Re-edited.
The sound of polite clapping filled the courtyard as the assembled students applauded the latest familiar to be summoned, a beautiful red salamander whose summoner was busy gushing over his elegant features. The summoner in question was cuddling the cute little critter close to her chest, a position nearly every male student was envious of. Kirche Augusta Frederica von Anhelt-Zerbst had hair as red as the salamander she was clutching, with a beauty that never failed to inspire envy or lust in either sex. As she gracefully returned to the crowd, beaming in pleasure and delight at her successful summoning of a familiar which matched her mage name to a T, the teacher supervising the ritual, professor Jan Colbert, called out to his gathered students.
"Has everyone summoned a familiar?" He asked, casting a gaze around the clearing brimming with magical creatures. The springtime familiar summoning was one of the three major magical rituals undertaken by the students at the Tristain Academy of Magic. It was the first and arguably most important of the three, for the students attending the academy, at least. It was commonly assumed that the familiar reflected the summoner, and the better, stronger or more beautiful a familiar, so too the summoner.
"No professor Colbert," Kirche spoke, and in her sultry tone, the undertone of glee and amusement was apparent to all who heard her. "The Zero has not summoned a familiar yet."
Professor Colbert did not sigh nor blink, but his face tightened ever so slightly. It was quick and gone in the blink of an eye, almost imperceptible to any who was not looking. The Zero, of course, was a student's mage name. However, it was not one chosen by the mage, rather bestowed upon her by her fellow classmates for her inability to do any sort of magic. It was poetic in a blunt manner, and extremely hurtful. And yet, despite his desires to prevent such bullying, his hands were tied. Especially because the student in question had demanded he not treat her any differently from the other students. In view of her request, he had turned a blind eye to the matter. "Miss Louise de la Valliere." He called out, and shot the pinkette who strolled up a reassuring glance. She didn't notice.
The small diminutive pinkette did not flinch as she strode onto the summoning platform, her head held high and her hands firm and steady, her expression serene and controlled. Even when the whispering began, the soft undertones of disdain and jeers reaching her ears, poorly disguised so as to seem accidental, she did not blink an eye. The second rule of steel. Never let them see your pain. With a deep breath, she turned to the professor, who was smiling encouragingly at her and nodded. Feeling the knot in her stomach loosen ever so slightly, the young mage in training mustered the last of her courage.
Louise Francoise Le Blanc de la Valliere took a deep breath and closed her eyes. To the observer, she was the picture of calm and poise. Inside, however, she was praying desperately not to fail the summoning ritual. Up until now, no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, every single spell she cast ended in an explosion of dust. Once, in sheer desperation, she had spent an entire evening and the following morning casting every spell she knew, had learned or seen in her entire life. Not a single one, hard or simple, had been successful. Nobody could help her, and there were many whispers that perhaps she was a bastard and ill-begotten. That perhaps she was a fake, and the Vallieres were not, in fact, actual nobles. Of course, no one said it to her face, as that would force her to challenge them to a duel for insulting her honor. But it was not done out of fear for defeat, rather, no one dared to incur the wrath of her mother. Karin of the heavy wind, the strongest mage in all of Tristain, and some would even say, the world.
'I must not fail', she murmured softly to herself. But her voice was tinged with despair and she tasted the bitter tang of defeat. Why would today be any different? She fought against the cloud of fear and hopelessness as best she could. 'I am a Valliere, and in my blood runs the blood of the greatest mages in all of Halkeginia. I must not fail. I will not fail.' Muttering to herself, Louise gritted her teeth and with a colossal effort, pushed away her fears and doubts and slowly began to chant. "I, Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, do summon a familiar. Together we will forge our destinies as one, oh beautiful, divine and powerful servant that exists somewhere in this vast universe, heed my call and obey my will!" The stone platform glowed so bright everyone needed to shield their eyes against the glare. Everyone except Louise. She saw nothing, only darkness cover her vision and felt her magic drain out of her, faster than any spell she had ever tried to cast and gasped at the emptiness that remained. There was an abyss of pure darkness yawning in her chest, and the sensation froze her blood and terrified her. But that same fear freed her mind and she pushed every last drop of her magical energy into the summoning. She pushed so hard that she tasted blood as she bit down on her tongue, but still nothing happened. It wasn't enough. Louise's eyes widened, and suddenly her fears fell away from her as everything around her seemed to disappear. There was only her and her magic. 'I. Won't. Give. Up.' She barely felt her limbs, so concentrated was Louise on the ritual. Something shifted, just outside her perception, outside time and space and magi-, then the world exploded into a massive cloud of dust.
