Chapter 2: The Ninth Circle (Patreon)

“A guest lecturer?”

“I heard she’s a Temple Knight, wonder why she’s here, going to convince us to die in-“

As Godric settled into his usual seat, the words around him for once were different, though he supposed that was to be expected; their usual professor was seated at his desk, having a low conversation with a woman with short silver hair, closely cut around her head and silver eyes framed in a pretty face of indeterminate age, marking her as a fellow Firstborn.

Her half-white cloak had far more gold markings upon the fabric compared to their professor's own cloak, marking a storied history of service upon it, though the details of the story somewhat eluded Godric, though at a guess, at least a bit less than his father's, though that itself wasn’t a surprise.

Their low discussion ended, and their professor turned to the room and spoke loudly, “Today we will have a guest lecture from a Temple Knight. I expect you will all treat her with the respect she deserves.”

Unspoken was the threat of the alternative, but that was left by the wayside by now as a current of excitement surged in the classroom; nobody was going to purposely disrespect a Temple Knight, at least no resident of Haven.

The woman cleared her throat, “My name is Deir, as your professor informed you, I am as has been stated a Temple Knight of the Seventh Order.”

The woman crossed her hands behind her back as a shiver went through the class at the mention of her position.

“Sealing is one of the higher mysteries of White Magic,” their professor for the day began, standing at the front of the room, her white cloak swept slightly back, though not enough to hide the gold threads interspersed on it.

Godric listened with half an ear as he took the obligatory notes on the subject, but he could admit to himself that this subject wasn’t one he particularly liked.

The eyes of the rest of the classroom, flicking to him at the woman’s words, were more than enough to be frustrating.

Even privately, he couldn’t blame them; he was a prime example.

“Sealing has many functions, but is notably the primary way of dealing with Sins,” Deir said dryly, strolling across the ground with long steps, “When a Sin forms from the world's accumulated evil, they are often too strong to simply banish even with White Magic. Thus, they must be sealed away inside objects that contain stores of White Magic till they are purified by the magic within. Such objects, though, have a risk of breaking and letting loose the Sin contained within.”

A student raised a hand as he looked directly at Godric. Deir glanced at him, a single elegant white eyebrow raised at the boy.

The boy’s hand lowered slightly, and he looked confused at Deir’s look, unsure if it was a true acknowledgment.

Finally, Deir gestured at them, “Well?”

“You said an object, but what happens when they’re sealed inside something living?” the boy asked.

Deir raised an eyebrow as she gave the student a long look, a marked coolness to her gaze, though perhaps that was the way she was, “That is only done with the strongest Sins, and they are only sealed into other White Mages; such a thing requires incredible strength and will. Those chosen are known as Sinbearers.”

“Isn’t there a chance of the seal breaking?” another student asked, and Godric could hear the grin that he couldn’t help but find strange. If that happened, everyone in this room would likely die.

“Yes,” Deir replied evenly, “Which is why those who bear sins are not to be antagonized,” she said just as coolly as she had before, perhaps even colder now.

The students' grin disappeared, his amusement checked, and there was some uneasy shifting in the classroom, as the acceptance of the joke of his existence was mildly questioned for a brief moment.

It was strange, but Godric didn’t expect it to last; it never did. That kind of learning was seemingly beyond any of the students here.

“Any other questions?” Deir asked, turning to look at the room more broadly. Their usual Professor looked a bit surprised, but their face became a neutral mask quickly enough.

There was a dead silence.

Deir nodded, “Good, now we will move on to discussing the details of how one attempts a sealing.”

Rapidly, she began to sketch out diagrams on the board, and Godric’s hand moved in a mirror as he followed the Temple Knights’ movement.

So the class continued in a somewhat uncomfortable silence for the duration, and Godric could practically taste the relief among the assembled students as it came to an end, the excitement from before having dissipated.

They rushed to pack up, and Godric moved at a moderate pace, opting to wait for the swarm to leave the room for the most part before he bothered to move from his chair.

Several minutes later, he slowly stood up and began to walk to the slowly clearing entrance, only for Deir to step in front of him.

She was actually shorter than he, he realized, by a fair amount. She was looking up at him with familiar silver eyes he would see in his own mirror every day, looking him up and down for a moment, before she raised an eyebrow at him, “You related to Cedric, Son of Ulric?”

