An American Geek in a Halkeginian Court Chapter 37: Developments IV, a familiar of zero fanfic

Developments, Part IV

Jason woke up on June 22nd(at least by the local calendar), still lying on his side. But draped on top of him was a soft warmth, somewhat like yesterday.

This is a lot less awkward than those youtube videos claim. Although they are trying to be funny, so they're probably exaggerating. But how did she even get up there? he thought as he blew away a bit of hair tickling his nose, hanging down from where Louise's head rested on his shoulder. Ought to be a bit like climbing a mountain. Do local mages have nocturnal levitation instead of emissions?

However she'd done it, his little mistress was splayed out on top of and along his side, arms and legs dangling down both front and back. Hardly unwelcome, of course, but how do we get out of bed without waking her?

Slowly rolling over onto his belly seemed to do the trick, and soon Louise was lying – still asleep – next to him, but as soon as he started to pull away she reached out and took hold of him, muttering something indistinct as she snuggled close once more.

Huh. Definitely used to sleeping with the nice older sister, if she's got these sleeping reflexes. Or at least Cattleya had better be nicer than what we've heard about Eléonore.

She managed to keep her grasp tight as Jason sat up, which meant washing up wasn't going to be practical unless he woke her up, and letting her sleep in to catch up a little on lost sleep seemed like the thing to do. So he carried her over to the table and sat her down in his lap, slumped against his chest, and got back to work writing out lyrics.

We've got most of the war-songs written out, but we still need some funny and romantic ones.

Do the local Scottish analog do kilts? Eh, at least one of the local cultures probably do robes instead of pants. Which, if he was right, would let The Scotsman and Dr. Macdoo's Under The Kilt both work. Because dick-jokes, even implied dick-jokes, are always funny. Dunno why. Seems to be a law of nature.

Of course, if dick jokes were to be the order of the day, then Weird Al's Look at My Enormous Penis had to be included. And Trauma to the Groin is going to take a lot of adapting, but we oughta be able to figure out something. And let's face it, Do Your Ears Hang Low pretty much has to have started off as Do Your Balls Hang Low, given the reference to being a soldier. Maybe make it a marching cadence?

Might as well throw in I Don't Look Good Naked Anymore, while we're at it.

The Ballad of Eskimo Nell is right out, though.

And Nell or not, Louise doesn't need to see any of them.

But once he was done with those, he did need more songs to help bribe the minstrel, and after bawdy humor romance was probably a minstrel's bread and butter. So Standing Outside the Fire was a blindingly obvious pick. The Proclaimers' 500 Miles followed, then Donna Lewis' I Love You Always Forever. Over the top, but subtlety ain't exactly where it's at. Florence + The Machine's Cosmic Love was next, then Greensleeves, and then a few from U2: Pride, With or Without You, and I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

Jason was just starting on the next one when the rosecrown in his lap stirred and slowly opened her eyes.

"Sleep well, little mistress?" he asked, bending his head down to kiss the top of hers.

She nodded, rubbing her eyes to try to clear them. "Why are we . . . how long have you been awake?"

"Not very long. You didn't want to let go, and I figured you'd wake up sooner or later."

Louise nodded again and yawned, looked at the lyrics he was writing out, and then her eyes widened. "Why are you writing a song about being cursed to love someone?!" she demanded.

Jason blinked. "Cursed to . . . no, no, this is about being caught up in passionate desire for the person that the singer fancies. My people don't have magic, remember? No love curses. The closest to that we've got are mundane potions that make people so dazed they can't object, and using those to lie with someone is considered rape."

"Oh." His little mistress relaxed a bit. Then: "Play it for me."

"Okay, but it's not in English." So saying, he sent the track back to the beginning, turned on the sound, and hit play.

Louise relaxed further as Hall Om Mig played, but then twitched and hit pause when the third verse – which he hadn't written out yet – ended. "Why did she make a kissing noise just now?"

"Because she was claiming to be helpless and breathless and needed her lover to breathe for her." He chuckled. "'Mouth-to-mouth' is a way to try to keep someone alive for a little while if they can't breathe on their own, but pretty much every young man and woman who hears of it will link it to kissing."

"Oh."

Then she gave him a sidelong look. "How breathless are you, after your exertions yesterday?"

"Well, after taking your tonic-"

His little mistress gave him an exasperated look, and Jason shut up as the light slowly dawned.

"Ooooooh," he moaned, deliberately unconvincingly. "I am so stiff and sore. I can barely move." ["But we should probably brush our teeth before my breath conveniently fails and you have to use every effort to save me."]

She giggled. "I'll have to Levitate you, then!"

["You know,"] he mentioned a few moments later, while they were scrubbing their mouths out to get rid of morning breath, ["Mr. Colbert didn't think he could Levitate me any real distance. Except you moved yourself, Siesta, and me over and across the entire Academy. We might want to bring that up with him."]

["He can't?"] Louise replied. She spat the toothpaste out, rinsed her mouth out, waited for him to do the same, Levitated her 'incapacitated' familiar over to the bed, and then perched over him for the briefest moment before lowering her head to 'perform mouth-to-mouth'. ["If he prefers to work with Fire and Earth, he might not practice Air very much. And they say it's much easier to Levitate oneself than someone else, but it doesn't seem that way to me."]

["Oh?"]

["You aren't as easy to Levitate, but you're so much bigger than me."]

["Fair enough."] Jason lifted one hand to lightly scratch up and down her back. ["Hate to say it, but we probably need to go on our morning jog soon, so I can do the light workout Mr. Colbert assigned me before breakfast."]

She lifted her mouth from his and pouted. "Already?"

He glanced over at the little mouse figure – whose eyes were not lit up, fortunately – and shrugged. "It's our routine. Stop and people might investigate to figure out what we're doing each morning instead. So far the Headmaster's been able to report that our behavior remains chaste, but if that changes-"

Louise flushed, and quickly got out of bed. "Very well," she said, "you may . . ."

She trailed off with an annoyed look. "You probably shouldn't be dressing me anymore, if it's as dangerous as you say."

"Sadly, it is," he confirmed, sighing. "But you can get a little more practice with Levitate, at least."

"I suppose," she responded with an echoing sigh, and brandished her wand.

Guiche was already in the gymnasium, doing more belly-sculpting when Jason entered after the morning jog and began the exercises that Mr. Colbert had assigned.

The blond was quiet, though, until the (admittedly short) routine that the professor had assigned was complete.

"Is that all your conditioning?" he then asked dubiously. "I've not decided if I wish to chance the dueling circuit, and I still do more than that."

"No, it's just a morning warmup," Jason replied, "Mr. Colbert's going to assign my real training while we have breakfast." ["Louise, I'm about to wash up. Will you be done soon?"]

["I'm drying my hair now,"] she replied. ["So hurry! I'm hungry."]

["Yeah, exercise will do that."] "Anyway, gonna wash up first. Planning on joining us?"

Guiche nodded and finished his set. "I'd be a fool to pass up the chance."

Mr. Colbert was red-eyed and uncommunicative, which resulted in a quiet breakfast. Afterward he led them to the range, where there awaited two articulated metal figures, one armed with a spear and the other with a quarterstaff, each at the center of a complicated arrangement of rods and gears. The picture they presented would not have been at all out of place in a steampunk graphic novel.

"Jason, your words inspired me at dinner," he offered by way of truncated explanation. "De Gramont, I don't wish to pry into family magic, but did you need to learn the basics of the spear personally?"

Guiche looked a bit wary – so that question likely is a bit too close to the secrets of their magic – but nodded after a moment. "But the Academy doesn't offer instruction in commoner weapons, so I haven't practiced since last summer."

"I suspected as much," Mr. Colbert replied with a tired nod back. "The machine on the left will act as a sparring partner for you. Jason, the one on the right will continue your instruction."

The two nodded back in understanding.

"What should I do?" Louise asked. "The same as yesterday?"

"That should suffice," the professor confirmed. Then he Empowered both of the machines and tossed a quarterstaff to Jason. "Now, I am off to bed."

Guiche waited until Mr. Colbert was gone. "I thought I would be training my valkyries, not drilling myself," he complained, frowning.

Jason shrugged. "Will it help if you, uh, polish up your skill with the spear?"

"I do already know the basics," the blond countered, still looking a bit sulky.

"Yeah, but they didn't seem to help much yesterday. And if you're a year out of practice, your skills will have, er, mildewed a bit. But you are the only one here who knows if that would matter."

That put a thoughtful look on Guiche's face, and a slow smile started to grow on his lips.

"By the same token," Jason went on, "if you decide to play at training instead of doing it right, you'll never get to the point where your brothers start to respect your prowess."

That wiped the smile off the younger boy's face. Sighing, he conjured himself a spear and approached his mechanical sparring partner.

"Don't just pick at your food!" Siesta scolded at lunch. "If you two don't eat, you won't be able to keep going!"

"Yes, Jason, you know you need to eat after intense practice!" Louise chimed in, smirking.

He groaned, but took a reluctant bite. It was probably the first time in his life that he'd felt too worn out to have an appetite.

Guiche, on the other hand, looked to be internally debating the merits of not refueling, perhaps so that he could collapse soon after lunch and end it all.

Mr. Colbert's machines (well, his clanks, given the steampunk aesthetic) had made for exhausting and intense training. Any flaws in an attack were punished by swift ripostes, and failure to continue to spar – even if it was due to the shock of getting hit – meant that the clanks followed up with painful finishers.

The hits weren't lethal, the spear and staff wielded by the constructs were blunted and padded somewhat, but Jason was pretty sure he was going to need bruise salve again.

And it wasn't possible to just learn the clanks' patterns, either. The professor had somehow gotten a degree of random selection going, so any of several viable attacks and counters could be used at any time. And the only way to get a breather, short of taking several blows and a simulated finisher (even backing away didn't work, the damned things were mobile), was to keep fighting until you could get in a finishing move on the clank. Which was not easy.

It would have been very tempting to take it slower – to spar with the clank for a bit, then back off and do some drills before reengaging – except that neither of them had wanted to look like a slacker compared to the other. So they'd kept going. All morning.