When she came to, Louise found herself choking on the dust and coughed bitterly, feeling her stomach clench as dread flooded her. The familiar cold sensation of shame mingled with fear slowly crept down her spine. She had failed. But she had been so close, Louise felt tears well inside her eyes, and she did not know if she would be able to hold them back. As the cloud dissipated, she caught sight of a shadowy shape hidden within its grey folds. The sudden surge of hope and relief she felt was dashed into pieces when the object finally revealed itself. Horrified, Louise gazed upon an ornate mirror standing in the previously empty clearing. It was intricately carved, the golden frame elegantly wrought and the glass smooth and silvery. Its legs were carved out of a rich black wood, with swirls and grooves etched into its framework. All in all, it was a magnificently crafted piece of furniture, well worth a few hundred ecus. But it was not a familiar.
She didn't know who laughed first, but in the end, it didn't matter. Shortly after the cloud of dust cleared, the entire class was laughing at her familiar. She felt tears threaten to escape, but she did not shed them. Blinking furiously, she fought them off by reciting the second rule of steel in her mind, over and over. Eventually, Professor Colbert walked up to her with a perplexed expression etched into his kind features. "This is certainly very baffling, Miss De la Valliere. I must speak with headmaster Osmond about this. Until then, I will ask the servants to carry your … familiar to your room." Louise didn't trust her voice so she nodded instead and fled the courtyard at a dead run. The jeers and taunts rang in her ears, the invisible words echoing in her skull like a song she could not get rid of.
As she burst into her quarters at the academy, she felt empty and drained. The day's events caught up to her, and she felt empty and hollow after using all her magic in one go. The emotional rollercoaster ride had not helped things any. She was unconscious before her head even hit the pillow.
She woke late into the evening, convinced everything had simply been a nightmare. Louise de la Valliere could not fail something as simple as a summoning ritual, right? The sight of the ornate mirror beside her luxurious bed shattered her hopes. This time, the tears came unbidden and uncontrolled. Her resolve could not sustain her, not when there was no one around her to see her misery. And so Louise sobbed into her pillow, muffling her weeping and cursing her very existence. To summon nothing or to summon this. Which was worse? It took a few minutes, but eventually she ran out of tears and self-pity. Louise slowly slid into a half lotus position, gazing listlessly around her. She would not indulge in this any longer, it served no purpose and would not help her current situation at all. Gathering what remained of her wits, she clambered to her feet and approached the massive mirror. Perhaps it was a talking mirror? Her heart pounded in her chest as she dared to hope that perhaps this was not just a mirror. Her eyes slid to the immaculate and gleaming surface of the mirror. Her petite form, too immature to be pretty, with a non existent bust size reflected back. Her eyes seemed to mock her with their hopeful gaze, and then fell as reality slid back into place, cutting her deeply like a shard of broken glass. She looked pathetic. Quickly, she averted her eyes and suppressed a sniffle. Louise knew that if she started crying again, she would not be able to stop for a good while. It hurt to know she wasn't beautiful like Kirche, nor smart and pretty like Tabitha, no she didn't have any of those qualities. She was just Louise, the zero.
What would mother think of her now? The bitter disappointment of having failed her family brought on another wave of shame. Why had she been born like this? The mirror taunted her with her own pathetic reflection and Louise felt a sudden surge of irrational hatred toward the inanimate object. Somewhere inside of her, she knew it wasn't the mirror's fault for being summoned by an incompetent mage. But in that moment, she lost herself to the despair and rage clawing at her mind. She was too proud to kill herself, knowing that it would only shame her family even more. Perhaps her father would disown her? What would she do then? If only she had summoned something alive. Something sentient. Even a bug would have been better than this pathetic imitation of the real. She clenched her fists, knowing her magic was useless and punched the mirror, hard. She punched it again and again. And again. She punched the mirror until she could no longer feel her hands. In a small corner of her mind, Louise realized it really hurt and that it was stupid, but she could not feel anything. And so she punched away until she could not lift her hands.
Her hands were bleeding now, but the mirror remained as pristine as ever. Slowly, she slid to the ground in front of her mirror, all her energy expended from her angry fit. Her inner turmoil threatened to overwhelm her, and despite her attempts to control it, the many emotions surged through her like quicksilver and she drew her wand with trembling and bloody hands. She wasn't cognizant of what spell she cast, nor did she care. All Louise wanted was to break something, anything. In the ensuing explosion, Louise missed the mirror ripple and her blood slowly disappear. When the explosion cleared, Louise's familiar stood unharmed and unaffected. Not even a smidgen of dust clung to the polished glass.
"I hate you." She said at last, almost shouting the words. "I hate you," she repeated, but her voice sounded artificial to her. "No, I hate myself." She corrected herself quietly, finally subdued.
"Headmaster, I must inform you of a peculiarity during the springtime familiar summoning ritual." The old wizened figure of the headmaster nodded to professor Colbert to continue. "One of our students, Miss Louise de la Valliere, somehow managed to summon a mirror of all things as a familiar."
