What We Do to Survive

After all the fascinating things I’d learned today, I went directly to my dear Miranda to ask some pointed questions. That was one of the problems with the sort of loyalty oath she’d sworn. She couldn’t act against me or plot to get out of the oath, but it didn’t force her to do much of anything actively unless I told her to.

She had standing instructions to inform me of any plots or similar that could result in me coming to harm, but she didn’t have to tell me anything she didn’t consider pertinent. Still, she would be the easiest way to confirm some interesting realizations I’d come to.

I found her in her usual haunt, one of the small ‘social rooms’ connected to the main library. They were technically meant for quiet study, but over the years had been converted into a sort of casual lounge where students of different years could interact freely.

The library was one of the places where the rules were most heavily enforced. Head Librarian Lireal was a nascent divinity of knowledge and took the security of her space very seriously. It wasn’t the absolute protection of the cafeteria, but it was a very close second. No student had died of foul play in the library in the two centuries she’d been at her post, though I knew from experience that severe injury was still a possibility.

This made the library and surrounding rooms a uniquely safe space for students to interact. The only threats here were social, which was actually one of the reasons I tended to avoid the side rooms whenever possible.

I was much less confident in my people skills than I was my magic. With so many people of different race, religion, and nationality, it was all too easy to offend someone, something I took pains to avoid whenever possible. I was starting to get the feeling that I may have cast fireball in an enclosed room doing so.

Standing just outside the room where I could sense Miranda, I tugged gently on our bond. This close to her, I could sense and interact with the web of oath magic binding her to me. Then I went and took a seat not far from the room.

Miranda emerged several minutes later, hastily fixing her mussed makeup with a handy spell. It seemed she’d found herself a new target since our conversation on Monday. I stood up and she fell in beside me as we wandered deeper into the labyrinthian shelves.

“Orion, we were just getting to the good part!” she whined as soon as she felt we were far enough away from the busier areas of the library, “He’s a real cutie and his water affinity is nothing to scoff at!”

She let out an exaggerated moan of pleasure, “Oh the things that boy can do with his tongue…”

“Are you done?”

She pouted, lower lip trembling in feigned sadness. Giving a fake sob, she wiped a single tear away with a finger.

“Miranda.”

“Fine, gods Orion, you can take that stick out of your ass.” She gave me a saucy wink, and shook her rear suggestively. “If you want, I can show you where that stick would fit much better.”

“Miranda.”

“Right. Sorry.” She straightened, adjusting her low cut blouse so her breasts weren’t nearly popping out.

“Much better. I appreciate the view, but I have some questions I’d like you to answer for me.”

“Oh?”

I stopped and looked around, thin threads of mana reaching out to check for others nearby. Then I turned to face Miranda.

“First of all, Brenda Goodwitch. You know what I’m asking.”

“Ah.” She let out a breath and looked away for a moment. “I guess you finally noticed?”

“Miranda.” I said warningly.

“Well, you guys have been dating for like, a year. Congrats?”

I continued to stare her in the eyes, unamused.

“Well at first I thought you knew, Brenda definitely contributed to the rumors when she found out about them. Later, well, it never felt like the right time and…” she paused for a moment, then blurted out the rest in a single breath, “I thought it was funny and harmless so I didn’t say anything please don’t be mad.”

I slowly reached out, wrapping one hand around her slender neck. I couldn’t hurt her, not here, but threats without the actual violence were permitted. I felt her swallow heavily, throat bobbing under my light grip.

“I think we are long overdue for a Nice. Long. Talk.” My hand trailed upward, cupping her cheek in a deceptively gentle gesture. “I thought my instructions were relatively clear, but it seems I was wrong.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she whispered, a genuine tinge of fear in her voice, “I promise it won’t happen again. You don’t need to do anything.”

I pulled away, studying her expression speculatively. Her eyes were downcast, expression carefully neutral. Her entire pose screamed submission, but she was a consummate actress and I wasn’t particularly good at reading people.

