Lament of a Noble Born

“Syllia, sweetie, be reasonable,” Mom asked me. Her hand on my shoulder, eyes almost puppy like.

How was this even a question? “No!” I turned my attention to my eggs. Ignoring the whining, woman child, next to me. I had to focus on eating my breakfast right now.

“Oh come on Syllia. Don’t be stingy! Your mother is offering to help you.”

I groaned. “That,” I pointed at her aid, “is not helping. That is a possible crime.”

“It’s just a tool,” she tried to counter. “No different from a book or a wand.”

“It’s a gun!” I picked up the flintlock pistol she placed at the table earlier. “This can kill someone!”

She looked amused at my point, “first off dear, that is a single shot pistol. Can’t fire more than once in a row. Second, and no offense sweet, you're not a good enough shot to really hurt anyone.” I’ve never even held a gun before. In this life or the last! And I didn't even know we had a gun in the house! “Third,“ she took it from my hand, “how is this any more dangerous than what mages already do?”

“It could kill someone,” I repeated.

“Syllia, how is a little ball of lead more dangerous than a fireball capable of incinerating a house,” she questioned.

“Because,” I tried to come up with a counter argument. She was right, magic, on its own, is more dangerous than any amount of munitions.

“Because…” she looked quite smug at my lack of a response. Her damn smile grew more impish by the moment. “Yes sweetie, because,” she leaned in. How the hell did her smile keep growing?

“Because-” I was at a loss for words. “Because....did you use a gun at my age?”

“Of course not,” she waved off my question. “I learned when I was younger than you.”

Are you kidding me! “I’m not taking a gun. End of discussion Mom!”

She threw up her hands. “Okay. Fine. No gun.” Mom put the flintlock away, in a kitchen drawer of all places. Why would she store it there? She turned back to me, “you’ll at least take the knife, right?”

Oh my God. I pinched the ridge of my nose. Next to the spot where the pistol was a simple knife. I ran my free finger along the flat end of it. My finger nearly clipped the bladed edges.

“You probably poisoned it when I wasn't looking,” I mumbled to myself.

“Your damn right I did!”

I didn't register her words for a moment. Tilting my head, I realized just how close my forefinger was to the blade’s pointy tip.

….

I retched my hand away, cradling my forefinger. Examining it for a cut. “Why would you give me a poisoned knife!”

She looked beyond amused at my flustering. Arms crossed, she grinned, “a better question is why wouldn't I give you a poisoned knife?”

“Because people don't just give kids poisoned knives! What if I accidentally cut myself and got poisoned by it?”

“Nothing would have happened,” she picked up the blade, twirling it between her fingers. “Because you’ve had the antidote in your system since last night.”

“When did you-” My question died on my tongue. Mom cooked dinner last night. Probably slipped it in with the food.

“And you just finished a second dose of it a few minutes ago.” To emphasize her point, she picked up my cleaned breakfast plate. “You’ll probably be immune to this toxin until this evening.”

So Mom slips me drugs in my food. What a foreboding thought.

Of course, the question remained.

“Why do you…what does this stuff even do anyway?” My curiosity demanded.

“A minor paralysis poison,” she answered while washing off the dishes. “Nothing too exotic. And not in a concentrated form. Worse comes to worse, they’d be immobile for an hour. More likely, they'd be paralyzed for however long it takes for a healer to flush it out of the poor kid's system.”

“Why would I even need a poisoned knife,” I brought the conversation back. “The exam could be anything.”

“You’re right, I could be anything,” she agreed. “If you’re fighting someone you'd be able to use it. If not, just keep it sheathed.”

“Having it assumes I’m going to fight someone, I could-”

I heard her give an exaggerated sigh, she turned to me, “Sweetie, when someone tells you to be prepared for anything, always assume the worst.”

“It's just a test,” I tried to tell her.

“With magic,” she fired back. “Anything involving magic tends to become dangerous rather quickly.”

This was getting frustrating, “Mom I am going to be fine. I don't need a knife. I certainly don't need a poisoned knife or a gun. That last one might just disqualify me if I actually brought it!”

She was quiet for a moment.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“Yes okay,” she repeated. “Maybe I went a little overboard.”