Osmond, or Old Osmond, as the students called him, looked up and nodded thoughtfully at his most trusted member of the staff. "Did you know," he said gleefully, "Matilda is wearing green panties?" His assistant, a green haired woman gave a startled yelp and stomped hard at the ground. A chittering sound followed by the pitter patter of small paws announced the departure of the white mouse and Osmond tutted in disapproval. Matilda de Sachsen-Gothe flushed bright red and fled the room, but not before slapping the headmaster across the face. Colbert sighed at Old Osmond's antics, but patiently waited for the headmaster to recover.
"A mirror, you say?" He said after a moment's thought, the pink hued blush on his cheeks giving away the direction of his previous thoughts. "It is rare indeed for something so strange to be summoned as a familiar. But the ritual knows what is best for the summoner. There has been precedent in a book being summoned as a familiar, long long ago, of course." Here he stroked his white beard and patted Chuchu on his head with his other hand. "Still, I find it most strange that a mirror would have been summoned for Miss Valliere. I would have expected such a thing for someone who was particularly vain, and I could not think of an object more ill-suited for her." He shrugged at last. "Who knows, the Great Pentagon Powers judge best and who am I to argue against their decision?"
Colbert frowned. "I don't think she finished her ritual, seeing how strange the summon was."
Osmond shrugged. "If it is truly a mirror, then there is nothing to worry about. The second part of the ritual is simply to prevent the creature in question from rampaging out of control. To be honest, it is a rather barbaric tradition." Here he shot Colbert a sharp gaze that contrasted greatly against his aged form. "I hope you'll keep that between us."
Professor Colbert dipped his head in acquiescence. "Of course." He agreed wholeheartedly, but such was the nature of the world they lived in.
Osmond continued. "An inanimate object can hardly cause a ruckus. I will inform Karin of what has happened. Please take care of Miss Valliere. She is more… delicate than she appears."
Colbert remembered the proud girl informing him politely that she did not require his aid and wondered if that was really true. Then again, although the girl was strong, it reminded Colbert of a wooden branch. Strong, but brittle and unyielding. Should she snap… Sighing, he left the headmaster's office after exchanging some more words on the day's events, his mind invariably drifting back to the only student in the entire academy who could not perform a spell properly.
For Louise, the next day was the worst. The quiet snickers and the soft taunts too inaudible for her to hear infuriated her. She didn't need to hear them to know what was being said about her. For the first time in her life, Louise could not bring herself to raise her head in class. When the teacher called upon her to demonstrate, she categorically refused, citing some obscenely ridiculous reason. The teachers did not press her, and she was grateful for it.
Professor Colbert eyed her bandaged hands during class, but did not otherwise remark about them. When the class was almost finished, he called her over and inquired on her health and well-being, before informing her that her familiar truly, of all things, a simple mirror. For a second, Louise wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to tell him all her fears and hopes, but her pride and shame stopped her cold. The professor detected it as well, and his eyes were kind and open. Louise knew he would not laugh at her, but something in her twisted and the words she wanted to say vanished. Her mind blanked out, and then the moment passed, and it was too late to confess her feelings on the matter. With a false smile of quiet pride and reassurance, Louise informed him politely, but firmly that she was alright and that she did not need any special treatment. Jan Colbert gazed pityingly at the proud figure of Louise de la Valliere as she walked out of the room, hoping she would change her mind, but Louise did not turn back.
That night, she cried in front of her mirror again and this time she talked to her weeping reflection about all the fears and insecurities she had.
"I hate them. They look at me as if I don't belong here. Maybe they are right. No. I can't believe that." She gazed at her small reflection in the grandiose mirror and felt another surge of self-pity well inside her. "I don't know what to do. I wish I could do magic, just one spell would have been enough. But I can't do anything right, not even a proper explosion." She wailed softly, knowing she could not afford to make too much noise. The mirror gave no answer, but Louise had long given up hoping that the mirror was more than what it appeared to be. "I wish I was strong, like mother. She's so beautiful and strong." And it was true. Karin, duchess Valliere, was the type of person to make her own destiny, and nothing, not fate nor the world could stand against the storm that was her mother. Louise idolized her, she wanted nothing more than to be like her mother. But her pale reflection was a far cry from the elegance of her beautiful and strong mother. "I wish you were something other than a stupid mirror." She said the last without any bite, for she knew the blame was hers alone. And so the day ended.
The following week was only a little better as the rest of the student body came to terms with the novelty of her familiar. But it did nothing to stop their teasing, and as if to rub in her failure, everywhere Louise turned to, she would be met by another mage's familiar. It was a constant and bitter reminder of how badly she had screwed up. The mocking taunts from some of the braver students caused her much grief too. They were subtle about their remarks, careful to disguise their scorn and disdain behind a veneer of curiosity and politeness. They would inquire after her familiar, whether or not she was treating it well and so on and so forth. She gritted her teeth and did not deign to answer, but the damage was done. Never before had she hated her fellow peers as much as she did in that moment. Kirche, in a surprising turn of events, had actually defended her a few times. But Louise feared deception or worse, a plot, and avoided the red-hair as much as she could. Which was no simple task, seeing how they lived on the same floor, across from each other's bedroom.
