Lament of a Noble Born

The thing I like most about magic is how easy it is to cast.

Going beyond the whole “elf = magic” thing, spells are a bit more straight forward to cast in Azeroth than in most fantasy settings. No lengthy chants, no wands or staffs, all you need are mana and a mental idea of what you want to cast. Like, if I conjure water to fill a glass, all I need to do is hold out my hand, channel mana, and imagine water coming out. And presto, a glass of water! Magic, as far as I can tell, is about thinking and imagining the correct “stuff”.

Of course, some stuff isn’t as simple as that. Some spells require a bit more thinking to them to get them to work properly. Take the water example; if I cast the spell over a magically enchanted fire, then all my water would evaporate as it's being conjured. But if I enrich my water with mana to hold its form under the fire's heat, then it would maintain its liquid state even as the fire burns within it.

And further still, there are things that require very precise calculations to cast…correctly.

Blink.

“Better Miss. Dawnguard! You’re making stunning progress!”

“I don’t feel like I’m making progress,” I mumbled under my breath, leaning into a wall of packed sand that half my body had phased into from a failed Blink. I did Blink properly I supposed; I traveled at least fifty feet in one teleport and went from one end of the massive room to the other, right on the “bullseye” laid out by the instructor. I was merely several feet to the left of where I wanted to be; hence my arm and leg stuck in sand.

One thing I’m still surprised about is how active magical training can be. I mean, there are still the stereotypical “Harry Potter” types of classes where all I need to do is sit, take notes, practice spells, and so on from the comfort of an overly cushy chair. In other classes, there’s stuff like this: an indoor obstacle course with a very high ceiling.

The second bit of that description may sound like a superfluous thing to add, but it is important to note given the exercises that go on here-

A loud thud echoed behind me was quickly followed by a pained cry.

“Still too high Miss. Greatstar! Perhaps if you’d been paying attention, and not fooling around in the back of the room with your brother, you would have stopped making the same mistake by now. But now, with your arm bent like that, I say you’re done for the day. Can someone help Miss. Greatstar up and take her to the healers? Looks like she’ll be able to what she really wants to do, giggle like a child with her brother in healers office!”

“….fuck you…”

“What was that Miss. Greatstar?”

“I said ‘thank you’, sir!”

I held in a snort when I heard the professor grumble something under his breath as a student dragged the young girl off the sandy course to the healer. While I don’t take joy from people getting hurt, she had this coming. The twins had been joking around all class, paying little or no attention to the lecture on how to properly use a short-range teleportation spell.

Her brother had already been dragged off the course, having sprained his wrist from falling onto the ground at just the right angle and height. Seems like his sister did the same thing; maybe worse if the sound of her impact was anything to go by.

Still, could be worse. An urban legend in the Academy was that the reason the teleportation training was done in a place with a high ceiling and a room packed sand, some of it molded into ad-hoc obstacles, was that a bunch of kids died here. The story goes that all the training once took place with specially prepared stone and wooden obstacles; meaning they were enchanted to resist magic. One day a bunch of kids blinked into the obstacles and died from asphyxiation since they were stuck headfirst in the objects and couldn’t get out.

On the one hand, that sounds way to morbid and fantastical to be true. Unless the kids were alone, there would be a teacher who could get them out of those things; like how if a student accidentally sets something on fire, a teacher can quickly put it out. Then again, I did have a class where the professor used a wooden dummy to show what would happen if you blinked into an inanimate object. My bet is that some kids had a class like that, then made up the story.

Regardless, that story is a helpful reminder about getting your calculations right. Not just where you want to reappear, but the spatial orientation and relative height in relation to where you are going to appear appearing. If your off by a centimeter to two, you’re not going to really feel like something is wrong. But a few feet? Oh dear.

Most kids seemed to have the orientation down but mess up on the height. Ignoring Greatstar falling like a sack of potatoes, a dozen of my classmates made similar mistakes; though only ending up ten feet in the air before crashing down. Another five, who saw what happened, overcorrected their height and ended up either chest or neck deep in the sandy ground. It’s not like they’re trapped or anything, anyone can dig themselves out after a minute or so, but it does sting some of these kid’s pride.

And me? Well, I turned out to be a ‘natural’ according to the professor.

I don’t feel like a ‘natural’ standing on one leg, with the other stuck in a sandy wall with an arm, mere feet away from the ‘target’.

My thoughts were interrupted by a telltale flash of light from a teleport off to my side.

