Weight of Worlds

Ranvir slept through most of the next day, his eyes only cracking open in the afternoon. Since it was a day-off, it wasn’t exactly unheard of behavior. Especially, since they can’t go to capital, to avoid further escalation between the military and anti-military factions.

The rest of the day passed with little fanfare, with them relaxing by the rime oak. The next day would be when the official introduction period ended and measured the half-point of the trimester.

It was also the beginning of their group’s training schedule. Ranvir would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little nervous about what Grev’s training program would look like. It was worth it if he could get them to show significant results within the few days he had, they might just continue training with him.

It might not help him much with the fight against Grimar’s student, but it would help him in the long run. Like Sansir’d told him, “Progress is done in minutes and hours, but measured in months and years.”

Waking up early the next day, Ranvir and the others were quickly down in front of the dorm. Master Vigo ready and waiting for them.

Ranvir didn’t know what to expect, exactly. He knew there would be some changes. According to Grevor, their classes would considerably shorter, partly to fit other classes as they came and to allow the students some autonomy. Unfortunately, Grev was hesitant to explain what kind of classes they would get. Apparently, this was information he wasn’t actually supposed to know. Either way, Ranvir was interested in finding out. Maybe there was a combative tether training class, or a class that focused on the theoretics of tethers, or a class for tether warfare.

He was jarred out of his musings when physical started, and the bells toll shaking the air. After six weeks of running nearly every day, Ranvir was reaching a point where their morning exercise no longer made want to cry and quit all together. Instead, he was just out of breath and sweating, but honestly enjoying it a bit.

He was, however, suspecting that he would never be amongst the faster students in the class. He simply could not maintain the fast pace of those kinds of students. Neither was Esmund, but damned if he wasn’t trying. He would usually start out alongside Sansir and Grev—the two fastest in their cluster of students—then slowly fall behind until even Ranvir passed him.

But anything that involved a shorter distance, Esmund absolutely killed. Pushing himself to perform toward the top of their group along a select few others, notably Grev was at the top and Sansir performed well too. This drive resulted in widening the gap when they ‘fought’ each other in King Stick. Esmund was having an easier time than ever winning the thrice damned game.

Though, usually by the end of class, Esmund was heaving on the ground, looking like he was a step of away from grabbing Vejka’s hand and stride through the spirit gates. Whereas Ranvir could’ve kept going for a while yet, he was finding that his endurance was growing faster than his intensity. Hopefully, that was as much a boon as he was wishing it to be.

“Alright, students! Gather up!” Vigo called.

Ranvir blinked, pulling the clay cup away from his lips. Is something wrong? He thought, as he slowly got to his feet. They’d barely been going for an hour, at most. He wasn’t a good judge of the sun, but even he could tell they hadn’t been going for close to long enough. Are we stopping already?

Looking at the other groups of students, he could see their teachers gathering them up, too. They were too far away to hear what they were saying, though.

“As some of you may know.” Master Vigo began. “The introduction period ended the day before yesterday. That means today your schedules are going to be a little different. Something you will learn about in your next class, where you will also be handed said schedules.”

A shiver of vibrant green and blue excitement raced up Ranvir’s spine. He kept quiet, not contributing to the susurration of murmurs going through the crowd of boys, but only barely.

“For now, physical is ending in about three minutes. From here you will head to the cafeteria and pick up your breakfasts, then off to classroom 7. It’s on the first floor of the Wethorn building.”

Ranvir looked at his friends. Sansir had mostly kept his controlled mask, though a glint of excitement showed through in his eyes. Esmund was outright vibrating with excitement. Ranvir could almost guess what his first words would be, ‘We get to see a classroom!’. Grevor had let the mask of stoicism and controlled mannerisms fall over him as he listened to Teacher Vigo.

