—but he’d hit my lip. It felt bruised and bloody.

  Slowly circling him—but keeping my distance—I felt my lip and chuckled. That hurt. Catching a glimpse of my hand, I saw crimson blood splattered around the fingers.

  When he thrusted at me, his legs stopped bouncing. They only moved forward—and stopped when he finished his jab. That’s the perfect time.

  Staying still again, I waited for him to approach me, holding my sword high again with both hands. As his feet shifted and he began to charge, I jumped back and waited—which must’ve been barely a second, but it felt a year—for his thrust to miss. When it did, I pulled my sword back and pegged it at his head.

  As the sword let out a thump and bounced off his head, I charged at his chest and tackled him into the ground. Atop Gett, I pummelled hit after hit into his face as it turned red and purple.

  Gett threw a hand up towards my hair, hoping to take hold of it, but I caught his wrist. With my other hand, I took a handful of dirt and smothered it into his face and eyes. As he gagged, I clenched my fists together, raised them high up and crashed them down on his face.

  Again, and again, and again. His face wasn’t looking too good now, yet he wasn’t yielding—and I should’ve noticed that… I wished I noticed that before it was too late.

  But the pain came at once, spreading through my chest and making me nearly vomit. The cunt had kneed me in the groyne!

  Staggering off of him and kneeling, clutching my pearls, I eyed the other students watching us - some with amazement, some with disgust. Then I felt the dishonourable cunt wrap his arms around my throat.

  As I tried as hard as I could to free my neck from his arms, he roared in my ear: “Yield!”

  “F–fuck you!” I croaked back, my throat being crushed. Eventually, after a long and arduous effort of shifting my jaw under his arms—at which point I was about to pass out—I bit down on his elbow pit.

  Gett screamed, throwing a kick into my back as he let go.

  Crashing face first into the dirt, I spat and stumbled to my knees, turning to see him having picked up his sword and angrily staggering towards me. Shit. Holding my hands up, I yelled: “Wait! Wait! Wait!”

  With his sword readied, Gett tilted his head. “Do you yield?”

  Moving my hands about, I lazily nodded, slumping. But with my hand opposite him, I clutched a handful of dirt. “Look! Naked girl!”

  “Do you really think—”

  Bam! Straight in the eyes. Grunting as he backed away and cleaned his eyes, I leapt up from the ground and drop-kicked his chest, sending him flying into the dirt.

  With my back smacking against the ground, I felt the air flee my lungs. Stretching my mouth and bending my neck, I stumbled onto my side and crawled on the dirt. Fucking hell. That drop-kick didn’t go as planned. I thought I’d stick the landing or something.

  Looking over to Gett, I saw him in practically the same condition, coughing out dry, white spit and letting it drip from his mouth. “Rather paltry physique!” I mocked, cackling as I threw my head back into the ground.

  And his sword, I noticed, was a little bit away. Who doesn’t love a wrestling match? I crawled over to him, and as I got near he threw a kick towards my face, which I just managed to swerve around.

  But I didn’t dodge the second. No… no, I never anticipate a second attack—it’s my weakness. It hit me smack dead in the face - and I could’ve sworn I heard a bone snap.

  I didn’t feel like a disabled though—not yet, at least—so I pressed on, bending his feet away as I pushed him onto his back and got on top. Taking hold of his left arm, I bent it with all my might across his back and placed my knee against the elbow, ready to take the arm off with one push.

  “Do you yield?” I chuckled, my breath haggard and loose.

  “Fuck you, cunt!” Gett roared, throwing his right elbow back like a chicken, trying to hit my face.

  At his refusal, I bent my knee backwards and—right as I was about to bash it into his elbow, a light wind began to encapture me, lifting me up from Gett and raising me into the air.

  With my feet dangling, I turned—against my own volition—towards Professor Riscard, who held his hand out towards me while his brown robes and dirty blonde hair swayed in the wind he had created. “You’re disqualified.”

  “Why?” I questioned, tapping my feet together. This is rather cool—makes me wish I awoke to wind magic.

  “You used dirty tactics against your opponent. Sure, he did too—but only after you started it.”

  “Well if someone told me the rules—argh!”

  Sent flying through leaves, shrubs and skinny branches, the only thing I remember before darkness was the laughter of a blonde girl with fire in her eyes.