A little, I snorted.

She sighed, taking a seat next to me, “I love you. I’m just trying to make sure you have the best chance of doing whatever it is you’ll do today. My parents taught me a certain way. Guess that way is just incompatible with a mage’s way of doing things.” She hugged me.

“I know. And I love you, but I need to do this on my own. No shadowy stuff.” I hugged her back. But, one thing still nagged at me, “actually, what would your parents do in this situation?”

I felt her grin, “you mean getting into a fight or getting into a school?”

“Both,” I was nervous about the answer now.

She hummed to herself, “well to get into a school, they’d probably make sure to either blackmail or bribe whoever was in charge of admissions,” she seemed amused by the face I made. “But if it was a fight then I guess it comes down to what I was up against.”

“What do you mean?” I was very nervous now.

“If it was a fist fight, Mom would tell me to bring a knife,” she laughed at some unspoken joke. “You know what she’d say if they brought a knife to a fist fight?”

“Bring a gun?”

“Nope. Burn down their house at night as a warning to the others in the area.”

She said that with such genuine charm and glee, humming to herself as she washed the dishes, that it makes me wonder how she turned out so normal.

Relatively speaking….

--

The auditorium was quite empty today. Maybe two dozen at best; myself included. The room was absolutely drowning in nervous energy. Whereas the first day kids met up in small cliques and groups, now everyone sat a good distance from each other. No one talked to one another. Or if they did, it was so quiet I couldn't hear. Some just sat, eyes closed in the comfy lounge chairs provided. Others read books. Most sat quietly.

The room was almost as silent as the grave.

Looking at the stage, the set up was a little different today. The proctor from before was still there, in all his professional, if somewhat bored, glory. But this time he brought some other people up with him, mages. Their faces was covered by cowls, but wore identical robes that were quite ornate and clean. Like every other mage I’ve seen in this place.

Thankfully for my own nervousness, I did meet up with Elsia again. She had none of the nervousness the others showed. Then again, her display of emotions seemed to be more on the stoic side of the spectrum. It's not that she did not show emotion, but rather she was quite reserved in who she showed them too. She did seem a bit livelier when I talked with her when compared to seeing her talk to someone else.

That being said, I've only known her for a few days. So maybe I’m completely wrong.

After waiting half an hour, the proctor began addressing us.

“Greetings and congratulations applicants,” the speaker’s voice boomed across the empty room. “You have passed through the gauntlet of tests and examinations that have ended many a hopeful’s dream. When we began this examination, there were one-hundred and twenty-six applicants. In the ensuing days, your numbers have been whittled to twenty-two.”

Holy shit, that is one hell of a failure rate. I quickly glanced over to the remaining children. Some fidgeted. Others took quick breaths. One looked completely bored.

“Even still,” he continued, “your numbers shall be reduced even further before the day is over.” He gestured to the robed figures before him.

With a nod, they began channeling mana for a spell. A spark of mana, bloom of light, and there was a simmering portal at the foot of the stage.

“We shall now travel, as a group, through this portal. It shall take us to the location of the final part of this examination. All shall be explained on the other side. Do not tarry.” With a curt nod to the telemancers, the Procter walked off the stage, motioned for us to follow, and stepped into the portal.

Teleporting via a portal is an...experience. Like the whole world spun around for a split second before righting itself.

The chamber we arrived in was vastly different from the room we were in before.

To start it was massive. At least three stories high. This whole chamber was predominantly made with a red colored stone. There were no windows or natural light sources of any kind. All light emanated from an assortment of crystals, braziers, and candle light. Large amounts of cushy seating surrounded an elevated platorm that ran the length of the center of the room. Like a stage…

Or arena, I mused.

Looking around, one thing did nag at me. Along one wall at the far end of the chamber, there was something. A distortion. A wavy flux in an empty space some ways up. For a moment, I feared I was about to be visited by yet another schizophrenic vision like a couple of days ago, but this seemed different. It wasn't shadowy, or oily, or anything. The distortion was simply there.