There was, however, a more pressing issue that plagued Louise. Normally, after expending great amounts of magical energy, she would be lethargic for a day or so, and by the following morning her strength would be fully replenished. She was intimately familiar with the process, having burned herself empty many a nights trying desperately to do magic. This was not the case following the week after the familiar summoning ritual. Her magical well of strength had dried up and refused to replenish. Now, any spells she attempted, in private of course, did not even fail. No explosions, and definitely no actual magic. She was also running out of excuses to refuse the teacher's request for a practical demonstration. If she was called out… she shuddered to think of the rumors that would spread. Before, she was a failure, but at least she was still considered a mage.
Louise paced up and down her room, thinking about what to do. She needed help, that was clear, but who to turn to? Perhaps professor Colbert, but she was reluctant for a multitude of reason. Pride being the foremost. And mostly, because something about him made her wary. She didn't know what it was, but Professor Colbert reminded her of mother. And that was strange, because her mother was like the storm, a force of nature bound in physical form, and her professor was merely a kind and nerdy triangle fire mage obsessed with technology. They were as far apart as could be, and yet both had the same presence. And so, Louise did not confide in her teacher her fears.
One evening, a few days after her botched summoning, she confessed her inability to do any magic of any sort to her mirror. She was so distracted by her problems that she almost missed what happened next. Her reflection had not moved, even though Louise was no longer in front of the mirror. Her heart skipped a beat and she rushed to the fancy furniture and gaped as she looked into its gleaming surface. It was her, and yet it was not. Her reflection was smiling, a soft smirk of arrogance and her posture was one of supreme confidence. In her hands, five orbs of different colors revolved in a slow spiral pattern. But it was the scene behind her reflection that shocked her most. Where there had once been a mirror image of her room, there now was a large clearing riddled with bodies. Blood soaked the grass, dying the viridian a deep crimson. Louise stifled a scream as she recognized the brutalized and battered forms of her peers, and her eyes slid back to the Louise in the reflection. Somehow, inexplicably, she knew it was her reflection who had inflicted such carnage, despite the lack of blood on her. Her pristine reflection slowly raised her other hand and placed a finger over her ruby lips. Then she winked and Louise blinked and when her eyes opened again, her own pale and confused reflection met her bewildered gaze.
The rest of the night was hazy, and by the next morning, Louise decided that it had all just been a bad dream. To her infinite relief, she sensed her magical energies at normal levels after breakfast, this good news served to put the matter of the mysterious reflection out of her mind. Perhaps she had just pushed herself too hard during the summoning ritual? Whatever the case, she was grateful for it. Never before had she welcomed the explosion, signifying her failure at casting another elementary spell. Better a failure of a noble, than a commoner who could not wield magic at all. The laughter of her peers did not dampen her mood and she held her head high the whole day. Professor Colbert inquired after her again, noticing her drastic change of mood, but Louise stubbornly informed him everything was alright.
Louise was lying on her back, gazing onto her frescoed ceiling, recounting the day's events, including a particularly nasty collision with a maidservant who had not been paying attention to where she had been going. At first, Louise had been furious, for the tea the servant had been carrying had almost scalded her arm, and the dress she had worn was most certainly ruined, but one look into the despairing face of the raven haired maiden had instantly dispersed her fury. Louise recognized the look, that same hopeless gaze of a person who knew their future had just shattered into a million pieces, for not a few days ago, Louise had had the exact same expression on her own petite face. And so, instead of reporting the incident and getting the maid fired, as any other student would, Louise had calmly picked herself up and left, with only the words, "Make sure this doesn't happen again."
"It felt good." Louise said, unconscious of the small smile tugging at her lips. She was suddenly struck by a thought and frowned. "No… It wasn't because I could have had her fired and didn't." Louise didn't care for power like that, contingent on the weakness of another, no, her pleasure was derived entirely of being able to save someone else from the pit of despair which she knew intimately well. "Besides," Louise giggled. "Forgiveness is a sign of strength, for it is harder to forgive then to hate another." She echoed her mother's word, knowing them to be true.
The mirror rippled suddenly, but Louise did not notice as she continued to recount everything about her day until she grew too tired to speak and fell asleep. Outside, the moon gleamed iridescently as the night deepened and a stray moonbeam fell across the gilded mirror that was her familiar. And although Louise was nowhere near the mirror, her reflection moved in the glass of its own volition. The clone of her was perfect down to the last degree, identical in all aspects except one. The Louise in the looking glass had deep lavender colored pupils. And the smirk on her face was one born of true arrogance and pride. Slowly, her movements fluid and graceful, so unlike her living counterpart, Louise's reflection raised a dainty hand and touched the surface of the mirror from within. The glass rippled violently, like waves on a stormy sea, before her reflection lowered her hand and smiled gently. 'Soon.' She mouthed, her eyes fixed adoringly on the innocent pinkette who slept atop her comfortable bed, oblivious to the world around her.
