Chapter Text
On second thought, I would have preferred falling off the Parapet.
It would have guaranteed me a swift death, and no one would really miss me. I’d become a name on a stone, soon to be forgotten, and I was pretty fine with that. Hell, I was fine with anything that wasn’t related to Basgiath War College. While my parents promised me comfort and luxury, I just had to rebel and go against their wishes.
And now, I guess I’m paying the price. I should have expected it, but I suppose I’m stupider than I thought. I should have choked on my breakfast earlier.
Let’s rewind a little. When I was facing that damn Parapet, I was filled with adrenaline. I was filled by the addicting impression that my life was finally going to mean something. I was finally done with the neverending cocktails parties, finally done with the boring etiquette classes, finally done with everything that was forced upon me.
My dumbass didn’t figure out that other stuff was going to be forced upon me. I just laughed, smiled, and crossed that bridge without a second thought. I’m still wondering how I made it, to be honest, but I prefer to not linger over it for too long. I can still however hear the wind beating against my ears as I go to bed, my booted feet threatening to slip off and bring me to the depths of the raging river. It felt like a nightmare, and I was awake, and I was thrilled.
The good little girl is finally doing something with her life. I was overjoyed.
Now I’m finally realizing that I might very well die, whether it be by the hands of a Rider or within the flames of an angry dragon. Hurrah.
My burlap sack hits against my hip as I make my way to the dining hall. It’s breakfast time, and I overslept, so it means I must hurry the fuck up. I can’t afford being late once I get told to pick a morning chore. I burst in, get my food, throw my sack over the table and sit down.
I don’t even bother looking at my friends’ reactions. I just grab the fork and start wolfing it in. It seems that in a past life, I was a very, very hungry beast.
But the food is akin to a bland paste and I can barely bring myself to swallow. It’s not that the food at Basgiath isn’t good. It’s just that it doesn’t taste like home. I never thought I’d be homesick, but I guess I am.
An elbow pressing against my arm is what snaps me back to reality. I blink once, twice, and turn to look at Faun.
Worry is painted over her face as she places a gentle hand on my arm. “Are you okay, Coryn?” Her voice is soft, almost quiet. I have to lean in a little to hear her out. “You… kind of look terrible.”
Yeah, I do. I didn’t sleep for shit last night. Are eyebags the newest trend? Because I’m way ahead of everyone. All I do is shrug and keep eating, but then I realize one thing: I should probably be nicer. It is said that no friends are made at this place, only allies. I better keep them close before losing them with my grouchy morning attitude.
Maybe I would have been better off in the Healer’s Quadrant, or the Scribe’s Quadrant. Maybe I wouldn’t be so exhausted then, so damn tired… but I wanted a change, and a life healing people or writing down History wasn’t the change I needed.
“I’ll be okay, just need to eat,” and I flash her a smile to comfort her a little. “Had a dream about Threshing, actually.”
“Ooooh,” Andrey leans forward, rubbing his hands together. “That ought to be good. Were you burned to a crisp? Or did a big, badass dragon pick you?”
“I shit my pants and ran.”
“Relatable.”
And there it is again, that smile on my face. I know I shouldn’t be calling those people friends. I know they are only people I met following the Parapet. I know, I know. But I can’t help but feel the knot in my stomach loosen up when I meet Faun’s eyes or when I begin to tease Andrey.
Too bad I’ll die before them.
Faun, despite being… softer than most, is awfully talented. No one is as fast as her and I can definitely see her holding her own on a dragon’s back. Her legs look as if they’ve been sculpted from the finest marble, and they’re only getting more defined as she constantly works out with a bunch of Second Years. Either she wants to throw everyone on the fighting mat, or she has a huge crush on that pink haired girl who looks like she can snap her in half.
Lusting over people who could break you. It’s a stereotype, but it’s cute nonetheless.
“What do you think our Battle Brief class will cover?” Faun takes a bite out of a big red strawberry, and I can’t help but take one from her.