Curious, I reached out to feel the mana in the area. To my surprise, and relief, I felt mana pooling in that area. Swirling like a vortex. Throwing away anything that got too close. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

So it was there, but what was it-

“Welcome! Welcome!”

A elderly voice broke me from my investigation. Seated in a balcony far above was a collection of elderly looking elves. Their skin wrinkled and withered with age. Hair greyed or whitened by time. A few looked positively atrophied; more skeleton than skin and muscle. Despite that, the robes they wore were beyond immaculate. Gems, crystals, circlets, and other trinkets shined in the false light. The display of wealth and power was figuratively, and literally, blinding.

“Welcome children!” an elf seated at the center of the balcony called out. He waved his arm to get the other’s attention. His robes and trinkets were markedly gaudier than his companions. He walked to the edge of the balcony, a golden staff in hand as a makeshift walking stick.

“Welcome, I am High Magister Erhen, Headmaster of Dath’Remar,” despite being so far away, he sounded as if he were standing before us. Magic, obviously. “I, and my colleges,” he gestured to his compatriots above, “are proud to welcome you to the final phase of the entrance examination.”

He now had everyone's attention.

“This portion of your exam is meant to test your practical skills in magic and spell work,” he explained. “For the past week, you have been tested, tried, and pushed to your limits in theory. Now, you shall demonstrate your potential for all to see. Few applicants make it this far. Fewer still shall take their place amongst our number. Know that regardless of your success or failure in the coming test, the skills you have demonstrated, the resolve you have shown, are clear indications of a bright future ahead for each of you.”

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and let his words sink in.

“Each year, our practical examination takes on a different focus. Ultimately, what form that exam takes the form of is my decision. For this year I have decided that you..” he pointed his staff to us.

“....shall duel one another.”

Confusion rippled across us.

He’s going to make us fight each other?

So is this battle royal or one on one. Because one is far easier than the other.

“Your opponents have already been chosen,” the Headmaster clarified. “You shall compete against one another to the best of your abilities. And we,” he again gestured to his associates, “shall judge each and every one of you on your merits in combat and come to a decision. Know that defeat does not mean failure, but it may color your application.”

So you can lose, but still pass. It's not about winning. It's about showing off. Okay. I can show off.

“You shall fight until either one party can no longer continue the battle, one party yields, or the proctor judges the participant unable to continue. Healers shall be on hand to deal with any extraneous injuries you may suffer.”

They had healers on standby. That almost sets off red flags for how dangerous this will be.

“Good luck, to each and every one of you,” he turned to sit down. Slowly, needing the staff to help hobble to his ornate throne. “You may begin proctor.”

The proctor gave the Headmaster a deep bow, then turned his attention to us. “As his Excellence stated, you shall duel one another. I shall call up your exam numbers in pairs. Proceed to the stage when called. The rest of you take a seat and do not distract the duelists.”

Duel, nice way of saying battle.

I looked to Elsia, who nodded and motioned over to an empty area. To be fair, the place was empty to begin with. As I began to sink into my cushy seat, the proctor began to read off the first numbers.

“For the first bout: Applicant twenty-five, Elsia Emberbirth.” I saw Elsia take a quick breath in next to me. She hadn't even taken her seat. Looking at me, she gave the briefest of smile’s before marching forward.

I held my breath for the next number.

It would be so ironic if-

“And Applicant thirty-two, Ferris Oakshield” a boy to the side flinched. Must be his number. He also walked to the stage. While he tried to hide his emotions, his constant wiggling of his fingers betrayed his nervousness.

For a moment, I thought we would be fighting each other. Seemed like the stereotypical thing to do. Force two people who built up a kind of friendship with one another to fight it out. Potentially causing a grudge to form between both parties that ruins said budding friendship.

Of course, statistically speaking, there really was only a one in twenty-one chance that my name would be called after her’s.

They walked on stage, standing a good distance away from each other. Elsia’s face was stoic. The boy shook like a reed in the wind.

“Are you ready,” the proctor questioned.

“Yes,” Elsia stated.

The boy gulped, “I think I am- I mean yes. I’m ready.”

The proctor was silent for a moment.

“You may begin.”