Godric looked at the woman, a little surprised despite himself, “Yeah, I’m Godric Lux, son of Cedric,” he said, hesitating a moment, caught off guard by the different way he had been addressed, before he asked the question burning at his lips, “Why?”

That wasn't the usual way people referred to his father, for probably markedly good reason, given who Ulric had been.

A snort rippled through Deir’s lips, “I’m Deir, Daughter of Alphir, I seem to remember the elf that gave your father that final name being just as rude as you.” She looked at him for a long moment.

Godric hesitated for the briefest of instants, uncomfortable that the woman, his mother, had been mentioned, unsure of how to respond given the fact that he did not know her, “And?” he asked.

“You’re a polite one,” Deir laughed again, “Just wanted to make sure I had the right boy,” she paused as she looked him over, her face set in a small smile as she cocked her head to the side, “You always let 'em talk about you like that?” she asked, diverting the topic to further uncomfortable territory instantly.

Godric raised an eyebrow at the woman, “Is your suggestion beating them up? Because I already tried that.”

A snort ripped free of Deir, and she shook her head, “No, but you certainly remind me of Cedric when you say that.”

A flush of something went through Godric, not warm enough to be pride but something close, “You know my father?” he asked before frowning, realizing it sounded like a stupid question, “personally?” he attempted to clarify.

Deir grinned a wide smile, carving her features as she shook her head, “The stories I could tell,” she said, seemingly musing, before the sound of chimes rippled through the air, and she shook her head, “You have another class, we’ll talk later.”

She turned, walking away from him, leaving Godric confused, not sure what to say to any of that, not sure what the point of the conversation even was, why would she be talking to him later?

Still, he put the conversation to the back of his mind and began walking the path out of the room and down the hallways of the tower, flowing in and around the groups of students with ease, and as they invariably noticed him, they would shrink away.

The last lesson for the day passed in a languid pace, before the planned meetings of the new Circles, which meant that he had a moment to ready himself before he would have to look at the Circle assignments.

They had been posted since that morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to look before classes.

Exiting his class and stepping onto the transport circle, he emerged at the base of the tower where a massive board was set up, lists of names assembled across its surface.

Godric’s eyes flickered over the white names, looking for his own, his eyes flicking about till he found it listed.

Godric Lux: Ninth Circle.

His stomach clenched against his will; whoever else was in the Ninth Circle would be the people he spent the next three years with, and despite the fact he had told himself he wouldn’t care, he found that faith shaken as he gave it real thought.

People who didn’t like you were a lot easier to ignore if you kept your distance, so he found himself unsure of spending time in close proximity to a group of unknowns.

Noting that his circle was supposed to assemble in the eastern courtyard, he began the long walk there, exiting the tower and then moving inward through the walkways that stretched between the towers, interspersed with plant life.

The midday sun was bearing down warmly on his neck as he stepped into the courtyard, and he looked about only to spot his first circle mate, and with some relief, he realized he didn’t know who they were.

She was a couple of heads shorter than he, a slim elven woman with long blonde, almost platinum hair, pleated neatly over her blue cloak. She rested against the wall of the courtyard, idly twirling her athame between her fingers, the cold-pressed steel flickering rapidly in the light.

She looked up the instant he entered, and the only reaction he got was a single golden raised eyebrow, “Didn’t expect a Firstborn, and as our white mage at that,” her eyes flicked to his hair, then his cloak, before looking back to her athame.

Godric looked at the girl, a little disconcerted; she had evidently looked at him, but seemingly missed the detail that no one else seemed to.

Still, he guessed this was the part where it was expected he would introduce himself, “I’m Godric,” he said.

The short elven woman nodded her head before pausing her spinning and looking at him with a raised eyebrow, “You say that pretty confidently for the boy who's embedded the fear of Sin’s into the school every day for the last three years.”

Godric restrained a grimace, so she did know him.

There weren’t many responses to that, but he guessed he would attempt one, “So you do know me.” he successfully kept any bitter notes from his tone, or so he thought, pasting an amused smile onto his face.

The short elven woman snorted, and an actual smile made its way onto her face, “Sorry, kid, I think everyone here knows you. If it makes you feel better, there’s no one here I’d rather have when facing a troll.”

