Chapter Two: I am Angry.

"It's not easy being Noble."-Blade Knight Tyavel 'the Crystal Blade'.


My feet have finally touched solid ground after a few moments of eternity and my adrenalin kicks in. The moment I touch down, I'm already making a quick check of my surroundings, but all I see is smoke. With all the fire I blasted into the portal though, I suppose that's understandable. If only I had a wind spell…

Right on cue, a gale blows through the area. Once again attempting a brief scan, I find myself in a very large, triangular castle courtyard with three tall towers at the points. All around me are what I assume to be human adolescent children in matching uniforms: white blouse, black trousers and a black cloak for boys; black short skirts instead of trousers for girls. They either seem to be recovering from the smoke or looking at me.

However, I don't have for more than a glance as I see the exact thing I was looking for: an elder wielding a wooden staff and wearing mages robes with a decently sized satchel hanging from his shoulder—doubtlessly it containing all manners of magical weapons and reagents—while standing in a defensive stance in front of the scorched earth where my spell doubtlessly struck. He is glaring at me with cool blue eyes of sharpened steel, denoting sharp reflexes and an abundance of field experience.

In short, he is probably the most powerful mage here.

So he hopes to make me a mere servant? Words will be had, indeed.

He is only a mere ten feet away. I would launch another Burning Hands spell at him, but the coward stands directly in front of a girl who is still coughing smoke from her lungs. That eliminates some of my most destructive spells as viable options. However, I am not deterred, as there is still something that I can do to great effect in situations like this.

"RRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

I charge right at him.

I will not be bested by a lowly slaver.


Jean Colbert sees the little man's charge and instantly, old instincts jumps into action. Faster than any complacent school professor should be able to react, Colbert completes the necessary components to cast his Wall of Flames spell. A ring of blue fire thirty feet wide and twenty high roars into existence in a ring surrounding the stocky fury, trapping him. The sight of the sudden towering blaze snaps the students out of their confusion and immediately sends them into a panic, leaving Colbert, Kirche, Louise, Tabitha and the dwarf in the courtyard.

"What in the world did you do, you Zero?!" one student cries as he runs to the safety of the central tower. "Even the thing you summoned tries to kill us!"

"Who or what in the all the lands did you summon, Louise?!" Kirche breathed in shock, drawing her wand.

"Shut up! This is just a… uh…" Louise trails off, glancing at the ring of destructive magic warily. "This…This is just a small mistake. I can still fix this!" Somehow.

"Please, lay down your arms!" Colbert declares, barely noting Tabitha as she mounts her familiar, a wind dragon. "I'm sure we can talk this over like civilized beings!"He can hear the stranger's grunts of discomfort from within the ring.

Tabitha takes to the skies on the back of her dragon, though she quickly realizes that she is not the only one to do so as up from the ring of fire, the stranger is seen making his ascent. With a quick burst of speed, Tabitha flies her dragon just out of reach over the figure and, using her magic, blasts a strong gust of wind straight down onto him, hoping to slam him back into the firestorm. Her efforts were for naught; he merely wavers in the air as the gust buffets the ends and tassels of his vestments.

Colbert breaks concentration on maintaining his spell. That spell will maintain itself for at about a minute longer, he notes. "Please," he pleads to the flying dwarf, holding his arms out in what he hopes is a placating gesture, "let there be peace between us!" The faceless man's only response is to swing his axe and shout at Tabitha and her familiar in a strange language. It matters not what his words were; his actions made their meaning clear: that half-man was threatening one of Colbert's treasured students.

That is unacceptable.

Tabitha's only response was to sling another gust at him before flying away. While a flying faceless individual roiling in heat and practically radiating in anger would be intimidating, both she and her familiar knew that he would not be able to harm them so easily. Still, it is good to keep a healthy distance from madmen. After all, only one who is truly mad would threaten a dragon.

"Sir," Colbert's voice rings out, taking on an edge that surprises any students close enough to hear it, "if you continue his kind of behavior, then we will be force to take action appropriately! Is that what you want?!" As his faceless visor returns its unnerving gaze to the object of his apparent ire, Colbert prepares a special defensive spell. His next action, Colbert thinks coldly, will decide his fate. Nobody threatens my students.

The following second was tense and passed slowly as the stranger appeared to regard Colbert. Colbert hoped to the Founder that the stranger would take if not his words than his sheer emotion and intent to heart and understand their gravity. However, it was not meant to be, for as he raised his axe, Colbert knew what his answer was. The flying knight dived straight for Colbert. His fate was sealed. "So be it!"


"Professor Colbert!" Montmorency cries from the tower as that angry, armored midget that the Zero summoned prepares to bring down his axe upon her quirky professor. The moment before his axe falls, Professor Colbert slams down his staff and wraps himself in flames. Colbert dips into and through the swing, but takes small shallow cut to the shoulder in the process. Where the axe lands, the thin, wispy flames covering Colbert lashes out and strikes at the stranger, drawing from him grunts of pain. Undeterred, he continues to swing while Colbert's blazing form can be seen trying his aged body to avoid the swings.

