Hello, ITalkToSky here.
Another portion I cleaned up. There should be a few portions left before I am done with this thing.
Sh4d0wgh0st: It is my intention to keep the familiar summoning on the second year. But the world should be a very different place by then. Tabitha just needs a little nudge. She feels that nothing she does mattered in the end. But if she didn't have the will, she would have keeled over long ago on the suicide missions Joseph kept sending her to.
00000
Nothing in life came easy. The lesson was hammered into her very being. It would be trying but it would be worth it, Tabitha thought. The magistrate was still out on the second part, but she was very right about the first part.
Predictably, she requested the first book to be a compendium of poison. It was read to her by a magical tool. Such extravagance, Tabitha thought. Magical artifacts never came cheap. They were often custom made, so only nobles with deep pockets were qualified to own them. Hefty price tag also meant that it often fulfilled a more important role. Commissioning one to read a book out loud was the height of decadence. Unfortunately, that was the least of her complaint.
The book might as well be written in an obscure dialect of low Germanian due to how incomprehensible it was. Many terms meant little to her, yet the writer expected the reader to know by heart. A poison was described to damage twenty different things in the body. Tabitha did not even know those twenty different things exist in the human body. She raised the issue the next time she caught Lunaire. He admitted that it was merely to prove a point. Even the introductory books required ample foundational knowledge. He just could not be bothered to argue and would rather her realize herself. Tabitha resented that.
Then, he offered her a book called Introduction to Magic. A triangle mage like Tabitha knew a thing or two about magic, but she held her tongue. It would be terrible if Lunaire decided to make another point at her expense. As Tabitha began jotting down notes of its content though, a word rose in her mind.
Heretical.
Magic was a holy gift that the Founder. It was an ability to manipulate the five elements of the world, bestowed upon his chosen people. But the book rejected such a notion. Magic was merely a normal operation of the world, like how an object fell to the ground. There was nothing divine or special about it, and it certainly did not originate from a single being.
The words upon these pages would damn her several times over. Many burned at the stake for far less. Tabitha was tempted to abandon her endeavors. She would sell her soul to save her mother but not for a false promise.
Except that it was not false.
Sunlight stabbed viciously at her half-lidded eyes and caused her head to throb painfully. Sleep deprivation and her went far back together, so the only obvious evidence was the bags under her eyes. None looked at her closely enough to notice her leaning more on her cane than usual.
"This year's students are just too sorry."
Immediately, displeasure was written on the faces of the students gathering in the central courtyard. Most noble children received some form of magical education prior to entry into the academy. Tabitha reckoned that many were often more used to praise than beratement.
"Mostly dots, few lines, and not even a single triangle mage, the quality only drops year by year." The man continued more subdued, but still amply audible by the students. "Hopeless…But a job is a job."
The heat rose among the crowd. Some outwardly growled, barely holding in a retort. Tabitha only wished that the class would end. Unlike in the theoretical class, she could not continue with her private reading session under the guise of taking notes.
Mr. Quito, the wind magic teacher, began the demonstration for basic spell Flight and Levitation. Every time he rose and fell, he could not seem to resist grumbling under his breath. By the time he finished, the students were raring to disprove his disparaging comments. They began practicing with gusto.
Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Tabitha went through the motion. She mastered those spells years ago. Too many things tried to make a meal out of her not to do so. Tabitha quickly soared up, then descended, a simple success with no embellishment. Contrary to her expectations, Mr. Quito was taken aback.
"For a dot, you flew pretty good." Then he turned to the rest of the class and shouted. "Losing out to the class's youngest. Have you no shame?"
And just like that, the looks from other students became pointier. Sensitive to hostility as she was, Tabitha remained impassive. There was nothing she could do or say to steer the problem away. So, she spent the rest of the class bobbing up and down inconspicuously. Much to her annoyance, Mr. Quito did not leave her alone and continued showing her with condescending praise, sounding so self-satisfied as if he was the one who taught her to fly so well.
It took until after lunch of that day for the other shoes to drop. Tabitha only began to wet her nibs when a boy accosted her. Without hiding or perhaps incapable of hiding the disdain behind his smile, he looked down the length of his nose at her.
"Milady, I would like to exchange pointer in wind magic."
Exchanging pointers was another word for a casual spar. Unlike the more serious affair of dueling, sparring was nominally for training purposes. First contact or blood was usually the name of the game. Given this context, the worst injury would be a few broken bones but nothing life threatening. Tabitha felt no need to humor him for this. The final few chapters of the Introduction to Magic needed to be penned.