That was… surprisingly nice, putting aside the fact that she had called him a kid, but then again, she was an elf and likely at least triple his own age. Godric’s gut began to unclench-

“Of course, if said troll actually hits me, I’m also probably doomed with you around. Is it true you really can’t heal?”

Never mind.

She was looking at him like she actually expected him to answer, and he was opening his mouth to say something before he turned as he sensed someone else entering the space.

She was a slim half-man, a pair of black wolf ears inset in a mess of black, curled hair on her head, ducking her head as she gave both of them a small smile, pushing a pair of glasses up her face with the back of her hand, shifting her green cape somewhat nervously.

“Hullo,” she said quietly, so quietly that she could barely be heard.

“Speak up a bit,” the elven woman remarked, “We don’t all have as good hearing as you probably do.”

“Actually,” the half-man pushed her glasses up a bit, smiling softly, her eyes gleaming in excitement as her voice raised, “I’ve read that firstborn have excellent senses,” she looked at Godric her smile wide in interest, “that must be true because you noticed I had entered without even looking, I could probably hear someone if they came in behind me, but well” she gestured good naturedly at her ears, “these would probably look rather silly if I couldn’t.”

“Right,” Godric said, a little taken aback by the woman’s cheerfulness, “I’m Godric,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” the half-man nodded her head, an agreeable smile on her face, “Son of Cedric, who was himself Son of Ulric,” she smiled seemingly winningly, but all it did was make Godric feel uncomfortable; it wasn’t exactly hidden knowledge, but her knowing it in full was strange, especially the last name she mentioned.

“How did you know-“

The half-man froze her eyes widening and her ears drooping, “Ah, I’m sorry, I was interested in who my teammates would be, so I took the liberty of looking up all of you. You were rather easy, considering-” the half-man seemed to grimace and then lowered her voice, “everything.”

Great, well, it wasn’t like this pair of people were any worse than the other students he could have been paired up with, and judging by the cloaks, they still needed a red mage and a black mage, so there was potential for improvement-

Godric’s eyes flicked to the side as he sensed a displacement of air, and from around one of the pillars of the courtyard stepped-

Skadi.

The girl looked around with seeming interest, her eyes flickering over the other assembled people before they lit upon Godric, and her eyes widened, her already pale cheeks somehow paling further, before flushing a brilliant red.

Seriously, the girl who was frightened of him?

An all too familiar presence came into his senses, and Godric closed his eyes, refusing to look for the moment as she stepped out into the courtyard.

“So you lot are going to be my Circle, can’t say I’m-“ a familiar abrasive voice echoed out before it cut off, seemingly choking on air, “You!” came the harsh exclamation, and the presence began storming up to him.

Godric opened his eyes to see Ethel Eld glaring up at him, her face full of righteous fury.

“Dragon,” he said calmly, though he didn’t really feel that calm, slowly releasing a breath out through his nostrils.

Ethel drew herself up, her own nostrils flaring as her golden eyes, which were impressively ferocious by themselves, narrowed into inhuman vertical slits as she regarded him. She took a deep breath, then visibly flinched and took a minute step back, her eyes returning to normal, “They’re actually letting a brute like you graduate?”

Familiar pain, quickly ignored, Godric cocked an eyebrow at the girl, “You’re right, I’m only here as a practical joke on you to specifically ruin your life,” a small grin twitched his lips upward.

Ethel growled a low rumbling grow that seemed to cause her to vibrate before a snort broke the silence, and the attention of the group turned towards Skadi, who had covered her mouth now, her eyes wide in horror.

“I mean,” Skadi waved her hands awkwardly in no particular direction, “It was funny, wasn’t it?” She looked helplessly around at the other students whose attention she had drawn as if begging them to show some sign of agreement.

“Eh,” the elven woman grunted, shrugging, “If tall, white-haired, and broodily handsome is your type, enjoy yourself.” She turned to look at the rest of the group fully, “I’m Ilsa Desa, the third of that name, Blue Mage, obviously.”

“Tol,” the half-man shrugged her shoulders, “I’m a Green Mage,” she said with an easy smile on her face.

Ethel glanced at Godric again before seeming to take a visible step back, “I’m Ethel of the Eld line,” she said, somewhat grumpily, crossing her arms in front of her chest, “Red Mage.”

