Chương 39: Chapter 36

The rest of the week passed by as Shaya expected. Keeping her head down just encouraged more of Azreon's goons to harass her, and even drew more people into his circle when they, too, learned they could harass her to gain his favour. Fortunately for her, most of them were like Galo—unable to provoke a response from her—and so the insults faded into a background buzz as she went about her studies.

She had, however, purchased a new notebook to keep track of the who, when, and where of the worst instances of harassment. With this, she started to map out Azreon's network as it grew, who made up its base, and what made those people tick. While she'd promised her Lancemates she wouldn't do anything about it immediately, Shaya certainly didn't plan on letting these insults go unpunished indefinitely if they didn't sort themselves out.

She was already growing tired of playing by the rules of their game—a game where she was at a notable disadvantage. Shaya had already placed more trust in the people around her—her Lance in particular—than she felt comfortable with and felt that it wasn't being repaid in kind. Regret mingled with nostalgia in her mind, as she wished for the simpler days in Kelahk, where insults were open and resolving things with a friendly fist fight put things to rest.

In some ways though, she was thankful to Azreon and his goons. Two and a half days of solid harassment did wonders for her ability to control her emotions. All of her classes encouraged some level of distraction during the spell casting periods, to simulate "realistic" environments, which was when Azreon or his followers pushed their harassment under the guise of "class participation." Shaya was starting to get a better grasp of her emotions under this duress, improving her ability to draw and maintain her aether.

But it came with a cost. Shaya had to acknowledge she wasn't learning spells as quickly as the other students around her. Amber magic was especially difficult for her, with Basillo siding with Azreon and also harassing her during class. In contrast, Auric and Bari seemed to have zero tolerance for such behaviour and punished any who stepped out of line.

Amaurea had yet to intervene, but harassment was minimal in Conjuration—Shaya and the rest of the students were still too terrified of mishaps to worry about social standing. Shaya also had to admit that more people paid her no mind than those that didn't. As much as she wanted to disparage the entire system, Azreon and his ilk made up a small—albeit infuriating—group of people. While none of the majority came to her aid, Shaya could tell that plenty of people were not impressed by Azreon's actions.

Something she planned to leverage later, if needed. +++++"Oh no," Amaurea said as Shaya and her friends approached her after class, "not you lot again—you realize I have office hours, right?"

"Sorry, Doctor," Shaya said, chuckling, "I have other commitments at the same time. We'll keep it short, I promise!"

"That's what you said the last time," the professor's eyes narrowed, "but alright, I can't discourage inquisitive behaviour…" Amaurea paused to consider her wording, then shook her head. Like last time, they began to leave as a group, Apricot joining them.

"Are you heading out for dinner with the family again?" Shaya asked.

"No," Amaurea shook her head, "the food riots have climbed up another layer, and I'd feel guilty fine dining when others are starving. I just wish there was more I could do to help them." Shaya nodded.

"I've heard, I wish I could do something about it as well." She had snuck away from her Lance one evening to see if any of her old friends in The Blight were still active, and had seen the effects of the famine and riots first-hand. It had been a long night given the distance between Arcadia's layers, but it had been informative despite her being unable to find any of her former colleagues. As the riots were getting more and more violent, she heard one name on the lips of the downtrodden: Jericho. Her old boss.

"Anyway," Amaurea said, nodding to her, "your academic question?"

"Right!" Shaya started, not realizing how lost she had become in her own thoughts.

"Is it possible to place the origin point of a spell elsewhere on your person? And could you also do something similar for a weapon? Our conjuration spells are centred in a circle we draw, but I don't know what part of the spell does that."

"That's not conjuration related, but I'll allow it." The professor smiled, looking at Shaya with interest.

"The short answer is yes, most spells can actually be blasted from wherever you like on your person, most people just find it easier to direct energy with their hands conceptually. As you saw with the backblast from your spell in Pyromancy, however, there is some danger in anchoring a powerful spell to a part of your body that can't handle the kickback." Shaya nodded.

"I can work with that," she said, making a mental note.

"What about casting through a weapon?"

"More complex, so let's go one step at a time," Amaurea cautioned.

"Since you're really curious about this topic, check out The Book of Seven Swords in the library, and ask me more questions before you test anything."

"Okay," Shaya grinned.

"Over to you, Samorn."

"Vulkhad protect me," Amaurea said, "I'm being tag teamed." Shaya dropped back to walk next to Apricot, Quill joining her after stretching his wings wide.

