by Andrew Rowe
Lysen – Rank B. Same as the twin. Guess they think alike, too.
Kolash – Rank B. I would have expected the warriors to be better at tactics than their “oracle”. Hrm.
Landen – Rank S. Now that’s very interesting. Going to have to ask Lan how he managed that. I don’t see any other “S” ranks on here at all.
Teshvol – Rank C. Barely passed. I’ll need to look into that as well.
After gathering a bit of information from other cadets, Velas headed to the mess hall to discuss what she had heard.
Velas took a seat next to Landen, putting her tray down and leaning across it toward Taelien.
“Heard you got your ass kicked by an illusion.” She grinned brightly. “That takes talent.” Taelien rolled his eyes.
“The ‘illusion’ was covering something that was solid. I’m still not sure how they managed it – whatever that thing was, it was heavy, strong, and capable of teleportation.”
“Something made from construction sorcery, maybe?” Landen took a bite out of a chicken leg, shaking his head and setting it back down on his plate. “They wouldn’t have to actually teleport it, the sorcerer could just dematerialize and move the construct.”
“Possible, given that I didn’t actually have any way of telling what was real.” Taelien cracked his knuckles. “Anyway, I won that fight. Construct or not, it ran away.”
“Oh, so you scared off the illusionary monster?” Velas gave a mock clap, smirking. “As always, your heroism is without equal.”
“Hey, at least I actually went for the objective. I hear you didn’t even attack the city.” Taelien pointed a finger at her accusingly, while simultaneously lifting a cup with his other hand and taking a drink.
Velas shook her head. Of course I didn’t attack the city. I lived there for years – I knew all about how the Battle of the Three Fords went. There was no chance of success in a direct conflict – the Esharen had the human army outnumbered, had better training, and had defensive walls.
“Yeah. Instead of beating my head against a wall, I looked at the broader picture. I think that’s what they were looking for – the ability to identify when the odds are against you and how best to deal with that situation.” She shifted her weight, leaning against her left hand. “I took Fort Lysen to the north of Orlyn, had my army wall up there and took prisoners. We offered a prisoner exchange for the prince. They turned it down, but our close proximity forced their army to take the field to try to recapture the fortress. That gave us the defensive advantage, making the battle vastly more plausible. I think we might have won, given enough time.”
“You might have won by attrition; I might have actually saved the prince.” Taelien sat up straighter in his chair. “I think you’re right about what the instructors wanted, but that doesn’t mean the instructors have the right answer to the scenario.”
Velas chuckled at that. “It’s a test, Taelien. Part of the test is figuring out what the instructors want you to do. Fail at that and it doesn’t matter how creative your ideas is.”
The swordsman lowered his head, frowning. “Maybe.”
Velas felt an unexpected – and uncharacteristic - pang of guilt at seeing his expression. “Hey, now. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, you’re right. You just gave me something to think about.”
Velas turned toward Landen, who was still eating with a mildly amused expression. “You’re looking smug.”
He raised another chicken leg, making a circular gesture with it. “Well, I just find your lecturing a little silly, given that I out-scored both of you.”
Velas shrugged. “I figured you probably did the same thing I did, but with a little better micromanagement, or with judges who liked you better.”
Landen made a scoffing noise. “Not even close, Vel. I won the scenario.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Won? I talked to half a dozen other people before I came here, including some full paladins. That scenario doesn’t have a win condition.”
“It didn’t until I made one.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Lan, I can tell you want to regale us with your epic story of struggle and triumph.”
“Actually,” he pointed downward at his tray, “It was remarkably simple. What am I pointing at?”
“A tray with food, dinnerware, and a drink,” she replied, trying to sort through his logic. “What, you sieged them until they starved?”
He shook his head. “I considered that, but it’s even simpler.”
Taelien seemed to have cheered up, his expression having shifted from sad contemplation to a look of intent focus. “You could be pointing at any of the component parts that Velas mentioned. The food on the plate might represent destroying supplies. The knife could represent assassinating key targets. The drink…gods, did you poison their water supply?”
Landen’s expression brightened. “And we have a winner.”
Velas leaned back, folding her arms. “That doesn’t sound like the type of strategy paladins would typically approve of. They would have had human and Rethri slaves in Orlyn at that point in history – you would have doomed them as well.”
“That’s why I used lysinium toxin. Deadly to Esharen, but it has almost no effect on humans and Rethri, aside from the possibility of rashes or some stomach problems. They didn’t know about it at that point in history, of course, so using my knowledge might not have been considered fair. Apparently, the judges deemed it a legitimate solution.”
“Still, isn’t poison something they would consider dishonorable?” Velas tightened her jaw. I might have been reading this whole organization wrong.
“Oh, I didn’t use it to kill the whole city. First, we encircled the city, like we would in a traditional siege. Then we gathered both the necessary supplies to poison the water supply – and, this was the tricky part – the supplies necessary for a ritual to neutralize it. Then we sent them a messenger and told them about it, and demanded that they surrender the prince, as well as all their human and Rethri slaves and hostages. In exchange, we would neutralize the poison and withdraw.”