The attention of the group turned to Skadi, who visibly flinched before stiffening as her purple eyes narrowed as she gazed at the rest of the group. “I’m Skadi Olar, the Ninth of that name,” she said firmly, “Black Mage.”

Godric had to restrain his surprise at that; there weren’t many elven bloodlines who had managed to keep a single name going that long, in part due to the lifespan of elves being so long.

The eyes of the assembled group turned to him, and Godric restrained the urge to flinch, “Godric Lux, White Mage,” he said, the words like those listening didn't already know.

A couple of claps startled the group, and Godric twitched to look to the side, surprised that someone had gotten so close that he hadn’t noticed.

There stood Deir, smiling, having appeared from nowhere, seemingly amused by something as she regarded the group of relatively young students, at least in appearance.

“Wonderful, I’m glad you all took the time to introduce yourselves,” she sighed happily, smiling at all of them with a strange smile.

The group froze before Skadi narrated their curiosity, “You’re our group's head mage?”

“Mmm,” Deir nodded her head, smiling brilliantly at Skadi, “It was quite the fight for it too, you’re all very talented.”

Godric regarded the woman with a raised eyebrow. He couldn’t speak for the others in the group, but he wouldn’t use that label to describe himself. Or Skadi, for that matter, given her poor showings in combat, perhaps Ethel? She was certainly skilled in combat, and he had no real reason to believe her academics were anything less than stellar.

Ethel let loose a snort, “Really? Even the Brute?” she asked, turning her head to look at Godric in disbelief, a sneer on her face, though looking at it made Godric somewhat uncomfortable; there was something unreal about the look, like it was false, plastered on, before the moment left, and Ethel turned away.

Deir shrugged, seemingly giving a helpless look to their group, “I do believe your compatriot is the only graduate in the history of the Institute to have an undefeated record,” she said the words calmly without any real inflection, but Ethel bristled furiously as she glared at the other woman.

“I could take him on, any time, ring sparring doesn’t mean anything, if I set everything everywhere on fire, there’d be nowhere for him to hide like the coward he is.”

A low whistle cut through the air, and the attention turned to the short yet slim elven woman who had her arms crossed in front of her with a raised eyebrow, “Flame’s bones, what did you do to piss her off?” she asked with a raised eyebrow toward Godric.

Ethel bristled even further but did not say anything, continuing to glare at Godric.

There was an actual answer there, buried in history, a choice he had made naively thinking it would be for the best, a choice he stood by because he still did, but…

“Exist,” Godric shrugged his shoulders carelessly, “I think?” he added with a small smile that was far from heartfelt.

A low growl and long-held intuition had Godric tilting his head to the side as a bolt of flame flew where his head had just been, and he gave the elven woman who was not Skadi a small smile.

Ilsa blinked, and then a laugh huffed out of her chest, shaking it slightly with the motion, jostling her breasts with the heaving motion, squishing them against her chest, “I take it all back, I love this guy, I’m excited to be on his team!” she exclaimed, taking several steps forward before she looped an arm around his back, though it was a bit low.

“I think we’ll get along great,” she grinned at him, and even as Godric looked at her smile, he felt put off by it, something about it not quite seeming real, like the other expressions he had seen, a false mask.

Godric stiffened, unable to shake the small discomfort he felt from someone being in such close proximity to him, having to restrain a flinch as he instinctively expected a burst of pain.

A snarl crawled across Ethel’s face as she sneered at them, “I would expect an absence of taste in company from an elf,” she snorted.

“It’s Ilsa,” Ilsa remarked blandly, “We’re on a team with another elf, so unfortunately for you, you’re going to have to use both our names.”

Skadi stiffened, seemingly surprised at being brought into the discussion like this, and she waved her hands in front of her face, “I don’t think Ethel meant it that way, Ilsa,” she smiled in a strained manner.

“Really?” Ilsa cocked her head to the side, letting her curtain of blonde hair fall to the side in a stream, looking directly at Ethel, “That true?” she asked, though Godric saw the restrained sneer about to poke through.

He didn’t want to step into this, but judging by Ethel’s reddening face, she was going to make things so much worse with her next response.