Even with his auxilum making it easier to work through the pain, and even with Siesta going to fetch them water a few times, it had royally sucked.

"You're sure he was still asleep?" Jason asked, after slowly chewing and swallowing. If our battle magic craps out on us before the professor returns, this is gonna suck even worse.

The maid rolled her eyes. "Mr. Colbert won't wake up any faster if you keep asking that."

"I know, but-" He groaned and shook his head. "Never mind." The next bite beckoned, anyway, as long as he could choke it down.

"He did tell us to keep training," Guiche agreed, nodding dully. "But I wish Montmorency didn't hate me. She knows some healing magic."

Siesta got a thoughtful look on her face, but didn't say anything in reply.

Besides, she and Louise were clearly deriving too much amusement by forcing the two boys to eat.

One advantage to taking a long time to eat was that it was also extra time to rest . . . until Louise started commenting on how, under her parents' command, they would have been up for punishment both for not finishing their food and for taking too long to eat it.

So they finished up, did some stretches, and got back to training.

It was a little while later – long enough to work up a sweat, again – when Jason heard a voice behind him:

"She wasn't lying. Incredible."

He didn't recognize the voice, and wanted to turn and see who it was, but he continued sparring with the clank until Mr. Colbert's never-to-be-sufficiently-damned randomizer gave him an opening for a finisher.

But finally he was able to make the clank halt, and he quickly backed out of range, before turning to see the slender blonde that Guiche had royally screwed things up with.

Siesta must have gone off after lunch and asked her to come by. Huh.

"My darling golden angel," Guiche gushed, clapping his hands in delight. "You-"

"Be silent," she commanded, her face hard, before looking them both up and down. "You. 'Familiar.' How long will you continue with this?"

"Today?" Jason replied, then shrugged. "Until Mr. Colbert wakes up and decides we've had enough. Long term? Until it's too easy to spar with these things, I suppose."

The blonde's expression softened, if only barely. "Very well."

She approached, lifted her wand, and cast. A cool and almost wet sensation swept over him, and while it didn't precisely remove any of the pain, his muscles stopped feeling like they were about to cramp up, and soon he felt invigorated, as if he'd had a strong coffee and some vitamins.

Monty – no, Montmosomething – then turned her wand on Guiche, and cast on him as well.

He looked ready to kiss her as the magic took effect, but she quickly backed out of lunging range.

Then, looking almost as if sucking on a lemon: "You may send for me again when you are finished for the day." With that, she marched off.

"Such mercy!" Guiche exclaimed after his ex-girlfriend was out of earshot.

"Yeah. And if we want more of it, we'd best take advantage of it now."

"Oh, surely." The blond young man paused, then continued in a hesitant voice. "Do you . . . do you suppose this means she still cares for me?"

Jason raised one eyebrow. "Could be." Opposite of love isn't hatred, after all, but indifference. "But if she's still upset with you, then she wasn't looking for anything casual."

"Yes, but," Guiche sighed. "I rather enjoyed the time I spent courting her."

"Well, it's your decision."

And then it was time for more sparring.

The sun was still high in the sky when Mr. Colbert returned.

Jason's vis had run out – and hadn't that been fun, when he suddenly collapsed and had to endure the sequence of blows leading up to a finish – and so he was running on merely mortal prowess and faring poorly. But Guiche had persevered, so he'd gotten back to his feet after catching his breath, determined to last for as long as he could.

Or at least until the blond quit.

Except he hadn't, and so both of them had staggered on.

Until the training clanks suddenly halted.

Then it was a silent battle to stay standing, and not be the first to collapse.

"I hadn't expected either of you to last much past luncheon," Mr. Colbert observed, Levitating over a pair of large mugs. "Take your ease, sit down, and refresh yourselves with these."

The mugs proved to be full of a diluted mixed juice – cherry, lemon, and maybe a few others – and made for a very welcome end to sparring practice.

Except then the professor gave them both a serious look. "So, how did the two of you persevere this long?"

Guiche did a bit of a spit-take, Jason barely avoided copying him, and the two looked at each other guiltily.

Then the blond teenager launched into some fancy-sounding bit of malarky, while Jason look around for Siesta. Who'd disappeared once more.

["Where'd your assistant go?"] he asked Louise.

["She saw Mr. Colbert watching us from the Academy wall, and decided that since practice was going to be over soon, she should go find Montmorency again."]

["Ah. Thank you."]

Now armed with knowledge, he waited, and when Guiche started to wind down with his attempt at obfuscation:

"A-hem." He held up a hand to catch Mr. Colbert's attention as the blond trailed off, and pointed at the blonde Water mage now in sight and coming towards them. "She did it, sir."

The professor raised his eyebrows, and waited for the girls to approach. "Miss Montmorency? Is it true that you used magic to heal these two?"

She nodded, albeit a bit warily. "I used Succor and Fortify. Madame Sousen said they were the spells to use when commoner soldiers are training."

Wasn't Succor used on our arm, the day we had to go rescue Louise? Huh, Henrietta must have taken care of that along with the rest. And Fortify . . . wasn't that the one Wardes used on us in the harbor, just before the bandits showed up the third and final time?

Guiche was bristling at the implication, but Mr. Colbert relaxed slightly. "Excellent. How many other medical spells have you learned?"

"Refresh and Heal," Montmorency replied. "I haven't studied medical Lines, so far."

The professor smiled. "Well done. It's good to see that today has not been wasted."

"Uh, wasted?" Jason put in. "What do you mean, wasted?"

"Training for battle isn't merely about skill," came the reply, "although I am pleased to see the progress you've made, these past two days. It's equally important to condition yourself to strike more forcefully, to improve your endurance, and to withstand pain and fatigue.

"As Miss Montmorency was taught, Fortify and Succor were the correct spells to use: They aid healing by providing what your body needs, but it's up to your body to make use of what's provided. The spells that heal directly, on the other hand, prevent the training of the day from improving the body's conditioning."

"Oh."

"Miss Montmorency," Mr. Colbert went on, "I assume that you've come to cast once more, now that the exertions of the today are largely complete?"

She nodded, and once again the cool relief of her spells swept over Jason and Guiche. Then she left, pausing only to glance back at the blond for a moment before marching off.

"I advise you both to eat heartily tonight. Your bodies will be wanting meat, with the training you'll be doing."

Jason chuckled. "Well, that's one part of this I won't mind." He finished off his drink and started to stand up, but froze when a sudden stab of pain went through what seemed like all of his joints. A gasp off to his side suggested that the blond was experience similar discomfort.

Mr. Colbert gave them a mildly chiding look. "Didn't I warn you? Miss Montmorency's spells are helping your bodies to heal. You didn't push yourselves too hard, due to her aid, but I expect that you'll be in some pain for the rest of the day."

Guiche groaned, pulled out his wand, and carefully cast Levitate on himself. "I'm going to the bathhouse to wash up," he announced, and floated off.

Jason groaned as well, but managed to eventually get to his feet. "Cleaning up sounds like a good idea. But before that . . . sir, Louise knows a tonic that helps with sore muscles, but I guess we need to know if I can use it without interfering with my training."

"Yes, that would be good to know. Miss Vallière, what's the name of this tonic?"

She bit her lip. "I don't know. Mother makes Father take it, sometimes. She starts with-"

The recipe that Louise rattled off was surprisingly complicated, and Jason found himself lost trying to follow it before she was half completed.

But Mr. Colbert chuckled when she finished. "Field medicine? And your familiar willingly takes it, despite the taste? There's no longer any question about whether he trusts you, then."

"It works, sir, so as long as I can get it down without gagging. So can I use it while training?"

"Oh, certainly," the professor replied. "Field medicine is rarely potent enough for direct healing, and Miss Vallière's tonic is no exception. But do be sure to eat well.

"Now, I suspect that we're all somewhat weary, so let us meet again tomorrow morning for breakfast, and we'll set our schedules of practice and experimentation then."

Jason watched him go, then: "Dammit, I forgot to ask about the clanks!"

"'Clanks'?" Louise repeated.

"The machines. He designed and built them in one night. Even for a genius, that's-"

"Then ask him tomorrow," she suggested.

"Right, right. Might as well go get cleaned up."

Except the first step proved that he was already stiffening up despite the dose of magical ibuprofen. Making it to the bathhouse was going to be miserable-

"Don't be silly!" Louise scolded, and cast Levitate, making him rise in the air a few feet. "And don't struggle! If you break the spell and fall, you could hurt yourself."

With that, she started down the path to the Academy gates, with Siesta following behind.

"Thank you, little mistress," Jason said, when they were outside the nobles' bathhouses. "If you let me down, I can hobble my way to the pools and soak a bit."

"What if you fall?" she asked, frowning.

"I-" Siesta began, blushing. "I could help him, and then hurry back out once he's soaking."

Louise did not look happy at the idea. After a moment, she simply marched inside the ladies' bathhouse, her Levitated familiar floating behind her (and feeling somewhat alarmed).

Although it didn't begin too badly. The ladies side was furnished similarly to the men's, although instead of a small gymnasium there was something that looked to be about beauty treatments. Precisely what, Jason wasn't about to ask. One thing that did turn out to be an improvement were the larger towels. One of the biggest, wrapped around his waist, afforded considerably more modesty than the loincloths had. Except-

"You don't need a second one to cover your chest and belly!" his little mistress insisted. "You look much better than you did at the start of spring, after all, even if you don't look like a hero of legend yet."

"Fine, whatever," Jason sighed. He hobbled over to a shelf, grabbed a sponge-

And tried to strangle the gasp of pain as cramping muscles made it clear just how little he could bend at the moment. "Not – gonna be able – to clean myself," he had to admit.

"I'll help!" Siesta volunteered, her eyes suspiciously bright.

Louise rolled her eyes, but Levitated two sponges over, and they both got to work.

Except that the proximity of the two rather attractive women proved distracting, and Jason found himself needing to focus on careful, steady breathing to keep the towel around his waist from looking like a tent.

