[x] Write-in: Strip naked, roll around in the mud to mask your scent, sneak out, and carry Wendy to safety.

Your mind spins even as you try to calm your fast breathing, trying to master your panic as you think. You're not a tactician or strategist like Sieglinde, and you can't inspire the kind of confidence and devotion that Aphelia can. You're not Elizabeth in terms of raw power, and you are not remotely confident about your chances of defeating a wyvern, even as a group.

But you are not leaving Wendy behind like this, not without even making an attempt. Not unless you accept that you've come here for naught, that you'll never change from the person you are now. You need to do something, something only you can do, and now.

And so you strip.

No one really notices when you take off your bodice; everyone has their hands full with the confrontation between Lucille and Penelope, and it's not like you're shirtless yet. When you do take off your shirt, Melanie notices you, although she mostly looks on in distracted confusion. It's when you start taking off your skirt that her eyes widen, her face flushes a deep crimson, and her mouth wordlessly begins to stammer in a vain attempt to ask "what".

It's when the skirt finally comes off that the debate comes to an end, and everyone turns towards you. Melanie is still turning redder and only beginning to make what is finally beginning to resemble a tiny "wh" sound with her mouth. Lucille is in a similar state, although she does make a louder and longer sound of confusion. Penelope just stares, gaping, having difficulties in processing what she is seeing. Vesna blushes, but in spite of her fear, she's mostly staring at you with a look that resembles...fascination?

...You suddenly feel terribly self-conscious as you try to cover yourself with your arms. You felt a lot more confident about this plan thirty seconds ago. "P-P-Please don't stare like that!" you mewl, realizing that the only remaining articles of clothing you're still wearing, your undergarments, feel severely lacking.

"Wh-Wh-What are you doing!?" Melanie finally demands in a series of distressed squeaks after many seconds of failed attempts.

You're not sure how to explain it, really. In fact, you're not sure you should explain it; Lucille will probably try to talk you out of it, and then she'll probably make a great deal of sense, and then you'll feel less determined than you are now. You just don't inspire that sort of confidence, especially confidence you yourself don't feel. So, instead, clothed in nothing but your bra and panties as you are, you move past the group to the bottleneck in the chasm, and then go into a prone position and whisper to the others, "P-Please keep it distracted."

You begin to crawl forward. Slowly. Your course of action is so bewildering that it doesn't even occur to Lucille to grab you and pull you back until it's too late, the elf reduced to panicked whispers coaxing you to come back. You try not to listen to it, instead crawling across the grass barely tall enough to mask your shoulders as you move forward on your elbows, creeping on your belly as a snake would do. You make sure to roll a few more times as you move your way out of the bottleneck, getting as much mud and dirt on you, trying to kill all other scents on you, providing a level of camouflage that you hope will be just enough to get you through the tall grass without being detected. It's a technique that you were only vaguely aware of from your childhood, things that you've heard about from the other woodland dryads before your family moved to the plains. You wish you paid more attention to it as a child, seeing how it's something that could save your life now.

This is a dangerous plan, an insane plan. You have no idea if it'll work. But if it's dangerous and insane, it's at least dangerous and insane based on several actual realities. Here in the woodlands, you were - even with your clothes on - able to elude the sharp senses of two aseri, Melanie and Mia. Mia went as far as to observe that she couldn't smell you out here in the woodlands. Does a wyvern have a sense of smell just as sharp as aseri? You have no clue. But you have a hard time imagining that it has a sharper sense of smell.

No, what you're far more worried about is its vision. A wyvern is ultimately a flying creature, after all, and you would not be surprised if it has excellent vision, which is why you are so determined to move as slowly as possible. Your village teacher once taught you that most animals cannot actually completely grasp the concept of shape, but fight or flee based on the movement they detect. If you move slowly, in tiny increments, would your motions remain beneath the wyvern's notice? Would your body's coloration and texture help hide you amidst the flora of the woodlands? Or is this also hopeful thinking on your part?

You hear noises behind you, and feel just slightly relieved that the others - Vesna and Melanie and Lucille and Penelope - are finally trying to distract the wyvern. Penelope is screaming curses at it - her vocabulary makes you blush - while you hear something that you suspect is wind magecraft above you. Melanie's work, no doubt, although she is not yet casting any truly harmful spells, perhaps worried that she may hit you, or send the wyvern into an angry rage while you and Wendy are nearby. This is probably also why Lucille - despite having her shortbow up and an arrow notched - has not yet drawn and fired.

The wyvern snarls at the rest of your team, and it's all you can do to squeeze your eyes shut and stop your breathing and continue ever so slightly. This is taking too much time, your tiny movements making painfully slow progress across thirty meters. With each passing second, you wonder how this is possibly working, how the wyvern has not detected you and crushed you with its giant maw. At least until you venture a look back...and see that Vesna is grasping tightly onto her glowing staff, murmuring an incantation.

Now that you think about it, wasn't she doing the exact same thing when you were hunting that boar? Disorientating and dulling its senses? Is that what she's doing now to the wyvern? Is her magecraft strong enough to affect a great beast of that size?

You try to thrust such questions out of your mind. You can only assume it works and press on. Your teammates are doing their best to buy you time and space for an endeavor that may cost you your life. You crawl ever forward, trying hard not to think too much about the fact that you are now literally right under the wyvern's neck.

Now, more than ever, you really hope this works. It's not that you weren't afraid before, but now you are completely, utterly terrified at the thought that, years from now, people will remember you as "Neianne, the dryad girl who died naked trying to crawl in between a wyvern's legs".

You're now only meters away from Wendy, trying to fight the temptation of prematurely poking your head out above the grass to see how she is, trying to not look at the giant wyvern claws surely only an arm's length away. Instead, you listen for the human's labored breathing, finally ending up right beside her after several more seconds of crawling. Wendy is clearly still alive, but she's in bad shape...not that this was ever in any doubt. Her skin is pale, she's still losing blood from a deep gash across her shoulder and back that looks like it was inflicted by a glancing blow from the wyvern's claws, and her eyes are glazed over. She needs healing from Vesna...and fast.