The next day, Louise ran across the same maid who had bumped into her yesterday and in a strange inversion of events, she crashed into the maid this time. Louise gazed at the maid, unsure what to say or do. The maid looked frightened, but the tinge of despair that had decorated their first meeting was gone. They both knew Louise was not going to get her in trouble. Louise was wondering what protocol dictated her to do, but quickly discarded it after a moment's consideration. Most nobles would simply assert the fault was the servant's, even when it was not, and Louise knew such behavior was beneath her. And yet, she could not apologize, for her station did not permit her to. Right?
Sighing, Louise pretended to dust her dress. Luckily, no tea was spilled this time, since the maidservant had not been holding anything in her hands at the moment of collision. "I'm Louise Francoise le Blanc de la Valliere." She said at last, for lack of anything else. Honestly, what would mother do? The pinkette had a feeling her mother simply would never have let herself be in such a situation in the first place.
"I know," Siesta said, her head still lowered in a semi-bow. For a second, she was bewildered. How? Then Louise's eyes narrowed. Had she been reduced to such a laughingstock that even a servant knew of her plight? Had her reputation stretched to even the servant's gossip?
Siesta sneaked a glance at the short noble in front of her and saw her thunderous expression. Hastily, she added, "I've seen you practice spells in the courtyard during the early morning hours." It was the wrong thing to say. Siesta admired Louise for her attitude and unwavering spirit and saw the training as a symbol of her indomitable spirit. But whereas Siesta saw it as something to be proud of, Louise saw only shame. Here she was, reduced to having to sneak around the courtyard at night in order to practice alone, and she had been seen whilst in the midst of her shame. By a maid no less.
Louise felt her fury flare within her like a snake uncoiling itself to strike. "I do not want your pity." She said coldly, and swiftly turned to leave.
Siesta felt a pang of sadness, wanting to tell Louise that it wasn't pity, but admiration, but she felt the words choke in her throat. She watched miserably as the small form of Louise disappear into the dining hall. She spent the next week, waiting for the hammer to fall, but Louise never reported her. Siesta felt confused and despite her desire to clarify the situation, she stayed away from the pinkette for fear of eliciting her anger again. Twice, she had gained a reprieve, and Siesta could not afford to tempt fate a third time. Not when her family depended on her job.
A few weeks after the summoning, things quieted down as the novelty of the mirror died down. Louise was still unable to produce any magic apart from harmless and cute little explosions. She grew increasingly frustrated and short-tempered, but never allowed her rage to overcome her. Her control and discipline was constantly tested, but always Louise held her ground. To lose control was to lose the game, and she would not permit these imbeciles the delight of harming her. They could not harm her. At least, that was what she told herself. The laughter was easy enough to deal with, but the pinkette was not deaf to the increasingly insulting rumors that floated around the academy. She had no friends, and Kirche had resumed her brand of teasing, not that Louise recognized it as such. The only solace Louise found was in her daily one sided confessions to her mirror.
Things continued in this vein for another month or so, when suddenly rumors that a particularly strong rogue mage had been spotted near the treasury. Fouquet of the crumbling dirt, a powerful triangle earth mage who had a penchant for violence and thievery. The students were warned to not wander alone in the evenings, and a curfew was established, much to the annoyance and anger of several students. Louise did not like the curfew, as it cut away her free time to practice magic, or attempt to practice at any rate, but she grudgingly accepted as she had no other choice.
The sun was out, and not a cloud was in sight, only the color blue, rich and vast like an ocean in the sky, stretched above the Tristain Academy of Magic. Louise sighed contentedly to herself as she sipped her cool tea under the shade of a magnificent oak. Around her, the many familiars of the other students mingled with each other as their masters communed excitedly amongst themselves. Rumors had it that a duel had been issued by a Guiche de Gramont, fourth son of the Gramont family, whose fierce deeds during the war had earned them a place amongst the nobility. Their family line boasted of many line and triangle earth mages, and Guiche himself was a solid line mage with good prospects of advancing higher in rank. The altercation, at least from what Louise managed to gather from the gossiping crowds, had been that a bottle of perfume made by Montmorency Margarita la Fere de Montmorency had somehow sparked a lover's feud between Guiche, her current boyfriend and a jealous rival. Somehow another girl, Katie Carpette de Bouvier, had gotten entangled in the web of conflict. What was certain, was that Guiche had been slapped by both girls, and he blamed the other student. Thus, he issued a challenge which had been accepted and they were due to fight any moment in the Vestri courtyard. Louise did not care in the slightest, but she supposed it would be a nice change of scenery to see their battle.
The place was crowded, and being as short as she was, Louise found it rather difficult to find a place to sit and watch. She was looking around for a quiet place with a good vantage point, when Kirche whistled and called out to her.