“Class’ not over yet!” Ranvir noticed some students already heading for the dorms. “I know for a fact that none of you are ready yet. If it wasn’t the damned rules, I’d have you running for another hour yet! I want pushups until the bell rings, and not a second before.” Every single student better than to question an order from Master Vigo. As one, they dropped to their hands and feet and start pushing.

Their group walked in two rows of twos, as they headed into the Wethorn building. It was a large square building, much like the rest, except this one had ‘Wethorn’ made in wrought iron letters attached to the front. There wasn’t a lot of effort put into decorating the buildings, though Ranvir noticed that they all had been built of the same evenly cut gray stone.

“You think they hired a warp tethered to produce these stones?” Ranvir asked Sansir as they stepped into the building. It was lined with big rectangular black stone slabs for flooring, each as long as Ranvir and half-again his width.

There were more decorations in this building than the first year dorms and what he’d seen of Administration. Sconces with bright-torches were still placed for light, but they had a slightly more ornate look, seeming to have had flowers of bronze woven into them.

The walls weren’t the boring bare gray, either. Instead, it held short tapestries in the colors of the Elusrian kingdom, red and white. Ranvir had almost forgotten it wasn’t the black and white of their uniforms, which was in fact the colors of the United Alliance and not their home country.

“I would think they have the connections to do it.” Sansir replied, pulling Ranvir back to the moment. “There are probably dozens of retired warp tethered, that could use a little extra income. Without them, it would be a massive undertaking. With warp tethered it just becomes a question of transport and logistics.”

“Is that hard?” Gunnor, Ranvir’s dad, had often worked with long-haul merchants and caravans to transport large amounts of lumber, but he wasn’t actually aware of how difficult it would be to transport. His trip with Taggir, Sansir, and Es had been mostly hassle-free, except for a few smaller problems Taggir’d handled quickly.

Sansir held up a finger. “Let me explain it like this. Grev, are you familiar with the caravan trains to keep up our part of the front lines?”

Grev turned, eyes bright. “Of course! Did you know that nearly fifteen percent of our taxes goes straight to maintaining the roads, wagons, animals, and workers required to keep it up.”

Ranvir’s mouth fell open. “How many gold bishops would that be?”

Esmund looked equally flabbergasted as he stared at Grev.

“At that point, you measure it by weight, rather than in individual coins.” Grev explained.

Ranvir blinked a few times before clearing his throat.

“Hey, classroom 7!” Grev exclaimed, pushing the door open, and they stepped inside. The classroom was built like an amphitheater that Grevor had shown them when taking them around the various sights of the city.

Seats in progressively elevated rows extended towards the back of the room. The theater in the middle was a small stage with a huge slate tablet. Ranvir had never seen a piece of single stone that big, or that smooth. He had to remind himself that cutting such large, and even blocks of stones was possible with tethered help.

Already, a bunch of students were gathered in the classroom. Way more than there’d been in their group of physical training, though not large enough to hold their entire year. If Pashar was to be believed, not by far.

There were quiet murmurs going around the students, but nothing that seemed directed at them, to Ranvir’s relief. Just the usual excited murmurs.

“Let’s find a seat.” With those words, Grev led the way towards the middle of the benches. Allowing them a decent oversight of the theater at the bottom, without being too far away.

Though all the rows were made of a single bench and the table made in a long line following the same curve, there were regular indents on the bench creating individual ‘seats’. It wasn’t hugely noticeable, but even the short time Ranvir sat between two was immensely uncomfortable, and he quickly corrected himself.

Ranvir and the others sat talked idly among each other for a few minutes, waiting for the bell to toll and the teacher to arrive. Esmund was fairly vibrating with curiosity, as was to be expected, but Sansir was leaning forwards and discussing animatedly too, which as far as the tall ice generator went, was the equal of screaming out his excitement to the entire class.

Ranvir himself felt a boiling pit in his stomach of warring colors, yellows overtaken by oranges and reds, then pushed away by blues and purples, all to manifest in the unruly anxious excitement. The only one seemingly unaffected was Grev, who’d slumped back into his seat and, with his usual stoic mask, was watching Es slowly drag more excitement out of Sansir by the minute.

