Chương 15: Chapter Fifteen

"So, nothing happened?"

"As I've said. Repeatedly. We shared a room. That's it," William mumbled as he pulled up his welding goggles. Seam looks good, he thought as he gazed down at the oversized and partially constructed brass and copper helmet on the table in front of him.

"Yes, but you can't deny it's suspicious," Bonnlyn continued from her position, sitting on a nearby welding table – a table that was notably absent of any work. Mostly because she'd finished it. …Before him. Which stung his pride a bit. Because while he'd hardly have named himself a master-welder in this life or the last, he wasn't an amateur either.

"Suspicious?" He craned his head in her direction.

"It was getting late so rather than walk all the way back to your compound, Marline decided to sleep in my room. That's it." Bonnlyn smiled.

"A man and a woman. Unwed. Sharing a room together. It's the definition of scandalous!"

"We share a dorm together now." He refused to rise to the bait.

"Hell, we share showers together." Well, not specifically with Marline. The young woman was a bit prudish like that. As had been evidenced by the fact that she'd chosen to sleep fully clothed rather than slip into her undergarments like he did. Never mind how skittish she'd been about sharing a bed. Unfortunately for the dark elf, the only way to form a Geas Contract was by sleeping together. Literally. The pair had slept in the same bed. That was it. They slept together.

Entered the void together and formed a contract with a fae together. A contract that even now he could feel it at the back of his mind. Like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. A sensation that he knew would only grow as the deadline grew closer. Likewise, he knew Marline would feel something similar if she even thought about broaching the topic of what they'd be doing next week aloud. And while it was a little irritating, William knew they were both glad for it.

The sensation served as a safeguard against accidentally breaking the pact. Which was admittedly more of an issue for Marline than him – he'd either have the Mithril Core on the day or he wouldn't - but he was glad for it all the same. For all that he'd been rather laissez-faire about the whole thing, he could admit to feeling some small dread over the possibility of losing his magic now that it was actually on the line.

Oh he'd get by without it, certainly, if something unexpected were to happen, but it would be a significant complication to overcome. Not least of all because, while he'd be summarily booted from the academy, his betrothal would still be quite intact. After all, his future wife wasn't marrying him because of who he was, but what he represented. A guaranteed continuation of her family's magical bloodline and an ironclad alliance with the Ashfields.

Compared to that, the fact that his personal aether-supply would be constantly being sucked up by the fae whom he'd formed the geass contract with was moot. It wouldn't affect his kids after all, just him. Hell, when I put it like that it might actually be more convenient for the Blackstones if fuck this up, he thought absently as he ran a finger over the smooth metal of the helmet in front of him. I'd certainly be more easily 'contained'. He tried to laugh at the thought, but a small part of him shivered a little.

"So you're saying nothing happened?" Bonnlyn said again. The little gremlin actually had the audacity to laugh when he pinned her with a flat stare. Sighing, he absently wiped a stray bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Did I do something in particular to deserve this ongoing inquisition? Or are you just feeling particularly Bonnlyn today?"

"Hey, don't use my name as an insult!" The dwarf grunted.

"And yes actually, you did. Because by choosing to totally just sleep with Marline and nothing else, you left me visiting my folks with just Olzenya in tow." William stiffened a little at that.

"Oh god, I should do something to make it up to her." He'd wondered why the high elf had seemed a little shellshocked on the boat back to the academy, but ultimately he'd been too caught up in his own plans to give it more than a passing thought. Hell, the entire team had been quiet on the way back, sans Bonnlyn herself. The girl seemed positively energized by the time she'd spent with her 'kin'. For better and worse, he thought as he watched the girl sputter.

"Her? What about me? I had to pretend to be nice to her all day while my folks kept thanking her for looking out for me."

"Yes," he deadpanned.

"Having to pretend to be nice to your teammate. How awful."

"It was!" The dwarf declared, either ignorant or uncaring of his sarcasm – likely the latter.