Immediately, the stage erupted in white flames. They snaked and coiled around where the boy was standing, engulfing him in large cyclone of flames. I heard him screaming. Couldn't tell if it was in shock or pain. Elsia looked bored; her wrist lazily circling around as she was manipulating the flames. This display went on for a minute, during that time, the boy's voice went ragged, then stopped altogether.

The flames died of their own accord shortly after.

The boy was on the ground. He didn't seem in pain. His robes were a bit burnt a bit from the fire and his face red from the flames. But overall, he didn't look like he was burned alive. So that's good. Looked like he was going to cry though....

“The match is over, Elsia Emberbirth is the victor.”

The one sidedness of Elsia’s match set the tone for the next matches. One applicant would simply overpower the other. Each match was finished in under a minute. The abilities of each victor showed were equally overwhelming.

One girl teleported behind her opponent and blasted them forward with arcane energy. Kid had a bloody nose from where he hit the ground.

In the next match a boy used a supreme display of fire magic, though not to the same extent as Elsia’s spell work, to encircle the area his opponent was standing with fire. The flames never touched his opponent, but the fear it inspired, and the fresh memory of what happened earlier, caused her to forfeit the match.

Then came a weird one; twins pitted against one another. In short order, the brother sister duo knocked each other out with equally impressive displays of magic. They seemed to have had fun during the duel if their smiles and good-natured quips prior to being knocked out were anything to go by.

Following that was-

“Applicant sixty-nine, Venara Coldwater,” I feel like such a child being amused by that. Then again- “and Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard.”

Wait.

The announcement dragged me from my thoughts. Already, a girl was already walking up to the stage.

I jumped a bit when a hand on my shoulder.

It was Elisa, “Coldwater’s are known for their frost magic.”

Of course a family with a name like ‘Coldwater’, they’d be experts of frost magic.

I nodded, “any other tips?”

She shook her head, “nothing that would help right now. Just be careful.”

“Thanks Elsia you’re a good-”

“Applicant Thirteen, Syllia Dawnguard!” the procter repeated.

I groaned to myself, “I’m coming!” I spared Elsia one last look before rushing onto the stage.

I finally got a good look at my opponent. She was pale. Not in a sickly sense, like what I saw in Elsia, but more from lack of sunlight. Face still had some baby fat; pudgy around the cheeks. Her brunette hair went down a little past her shoulders. She was dressed in fine black-red robes with hints of gold thread here and there; even had a little pair of thin black gloves on.

The most distinctive part of her outfit was her little shoulder cape.

It broke nearly every color convention I've seen in all high elf society; it was blue. Had the embroidery of a tree’s roots holding a circular disk was threaded in silver rather than gold. Silver and blue. Against her robes black and red. Quite distinctive.

“Are both applicants prepared?”

“Yes,” I called out, though Im not sure how truthful that was.

“As am I!” I heard Coldwater answer from my spot.

The proctor nodded. He paused for a few seconds; as if syncing the match to an imaginary clock.

“Begin!”

Even before he finished the word, Cloldwater was already in motion.

Cold blue energy built up in her hands. She looked amused.

Frostbolt! As the realization dawned on me, I hurriedly charged up my own counter spell. Arcane energy swirled between my fingers, then condensed into an orb.

With smooth precision, Coldwater raised her hand, palm open, and launched the bolt of icy magic. Its target is obvious. The orb of frost magic wasn't as fast as my arcane orbs. But that only left me with a couple of seconds to finish up charging my spell. It sped from my hand, on course to intercept the frostbolt midflight.

I held my breath as they collided seconds later. The frostbolt smashed into my arcane orb, shattering it and continuing its path; not slowed by the impact of my spell in the slightest.

Logically, I knew I probably had the necessary time to bring up a second orb, or even a third, to try and shatter the bolt midflight. Barring that, I could simply gather arcane energy in front of me and tanked the bolt. It must have at least lost some of its energy from being struck by my orb; I knew for a fact those things can scorch rocks! Or, if I was in a pinch, I could just channel a stream of fire from my hand and hope that it was enough to melt, or deaden, the frostbolt.

Sadly for me, my primitive flight instincts took over.

Shit!