"How are you settling in?" Apricot gave her a shy smile.

"Oh, I'm doing…okay. My Lance has had difficulty accepting me, I think. And getting used to the Empire has been difficult—aside from learning about the common races here, identifying nephilim based on their line of descent has been troublesome."

"You don't have many nephilim or different races in Vulkhad?"

"Oh no," Apricot corrected quickly, "the Protectorate is even more diverse racially speaking, but nephilim are much less common, so picking up on their overt influence here is hard."

"Ah, yeah," Shaya said, nodding, "Astorians are the easiest, since She had so few children when compared to my progenitor, Tarrak, or gods like Silanir and Cirithil. Most people only worry about referring to one of the Seven as their progenitor, rather than identifying which demi-god they descended from. The nephilim of Kassarah excluded, given, well, the corruption of an entire line of them. No one wants to get exterminated by the inquisition." Shaya gave an awkward chuckle.

"Oh…"

"It's only happened once, from what I understand," she added quickly.

"I wouldn't worry about it happening while you're around. Even my progenitor and Their descendants were left alone, despite some…obvious flaws in our inheritance." Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Apricot nodded.

"Any suggestions for keeping track of them by progenitor?"

"Certainly." Shaya smiled, counting them off.

"Astorians inherited Her luminous and metallic qualities; Vynderians have pointed ears, like yourself, and have His infernal-looking eyes and skin; Kassarans inherited Their blue-grey skin tones and extra joints; Cirithilians tend to have Her moon-pale skin and eyes and hair that evoke one of the seasons; while Silanites evoke one of the six elements; and, last, but not least—in my very biased opinion—are Tarrans like myself.

The demonic horns tend to be the giveaway, but we also inherited Their weird skin tones, from reds to purples."

"The horns are obvious," Apricot said, cocking her head at Shaya, "but your skin doesn't look very red to me. I've seen plenty of people from around the world with similar warm undertones."

"Ah, yeah." Shaya rubbed the back of her head awkwardly.

"I'm barely considered a nephilim, which is why my qualities are muted when compared to people like Azreon, who basically radiate their power and descent all the time."

"Oh," Apricot said, casting her eyes away and hugging her books tighter to her chest, "I'm sorry, I forgot that Arcadians judge those with less divine blood than others."

"Don't worry about it," Shaya chuckled.

"So many of the students here seem so… detached from reality and the events going on around the Empire. The fact they waste any time trying to insult me for things I have no control over or take pride in how lucky they were at birth is ridiculous."

"Too true," Amaurea cut in.

"Too easily they miss a simple fact: nephilim may start with some advantages, but it doesn't mean they have greater potential than us."

"You're not a nephilim?" Samorn and Shaya asked in unison, surprised.

"Oh my, no," the professor chuckled, "I probably had even less divinity in me than Shaya, but I didn't let that stop me." Shaya grinned.

"How'd you overcome the odds?"

"Oh," Amaurea's smile faltered, "I wouldn't recommend following my path. Blaze your own trail. Nothing feels more rewarding."

"Alright, I will." Shaya turned back to Apricot.

"And I'm sure your Lance will come around to you; you're too nice not to like and too capable to ignore. In the meantime, though, would you like to study and hang out with us more?"

"That would be great." Apricot gave her a wide smile.

"You're all making good progress towards your first casting of Summon Creature," Amaurea cut in.

"Have you all selected which being to summon first?"

"Definitely a Beacon," Bri answered without hesitation.

"A floating ball of light that can shoot beams of fire? Count me in!"

"You would pick a lesser angel," Shaya joked.

"Oh yeah, and what are you going with Miss High and Mighty?"

"Primal crows—they're excellent scouts, they're smart enough to use tools, and they can harass enemies in a fight if needed," Shaya explained.

"What was your first summon, Doctor?"

"Please, just call me Rea," she responded with a smile.

"My first summon was a pony."

"…Why?"

"You'd be surprised by how many monsters just want to eat a delicious pony." Her smile grew wistful.

"Such perfect bait, the poor bastards." Quill warked nervously at the professor's answer, shying away from her and nearly tripping Shaya in his efforts to hide beneath her. +++++ Shaya's final class was Game Theory. It took place once per week, for three hours in the evening before the weekend. To make matters worse, it was taught by Chancellor Zaal, who made the topic as boring as possible and was as demeaning as on their first encounter.