You dare to raise a hand above the grass - hoping that your team sees it and that the wyvern doesn't - and make a tight fist. You really should've thought about this beforehand, but now that you're here, you can only hope that the other four understand the implicit meaning behind your signal: "Distract it hard."

Seconds pass. Then seconds more. Your stomach begins to twist into knots as you ponder the very real possibility that no one back in the bottleneck understands what you're trying to get them to do...or that they even see your signal.

At least until you hear the thwang sound of a shortbow letting loose, the swish of an arrow sailing through the air, and the enraged roar of the wyvern. Previously content with maintaining a distance from the bottleneck, the wyvern charges again, trying to slam its way into the tiny crevice that's just too narrow to permit it entry. You press as tightly against the ground as possible as the wyvern charges right past you, oblivious to your presence, its tail very nearly slamming into you in a whipping motion, something that likely could've fractured or even broken a bone had it made contact.

Terrified screams come from the rest of your team; despite the knowledge that they are theoretically safe in the bottleneck, there's still no bracing yourself against a wyvern trying to charge you as your surroundings shake and tremble from impact.

You can't try to take Wendy and climb up from here; the human needs Vesna more than anything right now, and you probably can't climb fast enough before the wyvern notices you and bites you down from the cliff face. What you can do - now that the wyvern's back is to you - is to try to charge back into the bottleneck with Wendy on your back, rushing to safety in a sprint, hoping that you can make those seconds count before the wyvern notices you. You don't have the agility of an aseri or the endurance of a human, but those advantages don't help when one has to carry a wounded human on their back and make a mad dash for safety.

This is where your strength comes in.

You carefully slide Wendy onto your back, slowly rising to your knees, making sure that the wyvern is still preoccupied by Lucille's arrows and Melanie's wind magecraft. Wendy is a somewhat small girl and weighs fifty kilograms at most, a weight that is hardly unnoticeable...but you're still a dryad who has been partaking in months of calisthenics while spending most of this field exercise carrying a greatsword around. A thirty meter sprint with Wendy on your back is a piece of cake.

You just need to run past the wyvern in between its legs in your undergarments. Again.

You brace yourself, doing your best to watch the wyvern's movements, looking for a moment when it seems the most distracted, when it presents the greatest opening for you to duck back into the bottleneck, when it has the most tunnel vision in its fixation on the rest of your team. You tense your leg muscles, steadying both you and Wendy's weight on your arms in a sprinting position. You take a deep breath...

...And you dash for it.

Your breathing is too heavy. It's an odd realization to make as your legs make one lunge after another, your arms barely keeping Wendy in place on your back. It's not your natural breathing tempo, even as you run with blood pounding in your head, a hole in your gut, a soreness in your feet. When was the last time you ran around the wild on your bare feet? You can't remember. But you want to think about that. Anything other than the fact that you are closing the thirty meter gap between you and safety, a rampaging wayvern the only obstacle between you and salvation.

Twenty meters. The wyvern still doesn't notice you. Vesna looks exhausted trying to maintain the disorientation spell on the wyvern, sweating as she does so, but still she desperately clutches onto her staff with clenched fingers, continuing her incantations. Lucille and Melanie are doing all they can to pester the wyvern with arrows and wind magecraft, while Penelope screams at you and makes a sweeping with motion with her arm to hurry you forward back to them.

Ten meters. The wyvern slams its body mass into the crag walls again, failing once more to reach its prey despite the furious snapping of its jaws at the occupants inside the crevice. Its hind legs shuffle back and forth to accommodate the twisting of its long neck, the wyvern trying to see if it can squeeze into the crevice from a different spot.

Five meters. The wyvern makes a sideways jump, a motion you don't expect, and with you right beneath it, you don't have room to maneuver or to dodge. You try anyways, throwing yourself forwards and slightly to the side, but it's not enough. You are knocked to the ground by a scaly leg, and you scream in agony as something heavy lands on your arm. Unprecedented, incomprehensible pain lances up your shoulder as you scream in pain. You try to maintain focus, trying to realize the fact that part of the wyvern's legs landed on your limb. Mercifully not the claw - it may well have taken your arm off entirely had that happened - but still something that feels like it has snapped your arm. It probably fractured bone...maybe even broke it.

The wyvern hears your scream, perhaps even feels you under its feet, but it is surprised, startled, unsure. Or perhaps it's still distracted. It shuffles once more, and like that, your arm is free. With your only good arm, with tears in your eyes, with fire scorching up your shoulder, you do your best to crawl your way back to safety, to traverse those final five meters back to your team, even as you hear the wyvern screech in fury right behind you...

Another arrow flies from Lucille's bow as she attempts to keep the wyvern away. Penelope desperately jumps out just enough to grab your arm to pull you and Wendy back in. Melanie sends a burst of wind to help propel you back into the crevice, just as the wyvern's maw makes one final attempt to catch you, snapping so close to your feet and slamming once again into the canyon walls that - for a moment - you are consumed with the terrorizing thought that it has indeed taken your leg as you, Wendy, and Penelope tumble unceremoniously onto the ground.

But the moment passes, the adrenaline passes, the incomprehension and the terror passes, and as you dare to slowly crane your neck to look in the direction of the wyvern, as you ineptly scramble away from that opening in the bottleneck, you realize...

...That you made it. Your legs are intact. Your arm is broken, but not horribly so.

And, most importantly, everyone is safe. Wendy is pulled off your back, even as Penelope shouts at her, tries to tell her that she's going to be alright despite the very real possibility that Wendy can't even hear her.

"F-F-Fine," you stammer to Vesna as the exhausted human breathlessly rushes over to you. You words sound surreal to your ringing ears, barely able to recognize your own voice, like it's not you but someone else speaking. Blood is still pounding in your head. None of this feels entirely real yet. "I-I'm fine." You gulp, pointing with your uninjured arm at the human who vastly needs more aid than you. "W-Wendy. Go!"

Vesna hesitates, but only for a split second. The rest of you move further down the bottleneck, putting more distance between yourselves and the wyvern. Vesna does her best to stabilize Wendy's condition, heal her enough so that you have enough time to find a mercenary, an instructor, someone who can get her real aid.