"So, you need to make it up to me." He resisted the urge to point out that going out last weekend when they could have otherwise been training was his way of 'making things up to her'." Not least of all because he knew she was joking. And while they'd only been back a day, she'd shown how grateful she was for the break by working her butt off in the time they'd been back. As evidenced by the fact that despite it being 'end of duty day', she was down here in the forges helping him with his project.

Even if she had no idea why she was welding straight pipe fittings through holes drilled into the side of a steel barrel. But she was doing it. Because he'd asked. … And also because Marline was helping get both their rooms ready for inspection – but that went without saying.

"With that said," she continued, tone becoming something that might charitably have been called sultry by a different man.

"Getting to watch you work all that metal is certainly a step in the right direction." William rolled his eyes, even as he pulled down his goggles and returned to welding another spot on the helmet in front of him – sparks bouncing off it to impact the bare skin of his forearm. He didn't feel it though. Stoneskin spells were handy like that. Handy enough that the only real protective equipment he needed was for his still squishy eyeballs. The leather apron he was wearing was more for modesty than anything else.

Given that the only other item of clothing he was wearing were a pair of briefs. And he'd have shed them too if modesty didn't compel him to stay 'decent'. Even at this time of night, a half dozen smiths and apprentices employed by the academy were making use of the communal facilities. Indeed, there was rarely a time the forges weren't operational, given the academy's ongoing need for everything from bolt-bows to nails. Hence his rather startling lack of garments.

Between all the open furnaces, welding torches and open furnaces, the place was hot. In more than one way, he thought as he glanced up at a nearby blacksmith, the dwarven woman's massive biceps shifting beneath her sweat streaked skin as she continued to hammer metal into the form she wanted. And he didn't fail to note the way her gaze glanced over his way every now and then. Less than the apprentices, who were pretty blatant in their staring the moment their masters glanced away, just every now and then.

She was interested. Like him, she was down to little more than an apron. Most of the staff present were, given that the piece of leather protective equipment was the only thing truly obligated by the academy when entering the forges. Fortunately for Bonnlyn's self esteem – given she was no exception to the apron rule – his goggles meant that his small peak at what was essentially just an older version of herself went unnoticed.

Or rather the younger dwarf was busy snickering at a nearby apprentice that had just let out a loud yelp after accidentally bringing down a hammer onto her hand rather than the bit of steel she'd been aiming at, stone-skin turning what might have been a shattered finger into a merely painful bit of bruising. It wasn't the first time it had happened since he'd walked in and he doubted it would be the last.

Though he couldn't help but note that despite the older smiths grumbling about their 'idiot apprentices' getting distracted, none of them had come forward to ask him to suit up again. Which he'd admit he was thankful for. The forges really were hot. Though glancing around the room, he couldn't help but marvel at the dichotomy of technology on display. Forges and anvils stood opposite welding benches powered by acetylene. Though perhaps the latter shouldn't have been too surprising.

If there was one thing the locals were familiar with it was the function and manipulation of piping and gas. And while a magical spell might allow a person to manipulate pure steel with all the ease of a child shaping clay, there remained the fact that a mage could only cast so many spells in a day. To that end, most mage-smiths were as handy with a hammer as they were with a spell.

Lifting up his goggles again to inspect his latest weld, his brow furrowed slightly as he caught the reflection of an unexpected figure in the gleaming metal. A figure that was just standing there. Staring.

"Instructor Griffith," he said, inwardly smirking at the way the hardened dark elf actually jumped a little as he suddenly turned towards her.

"Did you need us for something, ma'am?" The little 'gurk' noise Bonnlyn made as she turned to regard their year's most feared teacher was also fun. Looking a little guilty about the fact that she'd just been subtly ogling him from behind, the dark elf rallied admirably after adjusting glasses. Her cheeks were still a little flushed though – and he was sure it wasn't entirely a result of the heat.

"I do, actually, cadet, you're instructed to report to my office post-haste," she said. This time it was his turn to stiffen slightly – in more ways than one – as at least two very different scenarios played it out in his head at the thought of being invited into the attractive instructor's private office late at night. Both would be cause for his heart to skip a beat. As if realizing the implications that might come with her earlier words – though which, William could not say – the woman hurriedly continued.