“It’s a personal thing,” he interrupted this time, not feeling the need to flinch as the attention of the group fell on him, as Ethel’s glare seared into him, “She’s a dragon, you know the history.”

Ilsa breathed in sharply next to him, her eyes finally seeming to take in Ethel’s pale golden eyes with renewed appreciation. “Ah,” she said shortly, before inclining her head the smallest amount, “I’m sorry,” she said, and while the words weren’t quite there in terms of honesty, there was a small sense that her previously planned response had been altered.

Ethel snorted, crossing her arms, but her anger seemed mollified for the moment.

“Aw,” Deir pouted, looking at all of them, “I thought it was going to be easy to get you guys to fight.”

“Fight?” Tol questioned simply cocking her head to the side, her emerald eyes narrowing behind her glasses, “Why would we fight?”

Deir grinned, “I’m glad you asked. How else are you going to decide the second in command of our little group?”

“We could vote,” Tol pointed out, shifting her glasses up her nose as her ears drooped slightly, “We do live in a democracy.”

“Wrong!” Deir exclaimed with a chuckle, pointing at Tol with a sharp jab of her finger, “You’re in a Circle, which by definition is ruled by the strongest, just as the founders of Haven originated their government by combat, we will initiate our founding as such.”

The tension in the group shifted as all the students began eyeing each other with something approaching concern, and Godric became very aware of the arm still circled around his back by Ilsa.

He had a single moment for that thought as the air around them rippled blue, and suddenly, he had appeared in the air, staring down at verdant greenery below him, which he realized must be the garden in the courtyard.

Godric had a moment to orient himself in the air, spinning so his feet were directed at the ground and his eyes were locked onto his group members, beginning to engage each other.

Tol’s athame had flicked out in a slim crescent of silver metal glowing green as it lengthened, slicing toward Ilsa, which was interrupted as Ethel launched herself in a streaming comet of fire toward her, wing-like structures popping out in flames around her as she rocketed toward her.

Tol had a bare moment to brace herself, the air shimmering into a metallic green shell in front of her, blocking the blow, which exploded into a golden bloom of fire.

Skadi had stumbled, seemingly caught off guard, before she raised her own athame, swiping it, sending a flurry of shadowy daggers stretching out from her athame toward Ilsa.

Ilsa waved her hand, and the air shimmered and distorted, bending in a moment to send the shadowy daggers headed back towards Skadi, who squeaked, throwing herself to the side, vanishing into the shadow of the pillar next to her.

Skadi reappeared in an instant, coming up from Ilsa’s shadow, rapidly shooting toward the other elven girl from behind, her hand braced behind her athame, a shadowy blade emerging from it.

Godric instinctively drew his own athame, a massive glowing white blade springing forth before he threw it like a missile, the air itself cracked as his athame flew before embedding in the ground, blocking the shadowed blade in a clash of monochrome magic, as the gleaming white blade embedded into the ground in an explosion of dirt.

Both girl’s looked up at him, and Godric took a moment of joy to see both their eyes widening in shock before he landed hand first on his athames hilt grasping it to hold himself up in the air before kicking both his legs out in a split kick, connecting solidly with the gut’s of both girls sending them rocketing away from each other, with choked exclamations of air.

Landing on the ground, Godric gripped the handle of his athame, preparing to bring it down on Ilsa’s head, ready to halt it the instant it seemed to be about to connect.

He needn’t have worried as Ilsa’s own blue magic shot up to meet him in a thin, narrow blade, sending his own skating off to the side.

Ilsa pouted at him, “I was trying to help you, dummy,” she said, her voice remarkably calm, though slightly breathy as she regained the air in her lungs.

“What’re you talking about?” Godric found himself caught off guard as Ilsa sighed and shook her head.

“No one but me knew where you were; you could have easily dealt with that scorned girlfriend of yours,” she sighed.

“She’s not-” Godric tilted his head to the side as her narrow, blue blade attempted to pierce his cheek, “my girlfriend.”

Godric twisted to the side as Skadi attempted to sink her athame through his side, apparently not even bothering to generate her own blade as she desperately launched herself at him.

“No duh,” Ilsa giggled from behind it as she shimmered into existence, “I said she was scorned, didn’t I? Ergo, not your current girlfriend,” she looked him like he was incredibly stupid, raising a single elegant blonde brow.