Tearing her gaze away from the blazing melee, she latches onto Guiche's arm with a death grip. "We can't just stand here, Guiche. We have to do something!"

Guiche did not hear her. This is real… Guiche is lost in his own thoughts, mesmerized by the battling mages. This is really real. A battle between nobles... He is abruptly brought out of his thoughts as a hand connects firmly with his face. Dazedly he looks to his arm that had lost its feeling and sees Montmorency clinging to it for dear life.

"Guiche, we need to help them. Do something!" she cries, her eyes shimmering with barely restrained tears. Before, he would have had no part in this, insisting that one better trained than he go out there and subdue the barbaric mage. But now, looking into the desperate eyes of his Montmorency, looking around at the terrified faces of his peers, he knows that right here and right now, even if it's just because of his family name, the name of an accomplished Marshal of Tristain, he is the most qualified in this situation.

Guiche then recalls a statement from his father. "True heroes stand firm in the face of adversity." It truly was a simple and generic line, but its words still had meaning. Schooling his fearful expression into a slightly nervous one, he turns back to Montmorency and nods one solemn nod.

He turns to the student body and uses his most confident and demanding voice. "Has any of the staff been contacted about this event?" At the resounding silence and occasional head shake, he points at a random direction. Red hair, stands to his shoulder, freckles; he instantly recognizes the boy he points to. "Bernard, get up this tower and inform every staff member you find of this complication. Go!" Surprised by the commanding tone, the one named Bernard gives a sloppy salute and scurries through the halls shouting for any staff member he can find as Guiche is already delivering his next order. "Malicorne!" The chubby, rosy-cheeked blond straightens his back at attention. "Guard this door," he gestures to the door to the courtyard, "and keep an eye on Montmorency and the other second years for me."

"Sure thing, Guiche. But…" Malicorne starts uncertainly, as though he knows the answer is something he doesn't like, "…what are you going to do?"

Drawing his rose-wand with a dramatic flourish and striking a heroic pose, he declares, "I'm going to go help defend us from that beast of a dwarf that the Zero had summoned." As he marches out boldly from through the doorway, he can hear boys gasp in admiration and girls swoon in adoration. He hears the words 'leadership', 'bravery', and even 'heroism' on many lips but most importantly, the one thing he heard from every mouth was 'Guiche de Gremont'.

Ah, yes, he thinks to himself, everyone truly loves the heroic leader. As the door shut behind him, Guiche sees a hemisphere of ice form near instantaneously over the axe-wielding midget, trapping him onto the ground. With a flick of his red rose wand and a drop of a petal, he summons a spear wielding Bronze Valkyrie—an animated set of bronze full plate—to follow his command: to strike down the object of terror.

The best part, he smiles to himself one of his signature, self-confident smirks, is that my Valkyries will be the ones doing all the work!

It truly is good to be a noble.


Louise is absolutely not having a good day.

On the contrary, one could say the opposite is indeed the case. In fact, one could even go so far as to say that today is by far the worst day of her sixteen year life. Today was supposed to be so simple! Step one: Summon an amazing familiar. Step two: Bind said amazing familiar. Step three: Rub familiar's superiority that Zerbst wench's face. Step four: Bask in attention and glory as I'm recognized as a true noble!

She recoils in horror as the midget dives down at Professor Colbert and assaults him with his axe, tipping the blade with a small amount of blood. Oh no… A familiar's actions are the actions of their master. If that's true, her eyes widen in terror as the professor is caught in a violent melee, then I just assaulted a teacher with lethal intent! Louise sinks to her knees in despair, brought down by the gravity of her realization. Is this what I am? Am I an angry little barbarian in the garbs of a noble? I can't be! Well, yes I yell a lot and I do wish I could hurt jerks like Zerbst on occasion… but I would never actually try to kill anyone.

She plants her face in her hands ashamedly as frustrated tears threaten to pour from her eyes. It doesn't even matter, does it? All of that studying, hours upon hours of review and preparation, was all for nothing in the end. I'm such a sorry excuse of a sorcerer. I didn't even make it to step one. She sobs pathetically at the irony, Failure at Step Zero-.

Wait a minute… Her head snaps up, tears halted and eyes full of hope. "Wait a minute…" she whispers to herself as a dome of ice traps her summons. "'Failed at step zero'…" She jumps to her feet, just barely registering Guiche summoning one of his Valkyries.

That thing isn't my familiar yet! She lets out a short hopeful laugh as realization washes over her. Once I have it bound I can control it. I still have a chance! "Everyone, wait, I have an idea!" she cries over the fields. "I can fix this! If I bind it to me as my familiar, I may be able to control it!"

