Weight of Worlds

Ranvir knew this period would be different from usual when Master Sigurd showed up with a third or fourth year student. Ranvir had seen them about but hadn't spent enough time to recognize the accent markings on their uniform on sight. The student was short, even more so than Esmund, and his blonde mustache was grown long with a slight curl to the ends. He clearly spent quite a bit of time taking care of it, as evidenced by its silky smooth look.

"Students, I would like you to meet Anlaf." He gestured to the student, who dipped into a shallow bow. "He's a third year who recently achieved his second stage, Cloak, in the Discipline of Wings." Ranvir and the rest of the students called out a quick greeting. "I brought Anlaf with me today because I wanted to display something that all tethered need to know."

He maneuvered Anlaf off to one side, so they were about five meters apart. "Anlaf is a generator, this means he has no control over smoke he has not made himself. This is, of course, offset by him being without his element. If you catch a manipulator unprepared they have, with a few exceptions, already lost. Unless-" He waggled his hand at Anlaf in a 'come-hither' motion.

Smoke exploded into the air around Anlaf and rushed towards the Master. "They're facing a superior tethered in the same element." Sigurd lifted a single hand and the smoke froze. It didn't stop or slow down, it froze. It hung caught in the air in full suspension, Ranvir could see the individual clouds of movement in the smoke. "A manipulator cannot make their own material, but they can control all of their material, even generated matter."

"Even though I am only a Veil I have still achieved Heart in the Discipline of Body. My control and my will can overwhelm his within my field of power. There are even some manipulators who are so skilled as to touch upon the Domain of their element, though it comes easier to some. Ice is a good example of this." Anlaf was starting to get a little red-faced. "Generators can only work with ice, where many manipulators even from the earliest stages learn to work with water." Sigurd waved a hand, releasing the smoke which started floating away on the breeze, luckily not into the class' face. Anlaf let out a breath of relief and shook himself. "This means they have to work harder and usually for a lesser result, but water is by far more common than snow or ice."

"What can the Domain of smoke control?" A voice from the front of the class called out.

"There are some stories of smoke masters manipulating ash, or even the wind itself, but remember this is not the preferred use of your powers. This should be trained, and we will touch on it in your later years, but this should not be the first weapon you reach for. I would even suggest reaching for a weapon before that. This is why I always advice students to try for Discipline of Body early on. Even just Flesh can make you a much stronger fighter. No manipulator can reach into your body, no matter their strength."

He waved Anlaf over and they shook hands. "A round of applause for Anlaf, as thanks for his help in this exhibition." Ranvir clapped excitedly, though he noticed some students had a more controlled response, Dovar among them.

After that the Teacher started handing out water and stone or pads. The show was over back to the rote routine.

“Teacher.” Ranvir greeted the Teacher, accepting a sitting pad from him. He had deliberately waited until he was the last student, not wanting to hold anyone else up.

“Student, I sense you have a question.”

“I do. I was looking for potential ways my own power could be useful in combat, and was wondering how smoke was applied in such matters.”

The master paused before clearing his throat. “That’s a bit of a tougher question to answer. I wish there was some easy metaphor that you could translate between our two powers. Unfortunately, reality often doesn’t comply.

“Smoke is difficult to use during combat, even at the best of times. I’ve heard many Masters argue—with no small amount of certainty—that the strongest version of smoke is Discipline of Body. Even a Lancer only hits like a strong gust of air. It works just as well as Dagger to disorient, maybe get them coughing. Mantle is similar, you have more control in your area, but you also have to get up close for it to work.”

The Master cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. “I believe you already have an idea of how Heart of Smoke could work, but moving like the wind flexible and fast, pales in comparison to Heart of Light. Light’s less flexible and more draining, but much, much faster. A Piercer could not match force with an equivalent in obsidian or ice.”

“You sound like you think Smoke is an inferior ability.” Ranvir frowned, worried for his own future.

“No, not at all. Only when looking at it from the perspective of direct combat. But if that’s all you consider there’s only one ability worth having, warp. That’s raw combat ability, but when you’re examining the capabilities of tools you don’t look at a mill and wonder how well it can reap the fields.