I dove to the ground, scraping my elbow and knee as I skidded across the stone floor. Incidentally, it occurred to me, lying on the floor, that the bolt might be controlled by Coldwater. Meaning she could just direct it to follow me to the ground.

Thankfully, that was not the case. The frostbolt passed bye where I had stood. It struck against the far fall with a satisfying thunk. Traces of snow and frost plastered the wall where it impacted.

Unfortunately, I didn't see the next bolt she fired. It hit me square in the chest while I was getting up. I was thrown right onto my ass. Fuck. Felt like a large bag of ice slammed right into my chest. My robe was drenched around the impact site. The skin beneath felt raw as I patted the area.

I raised my free hand to conjure another arcane orb, only for a third frostbolt to crash into it.

Fuck! I keeled over, inspecting my wounded hand. It was beet red from the spell. Small sheen of ice on a few of the fingers. I wished I’d worn gloves now; clenching my fist experimentally. Fingers, while in pain, still worked.

“Is that it?” I heard Coldwater demand. Looking over I saw her walking over, arms crossed; little cape fluttering with each step. She looked quite annoyed. “You don't even have the power to block a frostbolt? Then you jump out of the way like some mundane? And then,” She didn't finish, shaking her head. “I don’t know where or who trained you, or why you’re even here, but I refuse to play this charade any further. Proctor!” She turned to the mage, “It's obvious she can’t compete against me. Call the match already so she doesn't hurt herself.”

The man remained silent. His eyes flicked for a brief moment to the headmaster’s booth, then back to the arena. He made no motion to move or speak.

“Hey did you hear me! I said I refuse to fight her!”

“Are you yielding the match?” The man questioned.

“What- No!” She pointed to me. “She can’t beat me! What's the point in prolonging this match when the winner is obvious!”

“Matches shall continue until either a participant yields or the proctor calls the match,” he repeated the earlier instructions. “If you wish to not continue the match, you may yield at any time.”

“That’s not what I - Ughh!” She gave up appealing to the proctor. She turned her full attention to me. “Hey, you!”

I had gotten to my feet again, knees and elbow sore. Hand twitching back to life. Still felt numb.

“Listen to me,” she started. “Just yield. For your own sake if nothing else. There’s no point in being beaten to a bloody pulp for nothing.”

Fuck you too, I glared at her.

She saw that and decided to change her approach, “look, you just had a run of bad luck going up against me of all people. There is no shame in yielding to some who is your superior.”

“Excuse me?” What is with this kid?

“This isn't personal,” she stated. “But facts are facts. Someone, like you, can never hope to compete against someone of my pedigree. We Coldwater’s trace our lineage back to the founding of the kingdom.”

'Oh my god she’s monologuing.'

“We are the masters of frost magic. We bend the rivers and waters of the land to our will. We are the moon’s power incarnate upon the world, the tides ebbing and flowing to our designs. And I,” She took a dramatic pose, “stand before you as the product of ten generations of careful breeding. The heir to the glorious power and responsibilities of the Coldwater dynasty. Do you really think someone such as yourself, from a family I have never even heard of, could honestly ever challenge someone like me?”

To be honest, I kind of tuned her out after that. I think she started going on about this ancestor or that famous relative to make a point. All of it wrapped up in a warped sense of honor and Noblesse Oblige. Honestly, this made me just want to shut her up.

As she began to go on about her ‘dynasty's honor and prestige in courtly matters’ I formulated my counterattack. Those frostbolts could tank my arcane spell. So, the only thing I could do was attack.

Without warning, I fired off an arcane orb; beginning to form a second one as it flew forward.

“...and in his Father’s name, he- HEY! Did you even listen to me!” She raised her hand, palm out. A frostbolt formed and was sent flying against my arcane orb. “You-”

Whatever she was going to say died on her tongue. She watched as I effortlessly controlled my orb to avoid her bolt. Swerving long before the bolt even crossed its path. As her bolt smashed against the back wall, my orb careened towards her.

Surprise was replaced by a clam expression. She crossed her arms, arcane energy pooling in front of her. Arms jerked as her barrier absorbed the full force of my spell. And the next one. And the one after that. By the tenth impact, I gathered that brute force was not going to break her shield.