"What?! Louise, have you lost your mind?!" Kirche snaps. Does that girl even realize what's going on right now? "This isn't about you anymore, lives are at stake!"

"Kirche is right, Louise the Zero," taunts Guiche, "You've already done enough harm, so don't try and do something outrageous just to save face. You'll only get in the way, after all." With a flick of his rose, a bronze hand-and-a-half sword materializes before him, impaled into the ground. He rests a hand on the pommel of his blade. "You should leave this to real nobles."

"This is not the time to insult our peers," Colbert interjects, "we need to focus on the current situation!" As he turns to Louise, she feels her hopes rise. "Miss Vallière," her hopeful smile evaporates when she hears the tone of his voice, knowing what would come next, "I'm sorry, but I also don't think that would be a good idea."

"B-but why? You see how destructive it is! This could be my chance to-!"

"Ah yes, destructive indeed," calls Kirche as Tabitha swoops down with her dragon, allowing Kirche to climb on, "Small and destructive, just like its summoner!" Kirche laughs as she and her quiet, blue-haired friend takes to the skies.

"Shut up, you-!"

"SILENCE!" Colbert all but roars, gaining the attention of the pink haired girl. Quickly reigning in his frustration, he resumes in a comforting tone. "Normally, I would try to find some way to make that happen—believe me, I would," he begins with a grim expression, "but this isn't just some mindless beast or semi-intelligent creature. This is a human being—a noble at that. Even if you did bind and control him, the political backlash could be catastrophic! He doesn't bear the crest of any house in Tristain that I know of and he speaks a completely different language than we do."

Louise's eyes widen at the implications presented. If this person, a foreign noble, were kidnapped and forced to become a servant, especially by someone so close to the crown as herself, it could spark a war between nations.

At the same time, that would mean that she could never bind him without his permission, and even then…

"Do you understand our predicament now, Miss Vallière?"

"…Yes, I do. But even still…" She casts a melancholic glance to the foreigner's icy prison. A moment of silence passes between them. "Professor Colbert," she gulps, offering silent prayers to the Founder and placing her hopes on the knife's edge. Her voice shaky and her breaths shallow, she asks, "would I be able to… try again…?"

"Well, er…," Colbert begins, thinking over his words carefully. He knew what her situation was—not personally, of course, but it was easy enough to see. This summoning ritual was what she was depending on to secure her position as noble. If she were to fail today, then she would likely be expelled and have her noble status stripped. From there, she would probably be married off in order to the benefit of the family—perhaps even disowned. Thus presents his dilemma: Crush her hopes now or give her false hope in order to delay the inevitable.

"The summoning ritual is a sacred tradition. To try it again would be, well, a blasphemy to the very founding…" as he sees the hope in her expression fracture, the way that she clutches to her wand as though it may fly away from her, he can't bring himself to tell her the truth. "…Listen, all this is obviously some kind of mistake. I'm sure that we can work out something with the headmaster. Just be patient," he smiles, drawing a weak hopeful smile from her in return. I'm so sorry, Miss Vallière, I've only set you up for a harder fall. Please forgive me.

His musing is interrupted by a muffled thud coming from the ice dome. "Get ready everyone; he's trying to break out! Remember, we must not kill him!" Had that been the case, he finds himself thinking, this fight would have been over when it started.

Another thud and a cracking sound. Louise readies her wand. She knew that Professor Colbert had only been trying to cheer her up. This will likely be her only chance to prove herself. First, I'll cast a translation. Then, I'll mediate peace. After that and after a bit of effort, I need to convince him to convince his people to let him become my familiar. He would be quite a strong and noble familiar, indeed. She grins at the thought of what having a familiar like him could possibly mean about her.

A section of the ice shatters outward as a spiked gauntlet smashes through it. Before any broken shards of ice touch the floor, she works on recalling the structure of a translation spell.


As I am trapped inside this dome of ice, I find myself thinking one thing:

That man is indeed dangerous.

Well, that and that everything here looks pretty fancy for a slaving operation. I hold no doubts that it is—kidnapping with the hopes to turn you into a servant is just a soft way of declaring your intentions, after all. In fact, it is these so called 'high-class' trafficking operations that one has to actually look out for.

And another thing: what were those kids doing here? Were they slaves? No, they wouldn't be that nicely dressed nor pampered. I couldn't help but notice an abundance of strange and exotic beasts. Perhaps they were in charge of taming them? Is this training for when they move onto people?! Is this a school for slaving?! Oh, what a dark, terrible organization, indeed!

I offhandedly make a note to memorize a crest and notable locations of this area once I escape so that I can report it once I return. For now, I'm fighting a quite thrilling battle of magic and might.