Andrey shrugs, stabbing his fork into his salad. “That depends. If an outpost has been recently attacked, then we have our topic already. If not… well, there’s the battles that happened a thousand years ago,” Andrey never really liked discussing past battles. While he agrees that the past shapes the future, he’d rather look forward and focus on the most recent fights. When the wards weakened and a northern outpost got attacked, he was practically beaming during Battle Brief as he tried to come up with different strategies no one would have thought of. Another reason I’ll probably die before him and Faun.
I grimace at the memory of that day in Battle Brief. It wasn’t my greatest moment. And now everyone thinks I’m a psychopath. I take another strawberry.
My gaze flies over the wingleaders who are discussing together. Among them I spot Xaden Riorson, who has been the object of many, many of my fantasies. What did I say about lusting over someone who could break you? Yeah. Xaden could easily rip me in half and I’d thank him. Probably even send him flowers. That’s how hot he is.
Dain’s okay. I guess.
I finally stop to stare at the First Wing wingleader, Levi. Despite his amiable attitude and that pretty crooked smile of his, I’m pretty sure he secretly hates everyone here. He always throws his dagger like a maniac, and his dragon looks like one as well.
He’s hot too, though. I guess he’s got that going on for him. His hair is cut short, way short, but his angular face more than makes up for it. High cheekbones covered in freckles gives him an almost delicate look, but then you look down at his body and realize he’s fucking tall, strong and could kick anyone’s ass. Except Riorson’s.
He hates everyone, that’s my theory. But what I’m certain of is that he hates me since that one Battle Brief class.
“I’m honestly just waiting for the sparring matches,” I say as I finish my dish. “I got some i’s to dot.”
Andrey scoffs, shaking his head in what looks like disapproval. “Still looking to kick his ass?”
“For sure. That’s what he gets for trying to act like he’s better than everybody.”
Simply thinking of him makes my blood boil. Not only is it rumored that he threw aspiring Riders off the Parapet, but he’s also being a major pain in the ass who is killing students on the mat for fun. I had the joy of facing him a few days ago, and I ended up with a broken rib. I’ve been holding a grudge ever since, but I have to make peace with a simple fact:
There’s no way I’ll beat Jack Barlowe. He’s almost as big as Levi. Dear Gods, I want to slam my head on the table.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Battle Brief is as difficult as expected. Obviously Andrey is acing it, and my heart swells with pride for him, but whenever Devera and Markham ask me a question, I sink down in my seat and hope they’ll forget about my presence.
Which they don’t. “Miss Vog, will you answer the question?”
“Hm… fire?”
Devera sighs and throws her hand towards the map. A few mage lights hovers over it, allowing me to see its contents. “That’s not even remotely related,” her gaze is as hard as stone. “Please focus.”
She repeats the question again, and Faun’s hand shoots up in the air as if it had a mind of its own. She practically bounces in her seat as she gets the right answer, and I only don’t roll my eyes because she’s my friend. Despite the schooling back at home, I’ve never been quite an academic, which is another reason why I wouldn’t have been happy in the Scribes’ Quadrant. I lean towards my notes and start writing down everything I manage to hear when I’m not too dozed off, hoping to lay low.
But of course I had to share that class with Barlowe, who is sitting a few rows behind me. When a paper ball is thrown at my shoulder, I know exactly who it is from, and I turn to give him a glare as the Professors look for another map.
Like most men in the Riders’ Quadrant, he’s infuriatingly handsome, with those frozen eyes and windswept hair. The inside, however, is rotten.
“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest that everyone, friend and foe, should die in battle.”
“Shut it, Barlowe,” Andrey has quite amazing hearing, and despite Jack’s whispering manages to catch everything.
Faun is blissfully ignorant, drinking the Professors’ words.
“I mean, it’s just a matter of time before she suggests something like this again. What was it? Break the dam, let everyone die? You know, Vog, while I understand nobles only care about themselves, you should still remember that the objective at war is to live .”
I grip my quill harder and try to ignore him. What he’s talking about is the very reason Levi and the entire squad thinks I’m a psycho. The wingleader seems to be listening to us, actually, a dark eyebrow raised as he leans back against the wall.
In Battle Brief a few weeks ago, we were doing exercises, the teachers throwing at us different scenarios and hearing how we’d deal with each of them. I had managed to not be noticed for a long time, but towards the end Devera called for me and asked me to tell her how I would deal if the enemy battalion and mine were trapped in a valley.