The fear at least, that I was pretty sure was real. The oath she’d sworn was very particular. She could not oppose me, but I had no such restrictions. If I wanted to say, tie her down and flay the skin from her back, she could do nothing to resist it. Her own magic and soul would fight her if she tried.

I seriously contemplated it for a moment. Just, leaving the library with her and taking her down to my room for some good old-fashioned discipline. Eventually, common sense won out. If I did that, it would build a grudge that would only fester with time. She was not exactly a willing servant, but at least she wasn’t actively trying to resist her bindings. They were not tight enough that I was willing to let that happen.

If I ever decided to go that far, she would not be going anywhere afterward. Not without a seventh circle binding at the very least, and I was years away from that sort of magic. She would look good beside my not-so-little elf, but it would be more bother than it was worth at this time. No, today was not that day.

“You’re right,” I eventually said, “I don’t think either of us wants me to do something. Still, this better not happen again, understood?” I let my mana unspool from my body, pressing heavily against her own core. It was nothing like the overwhelming aura the Myrddin had so carelessly displayed, but she shrank back from it regardless, pupils dilating and body trembling.

I leveraged my fine control, mimicking the mana flows I’d witnessed the day before and pushing down on her soul from all directions for a single moment. Then, I pulled away, mana once more tightly packed into the core at the center of my being.

“Yes Sir. I understand. I’m sorry Sir.” She was shaking, and for a moment I felt bad about what I’d just done. Despite everything, she’d been a loyal friend and servant since that day our freshman year that I’d let her go. Then I hardened my resolve and the moment passed. You had to be firm with people like her, else they would forever try to push the boundaries of their cage.

“Very good.”

I smiled brightly and put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her with me as I began walking deeper into the shelves. She stumbled for a moment, surprised by the sudden motion, but retained her footing and quickly scrambled to follow.

“Now then,” I began, tone much more cheerful than it had been but a moment before, “I have a few other questions about our classmates you should be able to answer. Shouldn’t take too long, I wouldn’t want to keep you away from your new boy-toy for long.”

“Of course, I’d be happy to help Orion.”

“Lovely. So I was talking to Janna earlier and…”

Once I was thoroughly convinced that violence would not be necessary, our conversation eventually moved down to the cafeteria. We’d arrived before the main dinner rush and managed to claim a small table in the corner, the open window letting in a pleasant breeze and the scent of blooming blood lilies.

I leaned back in my seat, idly twirling a spoon in one hand. It was a trick my father had shown me, but now with the addition of a thin layer of adhesive mana, I could do things he would have never imagined possible. Miranda was back to her usual more exuberant and flirty self, digging into a large bowl of pudding with exaggerated enjoyment. Despite the act, I could tell she was still somewhat scared, occasionally giving me worried looks when she thought I wasn’t looking.

She’d given me a lot to think about. I’d quizzed her for the better part of an hour about the level of skill exhibited by our classmates, as well as the students a year above and below us, and had come to some fascinating conclusions. Overall, people just didn’t try nearly as hard as I thought they would.

It was a foreign concept really, I’d assumed everyone was like me. Practicing at all hours of the day, grinding out spell after spell and pouring over books and notes whenever there was time. I had no social life and had accepted that as a cost of attending an institution like Avalon.

Most people just… didn’t. I’d heard that some people treated Avalon like a social club, but hadn’t really believed it before. I’d thought the constantly packed ‘social areas’ were just a symptom of burned out students needing to unwind.

According to Miranda however, there were some students who considered that the most important part of their ‘education’. Sure they would learn some magic, but the real goal was to build connections with other powerful mage houses and organizations. Those were often the same students that chose to drop out willingly, another phenomenon I’d heard of but never really believed. Who would choose to abandon a place like Avalon? Apparently a lot of people.

Even among the more committed students she knew, those who had a chance to graduate and the drive to do so, most did not work like I did. Janna and her ilk had come to Avalon with five or more years of education under their belts and had mostly coasted on those skills. Sure they learned new spells, went to classes, studied, but they didn’t do it like I did.