I've never actually found myself in a true one on one confrontation with a battle mage of this caliber before—that's the only thing he could possibly be with that kind of mastery over flame. No doubt that he's even holding back. After all, what good is a live, noble, powerful slave if they're dead? Well, that's the difference between us that will be his downfall; he will try to hold back while I won't. The only thing keeping me from blasting him to the next life are the children nearby. Regardless of their moral inhibitions (or lack thereof), I will not risk the death of a child.

It truly is not easy being Noble.

Even more difficult when one of said children rides something that is vaguely draconic in form. Some kind of blue dragon offshoot or the stranger who can tame it is not something I wished to fight right now. While that cool winter's breeze was indeed refreshing, I couldn't help but think that cooling me off was the caster's intention.

Judging by the words my apparent summoner was speaking, we don't share any known languages. This was made doubly obvious when I had tried to yell at the dragon's rider. In the end, I wound up forcefully pantomiming my meaning to them. Luckily, both the dragon and its rider got the message I was trying to convey; "Get out of the way before you get hurt."

After putting my axe back onto its rung, I do a quick check in my flask pouch and take inventory: four healing potions, three lights and one moderate; and an invisibility potion lasting one minute. Not much, but it's something. I remove my helmet and set it aside. It is of little value; I can always just buy another at the hold's smithy when I return. I take out a moderate healing potion and a light healing potion, and drink them both. As I do so, the sensation of a cool, soothing balm crawls over the burned parts of my body, quelling their aches, sealing the skin, and removing any blisters that no doubt began forming. As the second potion takes effect, shakes that I didn't even know were shaking subsides, leaving me feeling much better than I had a moment ago. I toss the now empty flasks away and move the invisibility potion to the front of the pouch so I know where it is.

I remove my shield and hold it in front of me within this ice-blue dome, taking in the features of my faithful one-winged steel, its carry strap long burned away in battle. In a fight against mages who can wound with but a touch, a shield is more of a hindrance than an asset; especially when the one wielding it is a mage himself. Reluctantly, I set it down onto the scorched grass. "You've served me well." I caress the shield with my steel-tipped fingers.

There is only one course of action I can take now. I brandish my halberd and channel arcane power through it while chanting the necessary arcane words and holding in my mind the effect I desire and empowering it even further. After but a moment, the head of my halberd has magical lightning arcing between the pike, the axe, and the haft. Carrying it in my left hand, I approach the wall of the icy prison that hopes to contain me that is to the left of my enemy. Sadly for its caster, I know of this spell. The ice is quite fragile and a few good hits can knock a hole big enough for a man to stride through.

The implications of the existence of the wall do not escape me. I have heard of powerful mages able to cast spells with neither a movement nor sound, but being outside of his apparent elemental comfort zone, I am forced to assume that he has reinforcements. If he has reinforcements, then there is truly no hope for a head on fight. Instead, I will need to change my tactic.

I am already low on spells because of the dragon hunt earlier today. Just now, I've used all of my most powerful arcane energy on the charge in my halberd, leaving me with just a few cantrips. With my invisibility potion and still active fly spell, I should be able to make an escape once I take down that mage. If he summoned me, he can most likely track me down, so he absolutely needs to be taken down.

"I am Sturdy like our walls; I will never fall." I raise my spiked right arm and strike at the wall causing a loud thud—no doubt they heard that. "I am the Blade that meets my foes; I will fell them all." I rear back and bring my fist forward again and with a loud slam, the ice begins to fracture. "I stand firm, for I am Steel. My Will shall never bend." I rear my arm back one last time.

"I am strong, for I am a Mason. I am Noble until the end!" Upon finishing my chant, I let loose my fist and with a loud crash, the ice breaks.

The moment I broke free from the frost dome, the figure of that slaver wreathed in flames unleashes a blast directly at me. Sadly, my reflexes are not as sharp as I would like them to be and I take the full brunt of the flames.

The flames dissipate around me, only to be replaced by jagged shards of ice the size of my fist. They cut through the suddenly frigid air and rain down upon me. I can feel the cold freeze over bits of my skin as the hail pummels me from above. I look around for a section of the dome I could use as cover, only to find that the gout of flames had melted the ice.

Then, in the next instant without seemingly any delay, blazing hot flames erupt all around me. The smell of burning flesh billows out from my armor and I can feel that the parts of my now exposed face that haven't completely frozen over are being well cooked. It seems almost as though they are trying to force my body into shock with this abuse, "But you underestimate a dwarf's inner strength!" I declare.

Reaching into pouch, I draw the invisibility potion I set aside and flick off the cork. I had wanted to save this for the escape, but with so many unknown assailants, I would not survive in the open. After I slam down my potion, I drop the empty and visible flask while hopping to the right. Just in time too, it seems, as an armored figure seemingly glides across the ground, charging straight at where I was and thrusts her spear forward, impaling the steel flask. She doesn't even seem to notice the hail shattering on her armor as she continues trying to find me.