So as soon as he could: "Girls, why don't you go clean yourselves up while I wipe off beneath the towel?"

Both Siesta and Louise opened their mouths, looking like they were about to object . . . but then they glanced at each other, and apparently came to a silent agreement that he had a point.

Not that we wouldn't have minded the help, he thought, wincing as his muscles made it clear that they weren't going to let him bend over without taking revenge, but it'd be awkward as hell if they both stayed, and a trifle obvious if our little mistress was the only one alone with us in here.

By the time he finished – at least as much as he could – and hobbled over to the baths proper, the girls had finished washing up themselves, and joined him, wrapped in their own towels.

"This way," Louise said, leading to a small pool in a side room. "This is a mineral pool for aiding recuperation, so we'll use this one."

"Sounds good," he replied, carefully sitting down. "Gotta say, this is quite a bit nicer than what the servants use."

Siesta giggled as she sat down opposite him. "The only way the menservants can stand their bathhouse is because most of them spend time in the stables, so they don't mind the smell." She looked around. "But bringing a maid and a man in here? We could get into so much trouble-!"

"Pretty sure I'd get the bulk of it," Jason pointed out, closing his eyes as soon as he realized just how revealing the girls' towels were, submerged and clinging to supple skin. "Noblewoman wants a maid with her in the bath? Her business, maybe she doesn't have some of the spells for washing completely down yet. But bringing in a man? Cue screams, grabbing for wands, and whatever attack spells were practiced last week all flying in my general direction, just like the time with the kid who thought he'd taken an invisibility potion. Good thing its summer."

"Except that you're my familiar," Louise declared. "If I feel I need to bring you in here for grooming, that's my business." There was a pause. "But they'd probably demand you wear a blindfold."

"They don't think you hired me anymore?"

He heard her growl. "As long as the professors know better, it doesn't matter what the students think."

Jason chuckled. "Fair enough, but I think it'd be better if we don't try their patience, once classes resume." ["And given the opportunities in a bathhouse to clean up evidence quickly, the Headmaster will probably tighten surveillance if you bring me here too often."]

["That's why I haven't sent your maid away,"] Louise replied. ["Like that evening we spent in the field, she can report that nothing untoward happened."]

["'My' maid? Come on, you know she's your friend too."]

There was a long pause before his little mistress responded.

["I suppose she is."]

"You need me to spend the afternoon with you?" Siesta repeated, sounding quite surprised. "I thought you were done practicing for the day."

"I am, yes," Louise replied as she led maid and familiar from the bathhouse. "But didn't Jason ask you to ask Jessica for a minstrel?"

"That's right . . . oh, and I should have said, but I got a letter saying that he'll be here tomorrow! If the coach is on time, that is."

The little rosecrown tossed her hair. "Then I definitely need your help. Jason's written down so many songs, but they need to be rewritten to fit the music in Tristainian, rather than English."

"I'd try to do it myself," he put in, "but rhyme and meter are two of the things that my translation auxilum can't handle, 'cause crossing different languages doesn't work like that."

"Oh!" Siesta exclaimed. "I keep forgetting that you aren't just using an odd dialect. You seem so fluent, after all."

Jason shrugged. "It generally doesn't matter, outside of poetry, songs, and wordplay jests."

Then, when they arrived at his Louise's suite, he pulled out the six lowbrow songs and handed them to the maid. "These are, ahem, more suited for dockside taverns. Useful for a minstrel who needs to be able to visit all walks of life, but I'd rather not force them on Louise's delicate ears. So start with them."

His little mistress gave him a suspicious look. And then her eyes narrowed further as she saw Siesta starting to blush, as the raven-haired maid began to read what she'd been handed.

"What did you give her-?!" Louise began, getting up and peering over the other girl's shoulder . . . and then blushing bright red and quickly sitting back down.

"Depending on what you read, it's only dirty if you have a dirty mind," Jason told her, a faux-innocent smile on his face.

She huffed in response, but grabbed one of the less dangerous sheets and bent over it.

And then looked up at him in confusion. "Why do you have different phrases suggested on this one? None of them fit the meter in Tristainian."

He got up and looked over his little mistress's shoulder. "Oh, Tomorrow Belongs to Me. That's 'cause the original meaning fits Reconquista better than it fits a force looking to free the White Isle. So the refrain needs to be something like 'tomorrow brings liberty', and the end needs to talk about the how morning will come when Albion is no longer tarnished by tyranny. But yeah, you'll still have to get the lines to rhyme and fit the meter for each verse."

Louise nodded and bent back over the sheet, frowning in concentration.

Siesta spoke up next. "What's a 'kilt'? You have it in two of these songs." Her face was still somewhat rose-tinted.

"Knee-length skirt, traditionally worn by men from Scotland." Jason did his best to keep a straight face. "Traditionally, they couldn't afford to wear underpants beneath, and thus, those two songs. I know men around here use hosiery and pantaloons, but is there maybe a country or county where they wear robes instead?"

"No braies?" she repeated, her eyes starting to sparkle. "Those two young ladies were quite bold."

Louise twitched. "How bawdy does that one become!?" she demanded, although she didn't raise her head to meet their eyes.

"They only peek, and the man in a kilt is drunk and passed out," the maid promised. Then, with a mischievous smile playing at her lips: "Compared to some of the books you asked to borrow, it's hardly bawdy at all."

The rosecrown flushed, and lowered her head to stare fixedly at her current sheet, suddenly seeming very interested in her work as a localizer.

Jason leaned over to Siesta. "So what kind of those books was she interested in?" he murmured.

The maid's eyes sparkled even more. "She was particularly curious about stories where a noblewoman is trapped and loses-"

"Hush!" Louise interrupted, staring at the other girl with a mortified expression.

"But," Siesta protested with a toss of her silky black hair, "you said you needed to know what would happen if you lost-"

"No! Be silent!" ["Jason, don't pursue this. Please!"]

He looked from gleeful maid to mortified mistress with a raised eyebrow. ["You sure this is something I don't need to know?"]

["I was worried about something silly, that's all."]

["Okay. If you say so."]

"I haven't asked for those since the Inn," Louise muttered. "I realized they were just stories, after all."

"Yeah, trying to learn about things from those kinds of books tends to be a bad idea," Jason agreed. "They're just fantasies. If you ever find yourself thinking, 'Is that how women act? I wouldn't act like that,' then you've most likely found something that a lecher would have to spend a lot of money to get anyone to do."

"Oh." Siesta pouted. "But sometimes things happen that do seem like they might be . . . interesting," she observed, her eyes still bright.

"Maybe, but you wanna be careful about that. The story you tricked me into reading a couple of months ago? That would be a nightmare to actually live through and then be trapped in. And I'd bet that's true for most of the more lurid books that get passed around."

"I know," the maid replied, still pouting. "Annabelle warns us all about that. But with the right man . . ."

She trailed off, then sighed.

"Well, I'm not going to tell you what you should and shouldn't be doing behind the bedroom door," Jason responded. "But yes, with the right man there are things you can do to play out a fantasy and protect yourself from it turning into a nightmare."

"Truly?" Siesta asked, perking up.

"Which I'm not going to get into, because we're already into mid-afternoon and we've got to get these songs rewritten before tomorrow."

"That's right," Louise growled. "No more distractions! Finish up those . . . bawdy songs and then come help me with the rest."

They weren't done until that evening, just before it was time to go to bed, but they did finish the localizations, and so would be ready for the minstrel on the morrow.

But Jason couldn't help but notice that Louise had a rather pensive expression on her face after Siesta finally left. ["Something wrong?"]

["It's something that Mother warned me about."]

["Okay-?"]

She didn't respond for a long moment.

["Little mistress, you don't have to tell me if you aren't comfortable with it, but I am willing to listen. And then maybe I can help make it better."]

["I-"]

Louise threw herself down on her bed, and buried her face into a pillow. ["Sh-she warned me that my fiancé would have known other women before we married, and would likely have someone in the household as his mistress."]

Her mother what?! Well, given the givens, that's, hmm. ["She was talking about Wardes, and he's about a decade older than you and has been a professional soldier since he was your age. She knows how soldiers can be, I'm pretty sure."]

His little mistress turned her head to shoot him a dirty look. ["Father doesn't have a mistress."]

["Your mother sounds rather impressive, so I'm not surprised."]

["But Siesta acts like she wants to be in your household. And you might even have a household before I do!"]

Shit, she's noticed. Hell, we eventually noticed, so it's not like Siesta's been all that subtle. ["Given what your mother told you, that does probably seem like a valid concern. But what with everything I'm doing with Mr. Colbert I don't have much time to sneak around with anyone. So I'm only doing it with the rosecrown cutie that I want to marry."]

Louise twitched, and buried her face back into the pillow. ["If you can already fight with those new revolvers, you might be able to present them to His Imperial Majesty by Advent, or even before then!"]

["Got some improvement to figure out before we present them, but yeah, that's the idea. Little mistress, this really isn't something we should hold off on."]

She whimpered and shook her head.

What the-? Whatever was bothering her, she needed to face it. And him. And she had shown some nigh-tactile influence through their bond, and so far their bond-based auxilia had been reciprocal, so . . .

He reached out and made a fist, to help with the feel of it, and yanked.

Louise rolled over towards him with a surprised squawk.

["You probably shouldn't have shown me that abusing the calling auxilum is possible,"] he told her, smirking slightly. ["But seriously, what's wrong? The way our bond is strengthening, marrying anyone else will only get more and more awkward from here on out."]

Her face scrunched up. ["Even if I had to leave the Academy, it might have been a year, maybe even two, before I married Jean-Jacques! More, if I was able to stay here."]

Oh, right. That did piss her off when he wanted to get married soon. Which is one reason he'll have known other women, to be honest. But if we bring that up now it'll turn this entire conversation toxic. ["Louise, I'm not going to ask you to drop your education early. Are you still afraid to get married?"]

["No, I-"]

There was a long pause. ["Maybe a little,"] she finally admitted.

Jason braced himself, because he couldn't actually predict how this would go. ["Because you don't have to."]