Several feet away from the “target” I saw Elsia submerged neck deep into the sand, her mop of white hair sharply contrasting off the tan of the ground. She blinked her eyes, tried to arc her neck to look around to get her bearings, only for realization to dawn on her as she notices her predicament. Weakly, she tries to dig herself out. Her efforts result in a huff of frustration, when she finally noticed me staring at her.

“Pardon me Syllia,” still ineffectually trying to wriggle out of the dirt, “but I may require assistance.” She maintained her stoic expression, but her cheeks went flush with embarrassment.

“Sure, be right there.” Holding in a small laugh, finally pulling my sand caked arm and leg out of the wall and walking over to help dig her out.

--
--

Following the end of class, we were shepherded to the “locker rooms” to wash ourselves up and get ready for our next classes.

While they may call this place a “locker room” these facilities are closer to what I’d expect to find in some luxury resort than a school. Even by high elven standards, I’m sure that school facilities don’t usually include a massive roman pool, hot tubs, saunas, private baths, and a massage parlor with servants ready! Add in the marble floors, golden reliefs, and crimson stained glass, and this place screamed “seaside resort”. I mean technically the Academy was along the shoreline so….

Not that I’m complaining mind you.

It would be damn hypocritical of me to do so when I’m floating face up in a private tub as the warm water sooths my aching muscles. I'm half tempted to claim all the water here is treated with something, since I doubt that a ten-minute dip in warm water can fix all my aches and pains.

Before I can muse further about this disgusting level of comfort, the fabric curtain to my room ruffle and I hear the pitter patter of bare feet along the tiles. Cracking an eye open, I saw Elsia place some towels alongside of the bath and carefully slide herself into the warm water; humming with content as she sank in. Light beamed through the large arcing windows, making Elsia's already pale complexion seemingly glow under its rays.

“Hmmmm, I needed this,” she muttered to herself, submerging until only her face was above water. “My muscles feel like they’re going to fall off…”

“Isn’t that a little over dramatic?” I right myself. Unlike the “main” pool, these private baths were shallow enough so people our age could stand upright if we wanted to. Feet firmly at the bottom, I wade my way next to her. “I mean, you do say the same thing after every class.”

“I don’t care…” she repeated, a dopey smile forming on her lips as she drank in the heat of the water.

Floating like she was, I had a chance to see her figure in detail; developing as it was. It still surprised me how small she was. Not in terms of height, but in muscle mass. By her own admission, she’s not good tasks that require any amount of physical exertion. Her frail constitution makes her tire far too quickly to keep up with any of our peers. Perhaps because of this, Elsia's preferred activity is to sit in a quite study with a good book in hand.

Despite her shy personality, she seems perfectly fine showing off her bare body after these types of classes. Actually, showing off is the wrong phrase, since all she does is walk with a towel to ‘our’ bath’ -- she’s not posing or anything of the sort. Maybe it's because this is the “girls’ side” and all the boys are on their own side so there’s no chance of being ‘seen’. Or maybe she just that comfortable around me? Who can say?

Still, being in such proximity to a cute girl is very…uncomfortable for me. In the sense that I like it a bit too much. Given puberty is in full force for me, I’m (literally) drowning in a sea of hormones and teenage awkwardness. I’m probably doing better than I did the ‘first’ time around, where’d I’d get an awkward erection at the worst possible times and didn’t really understand the ‘changes’ all that well, it’s still not the best thing to be going through. But instead of an erection, I get warm down below. I blame going to a school where eighty to ninety percent of the people here, student, teacher, and servant alike, are physically quite attractive.

Most days, I’m competent enough to control myself until I get home to relieve myself. Other days? Well…. Let’s just say that a quick fingering in the privacy of the restrooms has helped me control myself more times than I’d like to admit.

Minutes passed as I awkwardly tried to not stare at my friend’s developing body while she continued humming to herself.

“Ah, much better,” Elsia finally rose from the water and stretched her arms above her head. The water dripped from her drenched pale from, and her cheeks were noticeably flush from the heat of the bath. “Nothing compares to a warm bath to rejuvenate yourself for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah,” I tried my best to not stare at her small tits as she stretched her form.

She held her pose for a moment, I could hear a tiny crack in her bones before she huffed and put her arms down. “Well, I’m heading out now; need to study for an exam in my next class. Are you planning to stay in for much longer?”

“No, I’m heading out too,” I reply, following her to the small steps out of the bath, absolutely NOT looking at her firm ass as she stepped out. “I have a history essay due next class, and I want to look it over again.”

She smiled at that, handing me a towel before taking one herself. “Then how about we pool of efforts? You can help quiz me on some topics for my exam, and I can help correct your grammar.”