It is then that I notice that with the design of the armor, the woman's waist would be smaller than her head; an anatomical impossibility. After watching its movements, I notice that she doesn't move as an average person would move and as it looks towards my direction, I notice that the helmet of her armor has eyes.

They sent an animated set of full plate at me.

And I had just put down my shield.

A ray of fire streaks to the left of where I just was. Ah, so this person predicted that I would move, but he can't see where I moved to. Good, so he isn't currently tracking me. It would be troublesome if after using this potion he-.

As the ice storm disappears, fire once again blooms around me. The searing heat is becoming almost unbearable; I had better finish this soon. As the flames clears, I quickly fly up forty feet, out of the range of any more fireballs detonated at ground level. As I climb, I notice that dragon circling around roughly one hundred feet away and that it has taken on another passenger; a red haired figure. It's also then that I notice that the original rider's hair wasn't a trick of the light. Her hair is truly a cool blue. Red and blue… It is then that I think back to the combo I was struck with just a moment ago. Could it be…?

I shake my head. That would be too easy. At the same time, I shouldn't simply write them off as harmless.

Enough of these idle thoughts! I must strike down my target and then make my escape. Looking down upon him reveals that he's still covered with his fire shield. There's no way I'm going to hit him to good effect without getting hurt in the process. And so, I drink my remaining two healing potions, feeling my ailments wash away shortly afterwards, and quickly stick them back into my pouch. As I feel confident enough in my well-being, I take up my halberd and prepare for my victory dive.


Kirche the Ardent's preconceived notions are in the process of being rewritten. As the glow of a fireball lights the gold tip of her wand, she struggles to piece together the new influx of information that her eyes insists that they received. This person that Vallière summoned is a mage! I had expected an explosion and maybe a cactus or something else fitting her personality. How could this be? Or, more importantly, she glances at her pink haired rival, what could this mean?

They say that a familiar is a reflection of their summoner. Even if this midget isn't yet her familiar, this is a person capable of their own thoughts and feelings. Even if their controlled, it doesn't change the fact that she's controlling a short and angry brute. She lets out a snort of amusement at how fitting that actually might be. However, this person is a mage—a skilled mage, at that! Does that mean that she…?

Kirche shakes her head, her crimson hair billowing in the wind behind her. Preposterous. To have the capabilities of a war mage is way too farfetched for Louise the Zero. On that note though…

"Tabitha," Tabitha turns her head slightly to regard Kirche, "Professor Colbert summoned a pretty large ring of flames earlier. If you look at the grass around the flames, then you'll see that not a single blade has been burned; yet judging from that dwarf's reaction, it was indeed hot on the inside. Also, he didn't even need to chant for his flame spells."

"Battle magic," Tabitha agrees.

Damn, curses Colbert internally, a potion that renders one invisible?! That can't be possible! That person is indeed full of surprises… Colbert was indeed worried. While he had plenty of destructive spells and methods for hedging out enemies that were hiding in the dark or around corners, he had no real way of finding a truly invisible enemy; especially one that could concentrate on flying in the middle of a battle as he had previously demonstrated. Perhaps if I set fire to the grass? No, that would hinder Miss Tabitha's and Miss Zerbst's visibility. If I heat the area, then quickly sweep it with a bit of moisture, his armor may produce steam-. Colbert's thoughts halt as his eyes dart to a spot in the sky where he could have sworn he had seen a flash of steel.

At that moment, the sound of cloth flapping in the wind reaches his ears. It seems to come from the very direction that the stranger had disappeared. "There!" he calls as he unleashes a gout of flame at the direction he saw the glint. Just as Colbert expected, the flames parted as they washed over an unseen but surely furious figure.

It wouldn't be enough to stop him. Despite Colbert's attempt to dodge blindly, he was still struck. It was a simple cut—just barely enough to pierce his robes and cut at his ribs—but it was all that was necessary for the arcane lightning of the now visible stranger's halberd to send him into a crippling fit of spasms and with a strangled cry, Colbert collapses onto the grass. "I shouldn't have held back on that fool…!" He grunts as he tries to move his body, only to be met by a few twitches of his limbs. As blackness creeps onto the edges of his vision, he can see the helmetless face of his enemy contorted in pain as some of his skin starts to burn off in patches. Ah, but that strike was not without cost, warrior. Colbert smirks with grim satisfaction as his consciousness fade. I must have grown complacent, but at least I had done my duty. My students should… be able to…take it…from…here…


"Professor Colbert!" The moment the professor was struck, Louise's summon reappeared, shouting and roaring what were no doubt all sorts of foreign obscenities. Her target revealed, she quickly goes over the arcane structures of her intended spell one more time as she readies her wand.