You are still trying to catch your breath when Lucille shakily kneels beside you, setting aside her bow. "I...I know a little bit of healing," she murmurs to you, a tremor in her voice. "Nothing like Vesna," she gulps, as if realize there's something dry stuck in her throat, before continuing, "and I don't have a staff, but...I can help a little. With the pain."

Wordlessly, you nod, although this still feels like a motion you're not entirely conscious of. Dazed, you slowly look around. Penelope is still holding onto Wendy's hands, coming close to tears, Vesna doing what she can. Melanie tries to keep watch on the wyvern, but she has shakily come down on her knees now that the moment of crisis is over, having transformed into somewhat more manageable mortal danger. You too, are finally coming down from the adrenaline high, all the fear coming back to you like water down a pipe now that the excitement is over. There is fire in your arm from where the pain is slowly being soothed by Lucille in her own limited way...but also a coldness deep in your body, the sort of chill that comes along with the aftermath of pure terror, the realization that you've come so close to death. You shiver and tremble uncontrollably, and you wish you were wearing clothes. The fact that you succeeded doesn't seem to register on an instinctive level. Your mind realizes, of course, that you accomplished something tremendous, but your body can't process this yet, can't process anything more than the fact that you are in pain and almost died and spent the last few minutes in dress-soiling terror.

You feel like crying. You feel like hugging Lucille. Somehow, you manage to do neither of these things.

Thankfully, Lucille is right, at least. Your arm is still broken, but after a few minutes, the pain is mostly an intense soreness rather than an acute pain stabbing into your head. Vesna, too, seems done on her end, looking as tired as ever...but also carrying a hint of relief on her exhausted face. "I've...helped Wendy as much as I can," she whispers. "But we need to get her to a real mage...now."

Penelope nods, and although it takes her a few seconds, she finally manages to find her feet through pure determination, extending a hand to help Vesna up afterwards before the two of them try to carry Wendy. You'd offer to help, but with a damaged arm, you probably wouldn't do much good. Fortunately, the crevice here is narrow enough that the walls function as sufficient footholds. All you need to do is slowly slide your way upwards, pressing against both walls tightly enough that not even the wyvern's attempts to slam into the canyon walls can dislodge you. Assistance from Lucille and Melanie help compensate for your lame arm, the two of them pushing you upwards, despite the fact that you can still feel them trembling.

It takes two or three minutes, but the six of you finally manage to make your way up to the top of the crag, back onto the "proper" woodlands. The wyvern has long given up on you, instead contenting itself to finding a way out of the canyon it's stuck in. It takes a moment for the six of you to catch your breath, before the five conscious apprentices among you share a look, one of mutual relief and understanding.

You're safe now. Somehow.

*****

It doesn't take long for the situation to resolve itself. Using the sun as a navigational marker, your group moves as quickly as possible on tired, trembling legs in a southeasterly direction, screaming and shouting for help all the way. It takes a few minutes before two Faulkren mercenaries come charging in; given the near-omnipresence of the mercenaries previously, you suspect that this is an area they meant to leave to the dryads, and that they are confused as to why there are apprentices this far northwest. However, a quick look at the sorry state of all of you is enough to tell the adults that this is very serious, and as soon as they get the short version of the story out of all of you, they spring into action. One rushes to the last known location of the wyvern while the other takes the six of you in the direction of safety, signaling for assistance from the other mercenaries in the meantime. A wagon is conjured from out of nowhere for all of you after several minutes of walking, as well as a blanket specifically for you. Across Roldharen, mercenaries and instructors call for all apprentices to stop, stand down, and report to the nearest adult. This field exercise is being terminated.

The mages among the mercenaries intercept your wagon before it returns to the fielding area where all of you were briefed about the exercise yesterday. They use powerful magecraft to administer more powerful healing to you and Wendy, promising that there will be further treatment once they return to the fielding area. The wagon passes by a number of Caldran mercenaries and dryad huntresses rushing off to the location of the wyvern, probably to hunt it down and kill it. Word travels fast.

Everyone is tired. Penelope is clearly tearful now, quietly holding onto an unconscious Wendy's hand as one of the mercenaries does her best to heal her. Lucille and Melanie are hugging each other silently. Vesna looks like she's fainted. You yourself feel like you can't move a muscle. But as the warmth of healing magecraft slowly mends your bones, the fear and terror slowly melt away. Not entirely, but enough for your body to finally catch up with your mind, allowing you to feel an exhausted giddiness.

All of you survived a wyvern. Wendy is terribly injured, but she looks like she's going to make it with the right attention. You're injured, but not at all critically. No one died. You've all cheated death.

You, Lucille, and Melanie exchange tired glances...and small smiles somehow make it onto all of your faces.

You are among the first to return to the fielding area as the wagon finally pulls into the grasslands. Other apprentices are beginning to trickle in, looking curious and maybe even alarmed; it's questionable if they were told that the exercise has been terminated because of a wyvern. The instructors help you and the rest of your group out of the wagon; dedicated healers kept in the rear specifically for emergencies such as these begin to work their miracles on you and Wendy, even as water and food are brought out for all of you to overcome your exhaustion and shock.

You are still sitting on a stool, allowing the mercenary to put the finishing touches on your arm, when you suddenly spot Stephanie marching towards you with stiff footsteps. Her expression is stoic but taut with anxiety, and she's quick to rush up to you, breathlessly placing her hands on your shoulders, exclaiming, "Neianne! Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?"

"Careful, apprentice!" snaps the mercenary healing your arm. "She's broke her arm, and I don't want you snapping her bones again."

"Sorry," Stephanie winces, but can't quite stop herself from hugging your shoulders. She's not as openly expressive as the others, but you smile softly regardless as you use your other arm to hug her back, touched by your roommate's concern.

"I-I'm okay," you whisper back.

"That's good," Stephanie whispers, sounding relieved. Then, with more concern, she looks at the fact that you're covered in mud and blood, then exclaims, "Wait, no, how are you okay?"

"I-I-It's not my blood!" you stammer, panicking in an attempt to ensure that Stephanie herself won't panic. It doesn't help that other apprentices are beginning to gather around the tent in which your team is being treated; the fact that you and Wendy are the only ones seriously injured - and the fact that your group looks like you've been through a warzone and back - quickly tells everyone that the six of you have likely been at the center of whatever is suddenly sending the entire faculty of Faulkren Academy into damage control mode.