“I didn’t say it was about grammar,” I counter, drying my hair off and following her out into the main chamber. Most girls were still swimming or talking with one another as we passed them, servants waiting to the side incase called upon.

“And you didn’t say it wasn’t,” she quipped back.

I sighed, “yeah, I could use some help with my grammar.”

“Then it’s a d- deal,” she tripped over her own words for a moment. No doubt caused by the sudden cool air hitting our warm bodies. Hell, even I was shivering a bit, nipples a tad erect, as we made our way to the changing room.

It’s stuff like this, being helpful and friendly, that really makes me feel a little dirty for looking at Elsia the way that I do in situations like this. I can only imagine the disgust she would feel towards me if she found out I was staring at her figure. Hopefully this puberty thing wraps itself up quickly, so I don’t keep feeling horny around every nude girl I see.

--
--

After a quick rinsing in the ‘locker room’, which I still say is closer to a spa , I made my way to history class.

A class that I found is less about history and more “What other races do wrong: 101”.

“-this semester we’ve talked at great length about the failures of the Empire of Arathor. The shattering of the first human state into the collection of petty city-states that would form the kingdoms we know today. We discussed the faults and failings of their political structures that decentralized power to the provincial level and how it weakened the Empire to the point of collapse.”

The professor spoke from his lectern, behind him was a massive diagram showing a timeline between the founding of the Kingdom to the present. Along the line were a series of ‘X’s that denoted points in time where a nation, somewhere in the civilized world, experienced some kind of internal strife or challenge, civil war, change in ruling families, or incidents of ‘Mob Rule’.

I knew I would be facing a bit of culture shock in Dath’Remar. Not just from being a low-class person in a school for the elite but also from being a former human in an educational system created for elves. I know people here may have different ideological views from the human norm, both from different biology and different worlds, but there was a fine line between things that seemed different and the ‘what the fuck am I looking at’ diagram on the board right now in history class.

“We also looked at the weakness inherent in this political landscape that has long left its impact on the human race,” the professor continued. “In this polity of constant fighting and self-harm, they allowed weakness and softness to fester unabated within the foundations of their civilization. The First and Second Wars are both the most recent display of the effects these failures have wrought, and the most damning examples to date.”

The point of all this exercise? To show how ‘unstable’ and ‘fragile’ non-elven political systems were. Because by elven standards, any governing body that cannot maintain unity for at least one-thousand consecutive years was seen as shaky at best, and a hair's breadth away from complete anarchy at worst.

Of course, the professor didn't just pick on the humans. The dwarven War of the Three Hammers forever shattered the ‘racial unity’ of the dwarven race. The gnomes were too cosmopolitan in nature and had a culture ‘constantly on the precipice of collapse’ due to how fast they change the gears of their whole society. Goblins are money grubbers to whom the word friendship means that they demand slightly more money to betray a person then they would normally ask for. And the less said on the ‘barbaric’ orcs and the ‘bestial’ trolls the better.

Honestly, given the overall tone of the class, I was surprised the professor didn’t break out some skulls from behind his desk to show how small the other races brains were.

“-so Miss Coldwater,” the professor said, jolting me from my grumblings. “Would you care to share with the class what the failings of the human political system that you have found that contributes to their instability.”

‘Talk about a leading question,’ I mused from my textbook.

Verana stood up from her seat, overflowing with confidence.

“Yes professor. I’ve found that one of the more damaging aspects in human politics is their tolerance of mob rule.”

Ah yes. Mob Rule. Sounds rather bad right? Well for elves 'mob rule' means any type of political involvement in the nation by the ‘lower classes ranging from hearing the grievances of the guilds, to allowing elections for government positions for even something as small and local as choosing a mayor.

In Quel’Thalas, everything is under the control of the Convocation, a senate like body, that is composed of the most powerful and politically connected magisters in the kingdom. While not every mage in the Kingdom was a member, ever member of the Convocation is a mage.

No one is elected to the position. It is a body filled by appointment. And the only one allowed to appoint, and remove, a sitting magister is the king himself. They serve and leave at the king’s behest.

And when I say everything is controlled by them, I mean everything. If it's not a hereditary position, they decide who has it. Captain of the city guard: Convocation. Governorship of a territory not held by a noble family: Convocation. Mayor of a small town in the middle of nowhere: Convocation. Generals of the army: Convocation. Headmaster of a state school: Convocation.