Kirche appears to have different plans. She was about to unleash her fire onto the stranger when Tabitha stopped her. "Stop," she said pointing her staff at the stranger, or rather the unconscious teacher at his feet.

"Damn it. Come on, Tabitha, we need to get closer!" With a nod and a command, her dragon charges straight at the helmet-less midget, closing the distance easily. The moment she gets within range, Kirche fires a blazing ray of fire directly at the dwarf, only for him to step out of its path at the last moment.

He wouldn't have such luck with the dragon it seems, as the moment it landed, it had already struck hard with its claw. The halberd flies out of his hands as he's spun around by the force of the strike, but he demonstrates exceptional stability by managing to stay upright. While his armor had managed to survive the strike with a couple of shallow cuts, he still managed to take a rather deep gash across the neck and disappearing into the collar of his plate where a claw managed to slip in. He clutches at his wound with his left hand as his face contorts into shock and pain, then disbelief. He looks to the fallen figure of Professor Colbert, then to the dragon, then finally to all the students that had fought him, muttering all the while.

Guiche's Bronze Valkyrie glides casually over to where the dwarf stands. "Well?" Guiche calls from a safe distance, "You see that now that you cannot possibly win against us. Will you now listen to reason and surrender?" Of course, thinks Guiche, there will be a hefty punishment waiting for what you've done to the professor if you do.

He doesn't respond as he glares at Guiche. Instead, his slightly face becomes set in a resigned expression of grim determination. He makes a short hop away as he grabs the crossbow on his back.


The blood flowing out of my wound is not life threatening, luckily. I should still be able to keep acting for a while, but my movements will have to be sluggish and restrained if I don't want to rip my neck open and bleed all over the place.

Once I had put down the elder, I had expected a moment of hesitation or some kind of panic, but I guess this is what happens when one expects things to go their way. The way those humans riding the draconic thing had suddenly become aggressive almost makes me think that they liked this person.

Oh well. At least I managed to take that criminal with me.

I clutch at the wound stretching across the side of my neck. It hasn't cut anything important, but it has come dangerously close. I couldn't believe it; those children actually got me. Sure, it took an overgrown lizard to do it, but they actually got me. After fighting that dragon and this ordeal, there's nothing more my body wants to do than to just roll over and pass out, but one does not call himself a Mason and submit to the whims of his mortal shell so easily.

I cast my gaze around at my surroundings. First to the old man I had just struck down. "You may be an immoral bastard," I rasp out, my voice reduced to a low groan, "but you were a strong bastard. You've fought a good fight."

My eyes sweep over the gathered adolescence that dared to stand between me and justice. As I look upon them, I notice something that would have been important before this all started: I notice that almost all of them has a wand, the exceptions being the girl on the dragon wielding a staff and another wielding a sword off to the sidelines. That must mean that they are probably a militia in training and that the old man was also their warden.

The animated armor set glides just over the scorched grass and stops before me and the blond boy with the needlessly frilly blouse starts saying something. I'm not quite sure what he's saying, but judging by his tone and form, he's probably gloating.

From a comfortably safe distance, no less.

Oh, yes, indeed; you do have quite formidable associates. I pity the poor man that makes you angry, why you might just get one of your friends to duel them. Seeing his stance overflowing with overconfidence makes me want to teach this kid a lesson.

I'm not going to kill him, of course. I'm just going to teach him that he should never let his guard down; a small bit of martial discipline, if you will.

Knowing that this action will likely be my last, I offer quick prayer to the All Father and take a deep breath, then take a few staggering steps back as fast as my weakened body allows me. My limbs feel infinitely heavier as I draw my crossbow.

Suddenly I hear a voice that is strangely familiar to me. I can't seem to place where exactly I've heard it before, though. The moment I hear it, I feel foreign magic wash over me. Despite my hardest attempts to block out the magic from invading my mind, it simply wiggles in and… seemingly does nothing? I'm still fully aware of myself, I still want to shoot that blond kid, and I still don't really see anything different—well now that I notice it, everyone seems to have an expression of fright on their face where just a moment before it was just anger and determination.

"What the-?"


Louise almost could not believe it.

When she cast her spell, a sliver of doubt wriggled its way into her mind. After all, despite how sure she was that this spell would succeed, every other spell she casts ends the same way and there was no telling whether or not this was an exception. However, her heart soared when she actually understood the next words that came out of his mouth:

"What the-?"

Said soaring heart was promptly smashed upon the smoldering ground when he exploded. His smoking form flew across the ground, landing face up directly at her feet.

"Professor Colbert!" The academy staff has finally arrived onto the scene, bursting through the tower doors, ready for battle. Upon finding the fighting over, a few water mages immediately make their way to Colbert and set to work on mending his body.

"By the Founder, his heart is struggling!" cries a nurse, sparking frightened murmurs amongst the students.

"Stabilize him and get him to the infirmary immediately!"