"Then it was..." Stephanie trails off, looks at the unconscious Wendy to the side, the bloody gash in her shoulder very slowly closing. With astonishment, she whispers, "Wait, it's true? You ran into a dragon?"

"N-No," you shake your head. If it was a dragon, all of you would probably be very dead. "A w-wyvern. I-It got Wendy, th-that's why I'm covered in b-blood, and..."

"Neianne saved Wendy," comes a sudden explanation from Vesna. You flinch in surprise; wasn't she still asleep just now? But although she's still trying to rehydrate herself with a cup of water she holds in shaky hands, she still manages a smile of what looks almost like pride. Beside her, both Lucille and Melanie nod, confirming this story, much to your quiet dismay. Penelope doesn't have the energy to contest this claim either. "The wyvern got her, but Neianne managed to sneak right past it and rescue Wendy."

An excited din rises amongst the apprentices gathered here, caught in disbelief and awe as they stare at you, covered in mud and blood, nursing an injured arm. You blush, looking away, unaccustomed and uncomfortable with all the attention - especially with people looking at you with admiration and awe - and red flushes your cheeks.

"How did you do it?" asks one of the apprentices, giving voice to a dozen other variants of the question asked by the captivated crowd of teenagers.

You are just beginning to wonder how to explain this to the others when Vesna happily and proudly declares, "Neianne fooled the wyvern by taking off her clothes and..."

The panicked and distressed mewl that escapes your throat - alongside your attempt to find a hole to hide in forever - sadly fails to distract the crowd from Vesna's retelling of the story, nor deter the collective gasping and squealing coming from your peers.

*****

It is with a sense of muted relief when you hear some time later that the Caldran mercenaries and dryad huntresses found the wyvern still trapped in the crag, and killed it before it can harm anyone further.

With everyone being recalled from Roldharen, the Academy faculty needs to make sure that every single apprentice is accounted for as all the apprentices are directed back towards the fielding area. In the meantime, you, Vesna, Melanie, Lucille, Penelope, and Wendy - and Stephanie, since she is your roommate - are sent back to the Academy by wagon first so you can clean up and rest. The damage to your arm is not as terrible as was initially feared, but the injury was still very real. Magecraft mended the worst of it, but the mercenary responsible for your arm warns you that your bone will still be brittle and weak for some weeks; your arm is kept on a sling and splint. Magecraft is ultimately a temporary measure, something to stabilize your condition, and your body will still need to do the rest of the work. In other words, no physical training for you until you've made a complete recovery.

Unsurprisingly, you can't bring yourself to argue against this. You feel like you've gone through enough physical stress to last you a lifetime.

"I still can't believe you did that," Stephanie murmurs as she helps you wash in the baths. Evening has fallen, but the rest of the Academy has not yet returned, and so you have the baths to yourselves. It's more than little embarrassing, but given the condition of your arm, your aseri roommate insisted, even as she helps scrub the mud off your skin with a wet sponge. "What possessed you to think you could sneak past a wyvern?"

"I-I don't know," you admit. You were so determined, so caught up in the moment at the time...but now that you have a moment to calm down, to actually think, you can't believe how foolish that choice now seems. So many things could've gone wrong. The wyvern could've picked up your scent in the end. Vesna's disorientating magecraft might not have been strong enough. The wyvern may have stepped on you more than once entirely by accident. When it did step on you, it could've been on more than just an arm.

Yet somehow, all these factors fit together in just the right ways. Your ability to blend into the woodlands hid you not only two aseri looking for you, but also a wyvern. Vesna's magecraft ended up being strong enough to keep the wyvern off of you. Lucille and Melanie ultimately provided all the distractions you ever needed. Your injury was serious but not crippling.

All of you made it out alive. That's what counts in the end, isn't it? "B-But we did it, didn't we?" you ask, trying not to giggle and ruin the impact of your words as Stephanie scrubs your sides. "S-Sneaking past a wyvern, I mean."

"You got very lucky," Stephanie insists. "And for...Wendy? I mean...you know which squad she's in. She doesn't like you."

"No, she d-doesn't," you concede quietly. But, then, with more determination, "B-But I...don't think I could've l-left her behind. It wasn't about who it was." Realizing that you perhaps aren't making a lot of sense, your voice goes a little quiet as you whisper, "I...j-just didn't want to let myself be s-someone who just...runs. Who can't do anything."

"Okay," comes the aseri's skeptical reply, "but against a wyvern? Neianne, no one would've blamed you if you had left Wendy there. I mean, maybe Penelope, but let's not pretend she's reasonable. It's a wyvern, and we're still first-year apprentices. There's no shame in retreating from a battle you most likely can't win."

"I-It wasn't about whether or not I could win!" you insist. Then, embarrassed at the fact that you raised your voice at Stephanie, you take to a softer tone again and whisper, "It...was about whether or not I tried." Your fingers clench into fists. "I d-didn't come here to be the most powerful or skilled Caldran mercenary. I-I know I can't ever be like Lady Sieglinde or Lady Elizabeth or Lady Aphelia." You take a deep breath before murmuring, "But I want to become someone that they can rely on. I want to become someone who can hold and stand up for what's important. I want to..." And here you trail off, uncertain of how you can express yourself further. You haven't shared these thoughts with Stephanie before - despite the fact that she's your roommate - and now that you're doing so...it's perhaps a little hard to reconcile with the context of today.

Stephanie, for her part, sighs behind you as she continues to scrub your back. "I see," she finally allows.

Timidly, wary of her mood, you venture, "Are...a-are you angry at me?"

A scoff comes from the aseri this time, but one that doesn't betray displeasure. If anything, there's a hint of affection there. "On the contrary," she answers. "I'm happy that I have a lion for a roommate." She sounds thoughtful as she concludes, "It...makes me more certain. About certain things."

You are a little curious about what those "certain things" are; after all, despite being roommates, despite getting along, Stephanie is still a bit of an enigma, someone whose background and circumstances you know very little about. But soon she's scrubbing you somewhere sensitive and ticklish again, and it's all you can do to try to insist that you can wash yourself and not giggle out loud.