“Smoke before the fighting begins is, in my opinion, the strongest ability. Before the Ralith attacked and we were still discovering much of the capabilities of being a tethered, there was a hugely outnumbered force of elusrians, harried by a much greater ankirian force.

“They’d been running for weeks, their provisions were dwindling and the elusrians knew they were facing death. So we did the only thing we could. We stood our ground. We sat our spears, axes, and swords against our enemy and prepared for battle. The ankirians saw this and huddled up in their camp.

“The ankirians have always been a clever lot, they knew better than to attack a station of readied elusrians prepared for their charge. They set to waiting, tiring out their already hungry enemy.

“So the elusrian general came up with a plan. If they were going to make them wait, then the elusrians weren’t going to let them sleep. He sent out all of his smoke tethered to envelop the enemy camp in smoke. This was before we discovered rysten and their harmless smoke, so they had to build their own fires and direct the smoke to the ankirian’s camp, hoping to keep them up coughing all night.

“The next morning, instead of finding an ankirian camp tired but ready to fight, the general only found corpses. Dead men from smoke inhalation.”

The Master stopped looking Ranvir in the eyes. “So you see, we’re worth more than you might realize on first notice. Look for that, when you’re examining your own power. You might find an ability, or use of space, that you never would’ve thought of regularly.”

Ranvir thanked the Master for his tale. He spent the rest of smoke, thinking over the Master’s tale, rather than actually practicing.

A day later, Ranvir and the others were sitting in one of the fields after their classes relaxing under the sun. With spring coming to an end the days were becoming consistently too warm to be couped up in the dorm lounges, even late in the day.

Sansir and Grev had grabbed a chessboard to play games on, though Grev was currently intent on grabbing as much of the setting sun’s light as he could. That maneuver left him in a pair of shorts he’d brought from home and shirtless.

It also left Sansir without a chess partner, which left Ranvir or Esmund to pick up the slack. Es and Sansir quickly both grew tired of playing each other, when Es was so far behind in skill.

Ranvir looked towards the first of the two night moons, currently just peaking above the horizon, slightly north of where the sun was setting. He’d lost the current game about ten moves ago, and was considering surrendering and starting over.

On the one hand, there might be something he could learn of Sansir’s playing style, though the game was moving downhill and fast.

“I surrender.” He tipped his king on to its side, before offering a hand to Sansir.

His friend graciously took it, to the sarcastic applause of Grev lying with his eyes closed behind their bald friend. “Incredible! The chess player of many years beat the novice, yet again.” He clapped Sansir lightly on the shoulder, lingering it for second before dropping his hand.

He received a weak slap to his stomach for his comment, as Sansir reset the pieces. “You say that, but we both know Ranvir’s getting weirdly good at the game.” He sent a suspicious glance across the board at his friend.

“You got me.” Ranvir slapped a hand over his heart. He wasn’t quite bare-chested, instead opting for a light undershirt keeping him cool without exposing himself. “The Triplet Goddess has blessed me with knowledge of the game.”

“Can I play?” Esmund butted in. “Against you?” He turned to Ranvir, causing his friend to halt in surprise. Esmund had never expressed any interest in playing against him before.

“It’s fine with me.” Sansir slapped Grev’s shoulder. “You’re gonna have to move your lazy ass, or I’m going to tip the board, though.”

With a groan, Grev rolled over onto his stomach, giving the bald boy enough space to get up without touching the game board.

“White starts.” Ranvir gestured to Esmund, who immediately moved for the border pawn on his right. Like he did most of the time.

“I heard something interesting in class, today.” Sansir said, though his tone made Ranvir doubt whether it was interesting as much as worrisome.

Grev let out an inquisitive grunt and shuffled slightly, but didn’t turn over. Sansir took this for permission to continue talking. “One of the students heard from his family that the war-abolishment movement has caught roots in Elusria. According to him, the capital is the heart of the anti-war sentiment.”