The only bright side was that he indiscriminately insulted most of his ten students for one perceived flaw or another. Azreon was blissfully absent from this class as well, which Shaya thanked the gods for. Having him in two of her classes was already too much, but his influence here seemed even more limited than elsewhere. Despite her boredom, it was a mostly peaceful class and the longest she got to spend around Oraeus—her only other Lancemate that was taking it.

"Each week," Zaal droned on, "I will introduce you to a new concept that can be expanded to the real world. Alongside that concept, you will learn a new strategy game that emphasizes the lesson and will be graded on your last match of the evening. Each week, the games will become more and more complex…" And so, in their first class they spent three hours playing a foreign game called chess.

"Don't you find this game…too simple?" Shaya complained to Oraeus, her opponent. He nodded, not taking his eyes off the board.

"It is, but it's only intended to showcase the importance of thinking several steps ahead of your opponent and how even your own actions could limit your options in the future."

"I get it," Shaya agreed, "but the perfect symmetry and lack of bluffing or hidden pieces make it a poor representation for actual war."

"Those will come with time, I'm sure," Oraeus reassured her, making his move just before his time ran out. Again. Since her game against Oraeus wasn't graded, Shaya experimented with a defensive strategy. Each piece only moved into spaces where its loss could be immediately avenged, but she quickly found that her thick wall of defenders limited her offensive options too much.

"So, what made you enlist to come to the Academy?" she asked, hoping to get in some banter with her otherwise estranged Lancemate.

"You don't seem that interested in war or violence, if you don't mind me saying so, and I'm surprised you didn't just come here as a normal student." He ignored her question, focusing on his move. He made it before his final grain of sand fell and Shaya saw him positioning for a checkmate on the following move. He flipped the glass of sand, then responded to her question when her twenty seconds began to tick down.

"You're correct, I'm not," he said, tone still disinterested and distant, "but enlisting comes with a level of prestige that simply enrolling does not—and it also allowed me to bring Shepherd, who might not otherwise have gained the opportunity."

"You're a good man," Shaya replied, analysing the board. She spied a few ways to avoid losing the next turn, but few ways to turn the game around in her favour.

"I'm looking forward to working together—and our practice session tomorrow. I think it will be enlightening."

"I'm not looking to be your friend, Shaya," Oraeus stated without scorn, "and while I appreciate the current situation isn't entirely your fault, I doubt we'd ever become friends now. So, please spare me the effort." With nothing left to gain from their game, socially or intellectually, Shaya tipped her king onto its side with plenty of sand left on her timer.

"Fair enough," she said, standing to find her next opponent and get more practice in.

"Best of luck on your graded match, Oraeus."

"You are still showing too much mercy, especially to your weaker units," Zaal chided her, watching her final game of the evening, "and it has cost you many games this evening. I expected more from you." Shaya shrugged.

"The strategies worked better before you kept announcing the sympathy I show for the 'lives' of my game pieces. Were they real people, I'm sure my troops would appreciate it. I'm also sure many troops wouldn't appreciate being sent to their deaths as mere bait."

"I see you already possess the flawed logic of an Amber mage." The professor sighed and shook his head.

"Soldiers will do as they are ordered. While seeking to spare the lives of those under your command is an honourable notion, choosing to sacrifice no one and instead losing the war is the greater disservice to your people."

"You're not wrong," Shaya agreed.

"I would do whatever it takes to win a war, but I don't think it's necessary to prosecute war as brutally and mercilessly as you insist, especially not out the gate. I also think you lot underestimate the value of 'weaker' units." She moved a mere pawn forward and looked to her opponent.

"Checkmate."

"No it's not," he sputtered, looking at the board state. Zaal and her opponent looked over the board. Her opponent had been so focused on dodging her elite units that he moved his king too close to a pawn, which let her lock it down.

"Ha!" he shouted, moving his king and knocking over the pawn that threatened him.

"Illegal move," she replied, pointing at one of her rooks.

"This elite piece is protecting my pawn."

"Well, my king kills the pawn that threatens his life!" her opponent replied.

"Better to be killed by someone of stature anyway!"

"Is it now?" Shaya queried.

"Dead is dead, no?"

"He speaks of legacy," Zaal explained.

"Oh?" She turned to Zaal and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Don't the winners write history to their liking anyway?" Zaal nodded to her—if not in agreement, at least acknowledging her point—and the skill she kept hidden during her exhibition games.