The rest of the Academy does not return until you and Stephanie have had dinner, and certainly not until Stephanie prods you into taking a very welcome early rest. Curious well-wishers come to your door in hopes of learning what transpired in Roldharen Forest this morning, now that rumors have spread amongst the apprentices like wildfire, but Stephanie fends them off, and you soon fall into a deep, fitful sleep.

*****

It's noon when you finally wake up from your slumber. Muted sunlight amidst thin clouds comes in easily through your window, and your eyes try to adjust to the glow, your attempt to shield them from the window a reminder that one of your arms is technically still in a splint. Your body still feels sore, and there's still a bit of deep fatigue in your body, but when Stephanie - studying in the room up until you woke up - informs you that they've brought the corpse of the wyvern to the outskirts of the town of Faulkren, you resolve yourself to go and take a look. Whatever else, it feels like it'll provide some level of closure on this terrifying chapter of your life. Fortunately, you manage to ward off Stephanie's offer to help you dress, convincing her that you can do that yourself.

Come to think of it, you've left your previous change of clothes back in the small ravine, didn't you? Somehow, you doubt that anyone thought about picking that up. It's probably been dirtied in the mud beyond salvation anyways. You're just going to have to buy a new set of clothes.

The Academy is fairly empty as you leave on your way to the town, which is hardly surprising. There are no classes going on, seeing how the apprentices are still supposed to be out on the field exercise had it not been canceled. Quite a few are thus engaged in their own activities, but a great many - you soon discover - have gone to town to take a look at this wyvern that has been causing so much trouble.

"No one from the Academy was killed," Stephanie explains as the two of you walk along the road to town. It's getting chilly enough that her breath is visible as she speaks. She had the previous evening and earlier this morning to listen in on everyone and collect all the information she needed to brief you. "You and Wendy were the only ones injured. Aphelia and Mia were found and diverted back to the fielding area while looking for you." She inhales. "You were lucky. They say that judging by the damage left behind, the wyvern tripped, fell down the hill with you, and landed in the canyon where it couldn't fly." She looks at you grimly. "Things could've gone very differently. Four of the dryad huntresses were found dead."

You try to manage the sinking feeling in your stomach.

"I'm not trying to criticize you for your decisions," Stephanie quickly adds, taking a softer tone, "or making you second-guess them. I just..." she sighs, scratches her sharp ear awkwardly, eventually relents, "...would like you to understand the possible consequences of your actions. Your roommate would really rather you come back alive, you know."

"I-I know," you try to reassure her with a small smile. "Th-Thank you." You let this stretch of conversation pass for a moment before asking, "Do you know how are the others?"

"Lady Lucille and Melanie are still resting, I think, but Vesna was up. They tell me that Wendy has been sort of going in and out of consciousness, but she's in no mortal danger now. It's just going to be a lot of bedrest, like you."

"That's good," you expel a sigh of relief. There was the very real fear that, in spite of all your efforts, Wendy still wouldn't make it. This doesn't seem to be the case, though, and no one has told you that she has been so grievously injured that training as a Caldran mercenary is no longer possible for her.

Coming closer to Faulkren, it becomes difficult to miss where the wyvern has been brought in outside town. It's not that you can see the wyvern insomuch as you can see a crowd that has gathered around it, a collection of Caldran mercenaries, instructors, apprentices, and even townspeople. It's the most interesting thing to happen in the local area for a long while, and now everyone wants a piece of the latest news. Any undercurrent of fear that may have tainted this spectacle has been purged by the very fact that the wyvern is dead, and won't be bothering anyone ever again.

"People are still pretty excited about this," Stephanie warns you as you start getting closer to the crowd. "About you. So, uh, be prepared for lots of questions." Then, upon seeing you gulp with nervousness, she quickly promises, "I'll try to keep most of them off you."

True to Stephanie's word, as you come close to the crowd, one of the Caldran mercenaries keeping an eye on the commotion spots you in the corner of her vision, and a broad grin unfolds across her lips as she calls out, "Oh, and here comes the hero of the day!" You are given very little time to prepare before a throng of apprentices suddenly rush and surround you excitedly, full of questions and congratulations and curiosity. You feel overwhelmed by this sudden attention, averting your gaze and trying to figure out where you can hide instead. This is really not a level of attention you are remotely accustomed to, and to be at the center of it all is...strange. Intimidating. But...maybe not entirely unwelcome.

That doesn't stop Stephanie from sighing with a clear tone of exasperation, however, as she puts one arm around your shoulder to guide you towards the dead wyvern, all while using the other arm to push the others away. "Okay," she grunts, cutting through the crowd in large deliberate movements, "hey, back off, back off, she's still recovering from her injuries. Hey, watch out for her arm! It's still healing!"

It takes a bit of time and effort, but Stephanie finally manages to carve a path through the crowd, and you end up inside the innermost circle of people, standing right before the corpse of an ever-familiar wyvern. Your body chills for a moment as you set eyes on the monster, on its empty yellow slit eyes, your instincts remembering those ten minutes of terror and panic that consumed you. This is the third time in two days you have come so close to this predator, and the knowledge that it is dead - that it will not hurt anyone ever again - is of little relief to your instincts, convinced that you shouldn't be here.

Still, you are determined to set eyes on a creature that, just yesterday, you couldn't bear to look directly at. Even with its eyes glazed over, even with its body splayed across the grass, there's no denying the naturally ferocious appearance of the wyvern, its intimidating size. Its wings were clipped back when the mercenaries transported it here, and so it no longer looks as terrifyingly colossal as it did back in the canyon, but you are reminded that it's still a creature with a maw large enough to chew on an adult dryad.

But it seems that its scales only offered so much protection. Large gashes, fresh and only recently dried, show where the mercenaries inflicted fatal wounds on a trapped beast. There are smaller, slightly older-looking cuts across the beast's scales as well, perhaps scars from previous fights against other predators...or wounds sustained when the monster slipped and tumbled into that canyon with you. It's a reminder that although this is the manifestation of your fears of a cruel and violent death, it, too, is mortal, a being of flesh and blood that can be felled like any other.