She looked just a bit hopeful. ["I don't?"]

And that was why. Even just the hint of rejection hurt. ["I'd have to rip my heart out and regrow it, because I've already given it to you. And again, us being mistress and familiar will make romance with anyone else damned awkward, since we've been pursuing my universal auxilia. But if you tell me that you don't want to marry me, I'll take you at your word, and begin to walk the path of a broken heart."]

She sprang off the bed and was at his side in a flash, suddenly holding him tight enough to hurt, given how sore he still was. ["No. NO! Don't you dare walk away, Jason!"]

He cupped one hand to her cheek, and gently pulled her face up to where he could look her in the eyes. ["Best-beloved, I think I need you to be clear right now."]

Louise shifted her arms, putting her hands on his shoulders, and jumped up so that her face was level with his. (And more-or-less forced him to catch her and support her, not that he was complaining. Too much. A bit of pain was a small enough price to pay for his little mistress's embrace.) "Yes," she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him. ["I'll marry you. I want to marry you, and none other. But it's so soon! I, I just wish things could go on like they have, these last few days."]

["You mean where I have to argue myself down from making love to you at least a couple of times a day, because there's no way the Headmaster could turn a blind eye to that?"] Then Jason shifted his right hand slightly, to emphasize that by supporting her weight he was also getting to cop a feel on her tiny yet nearly perfect derrière.

She pulled back, blushing. Then opened her mouth, paused, closed it, and blushed harder, before burying her face in his neck.

["What?"]

["Eléonore gave me a bottle of, of b-maiden's b-b-balm when I left home. She said it was, if I decided to be exceptionally foolish, I might hopefully avoid shaming the family."]

Maiden's balm? And Wales said they could take care of everything . . . did he mean everything, everything? ["Louise, would I be mistaken in guessing that this particular potion will restore a torn maidenhead?"]

By the increased heat against his neck, her blush was becoming even deeper, as she gave a tiny nod.

["But given to you by Eléonore. Who therefore knows you have it. Hell no. That bottle remains unopened and unused."]

["Oh. That's good."] Except maybe she sounded a bit disappointed at his prudence.

Hell, we're not happy about having to be prudent. But this trail has so many minefields . . . ["Anyway, I need a dose of your mother's tonic, and then it's time for bed."]

Louise nodded, then raised her head and gave him a narrow look. ["You aren't going to be silly about where you sleep tonight, are you?"]

["Nope. You do need to change your clothes with Levitate, like we talked about, but even if I was willing to risk your family's wrath for despoiling you, tonight I'd be too sore to even try. So cuddle away."]

["Good."]

Jason woke up on the 23rd, now entirely unsurprised to find Louise half-sprawled on top of him.

Just a few days and we're already getting used to it, and it'll be months before we can try for a Germanian title. This could be a problem.

Any way to shortcut things with a Tristainian title? We've got Henrietta's favor, but combat buffs aren't gonna cut it. Commoners can already become knights, the locals already have soldier mods, and the modern Germanian ones get used on enlisted, not on officers. We'd need to hack our auxilia into acting like proper noble magic, outward rather than inward.

External effects. Don't know that telepathy with our little mistress counts, since that's between master and familiar. What about understanding other familiars? If we learn to do that, and then parley that into broader telepathy, and maybe work out some sort of attack mode . . .

Three sequential hacks, if they're even possible, to develop a psi-blast or whatever. In less time than it'll take to refine the revolver designs? Yeah, right.

The other external effect we've shown is evaluating the weapon we're holding when we go into combat mode. Although we might've been doing that before we discovered combat mode. Either way, it's a subconscious reflex, so hacking it won't be as easy as upgrading our universal auxilia to permit telepathy. Which took us almost all spring, so no, this won't be a shortcut to Tristainian nobility either.

Probably. We should get Mr. Colbert to check what we're doing anyway, just in case there's something we figure out.

A glance out the window show that it was about time to get up, so he reached out and nudged Louise's mind.

"-rietta, stop hoarding the blueburries," she mumbled.

["Blueberries?"] So when are those in season?

"Jason? Nnn, I ha to hide thm frst," his little mistress slurred.

Uh, what? He started tapping her head with a forefinger, until her eyes opened and focused on him.

"Wha-?" Her eyes widened. "I'm awake, I'm awake!"

"Glad to hear it. So, dreams about blueberries?"

Louise blushed and pulled back, shaking her head and waving her hands. "No, no, nothing about that!"

He smirked. ["Ah. Wicked dreams about blueberries. Shall I go find some?"]

His little mistress stared at him for a moment, still blushing, but then started giggling as she pulled herself back to him and laid her head back on his shoulder. "No, that's for me to do. Are you feeling better?"

"Yep. So we'd better get the day started."

She snuggled up tight for a moment, but then sighed and let go. ["You might be right about trying to marry soon,"] she admitted as she rolled out of bed. ["It's still a little scary, and I want to finish my studies at the Academy before we have children, but-"]

He raised an eyebrow. ["Pretty sure there's reliable contraception, since Kirche isn't a mother. But either way, that's for the future. Today we train."]

Mr. Colbert spotted them while jogging and took the opportunity to give Jason an exercise regimen for the morning. And it was a good thing that none of the equipment he'd been shown at the gymnasium needed a spotter, because it was frankly embarrassing how much harder the assigned workout was compared to what he'd been doing on his own.

Judging by the occasional mental snarl over their bond, Louise found her early-morning practice with Ignite to be similarly challenging, so heading over to the professor's suite for breakfast proved a welcome reprieve for them both.

"We're going to need this afternoon off, too," Jason said as they sat down to eat. "It's got to do with things we can't talk about."

"Things," Mr. Colbert repeated skeptically.

"Yeah. Things. Like what you figured out earlier."

The professor didn't look entirely convinced, but then shrugged. "Very well. De Gramont, I expect you'll want to practice this morning, and then I'll work with you this afternoon on the best way to improve the performance of your vernacula."

The blond nodded, and set to eating.

Hey, we never really got the chance to ask, yesterday. "Speaking of training, how were you able to make those clanks in one night?"

That resulted in a slightly stiff look from Mr. Colbert. "I once had the opportunity to acquire a copy of the commentary on the dissection of Herr Drosselmeyer's lost mannequin," he replied. "It's provenance was questionable – by then most of the copies had already been destroyed – but the observations therein have proven their worth in the years since."

"Ah. Explains how you could Empower them so easily, too."

"Well, no," the professor replied, shaking his head. "Herr Drosselmeyer's mannequins rely on wound springs, and slaves working discreetly in the background to keep them wound up." He smiled. "Earlier this spring, I designed nobilia that will move back and forth, so that I could invent the machines to convert that into rotary motion. They require a mage to Empower, but provide greater motive force and last far longer than the springs did. My . . . you called them 'clanks'?"

Jason nodded. "That's what they're called, in certain stories that describe similar machines."

"Ah. Well, they're crude compared to the original mannequins, but they'll serve their purpose."

"So Guiche is training this morning, but what are we doing?"

Mr. Colbert passed over a quarterstaff. "Now that you've exercised your combat auxilum, I'm hoping to discern more about the precise effects it's having on you. For example, which elements are they part of?"

"Okay. So . . . Detect Magic? Analyze Dweomer?"

"You aren't a nobilum," Louise scoffed. "He'll use the Discern spells."

"Spells?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "How many?"

"Most of the advanced Discern praesta won't help with familiar powers," the professor replied calmly. "They're designed to help tease out the figura of spellcasting, after all. But just as I used Discern Arcana to verify that you were indeed the familiar that Miss Vallière summoned, and then Discern Ignem to verify that she was producing fire directly from her magic, I hope to use them to begin to understand what your auxilum is doing."

"Seems to mostly act on how I think and feel, to be honest."

Mr. Colbert smiled. "Your master is of Fire, which governs the nerves, so I'm hardly surprised at that. But it also seemed to sustain you until it failed, and that would suggest Air or Water, or perhaps both."

Jason nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Ready to cast?"

"Yes."

He brandished his staff. "I am the guardian of the cutest rosecrown, wielder of the brand of Gandálfr!"

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but it did seem to be getting easier. And seeing his little mistress's pleased blush didn't hurt.

"Interesting. One more time, please."

He nodded again. "Sure." Turning it off would probably be harder in actual battle, but that wasn't a bad thing. At long as he could keep his power going, anyway. While practicing, turning it on was the tricky part. "'I do not aim with my hand. He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye.'"

Mr. Colbert smiled again. "It's as I suspected. There's Fire at work in your brain and along your nerves. Most noticeable when you begin to use your power, then fading until it's nearly imperceptible, unless one knows where to Discern."

"What about the staff?" Jason asked. "One of the things that happens is that I'm informed of how combat-worthy the weapon is."

"Hmm. Release your power and reactivate it."

He did so. "'Hope is a moment now long past/The shadow of death is the one I cast.'"

It took another two activations before Mr. Colbert was willing to share his observations.

"Very interesting," he finally said. "Just before the flare of Fire across your nerves, there seems to be a smaller pulse, again almost unnoticeable without careful observation, that flashes across the weapon in your hand."

"So my power does check out my weapon as part of activating. Except . . . how long does that take?"

"In less than the blink of an eye, once you finish your litany."

Jason blinked. "It waits until I'm finished. No activity before then?"

"Correct," Mr. Colbert confirmed. "If you're thinking that with practice you might be able to dispense with your litany entirely, I agree."

"Yeah, that sounds plausible. Then I'll just need to always have a weapon in one hand, and I can react to any sudden threat."

The professor shook his head. "It would be impractical to always brandish a weapon. Especially in formal situations, which is why assassins sometimes favor attacking when everyone will need a heartbeat or two to draw their wands."

"Damn." Should've taken the karate classes when we were a kid, then we could think of our bare hands as . . . wait a second!

"Hey, Siesta!" Jason called out across the field.

She jogged over from the berm where she'd taken shelter and smiled at him. "Yes?"