Godric sighed, not exactly feeling like he was the one in the wrong here, but he couldn’t think of a response fast enough to respond before Skadi raised her blade over her head in a telegraphed cut down towards him.

Godric’s hand shot up, grasping both Skadi’s smaller hands in a single one of his own, stopping the move instantly.

He regarded the girl with a raised eyebrow as she looked at him, a soft, somewhat sheepish smile on her face, her cheeks colored a slight red as she offered him a small shrug of her shoulders.

Godric raised an eyebrow, “Did you really think something that telegraphed would have hit me?” he asked curiously.

“Was worth a shot,” she mumbled, almost plaintively looking at him with dark onyx eyes, before shadows rippled up from around her, shooting towards him.

Godric sighed and then twisted her wrists, causing her to grimace before she dropped her athame, as she became unable to hold her athame, which Godric snatched with his other hand before it fell an inch.

“Skadi is out,” Deir called out from the side.

Godric flipped the knife around, catching it by its blade, offering it to Skadi, who looked downcast, her eyes focused on the floor, a frown dragging her lips downward, not even bothering to reach for the athame.

He knew that expression, and he had felt those emotions before; something stirred in his chest.

“You did better than last time,” he gave the girl a small smile, “Your magic use was excellent, your blade work could just use some, well,” he grinned, “work,” he said quietly, ignoring the world around them for a moment.

Skadi blinked, then looked up at him, a small smile turning her face up, “Really?” she asked, dark purple gazing into his own silver.

Godric nodded before ducking under a distorted blue blade of magic that had seemingly attempted to take his head off, turning to face Ilsa, who was looking at him impatiently, “Slow it down, Heartbreaker, finish wooing the maiden after the fight, huh?”

Godric didn’t even bother responding, turning to see Tol and Ethel about to clash again, tearing apart the ground in flaming blasts and rising glowing green earth.

“Deadlock,” Ilsa commented, shaking her platinum curls, “I say we let 'em fight it out and pick off the winner after they’ve been worn down.”

“Smart,” Godric commented, nodding his head as he rolled his neck for a moment, loosening it.

“What-“ was all he heard as his feet bit into the ground, and with a light push, he was suddenly across the field, twirling his athame in a blinding display of white light, as he blocked Tol’s now gleaming massive axe that her athame had been warped into, swatting it away even as he drove a light elbow into the gut of Ethel, feeling her tense warmth give away almost immediately at the blow as she was sent flying back rolling across the ground.

Tol’s eyes narrowed at him before she flicked her athame out, creating a bladed chain weapon, before swinging it toward him, seemingly in an attempt to bind him.

Godric blinked before he dismissed his own white blade and batted the metal chain away with just his athame, sending it flying away.

Tol grimaced and lashed out again, her movements blurring as she attempted to strike him with the metal tip of her weapon.

Godric batted each attempt away with his own unenhanced athame before he spun into a kick, connecting just so with the metal blade tip, sending it flying to hit a stone pillar, biting deep into it.

Tol attempted to yank her weapon back, once, twice, then she sighed and shook her head at him, something rueful in her expression, “Guess I give up,” she shrugged her shoulders before something devious flitted through her expression, “Have fun!” she exclaimed.

Godric’s free hand lashed backward, seizing a flaming fist that had been aimed for the back of his head by the arm, stopping it cold, feeling only a slight burn in protest from his arm, even as flames licked his hands, warming them slightly.

Tol frowned, “Not fair,” she pouted, crossing her arms.

Godric pulled, flipping Ethel to land on the ground, the earth thudding at the impact as she grunted, looking up at him with a glare. “I don’t yield,” she sneered at him, and Godric felt the heat around them begin to rise, flames flickering over Ethel, before a fiery ball of flame blew towards him at point-blank range.

Godric let himself fall to the ground even as he spun to land straddling Ethel, his armed hand shooting out to tap the metal of his athame against Ethel’s throat.

The girl glanced down, looking at the blade, her golden eyes darkening for a moment, becoming vertical slits again, before she fell back silent to the ground, scowling up at him.

Godric twitched as he felt someone appear in front of him, and he looked up, his eyes narrowing to see Ilsa standing there with her arms crossed. He rose to his feet, regarding the other girl analytically. He had seen her move and a bit of her magic, but it wasn’t certain…

“And I give up too,” Ilsa raised her hand like she was in the classroom, attempting to be called by a teacher.