Maybe one day - when you are stronger, when you've become a Caldran mercenary - you will be able to stand toe-to-toe against such a beast.

You are pulled out of your thoughts, however, as you recognize several familiar faces approaching. Well, "approaching" is perhaps an understatement for one of them; Mia practically jumps at you and cheerfully wraps an arm around your shoulder, enthusiastically exclaiming, "You were awesome!" You certainly didn't feel "awesome" then, not when Wendy was close to dying and you didn't know if your plan would work and you could've been killed yourself, but now you just blush in embarrassment. "Our Neianne has grown up so quickly."

"Hey," Stephanie sighs in irritation even as she pries Mia off your shoulders with more force than is probably necessary, "since when did she became 'your Neianne'?"

The cheerful aseri grins. "Since yesterday."

Mia is not the only one who has joined you; so does Sieglinde, Vesna, and Aphelia. Vesna, like you, still looks tired, but she offers you a big smile nonetheless, a sign of solidarity among survivors, and approaches for a hug. Sieglinde, as a member of Squad Four, doesn't hug you like Stephanie and Vesna - you don't expect her to, it's not in Sieglinde's character - but there is a clear look of muted relief on her face that tells you all you need to know, and you offer a small, shy smile back in return.

Aphelia, for her part, is her usual stoic self, but she does approvingly say to you, "That was a very...bold thing you did yesterday." A ghost of a wan smile forms on her lips as she adds, "Unwise, most likely...but there should be no doubts of your courage afterwards."

You mean to stammer your thanks to Aphelia, but Mia speaks first as she wonders aloud, "When you say 'bold', do you mean the 'crawling under a wyvern' part or the 'take off your clothes in front of everyone' part?"

Taking notice of your intense blush, both Stephanie and Aphelia exasperatedly thwack an unapologetic Mia across the back of her head.

It is not too long after that you notice something on the leg of the wyvern, something that you did not see - for obvious reasons - when you crawled under the wyvern. "What's this on its leg?" you ask, kneeling down closer to take a better look. Although "on" is perhaps not quite the right word, seeing how it's not really an "object" that's on the leg so much as it is something that looks branded into its scales.

One of the mercenaries grunts, stepping up beside you and studying the brand on the creature's leg. "We don't know," she admits. "Our libraries show no symbol, insignia, or heraldry that matches this."

"One of us will probably have to make a journey to Arkenvale to search the archives for anything like it," says another.

"Or maybe even Stengard or Valrein," sighs the first mercenary. You understand the lack of enthusiasm towards that possibility. It'd be nice if the information can be found in the capital of Apaloft, which is relatively close by. But if not, the Confederated City of Stengard - which technically functions as the capital of the entire Confederacy - and Valrein - the regional capital of Lindholm - have the largest archives in Caldrein. It'd necessitate a longer journey than just to Arkenvale, though.

And that would have been the end of that, except a clear voice - gentle and melodic, yet instantly commanding attention - suddenly rings out in mild surprise, "Oh, my. That's a Tenereian beastmaster's brand, isn't it?"

Heads swivel as all gazes turn upon an unfamiliar elven girl kneeling beside the corpse of the wyvern, studying the symbol. She is clearly not an apprentice of Faulkren Academy - you don't recognize her at all, especially since her long silver hair is particularly distinctive - nor a mercenary of the Faulkren warband - she looks only a bit older than you, perhaps roughly Sieglinde's age. Although she has the look of someone who's ready to hit the road, she wears her clothes rather stylishly, complete with a cloak, a hat, a bolero, and a skirt. There's a straight sword at her side that seems to suggest that she's an adventurer of some sort, but - rather curiously - there is something else that she carries: A lute.

"Pardon?" one of the mercenaries asks, eyebrow raised, intrigued.

"It's a Tenereian beastmaster's brand," the girl repeats, standing back up from where she knelt beside the corpse of the wyvern. You get a good look at her, and realize that she's actually very pretty. It's more than being blessed with good looks; like Aphelia, she commands the impression of confidence, but she certainly seems more approachable than your temporary unofficial team leader. "The Tenereian armies sometimes capture wild beasts and tame them for war, or simply unleash them deep in enemy territory. This looks like the latter; as far as I know, no one has ever been able to tame a wyvern."

"And you are...?" asks an authoritative voice, and you are surprised to see that this girl has caught the attention of Headmistress Cornelia Rastangard, who is now standing beside both yourself and this new girl, her expression thoughtful but unreadable.

With a broad smile and a flourish of her arm, the girl bows dramatically, as if she was an actress on the receiving end of jubilant applause after the finale of a play. "Alexia, traveling bard, at your service. I've been in town for a while now, and plan to stay for a little bit longer."

Alexia's introduction coaxes a few chuckles out of the nearby crowd. The headmistress, however, continues to stoically scrutinize her for a moment longer before asking, "You're Ornthalian, aren't you?"

A flutter of surprised murmurs erupts through the crowd of onlookers, even as Alexia laughs sheepishly at having been "found out". Ornthalia's relationship with Caldrein is amicable enough, if not rather complicated. They are certainly much further away geographically from the Confederacy compared to Tenereia, and the general impression is that Ornthalians consider Caldrein to be at least a little backwater. Still, Ornthalia has been a bit of an ideological cousin in recent years, valuing the political autonomy of its administrative divisions and of its subjects. There is the shared religion of Primordiality, which has become the largest faith in both countries. And Ornthalia has been a token ally of Caldrein's through the Huntress' War, providing some degree of material aid...yet never in decisive amounts. Nor have the Ornthalian armies been mobilized on Caldrein's behalf, not that Caldran necessarily welcomes such a possibility; the dangers of a foreign army on domestic soil is too great. Ultimately, part of this stalemate is of course the complex situation that Ornthalia faces in its cold war against Tenereia, but there is also the understanding that a significant part of Ornthalia's support comes with the ulterior motive of containing Tenereian expansion.

Alexia, for her part, does not deny the accusation, merely laughing, "You have me there." But although the cheerful smile does not disappear from her lips, she seems a touch more serious as she insists, "I'm not speaking from a position of bias, though. My travels have brought me far and wide across Iuryis, including Tenereia. I've seen such a brand before."