"You're the one who knows the clothing people, so could I ask you to talk to them? I need leather gloves made, with, uh, let's say detachable fingers, a space where a lead disc can be inserted in the palm, and another space where I can attach brass knuckles."

She frowned in thought. "I think I know who to talk to for that. How nice do you want them to look?"

He shrugged. "I don't need them to look nice at all, at least for now. I want to test an idea, so something they can make quickly."

Siesta nodded and hurried off.

Meanwhile Louise was giving Jason an annoyed look. "I was going to start practicing soon. Why do you suddenly need those gloves?"

"Was that not clear?" Mr. Colbert asked in return. "We may not know what his power considers to be a weapon, but if they suffice then he'll always be armed."

Her eyes widened briefly, then she grinned. "Well! That kind of cleverness is exactly what you'd expect from my familiar."

Jason found himself blushing a bit. "Come on, I'm not smart all the time."

Mr. Colbert smiled slightly. "I've worked with worse assistants, and I wouldn't have thought to employ the tricks of a slum bravo. Even a cestus would draw more attention. In any event, we've confirmed that your combat power makes use of Fire. Can you think of any way to test for activity in the other elements?"

"Uh . . . is this another teaching moment?"

The professor only smiled a little wider.

"Right. Well, you said Air and Water earlier, and something was keeping my legs functioning until my power ended, so . . .

"Okay, my power lets me push myself farther than I could on my own. I don't feel the full effects – my legs aren't on fire, I'm not gasping for air – until it ends. And I'm not dying, so it's definitely helping with muscle and endurance, which is Water and Air." Jason then blinked as another thought dawned. "And it's using up what's available, so using it shouldn't make it harder for me to get into shape. The opposite, even."

"Then where do you think I should Discern?" Mr. Colbert asked. "Where does your reasoning lead?"

Yeah, definitely a teaching moment. "You might try looking for Water magic in my belly, since I'm still a bit too fat. Assuming my power was well-designed, it might be pulling what my body needs from my fat reserves. If not, then just my muscles in general."

That got a nod. "And Air?"

We didn't pass out from lack of oxygen, so- "I'd check my lungs. It had to have been increasing my ability to absorb oxygen."

Mr. Colbert frowned. "To absorb what?"

"Uh, sorry, oxygen is one of the vapors that normal air is composed of. The second-greatest part, in fact. Our lungs pull it from the air we breath in, and our blood carries it to our muscles, where it's used in the, er, natural alchemy of the body."

The professor's eyebrows rose. "Interesting. That sounds rather similar to modern theory of spiritus nitroaereus. Do you know how to prove it?"

Jason blinked. "Well, there's a demonstration that we do in our classes on natural philosophy – it uses a fire to burn away oxygen, I can show it to you in your suite – but I don't quite recall the logic chain of the proof. Although you're smarter than me, so you could probably reconstruct it easily enough."

"I shall have you demonstrate it, then," Mr. Colbert replied with a slight smirk. "Kaita the Gust is a vigorous advocate of phlogiston theory, after all, and considers spiritus nitroaereus to have been conclusively discredited."

"Kaita . . . the Air professor you destroyed in a duel? Is something wrong with him?"

"Something wrong?" The older man's tone grew chiding. "Jason, I fear that it would be most improper to observe that a fellow professor is a bore, a windbag, or an insufferable ass, especially in front of a student such as your master, so I must decline to answer your question."

Louise choked, clearly doing her best not to laugh. "Thank you for the – lesson on academic – etiquette," she managed to say before having to clap her hands over her mouth.

It was hard not to snicker along with her. "Right. So, time to test for Air and Water?"

"Indeed."

"Then: SPOON!"

Nothing happened, aside from a pair of odd looks being directed his way.

Jason smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, just checking something." Maybe we can learn to do without the litany, but it looks like if we use one, it can't be too silly. "'Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet! Lest we forget, lest we forget!'"

Mr. Colbert waved his wand and chanted yet again. "There is a trace of Air in your lungs. Perhaps it would be stronger if you were sparring, but I can Discern it at the moment with sufficient care." More wand-waving. "But I sense nothing in your belly. Perhaps because you've not needed it yet."

"Perhaps. So wait until I've been sparring for a bit and check again?"

"Yes, I think that would be best." The professor paused. "Your vis has proven to replenish while you sleep, so it seems likely that Retribution designed your auxilum to cease before you harm yourself through over-exhaustion. Therefore your capacity is mostly likely to expand by using it as much as you're permitted. So try to exhaust it before lunch. Then you may demonstrate your proof of 'oxygen', and be released this afternoon for your hidden purpose."

"Sounds like a plan."

The minstrel's name, as introduced by Siesta when she brought him up to the bedroom suite, was Bill Voulge. He was a nimble-looking man who was probably in his late twenties or early thirties.

"And a pleasure it is to be makin' your acquaintances," he declaimed after bending over Louise's hand. "Scarron's lovely daughter was after sayin' you had a commission in mind." Then he smiled crookedly. "And asked for me in particular, knowing I've little love for Reconquista."

"Glad to hear it, but could you elaborate on that?" Jason asked.

"Oh, they speak prettily enough, promises fit for Brimir's own heaven once the kings are cast down, and yet . . . they say much the same behind closed doors to the restless of the nobles, how much better things will be once the kings no longer hold them back. And pardon my frank tongue, but the next time I see a lord take liberty of law and custom for the good of aught but his own will be the first."

Louise stiffened, and her closed expression was a warning sign to anyone who knew her well enough, so Jason put a calming hand on her shoulder before she said anything about the less than flattering assessment of her class. "You forgot the part where those who sign up get experience in betraying their families, peers, and rulers. Exactly the sort of people we all want running things, eh?"

"I'd not thought of that," Bill admitted, "but the gossip under the stairs is that nobles rarely lack experience in scheming."

["Don't blow up at him, little mistress. Pretty sure he's seeing how far he can push."] "Mm. Sharp-edged words vs. daggers in the night and a quick spell in the back of one who trusted you. I'd say there's a line to be crossed, there. I mean, who could ever really trust a traitor afterward? And that's what they'll all be, the ones in charge if Reconquista wins."

"Well, now, that you may have the right of. I've kin in the Isles of Twilight, and if their words are guarded since they fell to Reconquista last year, they've yet to spare a good word for Cromwell since their lords went over to him."

["Isles of Twilight? Those the same islands that Wales mentioned?"]

["Yes,"] Louise replied shortly.

"Okay, then. I'm hoping to commission an anti-Reconquista song or two. We can pay-"

Whoops, didn't actually set that part up. ["We can pay, right?"]

["I saved most of what we were given for the mission in Bruxelles, and most of the tips I earned. We can pay, but you should have asked first."]

["Yeah, I should have. Sorry."] "We can pay in coin, and I'd also like to offer you several new songs from my homeland."

"New songs, is it?" Bill's eyebrows shot up. "Aye, and if I like them I'll consider it a handsome trade indeed."

"Excellent. The first song I want is to be about Cromwell. I really don't care how you go about it, I just want you to mock him as craven, immoral, treacherous, contemptible, and utterly lacking in manhood. Emphasis on mock. The point is to make something so funny that people keep singing the lyrics to themselves for amusement alone."

Voulge smirked. "Easily done, if you don't object to the lyrics being a bit low-minded."

"That's even better, especially if the listeners end up sniggering to themselves over the low-mindedness. The second song I want you to compose will be a bit more complex: I want a tragic ballad.

"The subject is a beautiful Albionian lass with two suitors. One of them is the younger son of a noble, unlikely to inherit and too craven to fight for King James. The other is a commoner with a solid, steady trade, and thus has better prospects than the cadet noble. The lass needs to be spirited but kindhearted, with just enough magic that she could be accepted into the nobility, but not so much that she's forced there. She's a blessing to all the commoners who seek her help as a hedge-mage, and so on.

"Then Reconquista comes along, and the craven younger son conspires to kill his family and rebel against the king. But when he comes to her, boasting, the lass refuses him. For although he's now rich, he's also a kin-slayer, and who could ever trust such?

"And then King James is murdered, and the noble demands her hand, but she refuses him again, for who could ever give their heart to a traitor? Instead she betroths herself to the commoner."

Bill nodded along to all of the description. "Aye, and this is where it takes a turn for the tragic."

"Yep. The lord has the commoner arrested on the flimsiest of excuses, and sentenced to hard labor. But the commoner escapes, and prepares to flee to the continent with his beloved. Then they're captured again, and the commoner is sentenced to certain death: Conscription into the army being raised to go fight the elves.

"As for the lass, the noble imprisons her in a high tower, and forces a marriage upon her in mockery of all law and custom, and despoils her. But she endures, hoping against hope that her true love will survive and make his way back to her.

"Until, that is, she hears the whispers upon the wind that tell her of the cruel – but, of course, brave – death wrought upon her beloved by the elves. Then, being able to stand the touch of her false husband no more, she gathers all her magic and jumps from the tower, gliding out to sea until she's exhausted and falls to her death in the ocean far below."

There was a moment of silence as the minstrel digested the story.

"Well," Voulge finally said, looking slightly appalled. "Don't you just have the most morbid imagination?"

"Can you do it? Will it work?"

"Oh, aye, it'll work. Lasses sigh when they hear the song about the harp strung with the dead girl's hair. They'll positively weep for this when I'm done with it.

"If those are what you wish me to compose, then what about the songs you'd give me as payment?"

Jason pulled out the papers he had. "The music, plus the best translations we were able to come up with. You might need to polish those some more."

"Well, if you say so." Bill looked through the music, and frowned. "There is a wee difference 'tween harpsichord and fiddle, I fear. Can you sing well enough to give me the sense of it?"

Jason and Louise glanced at each other. ["That makes all too much unfortunate sense."]

["Can you show him your phone?"]

["Show him? Yes. But then I've got to figure out how to keep him from trying to steal it."]

Finally, he shrugged. "Ever hear of a story where a clever rogue steals a one-of-a-kind artifact from its present owner, and parlays that into fortune and glory?"

["There's a lot of those kinds of stories, Jason."]