“Couldn’t they just neutralize the poison themselves if they knew about it?”
“They didn’t know the materials necessary for the cure, and I made sure we kept the supply trains far away from our base camp and under extraordinarily heavy guard. Battle sorcerers, anti-scrying fields on the area, the works. They could have taken the time to test the water and try to formulate their own cure, but that would have meant dehydrating their city and risking panic until they had a solution. And while they might have had one or two water sorcerers as slaves, Esharen sorcerers almost never learn water sorcery – they considered it one of the ‘weaker’ sorcery types. So, they wouldn’t have enough sorcerers to make water for the city, or to attempt a ritual to purify the water.”
“I’m a little surprised they didn’t just attack your forces directly, given that they apparently had overwhelming numbers.” Taelien tapped the bottom of his knife on the table, looking slightly perplexed.
“That wouldn’t fix their problem – in fact, it might have made it worse. Esharen are extremely tough, but they still dehydrate just like we do. Engaging in battle would have sped that process up. We tainted our own water supplies with the poison, too, so even if they seized our resources, they’d just end up killing themselves with it.”
“That’s…uncharacteristically devious of you, Landen.” She gave him a nudge. “I’m rather proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he said, setting down the chicken leg. “I don’t know if it would have worked in reality, but the judges seemed to like the core idea. Even gave me this blue flag.” He reached into a pouch on his side and retrieved a cobalt ribbon, about a foot in length. “It’s supposed to cancel out a red flag if I get one of those in another test.”
Velas pulled her lips into a pout. “I didn’t get one of those.”
“Well, you didn’t get ranked with an ‘S’. I don’t even know what exactly that means, but apparently I’m
exceptional.”
She groaned. “You’re exceptionally full of yourself, at least.”
“You turned what was supposed to be a no win situation for you into a no win situation for the enemy. That’s pretty brilliant.” Taelien set down his knife on his tray. “That’s what I should have done. Instead, I took a serious gamble, risking our success on my own proficiency.”
“To be fair,” Velas scratched at her chin, “I think your plan had some merit, too, Taelien. The team you brought in with you might have rescued the prince even if you had lost that duel. I think the reason that you barely passed was because you risked the Saekes. Some of the judges might have considered that sword more valuable than the mission.”
“It’s just a sword,” Taelien mumbled, almost in a whisper. “It cuts well, but so do a hundred others.”
“It’s a symbol to people,” Landen gestured at the sword, which was sheathed on Taelien’s hip. “Like the Heartlance was back in Orlyn.”
“Sure, I know that, but I don’t think it’s fair to treat it that way for a test about military tactics. The people in that army were not particularly religious, so losing it wouldn’t have been a tremendous impact to morale. There were no other paladins there, and the sword itself was a minor tactical asset at best.” Taelien frowned.
“This goes back to what we were saying before, Taelien. The tester is as or more important than the test itself. You have to get into the heads of the people running the exam.” She pursed her lips. “Although apparently I didn’t do quite as good of a job as I thought I did, given that Lan managed to show me up.”
“You should be used to that by now.” Landen winked at her.
Velas resisted the urge to stick out her tongue, settling for just staring at him for a moment before replying. “Only because I don’t use my sorcery when we spar.”
“Usually.”
“Usually,” she agreed. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
Her former Queensguard partner rolled his eyes, and then looked back to Taelien. “Anyway, we all passed. That’s the important part. We should do something to celebrate.”
“Drinks? I like drinks. You could buy me said drinks.” She gave Landen another affectionate nudge.
“I think I’ve bought you enough drinks to last a lifetime, Vel. I was thinking maybe we’d go out to the city and do some sight-seeing. I’ve heard they’re going to give us a day off to do whatever we want during the Cleansing Festival.”
“You want to go sight-seeing during the festival? Festivals are about eating and drinking, Lan. Possibly a few other things that you’ll learn about when you’re an adult.” She gave him an exaggerated wink.
Landen sighted. “How about you, Taelien? Any plans for the Cleansing Festival?”
The swordsman shook his head. “Not really, but I might try to visit Lydia. I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Landen grinned. “I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more of Lydia—”
Velas finally picked up her knife, cutting into her rapidly cooling chicken. “Well, maybe when the two of you are done courting the fair maiden, we can do something that’s actually fun.”
“It’s not like that with Lydia,” Taelien jabbed a piece of fruit with his fork. “She’s just a friend. A mentor, really, in some respects.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe for you.”
Landen visibly blushed, as she knew he would. It was all too easy sometimes.
“—anyway, I’m sure we can find time to do something as a group for the festival,” Landen stammered, rapidly taking a drink from his cup afterward.
“Great. I’ll think of something. You two are going to love it.” Velas cut off a strip of her chicken, grinning to herself. “Trust me.”
Velas turned at the sound of footsteps approaching her from the right. Lieutenant Torrent paused, folding his arms across his chest and tilting his head to the side. “Better finish that food fast, Jaldin. You’re due in the briefing room at six bells.”
Six bells? That’s less than an hour.
“Yes, Sir.” She gave him a crisp salute, which he lazily returned.