"Louise the Zero! Come sit with us!" Bristling at the name, Louise caught sight of the red headed noble. She was seated atop a nearby tree branch, beside a blue haired bespectacled girl who acknowledged her with a short wave of her hand. Tabitha, the quintessential model student. Perfect and quiet, not a single teacher could find fault in her in any way. Also the best friend of Kirche. Finished with her greeting, the blue haired girl turned back to her book and that was that. Sighing exasperatedly, and knowing there would not be a better spot available, she made her way to them and accepted Kirche's hand with a poise and grace befitting her station. Or so she liked to imagine. Before Kirche could make any disparaging remarks, Guiche stepped out from the circle of students and a sudden hush claimed the courtyard.
"Clarence Soufflee de Perret, I offer you this chance to forfeit and acknowledge your mistake." Guiche spoke with confidence, a rose held in one hand while the other made a sweeping gesture toward the ground. "What say you?"
Louise admitted to herself that he did cut a fine figure standing there with his rose clasped in his non dominant hand. But of course, she would never say such a thing aloud, and besides, she had seen far better. A faint blush rose in her cheeks as her thoughts drifted to someone else. Kirche, of course, mistook this.
"My, I didn't know you had such feelings for Guiche, perhaps I should introduce the two of you?" Kirche waggled her eyebrows in a very unsubtle manner.
Louise growled in annoyance. "Nonsense. Guiche is nothing but a boy playing at being a man. I haven't the slightest interest in him. Unlike you, I have standards." She sniffed imperiously.
Kirche pouted cutely. "It's not my fault I was born with such bountiful assets." She crossed her arms and her breasts bounced slightly. Several nosebleeds erupted in the crowd and she grinned impishly at Louise. "Alas, perhaps someday you will understand." She was looking pointedly at the pnkette's chest.
Their banter was interrupted before they could denigrate to hurling insults when the other student, Clarence, stepped forward with a grim look on his face. "I accept your challenge, Guiche de Gramont."
"Very well." Guiche said solemnly. He then snapped his rose forward and several petals fell to the ground. From each sprung a column of light, and Clarence's face paled. When it faded, there were four golems of bronze standing in the courtyard. Guiche raised an eyebrow condescendingly. "Do you yield? Or shall I instruct you in the art of violence first?"
Even though Louise thought Guiche was a fop and a coward, she had to admit things looked grim for Clarence. Guiche was named the Bronze for a reason after all, and no matter how cowardly he was inside, he was still the son of a general. Those golems were tough and difficult to deal with especially since the students did not have access to spells that did heavy damage. Louise could think of twenty off the top of her head. And she knew exactly how to use them, theoretically. Her problem lay in an entirely different realm. Her lips thinned into a line as she gazed at their posturing with unveiled disapproval.
Clarence shook his head resolutely and raised his wand. He had courage, Louise gave him that. Better a defeat then a surrender. There was honor in the former, and none in the latter. Guiche made a gesture and the golems rushed forward. The former tried to summon a gust of wind to blow the golems away, but it was a futile attempt. The bronze mannequins slowly but inevitably reached their destination and proceeded to pummel Clarence into the ground. After a few seconds, he shouted.
"I yield! I yield!" To which Guiche nodded and held out his hands. His golems retracted and became petals once again. "Now then sir, I believe you owe me an apology."
Louise snorted in disgust and hopped off the tree branch. Kirche was too busy fawning over the fight to pay attention and Tabitha was still embroiled in her book. Shrugging, Louise departed without another word. That had been no duel, as Clarence was clearly only a dot mage, and a paltry one at that. The duels she had seen during her childhood had been ones of epic proportions. This was a farce compared to the duels her mother had fought it. The pinkette was also bitter about the fact that she could not even do any magic. If Clarence had dueled her, she would have lost as poorly as he did to Guiche. A dark haired girl floated across her mind's eye and Louise felt a spike of anger and shame flood her. Even the servants pitied her. Her! Louise de la Valliere, daughter of the greatest mage in all of Tristain's history. She had inherited her mother's pink hair, why not her aptitude in magic? It hurt.
"I hate this." She muttered fiercely. "I hate it. I hate it." She spent the rest of the day secluded in a small area and tried every single spell she knew or had seen for the hundredth time, hoping something would happen. Anything. And of course, nothing happened.
By the time she had exhausted herself, she realized that she had skipped dinner altogether and that it was way past curfew. Feeling slightly silly for having lost track of time, she turned to sneak back to her room, when the earth beneath her feet suddenly moved. She lost her balance and fell on all fours. At first Louise thought it was an earthquake, then she saw the golem. This was a real golem. Not the shoddy bronze sculptures that Guiche had made, no, this golem towered above even the greatest tower in the academy. It's massive frame was so large that Louise had to strain her neck to see its head. The thick arms of the golem was as wide as three of her and the colossal figure moved with a fluidity that did not belong on something as large as that. Fouquet was here.