"Your mother has requested that I ask you to speak with her." William struggled not to slouch, even as relief and disappointment washed over him in equal measure.

"Oh, I'd be happy to attend to that, ma'am. Though, surely you have better things to do than chase down cadets in their off hours about their post?" He'd actually been planning to do that anyway. He'd mostly just wanted to make his house sweat a little as they were contacted by other houses about a 'flashbang' spell that most assuredly didn't exist in the Ashfield family records. Leaving them holding the bag, as it were, as other houses came to them asking to buy the rights to the spell.

In doing so he'd hoped to gain a bit more value from the spell when he essentially sold it back to them. In doing so they'd be able to claim the spell was an Ashfield secret and he'd get some kind of benefit. Now, it certainly wouldn't be anything close to enough to break off his betrothal to the Blackstones, but it might become worth enough to them to refuse Tala's request for him to switch squads.

And an extra semester of practice would see a lot more improvement from our first year team than their third year team, he thought. Though at his words, he felt Bonnlyn wince slightly from his side. Though she really didn't need to. Her reaction was more a matter of instinct than reason.

Sure, the kind of 'backtalk' he'd just engaged in would likely have resulted in laps back during the first two weeks in the academy, but after a month and a bit the instructors had relaxed the need for total discipline considerably. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. This was an academy for officers after all, not enlisted sailors or marines.

As evidenced by the way Griffith simply nodded, her earlier fluster almost entirely gone now that she was back in her role – though he couldn't help but note that her eyes seemed to dip every now and then.

"Perhaps under normal circumstances," the woman admitted.

"But you misunderstand me, when I say your mother has requested that you speak to her, I mean it in much more real terms. The communication orb connected to the Ashfield estate has been moved to my office, where a live-feed to your mother is currently active."

"You mean she's-""Yes, currently waiting for you," Griffith said.

"And every moment we spend here is more aether and coin drained from your house's coffers." His heart jumped a little as he placed down his goggles.

"Ah, right, I better move then." Hesitating for just a moment as he looked back at his helmet on the bench, he was saved as Bonnlyn spoke up.

"Don't worry, Will. I'll tidy all this up." Which meant she'd take the helmet back to the room. The barrel he wasn't too worried about, but the helmet was something he didn't exactly want too many people seeing. The more people that saw it the higher the chance someone would connect the dots later. Admittedly a bit of a moot point given the interest he'd generated just by walking into the forges, but that had been inevitable.

As much as he'd liked to have worked on the helmet in an empty room, the forges were never empty. Work was done in shifts, so even in the dead of night – assuming he managed to sneak out – the place would still be bustling.

"Thanks," he said to Bonnlyn, before turning toward Griffith "Shall we go then, ma'am?" For just a moment, another crack appeared in the woman's stern appearances as her eyes darted to the side behind her wire-rim glasses.

"While your haste is admirable, I might suggest a change of clothes first." He glanced down at his apron – and little else – clad form and swallowed.

"Yes, I suppose I should." He'd hate to suffer a demerit for not being in proper uniform within the academy proper. As amusing as his mother's face might be if he showed himself as he was.

"Mother, so good to see you." Despite the warm tone of her cadet, Griffith could hear even through the door that the tone lacked any real warmth. Which wasn't unexpected. Men from noble families rarely ended up at Blicland Academy because all was right with their home life. Exceptions existed of course, usually in the form of Sunland houses, but typically if a young man was set to attend here it was because they desperately needed straightening out or separating from some scandal at home.

Usually in the form of a less than ideal lover to whom they'd grown… attached. Now, while it was hardly considered rare for a young man to experiment with the women around him as he came into his majority – a few unacknowledged bastards could be a valuable resource to a house as they were a ripe source for magical recruits - it was usually with the express understanding that said flings were to remain as such and nothing more.

For, while some might even consider it a boon where competence was concerned for a man to enter their marital bed a little less… physically pure, the same could not be said for emotional purity. Having to share a man with six other women could be strain enough on a relationship. Having said man pine for some lost love beyond even that was a step too far.