“And pack your bags before you go to briefing. You’ve got a trip ahead of you.”
***
Pack my bags? Was I just disqualified?
Velas frowned as she opened the door to the barracks. It was dinner hour, so she didn’t expect anyone else to be there.
Asphodel was in the center of the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a large piece of parchment spread out in front of her. She let out a mild gasp when Velas walked in, hastily grabbing the parchment and beginning to fold it up.
“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Asphodel mumbled, sounding more confused than accusatory. “No one is supposed to be here.”
“Finished dinner early,” Velas explained, heading over to the large trunk next to her bed to begin gathering her things. “That a map for the next test?”
Velas caught Asphodel shaking her head out of the corner of her eye.
“Not for the next test.”
Well, now that’s interesting. She’s got a map for a future test?
“No need to be shy,” Velas offered, “Your secret is safe with me. And if you wouldn’t mind sharing…”
“No,” Asphodel said. “I cannot.”
Velas raised an eyebrow as she laid out supplies on her bed. A backpack, two uniforms, a bedroll to attach to the backpack, a waterskin, flint and steel, a coil of rope with a grappling hook, an extensive medical kit, a packet of herbs for water purification, and a few other miscellaneous supplies. And, of course, a scabbarded longsword and an eating knife. She was already wearing her good boots, and she had her quarterstaff leaning against the nearby wall.
Once her supplies had been organized, Velas attached the bedroll to her backpack and began to change into one of her uniforms.
“Why? I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be just between us.”
“You are not supposed to be here. I didn’t see you coming.”
Velas frowned. “This have something to do with that ‘oracle’ thing Teshvol keeps calling you?”
“Yes.”
Not much for words, this one.
“Okay, so you didn’t predict me walking into the room. Why is that significant?” She glanced over to Asphodel. The purple-haired Delaren had folded up her map, and she was now standing straight up, gazing directly at – or perhaps through – Velas.
“I can’t see you properly.”
Velas paused, half-dressed, and turned to Asphodel, tilting her head to the side. “You’re saying I’m invisible?”
“Not in the way you mean. I can’t see your path. Your potential future.” The Delaren frowned. “It is disconcerting.”
She can see potential futures? That’s…disturbing, if it’s true. I’m not sure if it’s more disturbing that such an ability exists, or that I don’t show up on it.
“Has this happened before?”
“Yes.”
Again, lovely answers.
“Right. How does your ability work? Should I be worried about your inability to see me?”
Asphodel frowned slightly. “I’m not sure. If you should be worried, that is. My ability – I am an oracle. Your people might call it the sorcery of destiny.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Destiny sorcery? That’s one of Sytira’s gifts or somesuch, isn’t it?”
“Your people believe it to be so. It is a rare and special gift. My people believe the power of foresight – the gift of the oracle – comes from Kelryssia, the Maiden of the Stars.”
She’d never heard that name before. Some ancient, mostly forgotten goddess, perhaps? Or just an alternate name for Sytira from another culture? “Is that what you believe?”
“No.”
Helpful. Real helpful.
“All right. Well, what does your lack of ability to see me say to you?”
Asphodel moved back toward her own bed, slipping the map under her mattress, and then returning to look at Velas. “I canno
t predict your actions – at least not in the long-term. When I gaze at you directly, I can see a few moments, but no more.”
Interesting. I need to do some research on this destiny sorcery – if it’s real, that could be a tremendous asset, or an incredible liability to my plans. I need to make her mine.
“Well, that should make things more fun, won’t it?” Velas gave a grin. “It must get tiresome being able to predict everyone else’s actions in advance.”
“Not everyone else,” Asphodel corrected. “But yes.”
“Seems like you might benefit from having a friend to talk to that won’t give you answers you already have. Maybe we can play some tactics games sometime. Might be useful to you to practice against someone you can’t read as easily.”
Asphodel nodded. “Yes.”
Well, the hook is in her. We’ll see if I can reel her in later.
“I have to hurry for now. I think I have another test to take. But we should talk again soon.”
Asphodel tilted her head quizzically. “Very well.”
Velas finished changing, belted on her sword and knife, and put on her backpack to prepare for travel. “Any ideas where I’m going to be headed?”
“Telling you would be cheating,” Asphodel said, giving the slightest smile.
“Right. Cheating. Wouldn’t want to do that.”
“No.”
Velas just shook her head.
I’m really going have to keep an eye on this one.
***
Velas arrived at the briefing room a few minutes early, and stood outside as patiently as she could. I wasn’t expecting them to send us out of the city so soon. Am I going to be set up with a squad? If so, wouldn’t it logically be Taelien and Landen?
They eliminated more than three people – we can’t be evenly distributed into squads of three now. I wonder if they’re going to break us up into different sized groups for different tasks.
Second Lieutenant Banks emerged from the briefing room a few moments later wearing a dour expression. “You’re early.” She slammed the door shut behind her.
Startled by the lieutenant’s attitude, Velas still managed to raise a hand in a weak salute.
“At ease. Your next test is another simulation. Assume that you are just about to walk into the briefing room for an assignment – just like you were – but that you hear something unusual inside.”