There were a couple of others like me, workaholics that spent every waking moment striving to succeed. Sometimes they graduated, the rare archmage that could take the world by storm. Others? Others died, burnt out and alone.

It almost made sense when I thought about it. After all, why did I work so hard? It was because I was scared. I still remembered what Adara Warbringer had told me, way back in our first weeks of classes.

She’d been someone familiar, coming from the same tiny island nation as I did. I’d wanted someone to talk to, to hear the familiar sounds of our mother tongue. She’d looked at me like a gnat that had just flown into her eye. Sure, our social status back home couldn’t have been more different. I was just Hunter, while she was Warbringer. Daughter of heroes and generals. I’d thought, hoped, wished that ‘classmates’ could bridge that gap.

It had been the third week when it had happened. I’d tried to talk to her after class and for the first time she had engaged with me as well. She led me to the library and sat me down for a talk. It had been short, sharp, and had nearly broken the hollow desperate shell I’d been at that time.

She’d simply cited the statistics. As an unaffiliated student with no past formal schooling, I had a ninety-eight percent mortality rate by my fourth year. There was no point making friends because even if I survived, I had nothing to offer her. ‘You aren’t worth any effort because you will die.’

Then she’d left, leaving me sitting shell-shocked for the rest of the day. I hadn’t known how to feel when she’d died last year, a poisoned knife under the ribs. I’d never spoken to her since that day, but it had hurt like no other death among my classmates had.

People like her didn’t think they had to work, not nearly as much as those less fortunate. It didn’t matter how well they did, they had family and wealth to fall back on. They were safer even in a place like this, just like Brenda was. Brenda didn’t need to be powerful and paranoid, the threat of her family shielded her against offences that would sign my death sentence. It hadn’t worked out for the Warbringer, but that hadn’t stopped the others from acting like that.

She’d lit a fire under my ass that day. I’d still been scrambling to catch up, desperate to learn all these things I was supposed to already know, but she’d given me purpose. I refused to be that statistic she told me. I’d done my own research of course, checked her numbers, and the truth had been even worse than what she’d told me

Until that day I hadn’t really internalized that students hunted one another. Freshman were given a two month grace period, so I hadn’t really experienced it yet myself. Watching the upper years had been eye opening, and I credited that with saving my life a dozen times over. I’d started the first year as one of over a hundred ‘random’ students. There had been twenty of us by the end of the year.

That conversation had put an end to my first attempts at friendship. Instead I’d isolated myself, always working, always reading, always practicing. I’d caught up with where I was supposed to be and just kept going. I had no one I cared to talk to, no social obligations to push aside my work for, no hobbies beyond magic. Father had taught me that if you wanted to do a job right, you had to focus on nothing else, and I’d burned that lesson into my mind.

It had worked, almost too well as I was learning now. I’d closed myself off so far I had missed a lot of important context. I was still not a part of any of the social groups and unofficial clubs on campus. Many would have welcomed me after my first year, but I hadn’t even known to listen for offers.

This time I could forgive Miranda for not keeping me up to date. She’d honestly assumed I’d known and I believed her. I faintly remembered some people approaching me last year, but I had been so paranoid I had politely brushed them off and fled. I’d seen enemies around every corner, enough that I’d missed that not all of them carried knives.

I set my spoon down softly. There was still food on my plate, but suddenly I wasn’t hungry. My parents had always taught me to clean my plate, but that had been a different time, a different life.

“Thank you.” I eventually forced out. It almost hurt to say, but it was necessary.

She looked up, her own spoon frozen halfway to the bowl. She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

“I’ve been,” I paused, searching for the words, “unfair to you. I shouldn’t have done… that, in the library.”

She closed her mouth, seemingly unsure of what to say.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

For the second time that day, I stood up abruptly and left, leaving Miranda sitting speechless, spoon still held loosely above her pudding.