The confidence and certainty by which Alexia makes such a claim reignites speculation among the spectators. If the bard speaks true - if it is not a deliberate Ornthalian attempt to tighten Caldran resolve against Tenereia - then is this not a wartime action, an attempt to sow discord in the Confederacy, a strike deep past the battlefield in Elspar? A warning that none of you outside Elspar are safe? That - had there not been a field exercise in Roldharen that day - more could've died?

Few ask such questions harder than Lauren, the representative of the dryads of Roldharen, as she suddenly turns on Cornelia, a grim frown set upon her features. "What is the meaning of this, Rastangard?" she demands, her tone calm and level, but still betraying an anger heard by everyone around. Conversations come to a halt as everyone looks on with surprise and bated breath, as the Lauren suddenly puts your headmistress on the spot. "We have lent you these woodlands in goodwill with the understanding that this is only a field exercise. Yet my people are being jeopardized - several huntresses killed - by a...Tenereian wyvern?"

Although she composes herself well, Cornelia Rastangard still seems a little pained and desperate as one hand touches Lauren's shoulder while another gestures towards a nearby building - a general shop, as it happens to be - trying to guide Lauren away from a public embarrassment. "May we discuss this inside?" she asks, already trying to prod the dryad along, the latter of whom - thankfully for Cornelia - acquiesces. The two soon disappear indoors, Cornelia slamming the door shut behind them.

The awkward silence of the crowd stretches for just a bit longer until Alexia clears her throat. "So, yeah!" she chimes, sounding like she's trying to get everyone to forget about the tension just now. "See these scars?" She points to the slightly older scars on the scales of the wyvern that you thought were either from fights with other beasts or from when it took a tumble into the crevice with you. "They probably whipped the wyvern into a frenzy before setting it loose."

Again, the crowd explodes into alarmed murmurings, their attention returning from the tension between Faulkren Academy and the woodland dryads of Roldharen Forest. There is a growing sense of anger, a stomach-churning realization that Tenereians somehow not only infiltrated this far past the distant frontlines to the west in Elspar, but also managed to bring a wyvern with them to inflict upon a peaceful population hub.

It is in this din that Sieglinde suddenly speaks, inquiring of Alexia, "Wyverns are indigenous to Ornthalia as well, are they not?"

"Well, yes," Alexia agrees easily, "the Imperial Republic is rather large, and includes lands wyverns are native to."

Sieglinde nods. "Your timing here is quite fortuitous, then," she observes calmly. "An Ornthalian bard with knowledge of the Tenereian military graces our humble township the day we needed her most."

There is a bit of tension in the air, the implicit suspicion that Sieglinde is voicing not having gone unnoticed. You awkwardly look at Alexia, wondering if this is going to result in a confrontation...but the elven bard only laughs cheerfully. "I know, right?" she huffs proudly, as if being here at the right time is supposed to be a great accomplishment of hers. "I'm awesome like that." She seems content to leave it at that for now, until she catches you in the periphery of her vision, and a second later, she bounces over, beaming. "Oh, are you the dryad who saved the team from this, aren't you?"

You are growing increasingly worried about how far this story will spread, now that an Ornthalian bard knows about it. "U-Um," you fidget, unaccustomed to such attention by a stranger, "no, just...someone on the team."

"By stripping, right?" Alexia asks excitedly.

You shoot a betrayed look over at Vesna, who apologetically sticks her tongue out in a clear sign of "oops". You are quickly coming to fear the possibility that the world will never let you forget about this episode.

"That's incredible," the bard continues in a tone that's a mixture of amused and impressed. "I never could've done something like that." A pause. "I never could've thought of something like that."

Blushing, you fidget a little as you murmur, "I-It was just in the heat of the moment. I-I wasn't really thinking or anything."

But Alexia puts her hands on her hips and grins. "Don't sell yourself short. It's not something anyone could've done without thinking about it, and it's not something anyone could've done without the courage to stare death right in the face." She pats your shoulder, something that draws a disapproving look from Stephanie due to the state of your arm. "You should be proud of yourself, Neianne. I'll have to watch your stories with bated breath and sing your songs."

You're a little terrified of the idea that someone is going to sing songs about you, but you don't get the chance to vocalize these concerns before the other apprentices - having long had their curiosity held back by Stephanie and the unfolding situation at hand - finally see their first chance to ask you and Vesna what happened. You're swarmed by a throng of apprentices, excitedly asking you to recount your experiences from yesterday, even as your squadmates and teammates look on with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. You find yourself overwhelmed by all the questions and voices and attention, struggling to keep up with what feels like a dozen different conversations at once.

But maybe this isn't so bad. As you watch Vesna cheerfully explain your collective close brush with death - nothing ever seems to faze that girl - your thoughts return to those of your instructors, of Stephanie, of Aphelia. Yes, the entire incident will probably continually be a source of deep embarrassment, especially in terms of your methodology...but you realize that regardless of whether or not this was a result of a conscious change or just something innate within you, you can spur yourself to action. You can push yourself when the chips are down and the times call for it. You can change.

With a small shy smile that nevertheless touches a spot of confidence that you didn't know you had, you join Vesna in regaling your peers with the story of how you had to strip to save a fellow apprentice.

*****

The days eventually come and go, as the vestiges of warm days finally pass, giving way to the promise of snow. Roldharen slowly becomes a memory, your memento an arm that finally frees itself of splint and sling, although you are still forbidden from engaging in physical training. This is of some distress to you, even though you are instead encouraged to make up for it by studying ahead in more academic subjects. Wendy, too, is eventually discharged from the custody of the healers, and although she still moves slowly with a visible limp, she is expected to make a full recovery.

The novelty of your stories, too, has passed. Through the short weeks, the apprentices have heard the story of how you snuck naked past a wyvern a dozen times, with a dozen variations on the story shared by every second- and third-hand account. Conversation at dinner in the Great Hall has since moved onto other subjects and other stories. Your reputation, however, has moreorless stuck; previously a near-invisible, shy apprentice who largely escaped notice, you are now recognized as someone with worth, someone deserving of attention and respect. People talk to you now, give more than just passing greetings, meaning you have to learn to talk back.