Godric blinked, slowly rising to his feet, caught off guard.

Ilsa sighed, shaking her head at him, “Did you really think I was going to fight you here in an enclosed space, with nowhere to run and no preparation? I don’t need you to beat me into the dirt to show that I don’t win that fight, though,” she tapped her chin shooting him a devious smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I think it would be fun having you on top of me,” she winked.

Godric looked at the girl, nonplussed, before he rose to his feet, ignoring the vibrating growl of Ethel that ripped through the air. Unsure of what exactly had irritated her this time, he stepped away to the side, before, against his better judgment, offering Ethel a hand.

The girl’s golden eyes flickered to vertical slits again as she regarded him before she sneered and stood up, crossing her arms as she stood off to the side.

Tol spoke up from off to the side, “You could get beaten up anyway to make us feel better,” she pointed out, tapping her chin idly as she looked at Ilsa.

Ilsa did not bother to respond, turning to Deir, who was regarding all of them impassively, “We done?” she asked.

Deir hummed, tapping her chin, frowning down at Ilsa, “I do kind of agree that you took some of the fun out of it by not fighting…”

Ilsa continued to regard Deir with now a raised eyebrow.

Deir sighed, shaking her head, “Fine, it was enough,” she took some steps forward until she was standing directly in front of Godric, raising a hand and then tapping him twice on the shoulder “Godric Lux I duly appoint you as my second,” she smiled, it was a completely different smile in close, something soft that didn’t strain her face like her other ones did, “Congratulations.”

Godric looked at the woman, nonplussed as he considered Deir’s words and her actions. It didn’t quite make sense, not from other people’s interactions with him. Was it because she knew his Father? Did she want something from Cedric?

“We’ll meet at the western exit tomorrow at the Sun’s seventh stretch,” Deir continued, “and every other day from then on out when we’re not on expeditions, I expect your best efforts. You’ve accomplished the boring part of your education, that of the memorization and rote recital; now comes your actual practical experience.”

“What’ll we be doing first?” Tol cocked her head to the side.

“Wilds resource extraction,” Deir replied easily, causing a release of tension throughout the group.

“Haven’t we already done that for the Institute?” Tol cocked her head to the side in seeming confusion.

“You’ve been on excursions in the mountains, maybe,” Deir shook her head, “We’ll be well out into the valley on this one, so make sure to pack the clothing for that. I’ll be bringing all the other equipment.”

Tol nodded her head and once more returned to silence, her emerald eyes closing slightly behind her glasses in seeming thought.

With slow nods, the group began to disperse, though Godric found his eyes wandering to Skadi’s retreating form, who closed in on herself, fiddling with something in her pocket, and for a brief moment, Godric wondered if it was the black object he had glimpsed the other day.

What had that been?

There was something odd about it as well, now that he really gave it thought, something almost strangely familiar to it.

Feeling a presence to his side, he turned to see Tol of all people standing next to him, her cheerful smile from before gone as she looked at him solemnly, “I was wondering if you had a moment?” she asked softly.

Godric hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the change in personality, before he nodded once, regardless, “What did you need?”

Tol dipped her head, her ears flattening across her curly hair, “I wanted to apologize for earlier, I should have thought more before bringing up your family's past,” she said quietly.

“It’s not an issue,” Godric shook his head, attempting to figure out how to take several steps back to mitigate the sudden closeness without looking like he was taking several steps back.

Tol looked up and shook her head, “Of course it is!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide, close to the point where Godric could see thick black eyeliner around them, “Your Father has sacrificed a lot,” she hesitated before looking him solemnly in the eye, “You sacrificed everything,” she whispered quietly.

Godric’s stomach dropped, and he restrained a grimace, “I’m sure my Father would be pleased if he knew there were people who believed as such, Ulric’s Folly, though rightfully hangs over us.”

Godric consciously restrained himself from reaching for his ever-present marking.

Tol frowned, and solemnity turned to something close to sadness, “I mean what are the chances that a Sin would emerge by taking the field against the Caedrean’s.”