But Bill was already speaking. "Aye, and right popular they are! Do you have such a tale to share, then?"

"No, I've got the other version. Where the artifact can only be commanded in a language that no one has ever heard of, where the owner can track it by an unknown, unseen, unheard signal from dozens of leagues away, and where mishandling by the ignorant will cause it to break down and cease its mysterious functions altogether."

The minstrel, who'd been leaning forward a bit, rocked back slightly. "Methinks that last would make a relic all but useless. Why craft something that breaks upon the least mistreatment?"

"Because if I knew the way back to my homeland, I could always buy another. What I'm speaking of, what I'm about to show you, can do a number of things I find useful. But if it's stolen, or broken, I cannot get another unless I somehow divine the secret paths that lead to the land of my forefathers. Brimir knew the way, but I've not heard if he entrusted the mystery to anyone else.

"Bill, you're a likable fellow, but I do not want to find myself in either story. Although if I am forced to it, I will do my best to make sure it is the second kind of story. Alright?"

If he was rattled, Voulge didn't show it as he sighed dramatically. "Would you have me give up my very own chance at a hero's role? Alas, unkind fortune! Ah well, if you have them for true, a dozen and more new songs is windfall enough for this poor fiddler."

"I really hope so." With that, Jason brought out his phone and pulled up the first of the songs that he'd written out.

Bill breathed out slowly after it finished. "Aye, I see why you'd not wish to risk such an heirloom. You say you cannot return home. Yon slab, then, is merely a record of such music, preserved through uncanny artifice?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It's just the sound, preserved, as you say, by artifice."

"And with such devices, if one could gather such minstrels as are not seen together more than once a generation, why, their combined genius could be preserved for the ages!"

"Well-" Jason blinked. "Yes. We do that rather often, back where I'm from. Of course, a lot of people think they have more genius than they really do."

The minstrel chuckled. "Aye, I'm no stranger to the pride of my colleagues. But," he took a deep breath, "if it please you, I should be honored to hear what your people accomplish when they exert themselves."

Oh. For him, this is . . . and how can we say no? But what to play? Aha! "Alright. Here's an example of a climax, written to celebrate a great victory." Good thing it's as nice as it is, 'cause a cheap phone wouldn't have speakers up to the job.

Bill nodded appreciatively at the horns sounding in the beginning, and the intricate string-work following. But then both he and Louise started in surprise as the first of the cannons went off in the finale of the 1812 Overture.

"Your people-" he began after it ended, but then cut short and shook his head. "Cannons as instruments. Unbelievable, if I'd not heard it myself."

"It was a very great victory, and much needed by the victors. The composer felt it would not do without cannons."

As it turned out, the minstrel had invented a shorthand system for copying down songs as he listened to them, since the performer might not be inclined to repeat it, or share it afterward. It meant there was time, after giving him the sheet music and playing them all on the phone, to go through a few more.

"And you only wished to commission a pair of songs," Bill noted, smiling at the irony, as they worked out how to turn The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald into The Fall of Newcastle. "But 'tis worth it, to poke Reconquista in the eye. And nearly as much to poke fun at the Romalians and their stuffy ways."

"Heh, yeah." For while Siesta hadn't known of kilts, apparently robes were common apparel for men in Romalia, while leggings were used almost everywhere else. Call it petty revenge on that merchant asshole for bringing his spoiled brats and being dicks to all the faeries at the Inn.

The minstrel took his leave somewhat after sundown, with a good two dozen new songs for his repertoire, a somewhat heavier purse, and a jaunty rhythm to his walk.

Jason was smiling at the afternoon's work, until he turned to see Louise looking rather pensive. "Something wrong, little mistress?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I know it can be a hard life as a commoner, and you keep hearing how they're ungrateful for their lot, but I thought that was exaggerated."

"I beg your pardon?" Is she still pissed about what he said at the beginning?

Louise grimaced. "I'm not saying that I like having Cromwell rule the White Isle, but if their noble supports him, it's the duty of commoners to follow his lead."

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Even if what the noble is doing is wrong?"

"Yes!" she insisted. "I know you don't live a simple life like they do, but that's what being a landed noble is about. Your magic ensures that your commoners can prosper, and they have an obligation to submit to your leadership."

Shit. This is going to be tricky. "So, just as an example of how it all works: When Motte tried to raid the Academy for women to go along with his new title, that was all fine and dandy?"

Louise frowned. "That was more like poaching, and very crass."

"Yeah, but assuming he could pressure the Headmaster into agreeing – and apparently he could, at least for Siesta – then it was all right by law and custom?"

Her mouth looked like she was sucking on a lemon. "Father says that it's shameful to seize peasants from their families, and unwise."

"But is it legal?"

"Only after Grandfather gave fealty to Tristain!"

"Little mistress." Jason gave her a very level look. "After what I've seen, you're not convincing me that the modern nobles govern with any real justice. Rather that they rule by the power of their magic, and abuse that rule to sate whatever unseemly appetites they're subject to. And claim the approval of Brimir as they do so."

"Y-y-you-!" Her expression turned furious, and she reached up to slap him with all the rage that she could muster.

He rubbed the sore spot on his cheek. Smooth, genius. Roll that natural one. "I'll grant that my words were provocative. If that's not enough . . . I suppose it might be best if I sleep on my own mattress tonight. Unless you wish me to leave this room."

Louise twitched, then bared her teeth. "And where do you think you'd go!" she growled.

Where . . . oh, right. Siesta. "I think Mr. Colbert might be generous enough to put me up for the night."

She was still glaring, but stopped looking like she wanted to bite, and pointed at his air mattress. "You can sleep there. You are not dismissed from this room or from me, do you understand?"

Jason smiled, very faintly . . . but stopped smiling when his little mistress backed away as he leaned down to try to kiss her goodnight.

The mattress was infinitely lonelier than he recalled.

Unseeing eyes stared back at him through the darkness, as he raised the sword-wand high, then plunged it into the neck of the unlucky bastard beneath him. Blood sprayed everywhere, he could taste it, feel it dripping down his hands, off his chin, staining the ground below him, staining red the long, silken hair-

His victim's eyes opened – when had they closed? – and Louise stared at him, sword-wand still buried deep in her throat.

"Jason?" she cried, panicking, and he recoiled in horror, body convulsing as he-

-Fell off the air mattress, onto a surprisingly soft patch of wood.

There was a choking sound beneath him. ["Jason? You're crushing me, I can't breath!"]

One shocked moment of realization later, and he quickly rolled off his little mistress onto the floor. She sat up, and they froze, staring at each other.

"Louise? Are you okay?"

"Am I-?" she began, before lunging for him, nearly making him fall over as she wrapped her arms around him and held tight. "You were . . . it sounded like you were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you, but then you jerked and rolled off your mattress-"

"Onto you." Note to self: Add planking to our personal workout. Our arms need to be able to take our weight during sex, so we don't squish her. "Sorry about that."

She shook her head. "What were you dreaming about, anyway?"

"Oh, I don't know if-" ["One of the men I had to kill. My revolvers were empty, and we ended up as close together and you and I are now, before I took his sword-wand and pinned his throat to the ground. It . . . was a vivid death."]

Louise squeezed him even tighter. ["Do you dream about that often?"]

["No, just when-"]

Jason paused as he spotted the pattern. Granted, only two positive data points, but we'd rather not experiment. ["Just when we're not sleeping next to each other."]

She sighed, and slumped in his arms. ["I'm not sleeping well either. And I'm not letting you go back to that dream. Come back to bed with me, where you belong."]

He couldn't help but smile, even as he yawned and obeyed. "What time is it, anyway?"

"A little after midnight." Once she had him under the blankets, she snuggled up close, laying her head on his shoulder. "But I'm still very angry with you."

"Louise, it speaks well of your family that your parents act honorably towards their people. But I still say that it seem like vile behavior towards commoners is accepted, tolerated, and even justified by those in power."

Her hands clenched into fists against him. "Do you want to go back to the mattress?"

"Uh," he replied carefully, "no. This is much nicer."

In response, she pulled the collar of his nightshirt down and bit him. ["You can be so exasperating!"]

It was almost worth a chuckle. ["I don't doubt it."]

["And if you're so certain of the problem, how would you fix it?"]

["Now that, I don't know."]

That got her to lift her head up in surprise. "You don't-?"

"Your peoples' magic is very powerful and quite flexible. It's no surprise the mages rule as nobles, and I can't see that changing easily."

Louise sighed and turned her face away from him. "So you'd have to be rid of all the mages," she concluded quietly.

Sadly.

"No!" Jason hastened to reassure her. "Why would I want that glory – that beauty – to pass from the world?"

She twitched in his arms. "You . . . that doesn't sound very Protestant at all!"

Uh, directives regarding Canaanite religious practices aside . . . "Come again?"

"You were talking like a Protestant tonight, how nobles are corrupt and with no one to restrain them!"

"Well, yes, that much is quite evident."

Louise growled. "So are you a Protestant or not?"

"Little mistress, the only Protestant I know is Agnes, and while I don't know her that well, she seems pretty devoted to Henrietta. Anyway, why would I necessarily think like a local Protestant?"

"They say it's the only solution," she muttered in reply. "Get rid of the nobles, and let the commoners live in peace."

Jason let out a cynical bark of laughter. "No, they wouldn't. People are people, and there's always someone willing to lie, steal, or cheat if they think it'll give them the advantage."

"So what would you do?"

["What I want to do is find a way to give everyone magic, or at least their children. I especially don't want our children to be at a disadvantage because their magical heritage is lacking, after all."] "If we can't penetrate the mystery of magic that's held in the blood of the nobles, then the next best thing is to develop tools that let commoners use magic that way. But either solution is far beyond the scope of what I can personally do right now."

Louise drew in a sharp breath. ["You're right, it would be good if we could ensure that our children have strong magic."] "But, what about justice? If you think the nobles violate the will of Brimir-"

"I do understand the appeal of justice," he interrupted, "but, 'Sing, swing, savor the sting/As she severs you, Madame Guillotine'. We adapted it to be Henrietta taking vengeance on Reconquista, but the original was a song about zealous fools during a time known as the Reign of Terror. You should be very cautious about punishing someone simply for what they were born as and how they were raised.