With that said, given Cadet William's distinct lack of interest in his teammates, Griffith was reasonably certain that it was not some lady love that had caused such strife between the young man and the head of his house.

"And it's good to see you too, son of mine." The distinct tones of Lady Ashfield echoed through the door.

"Not least of all because I can't help but feel that if I didn't arrange this little 'face to face', I may not have heard from you for weeks yet." She could imagine the young man shrugging – though in her mind's eye she found to her shame that her imaginary image was not clad in the proud uniform of the academy but rather the garments she'd found him in when she went down to the forge. Slick with sweat. Lightly muscled. With that devilish smile on his lips as he stood there almost entirely exposed.

The little satyr was entirely shameless. … Yet she'd not heard even a hint of any kind of untoward behaviour with his team. Not from her other instructors or the servants. And they'd kept an eye out for it. After all, the bonds of camaraderie the academy tried to instill into new recruits had an unfortunate tendency to form deeper bonds. So much so that all-male teams had been floated as a concept in the past, before being shot down as they ran into the inevitable issue of simple scarcity.

Realistically such teams would only really be viable if one were willing to place multiple different year groups into the same team – which was obviously not practical for a number of reasons. Hence why noble born male recruits tended to be placed onto teams with their future fiancées where practical. Something that obviously couldn't be done in William's case given that his fiancé was the leader of a third year team.

Though that hadn't stopped the headstrong girl from insisting that the boy be shifted onto a team belonging to a Blackstone vassal house. Something Griffith herself had tried to block at William's request – if only out of her duty of care to a cadet under her purview and absolutely no other reason – only to be overruled once the Ashfield matriarch weighed in on the girl's side.

A surprising move given that the woman had been the one to, at no small cost, have him placed on a Royal Team that was, in her words, 'guaranteed' to succeed. Clearly her desire for her son to gain prestige on the behalf of her house was smaller than whatever hold the Blackstones had over the small Southern Countship. Griffith shook her head. This was why she preferred to be Instructor Griffith and not Countess Griffith of House Griffith. She had little to no taste for politics.

"Perhaps," the young man beyond the door said.

"Is that strange however? It's been but a few weeks since we spoke last. Given the outcome of that last discussion I fail to see what we'd have to talk about now."

"My decision on the matter of your transfer remains the same." Ashfield said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"While I understand that you might find it disruptive, and I apologize for that, Tala raised a number of arguments I had not considered when I first enrolled you." Her tone turned commiserating.

"And, while both I and your law-mothers are pleasantly surprised by your success in House Royal, the fact remains that maintaining close relations with the Blackstones is paramount at this time." But why though, Griffith wondered? Not that she expected there to be an answer to that question. If the Ashfields wanted whatever the reason was to remain a secret they'd not be so foolish as to speak about it now.

Even if Griffith wasn't standing outside her office, the mother and son were speaking using academy equipment.

"And fuck whatever I want, right? The fact that I have grown to value my team in House Royal is of no consequence. Nor my achievements with them." Rather than angry or venomous like Griffith might have expected, Cadet William sounded resigned. A far cry from the wild child he'd been painted as when his mother had forwarded his enrolment. Then again, that deviation from how he was 'at home' had been a near constant since he'd arrived.

"Again, I apologise," the Ashfield matriarch repeated, before proverbially straightening up.

"However, as you said, a repeat of that discussion is not why I had you brought here – at great cost to this house. Unneeded cost."

"The Flashbang spell."

"Exactly!" The woman's voice became more animated.

"I've had houses from all across Lindholm messaging me acquiring rights to this new spell. A supposedly Ashford spell that I know nothing about. Despite ransacking our libraries in search of it." What?

"Because it's not from our libraries." Willaim said simply.

"I made it. Alone."

"You invented a new spell?" There was no missing the incredulousness in the woman's tone. She could hear the boy shrug.