"Continue," Tabitha whispered under her breath. Arcane mechanism whirled to life. Lunaire set it up to respond to her command and for that, she was grateful. The device began reading in its monotone.
"There is a limit to rudeness. I am issuing a challenge."
Tabitha offered no reply. Her mental bandwidth was fully occupied with the words in her head.
"So, you don't have what it takes. Understandable, a contest that put one's life on the line is totally different from hoping around a bit in class!" Growing incensed at her disinterest, the boy prattled on. "So. It seems that the rumors of you being a bastard are true. I doubt you even know who your mother is. To feel envious of such lowly person like you would dishonor my family."
Tabitha's quill paused. She looked up from the page, her eyes cold. Placing the feather quill back in the portable inkwell, the young girl stood up just when the boy turned to leave.
"Halt." The word was meant for both the boy and the artifact.
The boy whirled back with a grin. "Heh, finally found you guts?"
Sparing no word, Tabitha walked away from the bench and toward an open area. The boy followed and came to a stop ten meters apart from her. Always eager to hear his own voice, he began.
"Although I rue to give my name to a bastard like you, etiquette demands. I, Verrieres de Lorraine, shall be your opponent."
"…"
"Pitiful. Having not a name to give even at a time like this! There will be no mercy En guarde!"
Immediately, the boy began chanting his spell. From the first few syllables, Tabitha recognized it as the Wind Break. There was not even an attempt to obscure the spell he was using. Thinking this a good opportunity, she closed her eyes briefly.
One of the fundamental skills taught in the Introduction to Magic was the mana sense. Rather than just vague feeling, Tabitha could see the gradual concentration of power as the boy chanted. It was a weak and erratic stream, flowing from the core and gathering at the tip of his wand.
Seeing that the girl merely stood still, the boy grinned savagely, certain of his victory. Wind Break was a rather potent spell in his mind, so a counter for it could not possibly be prepared in time with such a head start. But Tabitha needed no head start.
The spell finished with a bang, but it was not Tabitha who was sent flying.
With a tap of her staff, the air around them fell under her command. A gentle tug returned the spell back to the sender. His form flew against the wall. An immediate follow up came in the form of frozen arrows plunging towards the boy's downed form.
"Ah," he shrieked pitifully.
Supernaturally hard and as thick as his arm, the arrows pinned him to the wall with his clothes. As a coup de grace, one icicle launched toward his face.
"I'm going to die! Save me!"
The ice arrow stopped before his eyes and melted. The others followed suit, drenching the boy in a cold puddle of water when he slumped down. He thew his wand way, began crawling away.
"Please spare me."
Tabitha glanced at the wand on the ground. Obeying a wordless command, it flew into her grasp. Eyeing the pathetic creature writhing on the floor, she approached him, her expression unchanging. Her small frame came to a stop in front of him, earning another shriek.
"Spare me! Let me live! S-sparring's merely a game! Duels where you gamble your life are old history!"
"…"
"Let me go! If you let me live, I'll do anything you say!"
"You forgot this."
Tabitha stuck out the wand. The boy stared at it with incomprehension. A moment passed before the girl dropped the stick at her feet, turned on her heel and walked away. He paid for his insult and had delayed her long enough.
Tabitha finally finished the book after supper. The sun had long since disappeared beneath the horizon. She poured out a helping of tea from the pot and drained the cooled liquid from her cup, letting out a soft sigh. Exhaustion hit her all at once and her frame slumped down. Maintaining full concentration with minimal sleep took a toll. She wanted nothing but to lie down but knew that she could not.
Tabitha waited and waited. After an indeterminate time, she finally heard a loud thud of a wooden door closing.
"Lunaire."
"Oh, Tabitha," the reply sounded bored. "I see you have finished the book."
"Yes."
"You are a complete novice, aren't you?" Lunaire continued plainly. "That book is somewhat of a joke. A half-baked apprentice would have already known everything written in it. The fact that you didn't object to it a few nights ago meant you are worse than that."
There was no judgement in that tone, but Tabitha could not stop the frown creeping up her face. Many mages spent their lives never stepping their feet into the triangle class. Her attaining that stage at such a young age only made it more impressive. But she held her tongue.
"If anything at all in that book is new information, this is never going to work. At first, I thought you just didn't…"
"I know it, just…"
"Do not lie to me." The voice hissed. "You made it clear very quickly you didn't understand the first book, so I gave you that Introduction to Magic. Any magician worth their salt will see it for what it is, even if they don't recognize the title. An insult, that is what it is."
"It's insulting."
"Oh really? So insulting that it took you almost a week to finish?"