Godric shrugged, not sure how to respond to those words, not sure what could even rightfully be said in response; his Father did not talk much of the days of the Second War of Liberation, and Godric wasn’t particularly interested in asking.

“It happened, and he did what was necessary,” Godric said, not really believing the words, not after what his Father’s choices had decided for him, but saying them regardless because, outside of his own pathetic feelings, it could not be denied that his Father’s actions had saved the lives of countless others.

Tol frowned at him, “It’s not right,” she said quietly, her words loud in the silence.

Godric shrugged awkwardly, and Tol sighed before shaking her head, giving him a small yet strangely sad smile before reaching into her robes to withdraw a massive book that should have in no circumstance fit within her robes.

Godric looked at Tol incredulously, who blinked, and then her easy grin returned, and she made a gesture with her fingers, causing green magic to slow over the book, shrinking it down to the size of a pebble before drawing her fingers back, and the book expanded again.

“Convenient, right?” Tol shrugged her shoulders at him, before hesitating, looking back and forth between him and the book, “Uh, sorry, maybe that was a bit rude of me to immediately go to reading.”

Godric looked at the girl, surprised, caught off guard by this level of politeness, and perhaps because he was now examining her, he saw the twitch of her ears, and the small movement of her eyes carefully avoiding his own.

“It’s not a problem,” Godric shook his head, before giving the girl a false smile, “I should head home anyway.”

-

Godric carefully sliced through the vegetables as usual, his body stinging from a particularly rough training session, his father poring over his papers like usual behind him.

A long silence had emerged unbroken as Godric attempted to figure out how to ask the question now grinding away at him.

Finally, patience failed him as he set their food upon the table and looked directly into his Father’s eyes.

“Why did you select my Circle for me?” he said softly, closely examining his Father’s expression.

Cedric looked up from his meal, and while there was no show of surprise, there was no show of any other emotion either, the man completely unreadable, “I didn’t,” he grunted.

A snarl curled Godric’s lips, yet he remained seated, “It just so happened to occur that I was placed in a team with Ethel, huh?”

Cedric raised an eyebrow at him, “So she’s your red mage, plan on telling her the truth?”

Godric’s hand below the table clenched and then released as he continued to look at his father.

Cedric shook his head, “Regardless, I didn’t select Ethel for your team, and I don’t see how her being on your team would lead you to expecting that I had done something.”

“That’s not the only thing,” Godric shook his head, “All of them, even our head mage, act strangely around me. What did you tell them?”

Cedric gave him a long look before sighing and shaking his head, “You’re still far too blunt of an instrument, do you think if I wanted you on a certain team that I couldn’t have done so without tipping you off, you’ve gone to a far more outlandish conclusion than reality could imitate, think through the steps logically, something about your Circle is bothering you? What is it?”

Godric winced at the reproving tone but found himself relaxing somewhat as he fell into the exercise, “They’re too nice,” he said bluntly.

Cedric raised an eyebrow at him, “From what you told me, all of them pushed you in their conversations in some unpleasant way.”

Godric nodded his head slowly, thinking, “Yes, but they weren’t doing it to be unpleasant,” he grimaced, “Aside from Ethel, moreover, they were too focused on me, asking too many questions, it’s like they-“ Godric froze before he released a breath, “they want something from me,” he finished bluntly.

A smile curved Cedric’s face, the joy of a teacher getting through to a student, “Of course, I’ve heard some quite interesting things about the favors and coin being traded to get those exact students on your team.”

“And you let it happen?” Godric frowned at his Father, “Why?”

Cedric grunted, shaking his head, “You want to be a Temple Knight, you’re going to need to learn how to solve things diplomatically. These five people want something from you. I expect you to figure it out and give it to them.”

Godric grimaced, before he cocked his head to the side, “Five? I only have four teammates and one of them is Ethel, which means-“

Godric didn’t bother to finish his words, realizing what his Father was saying, what he intended for him to do, “All of them want something, even our Head Mage? She said she knew you!”

Cedric grinned, “Of course she does, this favor to her was of a more personal nature than the others.”

“So what?” Godric released a breath, “Not even a single person in my Circle was assigned to me at random.”

“In my defense,” Cedric said, tapping a finger against the table, “I did ask you first whose Circle you wanted to join; your inability to make friends otherwise simply led to this result.”

Godric could only glare at his father mutinously.