Suffice to say, nepotism and cronyism runs rampant in Quel’Thalas. More often than not, a position is filled with a magister’s relatives or close friends rather than a qualified individual. A few of the worst cases I’ve read about in my own time make it look like some magisters will put their opponents relatives in position utterly unsuited to their talents so they will fail; allowing them to embarrass their competition in the eyes of their peers.

In layman’s terms, they knowingly put people in positions they have no qualifications for because they want to look good, or make their opponents look bad.

How does a ‘superior’ race defend blatantly inefficient and self-destructive activities?

With classism.

“Their mob rule is nothing more than a popularity contest,” Veranna continued. “Positions of power get filled by individuals whose only skill is playing the crowds or who can make the grandest promises that have no basis in reality. Of course, that assumes they have any education to begin with.”

I might have warmed up to Coldwater a bit over the years, she's pretty intresting once you get to know her. But one thing I can never understand, or want to, is her utter dismissal of the lower classes. By lower classes, she of course means anyone who is not a 'proper' noble. Not even the wealthy merchants or large landowners are spared from her ire. After all, why trust the ‘money grubbing cheese merchants’ with any power?

As far as she is concerned, if you are not from a noble house, with the exacting standards and a moral stake in ‘decency’ and ‘righteousness’ for the kingdom such an upbringing instills, how could a person be reasonably be trusted to work for the betterment of all?

“Very good Ms. Coldwater,” the professor applauded her response. He looked to address class as a whole. “But a reminder to all of you to not limit this ideal to merely human societies. If mob rule can just as easily bring our kingdom low as quickly as any other. Mark my words children, the day the stable hand, the courtesan, and the farmer have as much say in governing as the lords and ladies of court, is the day our kingdom begins its spiral into self-destruction.”

Coldwater sat back down and looked at me with a smile. Her eyes that seemed to be looking for some form of approval from me.

I gave her a nod and a small smile.

What else could I do? Going by all the nods and genuine affirmations from our classmates, I’d be the only person who has a problem with this. Sure, I’m all for having qualified people in positions of power but the mindset takes it to whole different level.

But in this environment, it was best to keep such thoughts to myself.

----
----
----

“So what is it?” Coldwater questioned. Following the history class we had a study hall. She must have looked up from her books to see me scowling.

“What?” I responded.

“You’re too quiet,” she clarified, marking the page she was on before closing the book to give me her undivided attention.

“It’s nothing I just-”

“Oh no, you're not doing that,” she cut me off.

I growled a bit, “nothing is wrong.”

“Yeah, sure nothing’s wrong,” Coldwater imitated my own words. “You just look like you want to set something, or someone, on fire for no reason.”

“Verana….” I groaned.

“Oh no,” her hand gestures were quite expressive. “None of this ‘nothing’s wrong’ or letting whatever is eating at just stew until it bursts. Nope, we are not doing that. As your friend I won’t allow it.”

‘Friend?’ The word caught me a bit off guard. I’d expected acquaintance or associate, but friend? I mean sure, we were together a lot on campus, and yes Verana seemed quite loose-lipped about her life around me.

But that attitude of hers.

The constant poking and prodding. The unspoken back hands and slights on me. The constant back talk. I’d always assumed our relationship was more of that friendly rivalry sort. The ones where both rivals, despite being opposed to one another, develop a healthy degree of respect towards each other.

She always seemed a bit too condescending to be considered a ‘friend’.

“Wait,” she stopped any reply from me before I could even open my mouth. Muttering under her breath as if conversing with herself, realization dawned on her. “Something upset you in class.”

One bit of praise I will give her is that she does put things together rather quickly.

“But I can’t see why you’d be upset,” Verana thought aloud. “You’re one of the professor’s favorites and your grades are excellent.”

“How do you know my grades?” She wasn’t wrong, but it’s a little creepy that she knows my grades.

“I see the grades you get on your assignments Syllia when the professor hands them back,” she explained. “The only points you get deducted are for grammar. If you knew how to write like a proper adult, you’d easily have the highest grade in class.”

‘Hey, it’s not my fault this language is so fucking hard to write!’ I bit back my retort.

“So just tell me what’s bothering you already so we can move onto fixing it,” her tone of voice and the expression she was making did not seem to synch up. Her facial expression gave off the impression of genuine concern, but her voice sounded perpetually stuck in a passively arrogant tone, like a child annoyed at something.

I sighed, realizing I was not going to get out of this.

“It was that whole thing at the end of the lesson,” I explained.

She hummed, finger drumming against the table as she thought. “Well, I know you’re not the type that gets upset by being upstaged in class. So, what is it? Look if this is all about the paper you turned in at the end-“

“I don’t believe in that stuff,” I cut to the point.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more-“

“All that stuff about Mob Rule, Race stuff, and this,” I held up my book to her. The current page was about the ‘Moral Virtue’ of the current political system. “All of this is just nonsense!”