'What about from behind?'

I charged up a handful of more orbs and quickly sent them straight at her. All except one, which I curved to go far above her and arch downwards at her back. As the last orb smashed her barrier, the one from above struck right between her shoulder blades.

She cried out as the impact threw her forward. Coldwater landed on her hands and knees, skidding forward across the hard floor. Look like that blow didn’t just take her off her feet, but it even tore a bit into her outfit.

She scowled at me as she straightened her clothes, “you want to keep fighting? Fine! But don't blame me when you get beaten down.”

She held her hand out to the side. Moments later, water began to appear from thin air. It streamed forth in a thin line, levitating above the ground. After a certain amount had been created, she clenched her fist. The water snap froze into a long, sharp, pseudo ice spear. Said ice spear now turned its point at me.

So frost and hydromancy. Coldwater. How appropriate.

At the flick of her wrist, the ice launched towards me.

Oh fuck.

I moved out of the way as quick as my feet would carry me, throwing an arcane orb as I moved. Thankfully, I stayed on my feet this time. Sadly, but unsurprisingly, the orb did nothing when it connected with the ice. Maybe it broke off a chip or two. No real damage. It whistled past where I once stood, shattering against the back wall.

Looking back to Coldwater, I saw she was in the process of creating several more ice spears. Her eyes glaring at me.

Fuck!

She sent out three of them at once.

No time to move. Orbs do nothing. Don’t think my arcane barrier could stop them. Only one choice left, blink away. Though I still wasn't that good at it, better getting stuck in the ground by my ankle than ending up skewered by those things.

As the ice neared, I channeled my mana. At what seemed like the last second before the shards touched me, I teleported to the opposite side of the arena. A few feet above where I wanted.

Thankfully I stuck the landing.

And I was now behind her.

As she turned around, hearing my landing, I unleashed a barrage of arcane orbs. One after another. Coldwater had no time to react. The first orb threw her on her ass. The next two hit her arms as she shielded her face from further hits; further tearing bits of her robe apart. Sadly, after that, she raised her little barrier; the rest broke against it.

Hey, that was pretty effective.

Coldwater lowered her shield to fire off another frostbolt. But she just as quickly had to stop to raise her barrier again, as I threw a pair of orbs at her. While Coldwater had her barrier up, I blinked again; once again behind her. Once more, she was struck in the back and thrown from her feet. And once again, she was hit by consecutive orbs before raising her magical shield.

After a couple bouts of this, a cold blast of wind hit my face. My assault relented as I covered myself from the icy wind.

“Enough!” I heard her cry out.

The icy wind stopped after half a minute. I turned to her as my vision was restored.

I saw her put both hands in front of herself, her posture showing the bruises on her exposed arms from my attacks. Coldwater started to conjure water again. Unlike the other times where she’d stop and snap freeze it into little spears, the water just kept flowing. Pooling at her feet. After a large amount was on the ground, it began to float. More and more water joined the mass, which began to take on a humanoid form.

All the while, Coldwater started coughing during the process.

Not waiting to see what the hell she was doing, I fired off several orbs at her.

Without warning, the mass of water moved. It swirled around her, placing itself between the orbs and her. The orbs impacted the mass, blowing off large chunks of water. Said water, from the smallest drop to the largest puddle, quickly reformed back into the main body.

No longer a gelatinous mass, the vaguely humanoid form sprouted a pair of arms and a head. A spindly, single leg, held the construct’s form off the ground. Hands with meaty fingers twitched to life. Two ethereal looking lights shined where the thing’s eyes would be.

A water elemental.

Coldwater, still coughing her lungs up and hunched over holding onto her own knees for support, gave the elemental a single arm gesture. On command, the creature lurched forward. It moved way faster than something of that size should move!

Before I even had time to react, the creature was almost upon me.

On instinct, I gathered all the arcane energy I could to blast the watery monster away from me. Or at the very least break up its form.

One pulse later and the elemental’s charge was broken.

Sort of.

Half its mass was now scattered across the immediate area; myself included. A chunk of its chest, and the entirety of one of its arms, was gone.