Ranvir noted the glimmer of mischief and laughter in Grev’s eyes as they briefly made eye contact. Grev winked at him and turned his head to look at the front of the class.

What was that about? Ranvir thought, but before he could sink his mental teeth into the thought, the door opened and a lanky man in his mid-thirties entered the room.

Ranvir didn’t think he could point at anything specific, but his very first impression of him was not that of a Master. Even before he searched his shoulders or back for one of the three signs, he recognized instinctively that the man did not possess that kind of power.

The man called something, but despite his position at the front of the theater, his voice was still lost in the masses of first year chattering. Ranvir fiddled with his smooth black stone in one hand, idly embracing the tether as he did. The action came easily and naturally to him, almost on reflex. He didn’t even recognize he’d done it until his left hand was lowering to the table in front of him.

Blinking, he turned to look at the wall to the east, towards the center of the academy, squinting. Bell’s toll was muted through the walls between them and the tower, but most of the students still picked up on it, a majority of them silencing instinctively.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Muttered the man at the front of the amphitheatre. “Students! I am here today, in part to deliver some bad news. Well, I think they’re bad news.”

There were some muted mutterings, but now that the man—teacher?—had the attention of the crowd, he wasn’t letting it go.

“I’m sorry to say that you will not have warfare theory at this point in the trimester. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, we have been forced to delay this class until the second trimester. I’m sure many of you are very disappointed to know that you won’t be having a class at this hour. Unfortunately, since our physical teachers have many duties and are required elsewhere, we cannot continue the very time intensive physical training that we’ve been upholding previously. Similarly, our tether teachers are also required elsewhere.”

The man swallowed, looking around apologetically before continuing. “I hope you can understand that this is not because we don’t believe in your potential, simply the unfortunate mix of events inside and outside of the Elusrian Kingdom. Once more, I greatly apologize that you have to find out like this. I can only hope that your self-discipline can drive you to even further greatness. In accordance with the Triplet Goddess, ‘Control yourself, Control your spirit, Control the world.’”

The man bowed deeply to class, then left through the door. For a moment, Ranvir got a sense of the teacher. He was weak, he realized, maybe first stage, though he didn’t feel quite right. Ranvir would’ve called it smoke, if not for the lack of any characteristic in the sense. He felt more like a thick morning fog than smoke.

“This fucking sucks!” Esmund cried out, rocking back in his seat. Ranvir got the feeling this was not the sentiment amongst most of the other students in the room. They were just happy to have extra time off.

“Second trimester…” Sansir grumbled. “I know it’s only six weeks, barely a month and a half away, but-.“ He squeezed his hands into fists. His green eyes almost seeming to glow from within as he clenched his jaw. In the light, they almost looked to have a slightly yellow tint.

Grev was sitting beside him, biting down on his upper lip. Ranvir’s eyes narrowed. Grev was relaxed. He’d been the entire time. His arms were folded over his chest, sitting back, relaxed in his chair. He hadn’t had a reaction to the man’s words.

Ranvir leaned back in his seat, nibbling at his thumbnail. It was an odd sensation, being so aware of the nail as he did it, sensing it from every direction. The man had used a lot of words to say little. No classes because of unforeseen circumstances. Physical cannot take back over, due to how long it takes. And Tether is stepping down in intensity too.

Ranvir sat up straight, causing Es—who’d been reaching for him—to rear back. “It’s a test!” He hissed, looking at his friends. Es with his usual optimistic, if slightly puzzled, look. Sansir with his eyebrows gathered into a frown and a look like he was constipated on his face. And Grevor with a wicked smile crossing his face.

“Oh, no.” He dragged out his exclamation with little enthusiasm, the wicked smile mixing with a knowing grin. “How lucky you are that I am going to save you. My training will make sure you ace any test.”

Ranvir swallowed nervously.