"For a given value of the word. I'd say that I adjusted the parameters of a lightning spell. Honestly, the fact that no one did it before me boggles my mind." Truth be told, Griffith didn't disagree. In retrospect the spell was blindingly obvious. … With that said, even with three uses to a charge, she didn't think she'd use it over a lightning bolt or a fireball. Not in a real fight. Sure, the spell had some utility, but not enough to warrant losing out on a third of her firepower. And that was the rub of it.

The spell was only really 'cost effective' in the academy environment. One wherein offensive combat magic was all-but neutered. The value of inter-mage combat aboard the Floats lessened considerably after the first year. Once shards and airship manoeuvring became factors, the combat ability of mere mage-knights was of significantly less importance.

The only reason the Academy focused on it so much for first years was because establishing a baseline combat ability for cadets allowed for an easier segue into other, more specialized, skills. That unfamiliarity combined with a fear of being kicked off the floats for breaking the rules where offensive magic was concerned had served to effectively curtail the average first year's willingness to innovate or experiment. Never mind the pressure to perform for the scoreboards.

Said scoreboards and the prestige that came with them being the true reason why so many houses were now interested in said spell. The fact that they saw the success of Team Seven and miscorrelated it with the advent of the spell only added to the fervour. She shook her head.

The only good thing that could be said about the affair was that it might inspire other cadets to start innovating with their magic once more, rather than falling even deeper into the trap of over-standardisation that seemed to have become more and more of a staple with the advent of new technologies.

"Truly?" Janet Ashfield's voice echoed.

"That's it? Not a new spell but a mere innovation on a staple?" There was no response, but Griffith didn't think the woman had been expecting one.

"Well, if that's the case, I don't see why we can't begin distributing it to interested houses immediately. I had thought to delay it until your return at the end of the semester, but with this I can easily foresee our House 'reinventing' it here." The woman paused.

"The Crown will get first rights of course, but at this point I think it would be wise to go for a wide approach to sales rather than attempt to gain value through exclusivity."

"We?" William said cautiously.

"This is my spell. I planned to distribute it myself."

"Consider those plans cancelled." Janet said airily.

"You will be rewarded for this my son I promise, you have performed a great service for our house - but this advent is too well timed and valuable to let you reap the rewards alone. As Ashfield has supported you, so too must you support House Ashfield."

"So you're stealing my innovation to fuel your ambitions?" Again, rather than sounding angry or even disappointed, the boy simply sounded resigned. Janet Ashfield's tone became sharp.

"I steal nothing. I am the head of House Ashfield and you are a member. As I said, you will be rewarded but this boon is not yours alone. Or do I need to remind you that it is on my coin that you attend the academy? The place where you received your inspiration."

"It is," William admitted.

"But you seem to be forgetting that you chose to send me here. As a punishment. Can a gift incur debt if it is given without goodwill or consent?"

"I'm not arguing about this William." Willaim sighed.

"No, you're dictating terms – and as ever, I can do little beyond yield. Just as I did when I was ousted from my position as heir of our house in favour of a newborn babe sired out of wedlock." Griffith frowned slightly. She could well see how that may make a man bitter. Or just plain murderous. Certainly the scandal of the bastard of the Ashfields had been the talk of the capital for a few days. It simply wasn't done after all – not unless there was some serious deficiency with the original heir.

One that would have to go beyond even his gender. And normally the only things that could necessitate that were if the boy were either mad or bereft of magic. Which as far as Griffith could see, William was neither. So why then did the Ashfields go so far as to renounce his position as heir in favor of a bastard? Yet another puzzle.

"The reasons were explained-""Dictated. Just as they were just now. So it seems the spell is yours," the cadet said tiredly. A silence filled the air.

"A reward. I can still offer you that," Janet Ashfield said, making some small attempt at commiseration. And to her surprise, rather than mull on it, the boy's response was instantaneous. So much so that Griffith almost wondered if he'd been ready for this.

"Cancel my transfer to House Blackstone from House Royal. I've no desire to be placed even further under Tala's thumb before we're even wed and I also rather enjoy the company of my team."

"Enjoy-""Not in that manner. As I'm sure your spies have already conveyed. They're just good and talented cadets. People I enjoy being around." His voice quieted.