With the amount of water it lost, it should have collapsed under its own weight by now. Just like it shouldn't be staring at me with its still functional head. And it most definitely shouldn't be rearing up its other arm to punch me.

Reflexively, I took a step back. Slipping on the wet floor. As I felt back, I blinked away. The elemental punched thin air as I landed on my ass; ten or so feet away. Not only had I miscalculated the height I blinked to, a foot off the ground again, but the angle I came in at was not the best. If standing upright was a ninety degree angle, then I just came in at a hundred and thirty degree angle.

As I nursed my sore ass, I watched as the elemental reformed. All the water that had scattered around the area was now flowing back into it. Just like the arcane orbs form earlier, the water elemental was reformed in a matter of seconds. As if nothing had happened.

Another arm gesture from a still wheezing Coldwater, led the elemental to charge again.

I didn't even have a change to stand up as the construct barreled towards me once again. Both arms raised. Read to beat me into the ground.

Can’t blast it apart with brute force. What about boiling the water away?

Fire magic was the one bit of magic I was most iffy about. Not for any rational reason. I burned myself the first time I tried to cast a fire spell. Kind of put me off to practicing such spells as much as my Arcane spells.

Cast a fire spell, it'll be fine, don’t tell the student they need to shield their own hands from being burned. It’ll be funny when they fail.

But, well, what better time to put my limited skills to the test than a water elemental controlled by a spoiled girl hurling itself at me?

Seconds seemed to drag on as I raised my hands, palms open, heat pooling between my fingers. Raised a small arcane buffer between my hand and said heat. The elemental, oblivious to the charging fire spell, continued onward.

Once it was close, I pushed the heat outward.

The result was instantaneous. Fire spewed out of my hands. No control. No elegance. Less a flamethrower and more a cone of fire spraying orange hot flames in every direction.

While I was not the pyromancer Elisa seemed to be, fire was fire.

I actually couldn't see around the light of the blaze. I waited for a water fist to smash through my flames..

Instead I heard a watery groan. I felt a blast of hot steam flow around me. I kept the flames going for another few seconds before cutting them; half expecting the elemental to be relatively unharmed.

Thankfully, that was not the case. It was simply gone. All that remained was the steam.

Looking over to Coldwater, she looked like she was dying. Heaving and coughing, as if she was gasping for air. Her body shaking. Skin took on another pale shade. As she was on her knees, still coughing, she brought her hand back up. Water began to pool again from it.

'Nope! Not dealing with that shit again!'

I fired several orbs at her. Before they even traveled half the distance to her, they shattered.

What the-

“The match is over,” the Procter announced, his arm outstretched. The aftereffects of a spell still lingering on his fingertips, “Syllia Dawnguard is the victor.”

Polite, if uncoordinated, clapping followed from the spectators. I saw Elsia clapping with actual, genuine, enthusiasm.

I gave Coldwater one last look, watching as she finally got back on her feet. Still breathing heavily.

Making my way-

“No!”

Snapping back, I saw Coldwater begin conjuring more water.

“Miss. Coldwater, the match is over,” I heard the proctor intervene. “Please take your-”
“I did not lose!” she snarled, almost baring her teeth. “Not to HER! Not to some Nobody!” As the water began to pool, her coughing returned. “I refuse-” Cough “I refuse to lose to-” Eyes growing wet. Her face grew red. ”I won’t accept! I will not-Cough". Her arms began shaking. Then, it stopped. The spell, her flow of water, fizzled out. She fell to her knees, in the puddle of her own making. Trying in vain to control her coughing. Tears ran down her face. One arm crossed her face, hiding her red blotchy features from crying; trying to preserve some dignity.

“Miss Coldwater.”

It wasn't the proctor this time. It was the headmaster himself. He had gotten out of his seat and had perched himself against the railing of the booth. She tried to stand up, to turn to the Headmaster, only to fall to her knee again.

“The match has ended,” he said calmly. “Your objection has been noted. Please return to your seat. If you require a healer, please indicate such.”

Realization dawned on her. Arguing now was meaningless.