Coldwater for her part looked genuinely surprised at my statement.

I didn’t give her a moment to reply, like a burst dam, all the annoyance I’d been holding in for the past few weeks as we covered this societal bullshit just flowed out.

“This stuff is just degrading. Everything in here treats people like their little more than chattel who need to be tended to! With no concept of self-preservation or self-improvement in a single fiber of their being! As if they lack the basic intelligence to make decisions on their own! Like the people would just happily run off a cliff if they saw enough people do it in front of them because their brains are too small to understand-“

“Okay, Okay I get it,” she held up her hands to calm me down.

As I caught my breath, I became painfully aware of how loud I had been. Almost everyone in the immediate area was now staring at our table.

Oops.

Coldwater ran a hand through her hair, “geeze Syllia, try and speak up next time; I don’t think the King and his court heard you clearly from all the way over here.”

“Sorry,” my eyes kept meeting all the eyes on me. But since I was now quiet, they slowly began to return to their previous things. “I’m sorry I just…. this whole thing just frustrates me, alright.”

After a few moments of silence, mulling over what I had ‘told’ her.

Then, the noble pinched the ridge of her nose and sighed.

“I really should have expected this…”

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re an idealist,” she deadpanned. “‘Everyone is equal’. ‘Everyone should have a voice’. That’s what you think right?”

While I nodded, I just knew she was going to take a stance I did not like from her tone of voice.

“I’m actually surprised,” she told me.

“About what?”

“I’m surprised that someone so smart can so st-…ignorant to how the world works,” Verana explained.

Smooth Verana, I almost didn’t catch you about to call me ‘stupid’.

“And how does it work,” my voice carried a slight edge to it.

“It works like this,” her tone become more forceful, but not to the point of coming across as demanding. More like exasperated as she leaned over to me. “Society is comprised of different classes with different obligations and responsibilities to the greater whole. The farmers till the land. Merchants pawn their wares at market. Priests heal the sick. Scholars teach and pass on knowledge to the next generation. And so on.”

She paused for dramatic effect and to let her words sink in.

“All these myriads of classes and disparate groups are organized under the guidance of a ruling class. A class who are burdened with the task of managing these, often conflicting, classes into a cohesive structure for the betterment of all.”

“And they are?” I had a sinking feeling about what her next words would be.

“Us,” her tone indicated that the answer was obvious. “We”, hands pointed to both of us, “are that class. Without us, without the skills and foresight we provide, society would collapse.”

‘Bullshit’ I wanted to spit at her.

She saw I was unconvinced and changed her approach. “Think of it like this then. Who would you trust with the leadership of an army: a educated general, or a shoemaker?”

I think I had an idea of where she was taking this.

“This isn’t a trick question,” she confused my lack of reply for hesitance.

“The general,” I finally replied.

“Yes, and why?” she led me on.

“You’re building a strawman Verana,” I told her. “When I said I think everyone should be equal, I didn’t mean it in that way.”

“You chose the general because they have been trained in military matters,” she finished her own point. “And just like generals are trained to lead armies, we nobles are trained and educated to deal with the rigors of statecraft and politics.”

“Verana-“

“Fine,” she cut me off and sat back down at her side of the table seeing that I wasn’t budging from my position. “Fine. I can see your being as stubborn as a mule on this topic. There are a dozen and one rationales to why the world is the way it is, and I could go over each of them in detail to you; but I don’t want this to turn into some shouting match between us as you get more and more upset. Just know that I respect that you hold certain views on this matter, but I also respectively disagree with them.”

“Fine, I’ll drop it,” I sighed, agreeing to disagree. This was probably the best outcome for our discussion with two people holding wildly different world views clashing with one another.

“Good then,” she let out a breath she seemingly didn’t know she was holding in. With a flick of her fingers, she returned to her previously marked book page. “Before we got off track, I was going to ask you for some help on that Arcane Theorem paper. Low as I am to admit, you have a better grasp of these mysteries than I do.”

As our prior argument left our minds, I could only wonder why someone who held beliefs like Coldwater would even hang out with me.

If that is the type of stuff she genuinely believes and holds to be true, I wonder how she would react to me? I’m the daughter of a whore; I am literally from the bottom of the societal totem pole. Yet here I am, rubbing shoulders with the cream of the crop of society.

By her logic I shouldn’t even be here.

Even as a girl myself, I fear I shall never understand them.