Break the dam, let everyone drown, is what I replied, causing absolute mayhem, because no way did I suggest my own people die.
But it’s a logical train of thought, isn’t it? If there is truly no way to escape, then we should bring the enemy down with us. No way I’m letting a single of those Gryphon riders fly back home while I’m six feet underground. It’s just asinine.
Devera, however, gave me a dirty look. Markham brought his hand to his chest. Jack laughed and laughed and laughed. Levi looked like he was about to retch.
From that moment I’ve been branded a psychopath who cared little about her people. It’s a miracle Faun and Andrey still decided to be my friends.
I give Jack one last glare before turning back to my notes. I won’t let him get to me. Not before combat training.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Threshing is just a couple of months away, so I need to be as ready as I can be.
And that includes being able to beat Jack’s ass. If I can deal with someone as big as him, then I won’t risk being slaughtered like that other short first year with silver tips.
There’s only a few hours separating me from combat training, so I sit on the courtyard with a sketchpad. It’s hot out, and I can feel my sweat sliding down my back. Those leathers aren’t heat friendly at all, but I must deal with it unless I want to get stabbed by a rider who sees me as a liability.
I’m not one, right?
Sure, I’m not the strongest. Or the smartest. But it’s not like I’ll die here, right? No, no way. Preparations for the Gauntlet are coming, which will put a pause to the sparring, so I need to put as much as I can into it before it’s over. Just so the others can see how strong I can be.
I try to draw. Nothing comes to me. This college is siphoning away any kind of inspiration. I lay down on the grass, my eyes on the sky, and I try to imagine myself flying.
Being part of nobility should have saved me, really. At this very moment I could be sitting on a comfortable couch and waiting for my parents to marry me off to an equally rich man… but it wasn’t the life I wanted. I couldn’t imagine laying in bed every night waiting for some stranger to take me. It wasn’t what I was meant to be.
My parents didn’t understand, but they let me take the entrance exam to Basgiath anyway, and I miraculously passed. Jack said nobles care only about their own lives. He must be wrong, since I got here in the first place.
Jack. My stomach coils a little as I think of that damned face, and I try to chase that feeling. He’s nothing but a bully and an idiot, and one day, he’ll meet my blade.
“Vog.”
I believe it’s Jack showing up to fuck with me again. Or Andrey, who will offer me to draw him. When I open my eyes, however, I see Levi sitting next to me. It’s odd to see him like this. He’s usually always standing like he’s ready to fight at any moment. Ice prickles over the back of my neck as I sit back up, my eyes meeting his. “Yes, sir?”
He’s here to tell me that I shouldn’t argue with Jack, obviously. That I should be his good little student and stop picking fights. Oh, and I should also listen to classes, especially Battle Brief. I saw him lecturing a rider like that once. It seemed like a horrible experience for the rider.
But he doesn’t say anything for a while, his gloved fingers brushing against a flower. “I believe flooding the valley is a solid strategy.”
Hm?
“But no war general would adhere to it.”
Ah.
He looks at me with those steely eyes of his, and I feel myself shifting a little. What does he want? Tell me how wrong I am?
“Why?” I ask anyway. “I’d rather have both armies suppressed than have the enemy come back home.”
“Should both armies be suppressed,” Levi plucks out the flower, rolling the stem between his fingers, “Navarre will fall right after. Rebellions would suddenly spring up and a civil war would come out of your little strategy.”
He’s not wrong, and I’m annoyed. Just a little.
“What is your point, sir?” I allow myself to ask.
Levi sighs and lets the flower slide from his fingers. “If you keep being this reckless with your strategies, Navarre will come for you. That's all I’m going to say.”
And he’s gone as quickly as he showed up, and I’m left wondering what the hell he meant by that.
I watch as Levi walks away. He moves past Riorson, who gives me a look I can’t quite describe.
As Andrey comes and agrees to let me draw his flawless profile, I’m still haunted by Levi’s words and Riorson’s look. I can’t shake off the feeling that those are connected, but how?
I’m better off focusing on fighting practice later.
And shove my boot so far up Jack’s ass it comes out his throat.