"No, I'll leave the question of retribution to One who is a more perfect judge than I. Or to the lawfully appointed courts, once all are made equal in the eyes of the law."

"You were chosen by Retribution." Then Louise was quiet for a long moment. "Sometimes you can be very confusing, Jason."

He chuckled ruefully. ["We wouldn't be the first couple to have that problem. But are we good? Because we should try to sleep, if we can."]

["I'm not happy, but I'm not angry with you anymore."] With that she reached up with her head, kissed him, then snuggled in and closed her eyes. It did not take long for her breathing to grow regular, and Jason soon followed her into slumber.

"Why'd you take so long?" Siesta demanded, just after she burst into the bedroom the next morning. "They were ready to measure your hands after supper!"

Jason finished the current set of illicit bicycle kicks, then stood up. "Sorry about that. We ended up localizing a few more songs, and that took the rest of evening."

Her eyes widened. "New songs? Can I see them? Has anyone else heard them?"

"Guess that depends on if Bill's had a chance to play for anyone yet. But here." He sat down, reached for the copies he'd kept-

And grunted in surprise as the maid promptly plopped herself down in his lap, smiling at him sweetly.

Behind her, Louise stiffened.

["Little mistress, help! She's squishing me!"]

The rising flush of anger faded, and pink eyes framed by pink hair went slightly wide. ["She's 'squishing' you?"]

["Yes! Down there!"]

Her look turned thoughtful. But then, instead of coming to his rescue, Louise smiled evilly. "Why don't you sing for us, Jason?" she said in a syrupy-sweet voice. "The World Pausing at the White Isle, and then you can do Newcastle Falls."

He tried not to whimper. His morning wood had already subsided, so the surprise lapfull of warm girl wasn't as painful as it might have been . . . but Siesta was noticeably heavier than his little mistress. And he couldn't think of a way to get untangled that didn't taunt Murphy.

Let's just hope we aren't singing soprano by the time this is over. "'Dawn brings no light/The moons have hidden . . .'"

It didn't help that Bill Voulge had insisted on adding several verses to the rewrite of Time Stands Still (At the Iron Hill). It made sense, yes, as the original song skipped the actual battle between Fingolfin and Morgoth. The minstrel had heard no few uncanny rumors surrounding Cromwell, which had been put to good effect to depict the leader of Reconquista as a blasphemous foe of all things Brimiric.

And at least we've now got copies that let us sing 'em to fit meter and rhyme in Tristainian, even if we can't hear it.

But those several new verses still meant that many more minutes of Siesta in Jason's lap, and as softly rounded as her hips were she was still more weight on his trapped testes than his little mistress could supply, and trying to free them would still be a challenge to the dark god of engineering and endeavor that Murphy would never pass up!

Fortunately, the adaptation of The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald wasn't as long, so when he started on that he knew he was more than halfway done.

And finally he made it to the final verse, a repetition of the first, declaring that the legend of the Valiant would live on forever throughout Halkagenia.

The maid sniffed loudly as he finished, wiping her eyes and tossing her raven hair free of her face. "That," she said in a shaky voice, "do you think it's true? That they could have won the day if they'd had their Valiant alongside them?"

"Prince Wales thought so."

Siesta sniffed again, then slid out of his lap.

Finally!

"I need to go help with breakfast," she said, and then smiled through eyes that still looked a bit watery. "And you need to come with me after breakfast if you want your gloves!"

So saying, Siesta quickly leaned in, kissed his cheek, and hurried out of the bedroom.

Jason wasted no time in giving himself room to decompress, and then shot a dark look at his little mistress. "I didn't ask for that, you know."

"Are you going to try to tell me that commoners aren't conniving?" Louise replied archly.

"Anyone can be conniving, if they aren't the ones in charge." He stood up and stood a bit bowlegged. ["You realize that I could have justified putting my hands all over her in the interests of freeing my manhood."]

["Hmph."] Her eyes narrowed. ["She definitely wants to be in your household."]

["Yeah."] He sighed. ["Sorry about that. I honestly can't figure out when she went from being afraid I'd ravish her to trying to catch my eye."]

["She's going to be trouble."]

Jason snorted. ["She already is trouble. But don't you like having someone around who gets you into mischief? Like with Henrietta?"]

An indignant look came over Louise's face. ["I do not-"]

["Little mistress,"] he interrupted, ["you were the one who dragged a man and a maid into the ladies' baths. I've heard the story of the young man who thought he was invisible and tried to sneak in. Congratulations, you succeeded where he failed. You even got the man into one of the pools wearing nothing but a towel, and with a charming young woman on either side. Mischief managed."]

["I-"] She fell silent for a long moment, and then her jaw dropped open.

"You s-said that when y-you arranged with your m-maid to expose Guiche de Gramont's p-peccadillo! D-did y-y-you arrange t-to-!"

Aw, shit! "No!" he quickly interrupted. "I was going to go into the men's side. All you needed to do was keep her from following me."

Then Jason shrugged. ["Unless you wanted to bathe with me. In which case I'm going to start wearing my swimsuit to practice instead of my regular underwear."]

["Unless I-"] Louise repeated, her cheeks flushing.

["And no, we can't wash each other off in here. Same reason I can't dress you anymore, too dangerous."]

["Oh."] Then her eyes widened, and she scowled. ["But you could join her in the servants' bathhouse!"]

He raised an eyebrow. ["Remember that letter your parents sent? If I do that with Siesta – hell, probably if it just looks like I'm bedding her – they'll move me out of here and into married quarters with her. It would mean no more private time with you."]

["Oh!"] She paused. ["That's why you haven't tried to lie with her yet. I should have known you were being prudent again."]

Jason blinked, and fought an urge to facepalm. ["Or maybe, despite your mother's warning, I don't want to take a mistress when I already want to marry you."]

Louise's eyes widened again, and then she whirled around so that he couldn't see her face, as she stood there shaking. ["Y-you, you don't have to only-"]

["Maybe,"] he interrupted, before she could give permission for something she'd clearly regret. ["Rich men take concubines in a lot of cultures, even if their religion says it's wrong. But can't I choose otherwise?"]

Her hands clenched into fists, and she raised them to her eyes with a scrubbing motion. "But why would anyone choose t-the Z-"

"That's not who you are," he said firmly. "Don't you remember?"

Her hands lowered, and his little mistress whirled to glare at him once more. "You didn't know what you were saying!" she hissed.

Jason folded his arms and gave her a very level look in reply. "So? Happenstance or not, I wasn't wrong. Thermobara. Heavy Flame. Louise the Firestorm." Then he smirked. "If you don't feel ready for that, I could call you Louise the Siegebreaker instead, since we know you can breach earthworks."

"Call me-"

Louise suddenly laughed, and bounced over to him. "Sit down again!" she demanded.

And once he had a lap she sprang into it, whereupon she just about chewed away the kiss that Siesta had left.

["Feeling better, I take it?"]

His little mistress laughed again. "It is good to have friends here," she admitted. "But you need to make sure you stay prudent, and out of trouble!"

"I plan to." Might end our friendship, when we have to let Siesta down. Hell, we should have told her already, if it didn't threaten revealing our agreement with Louise.

But we do plan to.

"So how'd practice go yesterday?" Jason asked as they all sat down to breakfast.

"It went well," Guiche replied. "Mr. Colbert showed me what was wrong with the stance of my valkyries, that allowed him to knock them off balance so easily."

"It's a common weakness, when soldiers haven't quite learned how their balance is different in their armor," the professor noted. "The de Gramont vernacula, articulated as they are, clearly depend on principles of balance that most conjured vernacula ignore."

"They're already moving more easily!" the blond Earth mage gushed. "And that should only improve as I practice with them!"

He paused. "And how are your studies faring, Miss Vallière?"

"I'm getting closer with Ignite, and my explosions are more capable than I'd expected, but-" She grimaced. "Nothing by comparison, I'm afraid."

"Oh," Guiche replied sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Dammit, what can we- "Hey, Mr. Colbert? Since we have all summer, what would Louise need to do to learn Shield?"

"Ordinarily," came the dry response, "I would say that your master must become a Line, first."

She scowled.

"But as we are speaking of Miss Vallière," the professor went on, "and cannot say with surety whether she is a Dot, Line, or even Triangle-"

"A Triangle!?" Guiche repeated incredulously.

"It is possible," Mr. Colbert told him. "Her explosion can rival the spells of Miss Zerbst, for all that her magic is otherwise awry."

The blond looked dubious, but didn't protest further.

"Shield requires learning Levitate first," Louise said, starting to sound a bit excited, "but I've already learned it!"

"Nonetheless, your magic is awry," the professor pointed out. "And mages often spend years using Levitate before learning Shield."

That quelled the excitement. "I don't have years," she grumbled.

"No, but much of the difficulty of Shield is in the balance, protecting you from danger without wasting itself on the inconsequential."

"So Louise should be doing balance drills?" Jason asked. "Like what? Trying to dance on the top of water without getting her feet wet?"

"Or support someone else dancing on the surface of the water," Mr. Colbert replied thoughtfully. "Siesta, would you still be willing to help out?"

The maid blinked. "As long as the water isn't too deep," she said, a bit nervously.

"A shallow tray should suffice," her told her reassuringly . . .

". . . and that's one more way that everything becomes different around Jason," Siesta concluded, giggling, as she recounted to her fellow maids what her assistance to Louise's practice would now entail.

"Are you going to dance with her above the water?" one of them asked him, as he held still for the measuring.

"I have my own training to do," he replied warily. The giggles and significant looks over the size of his hands were frankly making him nervous. Does every world develop that bit of superstition?

But the measurements were swiftly taken, and then Jason didn't have time to worry, as the gloves he'd requested were stitched accordingly – it reminded him a bit of the cobbler plying his trade in Farmer's Boy – and fitted to his hands. Along with vambraces that would hold the brass knuckles and lead saps, waiting for the flick of his wrist to slide them into place.