Tabitha clawed at her hair, grasping desperately at the frayed lifeline. She tried to think of any answer that would satisfy him. But inwardly, she knew it to be futile. If whatever written inside the book was the lowest of the low, Tabitha could not imagine the knowledge beyond that, let alone pretending to understand it. Her vision blurred.
"Starting at your level, you are never going to attain the level of knowledge to get the diagnosis and then concoct the cure. You have time, but not that much time. There is always the chance that the damage becomes permanent if allowed to fester for even longer. Hell, maybe the circumstances changes and the one poisoning your patient decides to finish the job."
Hic. Hic.
"I am not saying it is completely impossible, but I am just being realistic." Lunaire said sheepishly. "Oh, don't…"
Tabitha folded her legs on her chair. She bit her lips, but the sob kept coming unbidden. Her mind knew that showing weakness at this junction would confirm everything that Lunaire said. That only made more tears spill out.
"Oh, don't cry." That only opened the floodgate wider. "Tabitha, please calm down…Urgh, Tabitha. Tabitha, who is it that you are trying so hard to save."
"M-my…my mother."
"Oh, I see. Uh, what is her name?"
"M-Margot. Margot Arceneaux d'Orléans"
As soon as those words left her mouth, Tabitha froze. What had she done? In her moment of weakness, she had divulged the name of her mother. The wound of the civil war was still fresh. Who on Halkeginia did not know of the gallant Duke of d'Orléans? And by extension, his wife and only known descendent.
"So, I assumed you are Tabitha d'Orléans then?"
Nothing mattered anymore, Tabitha thought as she choked on her own name. "Charlotte Hélène d'Orléans."
"Pretty name, ha ha," Lunaire chuckled awkwardly. "What about your father? Where is he when you worry your pretty head over this."
"Gone."
"…Maybe I should just shut up."
After everything, Tabitha could not hold it together any longer. The words spilled forth. The story of her uncle, her father and mother were laid bare. Only dead silence was her companion as she ground out her words, uncertain whether Lunaire was still listening. Whatever the case, she no longer cared. After her tirade that lasted seemingly an eternity, she finished with a feeling of emptiness inside.
A sigh followed an uncomfortably long pause. "It is a common story."
Anyone with a surface level of Gallian history gathered the same. As the second largest country by landmass and first by population size, its successor had much to gain. Much precedence was set for despicable tactics, so there was not really a need to justify one's actions as long as they win.
"I am surprised that Joseph let you live."
"Dangerous mission, hoping that I die." Tabitha answered with an ember, which she did not know still smoldering in her.
"Is there even a need to be underhanded about it? People already know. Killed your father, turned your mother insane, going for you is just a logical conclusion. He has a blood debt to you."
"A blood debt…"
It was a strange word. She knew what it meant, but it never clicked before.
"He knows that the very moment you are strong enough, you are coming to get him."
"I just want my mother safe." Despite her cheeks drying, her voice was still choked with tears.
"Charlotte, you naïve girl."
Charlotte.
Her shoulders trembled. The name sounded foreign to her. Many still called her by that name. Scant few did so genuinely. Most merely wished to mock her, to deprive her of her name of choice, Tabitha. Their poisonous tongues taunted her even in her dreams. How long had it been since a stranger addressed her so? Charlotte.
"Joseph won't leave the both of you alone. Doubly so with the lady d'Orléans of sound mind."
"What do you say I do then?"
"You fight. This is beyond any point of dialogue."
A familiar word, fight. Since that hellish night, Charlotte never knew peace.
"How?"
"You have access to one of the greatest repositories of knowledge in the world and you quibble with me? How you say?" Lunaire chided gently. "But the real question is whether you have it. The will to fight."
"…"
"I know you have it, Charlotte."
Again, it was such a strange word. But she liked it. Charlotte.
"We are the same. Unlike many others, we do not have many things. But what we have, we hold close. And if there is ever a reason to lay down our lives, isn't this it?"
A few days prior, Charlotte said she would do anything to see her mother smiling and safe. It was the first time she put those words to her lips. She had never begged anyone desperately enough to do so. The sentiment had always been an implicit thing. But only after saying it, she realized that indeed, it was.
This little she had left was worth her life.
"Victory or death."
Yes. Victory or death.
00000
And there it is.
While characters who know her prior might still refer to her as Tabitha, she will be known in the text as Charlotte from now. It is only fitting. She is no longer a doll to be toyed with, but a daughter with a debt to collect.
A little bit dramatic in the end, but it fits. If the consequence of failure and inaction is the same, then the only choice is to act.