"Please, if you're going to take our signature spell and sell it to anyone and everyone, at least let me spend the next four years with the people I invented it to help." Once again, Griffith couldn't help but think that sounded almost… rehearsed.

"I… can't, William. The goodwill of the Blackstone is too valuable," the Ashfield Matriarch said hesitatingly. The boy laughed acerbically.

"Certainly more than either your word or my happiness." Silence reigned once more.

"A delay then. Give me the full year with my team. Surely my spell is worth that much?"

"I can't."

"Can't or won't," he shot back.

"It's better to end this now. A few more months with those girls is not worth the ire of your future spouse. If the Ashfields refuse them on a matter as small as this… how can they trust us to back them on anything more significant?" Was the trade deal between the two houses that important? Were the Blackstones that desperate for food? Or were the Ashfields that desperate for steel? Somehow she couldn't help but feel this was… more. William sighed.

"Well, I guess that there's not much point in asking for anything else. I'd hate to hear more excuses."

"Wait, William I-" Griffith heard the woman's voice cut out with the distinctive crackle of someone deliberately cutting the connection. It would reform of course, but it would take a while for the shredded aether to reconstitute itself. In other words, that orb wouldn't be operating again tonight. Some part of her wanted to be annoyed about that. A cadet had just temporarily disabled a piece of academy equipment. Most of her was sympathetic though. That hadn't sounded like a fun conversation.

One that likely didn't make an already stressful academy environment any easier. Enough so that she couldn't help but wonder how much of the boy's fatigue in that conversation was emotional and how much was simply physical. Once more she reminded him that she'd found him in the forges after hours. That was a long day. The boy was likely exhausted. And frustrated. In need of some… relief. Alone in her office. For just a moment a recent memory popped into her treacherous mind.

She shook her head, chastising herself for her wickedness. She was an educator! And the boy's superior! She'd just give him a few kind words. Let him have a small break from the stern instructor in the face of his most recent disappointment. Hopefully that would help him… perform better tomorrow. She didn't want him distracted by issues at home.

Placing her hand on the doorknob, she still couldn't stop the treacherous beating of her heart as she stepped inside her office to find that, sure enough, the boy was standing over a communication orb that was now showing little more than fuzzy blue and gold.

"Can I assume you are finished with your conversation?" She asked, returning as best she could to her Instructor face. The boy perked up, as if surprised as he tore his gaze away from the orb.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Thanks for coming to get me and sorry for the inconvenience. My mother can be a little overbearing at times, but I think having me receive an orb from her in your office was just a step too far. Hopefully it won't happen again." It was funny, if she hadn't just heard the conversation that had just transpired she'd think that nothing at all was amiss with the boy as he gave her an easy smile. Even moreso as his eyes dipped just a little toward her neckline.

She prepared to dismiss him before hesitating.

"It sounded a little heated. Just from the tone, I couldn't make out the details." It was a lie, but a small one. A brief hint of surprise crossed the cadet's – handsome – face.

"I suppose it was a little. I love her, but my mother can be a frustrating person at times. Honestly, I could use a distraction?"

"Would you like to talk for a little bit?" she asked.

"I have a few minutes to spare before lights out and you're one of my cadets." Once more, she felt his gaze trace over her body. Were his words bait? Or just talk? His gaze was roaming over her body. Gods, he wasn't even trying to hide it. Was it because they were alone in her office? Did… did he think he could get away with it far from prying eyes. She wanted to move to the side to dismiss him out of her office, but for some reason she remained in place.

"I'd love to," he said with that same easy smile.

"If you don't mind ma'am." Ignoring the rush of blood between her thighs, she kept her features placid as she moved to shut the door behind her, the lock sliding into place with an audible click. Along with the silencing enchantment. The one she used for when she wanted a conversation to remain private. Something she normally used when cadets came to talk to her about their issues. There was no greater reason for it, she convinced herself as she gestured to a nearby chair.

"Then feel free to take a seat," she said with a mouth that felt just a little too dry all of a sudden.

"I'll make some tea." She needed to get a hold of herself. This was just another chat with a student.