Something else we'll have to practice, whenever we've got a minute.

And daylight was already burning, so as soon as the job was done he and Siesta hurried back out to the range.

"The work looks sound," Mr. Colbert said after a brief inspection. "Are they weapons, according to your power?"

"Well, we're about to find out," Jason replied, shaking his right hand to get the knuckles to slide into place.

And then again. Four more times, before they cooperated.

He sighed. "I will get that, eventually. Anyway, it ought to work."

"Mm. Whether they do or not, I intend to instruct both you and de Gramont in pammachon."

"In what?"

Mr. Colbert smiled faintly. "An ancient Romalian tradition of grappling techniques, at the range where the knife dominates even against the sword-wand. I've found them useful in the chaos of melee, and I believe that you'll both benefit from learning it."

Guiche approached, having apparently heard himself referenced "What am I benefiting from?"

"Training in pammachon."

"Oh." The blond looked like he was sucking on a lemon for a moment. "I never liked those lessons. I always ended up covered in dirt and mud."

"But if you'd mastered the art," Mr. Colbert pointed out, "your vernacula wouldn't have fallen to me so easily. Now, Jason, since you have never had instruction in pammachon, let me demonstrate the basics to you, and then we'll begin the training for today. You may use your gloves, but not the knuckles or the saps."

"Alright." It took a few tries to get the knuckles to slide back. Naturally. "So let's see if these gloves are enough: 'Our lives, our Fortunes, and our Sacred Honor!'"

He was, of course, trying to feel it as his auxilum came alive, the better to eventually master it. The professor had said that was there was a surge if magic in the beginning, so that was his best bet for learning to sense it.

And this time it seemed to Jason that he could almost feel the magic, a pulse that began in his chest and raced across his body and over his gloves like lightning, then back again up his arms. All in less than a heartbeat

Then it hit his head, and he dropped to the ground, screaming.

The world was blurry as he came to, and at first he couldn't distinguish the five different faces looking down him. "Wha-?"

"Your brain seems to be fine," Mr. Colbert's voice said reassuringly. Except it wasn't that comforting.

"The sudden fever is receding," Montmorency's voice pronounced from one of the yellower heads. "But I'm hardly a veterinarian."

"And I'm not an animal," Jason retorted, trying to sit up. "What happened?"

"We don't know!" Louise exclaimed, as she and Siesta moved to help him. "You collapsed when you tried to invoke your auxilum!"

"I-" He shook his head as things began to come into focus. "I think I see. Anyone ever have so much ice-cream that it caused a sudden headache?"

Everyone nodded. Even the maid, although by her blush it may not have been ice-cream she was supposed to have had.

"So, yeah. Too much of . . . well, turns out that there are a lot of rude things you can do to an opponent with your hands."

"There are?" Guiche asked.

Jason gave the other boy an odd look. "Right, you didn't fight much as a kid. But you can use your hands to punch, chop, poke, jab, shove, claw, grab, rip, tear, choke, crush, gouge, and so on. And they all tried to jump into my head at once." He shook his head. "A sudden fever? Yeah, I felt like my mind was burning."

"So the gloves are a failure, then," Mr. Colbert concluded.

"That would suck. And a lot of those attacks would involve my fingers . . ." He trailed off as he started to get to his feet. "You know, I wanted the fingerless option so I didn't have to give up fine manipulation, but it might also limit the moves I could do with the gloves to something manageable."

"You want to try again, so soon?" Louise, by her tone, did not agree with his plan.

"I feel better, now."

She eyed him dubiously, and didn't return to her own practice.

Jason just shook his head, pulled the fingers off his gloves, and with a smile to his little mistress: "Though I stand before the very gates of hell, thou art at my side."

This time it wasn't nearly as bad. Still intense, but everything the gloves threw at his mind used them, so mostly punching. Although they rather liked the idea of blinding people by smacking them in the back of the head with a lead sap.

Quit that. We're gonna learn Mr. Colbert's style before anything else.

"I'm ready," he said out loud, and they began.

One way or another, we're gonna need another soak today.

Sure, he could come up with ideas, and some of them might even work. And sure, his auxilum gave him enough confidence that his movements were smooth and fast, as opposed to his usual care to avoid crashing into everything around him. But Mr. Colbert had trained reflexes, so once the older man decided the sequences of moves he was going to use, he didn't have to waste time thinking about them.

Jason had ended up in the dirt every single time they sparred.

At least Guiche hadn't done any better, once the blond had been pulled into wrestling practice.

"I must confess, this was more invigorating than I anticipated." The professor was leaning on his staff, but that was probably just a pretense of weariness. "Still, we ought to begin the actual training that I'd planned. Jason, instead of the gymnasium, you'll be running today."

"Running?"

"Yes, and without further exhausting your vis. We'll be working with that after luncheon. Nonetheless, I expect you to go a little faster than your usual jogs. To that end: De Gramont!"

"Yes, sir!" The blond straightened a little.

"You'll be practicing moving your vernacula more effectively. Have them chase Jason as he runs around the field. Every time they are able to catch up to him, they must administer one light strike across the buttocks with the haft of their spears."

What!? "Hey, hold on a minute!"

Mr. Colbert's smile turned evil. "You may consider that some additional motivation to keep moving. Now, on my mark: Begin!"

The two younger men took one look at each other.

Guiche began to smile to echo the professor.

Jason took off running.

Any well-researched depiction of boot camp will point out that recruits will push themselves quite a bit further than they knew they could, to avert the wrath of the DI. Which he'd known . . . but now he knew, in his bones, as he staggered on in a bid to keep ahead of the pitiless bronze constructs.

Finally: "Enough!" came the command from across the field.

The clangor of metal joints behind him ceased. But he looked behind to make sure they had stopped before stopping himself.

"Bloody – hell!" he gasped, bent over and desperately trying to catch his breath, as Mr. Colbert approached.

"And now you have some idea of what it feels like to push your body beyond its immediate limits through your own determination."

"Good – training – then."

"Quite, yes. Your master's parents will one day learn I'd had a hand in your conditioning, after all, and I've no intention of letting them think poorly of the result. We'll do this every other day."

"Right." Jason started to straighten up. "Hey, isn't today Voidsday? Why are we practicing?"

Mr. Colbert gave him a patient look. "Do you truly think it disrespectful to Brimir to practice the magic he bestows on us?"

"Oh."

"There are services held in the sanctum, but generally not while students are gone for the summer."

"Right. Now what?"

"Now we break for luncheon."

"I expect to have ear protection ready tomorrow or the day after," Mr. Colbert announced that afternoon at the close of training. "Then we shall resume that project. Fortunately, the training mannequins permit combat practice without my direct supervision, so we shall be able to fit it all into the programme."

Guns, yeah. Can't neglect those. Twenty foot rule or not, they're our hope of a patent of nobility.

Jason hadn't said anything to Louise about cleaning up . . . but wearing his swimsuit as underwear proved to have been a wise choice, for she took one look at the results of him alternately wrestling, running, and sparring, and marched him off to the bathhouse.

Siesta followed, unable to hide her smirk.

"Not in there!" his little mistress snapped as he tried to go to the men's side.

["Again?"] he asked, incredulously.

"As filthy as you are, it'll be good practice," she told him by way of explanation, before directing a mass of soapy water to Flow around him.

The soak that followed began quietly enough. They might not have been pushed to exceed their limits, but the girls had worked hard, and it was good to let weary bodies relax.

But then, and probably at some signal he couldn't see because once more he was keeping his eyes shut, Siesta remarked in an all-too-casual voice, "It's very polite of Jason to keep his eyes closed for us, isn't it?"

"It is, yes," Louise agreed, a clear smirk in hers. "Why, he's so polite we could remove these towels and enjoy the baths the way they were meant to be enjoyed."

At this there were two different sounds of rustling cloth.

Are they really . . . naw. "Sorry. I don't believe you," he said, chuckling. "So I'm not going to open my eyes and prove myself a lecher. But nice try."

Siesta gave a sad-sounding sigh. "He doesn't believe us," she repeated mournfully. "He thinks we're lying."

"No, he's still trying to be polite," Louise disagreed, her voice moving closer. "That's why we can even do something like – this!"

There was a brief press of bare skin against his side, and then a wet towel draped itself across his back. A moment later, there was another press of bare skin against his other side, and a second cloth was laid across the first. Then, by the sound of their giggles, the girls retreated to their original seats.

They . . . no, they can't possibly-!

"I still don't believe it," Jason said, after a moment of wrestling with his conscience. "But alright, congratulations, you got me to look."

Then he opened his eyes, and naturally they were both still clad in their towels, having obviously brought in a second pair for the prank.

"Mischief managed," his little mistress told him, smirking, and both girls started laughing.

He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and did his best to pretend he wasn't blushing furiously. "Sorry, but some temptations are just too much."

"Well, that's why we don't let boys in here," Louise retorted. "Even the politest of you are still going to look, and the rest-!"

"And it's why the men's bathhouse is only cleaned by other men," Siesta agreed. "None of the maids are willing to risk being caught in there by the students."

"Yeah, well, that was funny. But do keep in mind that this needs to be the limit for this kind of teasing."

"Oh, we know," Siesta assured him. Then, smiling demurely: "That's why we kept our towels on."

Jason, after a moment of consideration, retaliated by flicking a handful of water at her face. She squealed, dodged, counterattacked . . . and then Louise laughed merrily and joined in on the maid's side, the little traitor.

Against hopeless odds he nonetheless fought valiantly – although hardly victoriously – until it was time for supper.

A/N:

New Spells: Refresh – Dot of Water. Medical Spell.

Heal – Dot of Water. Medical Spell.

Succor – Dot of Water. Full name is Succor the Ailing. Promotes recovery, without forcing it and undoing the conditioning of exercise and training.

Fortify – Dot of Water. Full name is Succor the Weary. Promotes recovery, without forcing it and undoing the conditioning of exercise and training. As previously described, works like a combo of ibuprofen, caffeine, and vitamins.