Meanwhile, dismounting the dragon, Tabitha could not help but review the brief but heated encounter with him. One minute, thirty seconds, she approximates. Eliminate about thirty seconds for his time in the dome. Fifteen seconds kept under a near-constant multi-elemental barrage. Apply damage from retributive shield.

"Well," Kirche gracefully slides off of the dragon, "that was indeed exciting, but for once not the good kind." She notes Tabitha's thoughtful gaze as the blue-haired girl walks over to the point where he was summoned and follows her. Tabitha kneels down and plucks something from the scorched earth and charred remains of what was once grass. Leaning in to get a better look, Kirche sees a slightly warped silvery coin with a foreign script and crest depicting a shield with a single wing behind a sword.

"A silver coin?"

A shake of a head is her answer. "Platinum," is her response, causing Kirche's eyes to widen.

"What nation is that?" queries Kirche. To her surprise, her knowledgeable friend only replies with another shake of her head.

After staring thoughtfully at the coin for a few moments, she slips it into her pocket and rises. "I'm going," she declares as she starts making her way to the library leaving a confused Kirche and dragon behind her. More information is required, she concludes as she passes widely by the remaining staff members while they cautiously approach the fallen warrior.

"Miss Vallière, please step away from the half-man! He is still potentially dangerous!" She had heard them, but the words did not register.

The world seemed to still for Louise as she gazed down upon the smoking form of the one she had called. Blood oozes from the wound that Tabitha's accursed dragon imparted onto him. His partially charred face is blank, staring with unseeing eyes at the sky above. So detached from the world she was that when the tower doors had suddenly burst open, she did not even notice.

She simply stood there, staring blankly down into the dying face of that who she had tried to save. She didn't resist when she was pulled away, nor did she complain when she was escorted to her room.

She didn't deny her peers in passing as they called her an absolute failure and a danger to those around her.


"…and Mister Colbert?" asks Headmaster Osmond from his chair, dressed in dark robes and stroking his long white beard with one hand while his other idly pets his mouse familiar, Motsognir. His equally old, gnarled wooden staff rests against the table beside him as he focuses on his secretary: an attractive, young, green haired woman with golden eyes who goes by the name of Longueville.

Miss Longueville was a woman of undistinguished background who had recently been hired into the academy. Of course, Old Osmond knew that her presented background was likely falsified—one doesn't become old by not being wise, after all—but he had hired her as her secretary anyway. The ever tragic story of a noble who lost their status or a bastard child of a noble was not something that he was unfamiliar with, so after a bit of surveillance and investigation to ensure that she was not here for shady purposes, Osmond had hired her full time as his secretary for her skill and speed with paper and ink, and absolutely no other reason at all.

It definitely didn't involve the decided uniform for young female secretaries (and young female secretaries only) being a distressingly short minidress, either.

Casting wary glances at the mouse to ensure that it is still on the table, Longueville adjusts her wireframe spectacles. "It was difficult, but eventually Colbert was stabilized and is recovering," she continues, respectfully making eye contact. "It appears as though he was struck by a powerful lightning spell. Because it was delivered through the dwarf's polearm which was proven to be unenchanted, they have determined with certainty that he is a noble."

That certainly complicates things. "And what of him?"

"He has been treated minimally and stripped of his possessions. He is currently in a cell in the dungeons as a precaution."

That certainly won't do; not for a noble. Osmond turns towards one of his attendants. "Have him taken out of his cell and moved to one of the guest rooms—since he can fly, I would prefer one close to the ground floor. Remove any sharp objects or anything that can be made dangerous from the room. Transmute the glass to stone then reinforce it. Chain his hands to the bedposts and his legs as well. I want there to be enough slack for him to reach his hand to the nightstand, but not a bit further. I want at least two triangle class mages to guard his door at all times. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Headmaster," replies the man as he rushes off to perform his task.

That order of business completed, he returns his attention to Longueville, raising his hand from his familiar to his chin, gaining a thoughtful expression. "What did he have in his possession?"

"On his person," she starts, skimming through the report, "there were three magical items in his possession: a leather pouch and the two gloves that he wore under his gauntlets. The pouch contained various edible substances like jerky, dried fruits, and nuts, so it is suspected that it was enchanted to preserve the freshness of what is placed inside. It is currently unknown what the gloves do, though since his polearm was proven to be unsuitable as a focus, it is likely that the gloves serve as a focus instead.

"In his backpack, there were the following: a chainmail shirt, a bedroll, a folded up tent set, some form of harness, a near empty medical kit, a torch, two gold tipped iron rods, roughly fifty feet of rope, twenty pounds of firewood, and a small cask.