Louise darted behind a nearby tree and peeked out nervously from behind it. The golem was smashing its thick hands against the treasury tower, trying to break in through brute force, but a force field was repelling it and each time the golem lost a portion of its hand trying to bash the stone structure in. To her astonishment, the golem was regenerating his broken limb at a rate which was deceptively quick. Fouquet was truly amazing, Louise thought. Triangle mage she may be, but such a work of magic belonged to square level territory. The knowledge of earth and the ability to multi-task on three different things simultaneously was a skill that separates the best from the good. Fouquet was no mere triangle mage, of that Louise was certain. She was surprised that no one else noticed the ruckus the golem was making, but she realized that for the same reason she liked to practice here, where no one ever came, so too did Fouquet choose well.
What should she do? What could she do? It was clear Fouquet wanted to steal something from the academy, and as a student and citizen of Tristain, she was under obligation to stop the thief. But she couldn't even cast magic properly, what chance did she have against a notorious triangle mage? What would mother do? Well, that was a bit of a silly question, her mother would have walked out and flattened Fouquet and strung her up into a neat package for the authorities. It was best, Louise decided after a bit of hesitation, to alert a professor and inform them of the break in. Certainly she would be punished for being out alone, after curfew, but it was the right thing to do. And so, she carefully crept from behind the tree hoping that Fouquet would not notice. There was no way Fouquet could pay attention to her surroundings, not when she was simultaneously casting the spells to sustain and regenerate her golem whilst commanding it to attack. Right? Sadly, even in the dim moonlight of the twin moons, her pink hair drew too much attention. She had to abandon any pretense of sneaking when the golem suddenly broke off his movement and whirled toward her location. She burst into a sprint, but had to abort when an earthen wall rose up from the ground and blocked her pathway. Another spell? Louise felt dread. Fouquet could easily be the strongest mage she had ever met, bar her mother, of course.
"Tsk tsk. Out after curfew? Naughty naughty." The voice sounded muffled, but the words were clear. "Naughty students ought to be punished. Golem, smash!"
Louise gulped hard and drew her wand. There was nowhere to run, which meant she had to fight. The menacing form of the earthen golem sent a shiver of fear down her spine. If that fist struck her she would be reduced to a smear, and for the life of her, Louise did not know what to do.
"Firebolt!" She screeched, her voice shrill and high from panic and fear. Sadly for her, Louise missed her target, which was the golem's head, by a wide margin. Perhaps it was the jitters from her nerves. Whatever the case, the ensuing explosion missed the colossal golem and impacted the tower.
Fouquet's golem paused mid stride. "Did you just miss a target the size of a small mountain?" Her voice was incredulous and filled with disbelief. Louise flushed in embarrassment.
Then Fouquet caught sight of the gaping hole in the tower and frowned inside her golem. She had expected the defenses to hold for at least another dozen strikes or so, but apparently a fireball, a failed one at that, had been sufficient to blow a hole in the treasury tower. Had she really inflicted so much damage already?
"I would normally kill you, as I don't like leaving witnesses in general, but since you are so pathetic, I think I'll let you live. I have honestly never seen anything as worthless as you." And Fouquet truly meant it. It was, in her eyes, a travesty to harm someone as pathetic as the pinkette in front of her. So saying, Fouquet turned her golem around and proceeded to enter the treasury room through the hole Louise had blasted and shortly thereafter disappeared into the surrounding darkness. The massive golem crumbled and dissolved into the earth, leaving no trace that anything had occurred.
Louise knelt there in the dirt, too numb to move. She had been pitied by an opponent who didn't even think she was worth killing. It was one thing to be hurt by words, but when the time came, when she had needed to be more than what others said she was, Louise had failed in every way that mattered. "I am pathetic." She said softly, and felt silent tears flow down her cheeks.
She entered her room and plopped onto her bed, uncaring of her dirty dress, uncaring of the entire world. She was useless. Fouquet was right, she was worthless. Her wealth wasn't hers. Her magic didn't exist. She was frail and ugly and too short, without any sexual appeal. She could do nothing. What was the difference between her and the servant girl who pitied her? Rightfully so too. Louise burst into sobs.
Her reflection in the mirror frowned. Slowly, the Louise inside the glass reached outward and the mirror gave a sudden and violent ripple. The reflection gazed solemnly at the still crying figure atop the bed and bared her teeth fiercely.
Louise was abnormally silent and withdrawn the week after, but no one knew her well enough to notice. So when the new teacher, a Professor Chevreuse, runic name the Red Earth, asked her to demonstrate a simple transmutation of earth to bronze in class on the fifth day, Louise blew up the entire classroom. Then she left, without bothering to wait for the teacher's dismissal.