The proctor offered his hand to her. She swatted it away, smashing her own fist into the ground several times before getting up under her own power. Fixing her outfit, ripped as it was, flattening out the creases that formed, she proceeded back to her seat. Slowly. Breathing heavily. Looked like she would fall over at the slightest breeze.

In reality, it was her tripping on her own shaky feet that caused her to fall over.

Okay, she might be a bitch, but even I just can't sit by and watch this train wreck.

Before she hit the ground, I blinked to her side. Or more accurately, I blinked in front of her, when I meant to be beside her. Trying to catch her caused me to fall alongside her. My body cushioning her fall.

Took both of us a moment to realize what had just happened. With her on top of me, I could feel her shaking like a reed and how cold she actually was. Didn't need to be a master mage to put two and two together: Mana exhaustion. Probably from that water elemental she summoned.

Also explains why she was keeled over for the last bit of the match.

I somehow slithered my way out from under her; ignoring the soreness in my abdomen. Back on my feet, I offered her my hand. I honestly expected her to slap it away. But she just stared at it, then me, grumbled something to herself, before taking it. Coldwater held my hand for support as we walked to the seats. She guided me to her seat, where I helped her down. Healers were at our side moments later. The golden glow of light magic filled the area.

Turning to leave, I felt a hand grab the edge of my robe. Looking back, I saw Coldwater gesture for me to come close. Shrugging, I leaned in. Her hand gapped the collar of my robe to bring me in closer.

“Why…” I heard her whisper, voice straining.

“What?” I asked.

“Why….did you...help me?” she wheezed out.

Because even if you were a complete bitch, I still pity you in the state you are in, probably would not go over well with someone who was as prideful as her.

“You needed help, so I decided to help” is what I decided on.

“You…” she was at a loss for words. Closing her eyes, I heard her sigh heavily. Shaking her head, she muttered something to herself. It sounded something like “...Idiot...”.

She said nothing else. Letting me go, she leaned back in her seat, giving me a shoo gesture.

Rolling my eyes, I walked back to my seat.

Nobles. I wonder if I will even understand them.

As I sat down, I heard Elsia congratulate me. She stopped herself from patting me on the back. Probably a good thing; felt a little sore. Obviously. Took a frostbolt there.

I also felt a little sore from all running and moving around, but nothing too bad.

--

The following matches seemed to pass by like a blur. I didn't really pay that much attention to them, going over my own bout in my head during said duels.

“Hold still now.”

I remember the last one ended in a similar matter to the others; one side overwhelming the other.

Then the headmaster got up and said how very good we all were. Honorable. Unique. Special. All the good stuff. Told us to go home, rest, and wait for them to mail us the ‘results’. Whatever the hell that means.

One week at most he promised.

With all this testing and examination nonsense done, I could now focus on more immediate issues.

“Stop fidgeting, I’m almost done.”

Which leads me to now...

I hissed in pain as Mom dabbed the soaked cloth against my blister covered chest.

Hours after everything was said and done, I was feeling the pain from my duel with Coldwater. Whatever adrenaline high I had been on was gone. I felt everything that was wrong with my body right now.

I only wish I felt this hours ago, where the fucking healers were!

I was sitting in Mom’s bedroom. My upper body was covered in a mismatch of blisters and bruised skin. My muscles screamed from being used for the first time. And my scabbed knees and elbows were bandaged up in pseudo band-aids. Hell, even the hand that took a frostbolt was twitching underneath bandages.

Feeling like this, I wonder how I was able to walk home under my own power.

“Don’t worry Syllia, this solution will have those blisters gone by tomorrow,” Mom told me as she dabbed another blister, this one just above my stomach.

“And the muscles?” I hissed. I was barely able to sit up because every little muscle was screaming out a dull, but constant, pain from being used today. Sit up, pain. Lay down, pain. Move arm, pain! Shift even a little bit, pain!

She hummed to herself, “I do have a minor health potion over there. You’ll probably have to take a teaspoon or two every six hours for about a couple of days before you feel better.”

I groaned, “I feel like my body is going to die…”

“Oh sweetie,” she cooed. I twitched as she dabbed another spot, “you’ll probably feel even worse tomorrow. ‘The day after is always worse than the day of’ Mother would always say.”

I groaned even louder.