Ranvir brows drew together in a frown as he moved to counter Esmund’s next move. That was bad news, really bad news. If Ankiria, Vargish, or Sankur found it to be enough of a nuisance they might do something about it.

“What does that mean for us?” He asked, watching Esmund trying to figure why he was moving so oddly. In the end his friend dismissed it and continued as he pleased, not seeing anything wrong.

“Nothing.” Grev grunted as he turned and sat up in a single motion, a flicker of a smile moving over his face. “I’ve said it before. There’s nothing the Queen can do about the war effort. We do as we’re told and are mostly left alone for it. The royal line already has the eyes to show what happens when they don’t.”

Ranvir shivered, thinking of a human with yellow eyes instead of a natural blue or brown. Even Sansir’s green ones would on occasion freak him out when they caught the light, almost gaining a glow of their own.

“So she’ll break the movement, right?” Esmund asked, setting his bishop for… Ranvir looked across the board. He could move on the- But no, then his pawn would take. He could also… but that would gain him nothing.

“Did you move the bishop because you couldn’t figure out what else to do?”

“No. What? No!”

Ranvir rubbed a hand across his face. “Goddess save me from angry men and stupid boys.” It was one of his mother’s favorite sayings, used to tease him when he got impatient while working. It almost always ended with him having to melt down the metal and start over.

“It’s a valid move!”

“She’s not going to break up the movement.” Grev peered over Esmund’s shoulder. He briefly rested a hand on him for support, causing Es to lean away from him. “And that is a bad move.”

Esmund curled his nose and lip, revealing his teeth. “And you’ve been steaming in your own sweat.”

Grev flopped back, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth a reply. “She’s not going to break the movement up, because it’s not going to work. Anyone with enough brain to catch a spark, knows she’s as trapped as the rest of us. Actively trying to suppress the movement will give her the enmity of the public. A non-reaction won’t, at least not to the same degree.”

“So she’s just going to let it continue?” Ranvir asked, taking the bishop with his pawn.

“She’s going to let it burn out. There’s nothing to be done from here, so the movement will just die or move elsewhere.”

“Actually, I think I heard Master Svenar complain about it recently, too.” Es spoke up, before grumbling as he saw the trap Ranvir had set up. “He called them ridiculous, since the Flesh-torn don’t give up. There will be no stopping the war. We still don’t know what the Ralith want, only that it involves our destruction. The only thing stopping the ending of our entire species is the Alliance and their army.”

“Did he say that?” Sansir asked.

Esmund let out an affirmative grunt as he accidentally—if Ranvir was reading his face right—sacrificed a knight.

Ranvir examined his friend. He was repeating it with the certainty of someone who fully believed in his information source, his teacher. But Ranvir wasn’t so certain, which also worried him. Svenar was not infallible. For the most part he’d failed in the basics of teaching Ranvir, essentially delaying his own progress by a further week.

Master Svenar was undoubtedly skilled and powerful, but he was not perfect. None of the teachers were, the closest, at least to Ranvir reckoning, was Ayvir. He’d expressed a strong desire to never return to front lines again.

“It might seem worrisome right now.” Grev said. “But the worst that’ll happen is that it’ll reach the Lord’s council, after which they might petition it to the Queen, where she—with the support of the Masters council—will strike it down. At worst. This is no trouble at all. Now why don’t we all just lie down and catch the last few minutes of the sun.”

“Gotta finish the game.” Esmund complained.

“Sorry, but you lost a long time ago.” Sansir said, before taking off his own shirt and lying down next to Grev.

“No, I didn’t, look I was-“ Ranvir reached across the board and moved the piece for him.

“Then I’m going to do this.” He moved his own piece in answer, quickly ordering out the game and showed Esmund the end of the game in quick succession.

“Whatever, you’re all just a bunch of assholes anyway.” Es took off his shirt and laid down on his stomach, before poking Grev in the side. “Sansir might not mind you lying on top of him, but I like a little space around me.”

Grev chuckled out a quiet laugh. “Sore loser.” But he did shuffle a little to the side, giving Esmund the space he desired.