"How vulgar." She muttered angrily under her breath. "It's always the same thing over and over again. I can't even do a dot spell properly." She was by herself in her room, curled into a despondent ball of misery with her knees tucked in under her chest. Louise could no longer return to her courtyard, not since Fouquet called her pathetic and spared her life out of pity. It was like a shadow looming behind her back, and whenever Louise caught a glimpse of her previous haven, she would hear the muffled voice of Fouquet taunting her, calling her worthless and the overwhelming fear she had felt that night.
She felt the power flowing through her, so much power that she could barely contain it all inside her, she felt like a god walking amongst mortals. Anything she desired, she could make real. In her hands, the elements responded to her will with an ease that bespoke of absolute mastery. All of them, fire, wind, earth and water, even the fabled void bent to her desires like loving puppies eager for affection. Fouquet's broken body lay bleeding in front of her, her earthen golem shattered into a million pieces behind her. Around them, the other students looked on in awe and reverence and respect. Everyone's eyes were on her, and once again she was the center of the attention, only this time it wasn't because she had failed. No, this was the acknowledgement she desired. Louise walked, no, she strode forward, gliding across the clearing with open confidence and laughed. It was a clear and gleeful and childish laugh, and even though it was undoubtedly her voice, Louise did not recognize her laughter. It was so free and weightless, unforced, like the chime of a bell on a clear day. Fouquet twitched on the ground, gasping for breath, one of her eyes shut tightly in pain, while the other begged her for mercy. Louise felt a smile stretch across her lips and she felt ecstasy flood her veins. She was high on her own power. 'No.' She purred the syllable, feeling so good to be able to hold in her hands the fate of another, one who had once scorned her. Distantly, a small voice told her this was wrong, but Louise ignored it. Finally, the world was as it should be and nothing would distract her from meting out divine punishment against all those who had wronged her. She felt a surge of pleasure and power as Fouquet's face plunged into despair, the very same despair she had once tasted and felt. She raised her hand, bereft of a wand, but somehow the elements answered and ...
Louise woke up. For a second, she had been so sure that the dream was real, but now it was leaking from her mind like water through a sieve. She clutched at it, feeling slightly guilty, but it was too hard and in the end, she was left with a muted sense of having power and feeling good. She remembered the magic, but could not recall any details. Sighing, she glanced sadly at her reflection in the mirror. "It was only a dream. It could only ever be that." As she dressed herself, wondering what was the point of it all, she missed that her reflection was not copying her movements. Instead for the briefest of moments, the Louise in the mirror stared intently at her counterpart with sharp, penetrating eyes. There was a hunger in them, a fierce and all-consuming hunger. Then, as Louise turned to examine herself, twirling in a small circle and letting her beautiful dress billow behind her, the moment passed and the reflection was once again just another ordinary reflection.
"I would like to see my daughter, Osmond." The sharp clipped tones of a woman who was used to getting her way resonated in the quaint little office of the headmaster of Tristain's Academy of Magic.
"Of course, Karin. I would only ask that you show some prudence and foresight. Louise de la Valliere has had a difficult time adjusting." Old Osmond replied, stroking his long white beard with one hand, while gently patting his familiar with his other hand.
Karin the Heavy Wind narrowed her eyes. "Louise is my daughter, my responsibility. I will do with her as I see fit." It was a warning as much as a statement.
The aged headmaster nodded. "As you wish." Karin left without another word, and Osmond sighed.
"It's alright Chuchu, you needn't be so scared. She is gone." The small white mouse cautiously uncurled and poked his head out. Then he chittered in obvious relief when he saw only Osmond in the room. "I do wonder what color panties she had on," Osmond said aloud into the empty office. "If I had to bet, I would say black. What do you think?"
The mouse shuddered and gave a curt squeak. "Yes, yes. We remember what happened last time you tried to take a peek. I'm not going to be making that mistake anytime soon." Osmond nodded sagely to himself. "Karin was always so uptight. It's a wonder she has three children." Then he winced and looked around worriedly. "Don't tell her I said that." His expression turned solemn when only silence answered him. "I wish there was something we could do to help little Louise, but alas, I am at a loss." He sighed again and Chuchu darted from his hand as Matilda, his assistant, knocked on the door. "Come in." He croaked, instantly sinking into his chair and pretending he was nothing but a wizened old mage.
"Sir," The green haired mage entered the room, her arms laden with paperwork. "These are the forms you need to sign."
"Hm. Hohoho." Osmond chuckled, a light blush flaring on his cheeks. "Purple suits you very well."
Matilda looked at him in confusion at first, then her cheeks reddened as she caught sight of the white mouse scrambling around her feet.
Professor Colbert, who was taking his daily walk beneath the headmaster's tower, heard a shrill shriek followed by a resounding slap and chuckled softly to himself. Then he caught sight of Karin the Heavy Wind, and his laughter turned into a coughing fit as he choked on air. By the time he recovered, the duchess of the Valliere family had already disappeared. "Oh dear." He muttered and adjusted his glasses nervously. "This can't be good."