"Hidden inside the tent was a satchel containing exactly seven hundred and forty-three gold coins, four hundred and five silver coins, and fifty copper coins; likely currency to a foreign nation since nobody was able to recognize the crest or read the writing. A translation spell revealed the following: Gold coins say 'Honor, Duty, Nobility,' silver coins say 'A Nation's power lies in its People.' and copper coins say 'Long Live the Liarsbane.'

Flipping a page, she continues, "On his belt were two empty pouches and in his armor was hidden a pouch of ten gold coins. Littered throughout the field were his helmet, his shield, and four steel flasks. Words were etched into each one in another language. Three flasks translated into 'heal wounds, simple,' 'heal wounds, moderate,' and 'invisibility.'"

The final potion causes Osmond to raise a skeptical eyebrow, but he holds his tongue, knowing the importance of open-mindedness. He had seen much stranger things, after all. Releasing a thoughtful hum, he muses aloud, "Judging by his equipment, I would like to say that he is an explorer or adventurer, but such heavy arms and armor as well as such a small body says otherwise. Perhaps he is a treasure hunter?"

"I believe it would explain the coins and possibly the flasks. Perhaps he had just been returning to wherever he came from when he somehow wandered into this school…?" Longueville trails off uncertainly, questioning the logic of one simply tripping into a high-walled academy complex while remaining undetected.

"Yes that does sound very unlikely," responds Osmond, picking up on her uncertainty. "Perhaps he truly was summoned by…er, who supposedly summoned him again?"

"Lady Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, sir."

"Really?" Osmond exclaims, his aged jaw reaching for the desk, "The same Louise Françoise who shows only an affinity towards naught but destruction?" at the affirmative nod causes him to lean back into his seat and rub his temples as if to stave off a migraine. "That girl truly is full of surprises…"

"Excuse me sir," intrudes one of the veteran professors, a middle aged, grey-brown haired man who goes by the name Chateau, "I do not mean to seem presumptuous," he begins, nervously tugging at the collar of his blue uniform, "but do you actually believe that Miss Vallière, who has to this day failed to successfully perform a spell without some kind of destructive backlash actually performed a successful summoning spell?" This query brought murmurs of agreement from the other teachers that had experienced firsthand her failures.

With a sigh, Osmond raises his hand palm facing outward, not far—just barely level with his face—but still earning him the desired affect: total silence.

"Professor Chateau," he begins, causing the man in question to gulp nervously, "whether I believe it or whether I admit that it is possible are two completely different things. All that should matter right now is that the possibility exists that she had summoned this person here. Unless anyone here has a better explanation for an armored dwarf suddenly being conjured into existence through an explosion," this emphasis causes those professors to begrudgingly nod in understanding, "then this is what stands as our most likely scenario. Thus," Osmond leans forward and resumes his usual position at his desk, "we must prepare."

"Now then," Osmond claps, startling everyone out of their somber mood, "Please resume your duties and return to your students if you have any. In the meantime, I will get to work on organizing this situation. I will call for you if I am in need of your skills, but unless I do, your classes will resume as normal. Please refrain from speaking of this situation in public areas, as it may start the spread of unwanted or possibly untrue rumors. That is all and you are dismissed."

Once all of the professors had exited the room to go about their business, Longueville declares that she will resume her duties as well.

"Ah, yes go on then. Oh how I admire your diligence and endurance involving the tedious intricacies of paperwork," he sighs as his familiar, which had gone mysteriously missing when Longueville had started to list off the little warrior's possessions, climbs up his shoulder and starts squeaking softly in his ear. "Oho, a deep purple, you say? Not black, but still..." he quietly responds, earning a twitch from Longueville. He then gasps as he stage whispers, "What? Lacey, too?!" this time earning a legal dictionary to the face courtesy of the now red-faced secretary.

Oh yes, her paperwork—absolutely nothing else.


"…a spellsword can channel any spell he can cast into his melee weapon." – An excerpt from the Channel Spell special ability.


Author's Notes:

Hello everyone! I would like to thank you for the reviews you left and the messages you sent. Your encouragement and support is much appreciated and I hope that I can continue to earn them from you.

Now, I am painfully aware that it has been quite a while since I had last updated this story, and for that I apologize. To be honest, I don't really have an excuse for the time spent not writing or uploading.

Regarding, that fight scene had me stumped for a while. In the end, I decided to make a mock-up battle. My friend, Helinon, had assisted me by making the dice rolls and doing certain D&D researching, effectively speeding up the time that I was able to write it and ensuring some level of accuracy. The scene itself probably isn't amazing, but hopefully it wasn't hard to read. Oh and I also wrote a few things in there as a joke to myself. I may have missed a few, though, so let me know if you find any of the lame ones.

Thus concludes this issue's notes. If I've impressed, leave a review! If I've insulted, tell me why! If there's some other thing I did that caused a reaction that I haven't listed, I'd really like to know what reaction that was, because now I'm curious.

Thanks for reading and until next time!