"You haven't been a hermit before you came here," Stephanie points out, seated next to you in the minutes before your tactics class begins. Per usual, Squad Four is seated together, with Sieglinde and Elizabeth behind you in their customary spots. "Talking to people here shouldn't be a particularly harrowing experience."

"I know," you relent, sighing, kicking your feet on a chair that keeps them scant millimeters from the floor. "A-Although my friends back home are people whom I've known most of my life, and some of the people here are from completely different backgrounds, and..." you catch yourself - and, perhaps more pertinently, a look from Stephanie - and sigh once more before murmuring, "...I-I'm trying."

"They can't be scarier than a wyvern," Stephanie insists. "And you crawled under its legs."

"My," Elizabeth laughs in that angelic little voice of hers, which is why it's all the more jarring when she says, "are you suggesting that Neianne crawl in between someone's legs here?"

"No!" hisses Stephanie, even as your face flushes bright red at the thought. Sieglinde, to the side, is cradling her forehead with her long fingers, as if masking a sigh. "I mean that a wyvern should've put things into perspective. Gods below, why are you even thinking such lecherous thoughts?"

"You're the one suggesting it," chimes Elizabeth.

"You don't have the sort of personality that would offend easily," Sieglinde cuts in, her voice calm and patient despite the ongoing conversation. "There isn't much reason for you to worry. Nor expectations for you to live up to."

"Until people discover I'm b-boring and uninteresting," you mumble glumly.

Which is about as far as you get, because there is a sudden sharp pain in your ear, and you whine impotently as Elizabeth sharply pulls on your ear with a clear air of irritation, even as Stephanie looks on, paralyzed with shock, and Sieglinde stands up lazily in a halfhearted effort to pull Elizabeth from you. "Moping like that is what makes you boring, you mewling quim," scowls the elf, moments before Sieglinde finally pries the tiny girl from you.

"Much as I'm loathe to agree with this one," sighs the tall, raven-haired elf, settling Elizabeth back onto her seat even as you rub your sore ear, "this sort of self-deprecation probably won't help in the long run."

"Just be who you are," Stephanie insists, even as you pout. "If you really need help...well, I don't know." She shrugs. "We can help you practice?"

Elizabeth makes a snorting sound that makes it clear she has volunteered for no such thing. Sieglinde, for her part, raises an eyebrow in curiosity, as if silently asking what makes anyone think she is particularly sociable.

"Well," sighs Stephanie heavily, shaking her head in exasperation, "I can help you practice."

"Not that you're particularly sociable yourself," quips Elizabeth.

"Do be quiet," mutters your aseri roommate, rolling her eyes.

Elizabeth's eyes flash with amusement and unspoken cruelty. "You mean 'do be quiet, milady'."

Stephanie seems uncertain about how to react to that, but she is spared from having to come to a decision when your little conversation is interrupted by the sudden arrival of two humans. You turn, finding yourself a little surprised to meet the gazes of Penelope and Wendy. Well, "surprised" is perhaps the wrong word; deep down inside, you knew that an encounter such as this was going to happen sooner or later. That doesn't mean you're prepared for it, though.

If there's any comfort you can derive from this, it's that both Penelope and Wendy also look mildly uncomfortable with this. They do their best to ignore the presence of Elizabeth only a few meters away; Elizabeth, for her part, looks like she hasn't even noticed that the two human girls exist.

Finally, with a deep shaky breath, Wendy speaks first, awkwardly murmuring, "Hi."

"Oh," you blink, bowing your head in polite greeting, "u-u-um...hi." It's more than a little awkward to talk to someone who seemed to detest you weeks ago, and whose life you saved days ago. Especially since Penelope is still looking a bit defensive as she stands next to her squadmate with a hint of a grimace on her lips. You also try not to let your gaze wander; Wendy suffered fairly serious wounds from the wyvern, and so there are places on her body where bandages are still wrapped around, holding raw wounds together that healing magecraft can only somewhat compensate for.

The small smile Wendy gives is a little uneasy and clearly awkward, but it's there. "We haven't got a chance to talk," she shrugs. "You know, with me knocked out and everything."

You nod, finally feeling a little less guilty about looking at her bandages, gesturing towards them as you ask, "A-Are you okay now?"

"Yeah. I'm still a mess inside, but they say I'll be alright in a month or two."

"Th-That's good."

An awkward moment of silence passes as you are uncertain of what to say despite wanting to say something, whereas Wendy is certain of what she needs to say but has second thoughts about actually saying it.

Then, finally: "They told me you're the one who saved me."

"Oh." You fidget awkwardly, trying to play it off and not make a big deal out of it. It's not as if you can gloat. "Um. W-Well." You look around skittishly, and when you catch sight of Penelope and remember that she's still here, you quickly add, "P-Penelope helped too."

Penelope looks mildly perplexed at this. Wendy, for her part, manages a small laugh as she concedes, "Yeah, she did."

"And Lady Lucille," you add insistently. "And Vesna. And Melanie."

"Yeah," Wendy nods, "I'm thanking them too." Another moment passes, and Wendy takes another deep breath. Steels herself. Manages, "What I mean is...thanks." She exhales, a sigh that sounds like something burdensome has been lifted from her shoulders, replaced only by a sense of lingering discomfort. "Really. I mean, I don't really remember what happened, but..." it's her turn to make an awkward fidgeting motion, but she eventually whispers, "...it's nice to still be here." The tiny smile she offers you is awkward, but it's a smile nonetheless. "I owe you one."

You try to think of something profound to say in return, but find yourself unable to offer much more beyond awkwardly stammering, "Y-You're welcome."

And that is that. Wendy gives another wan smile before turning around and leaving, returning to her seat with the other members of her squad. Penelope follows after her, but not before giving you a small, grim nod of acknowledgment...maybe even reluctant respect. It's hard to tell with her sometimes.

Sieglinde, for her part, softly claps her hands behind you. "Bravo," she congratulates calmly. You pout as you look at Sieglinde's expressionless face; it's really hard to tell whether she's sincere or wry about certain things sometimes.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, seems to giggle in amusement as she watches Penelope and Wendy return to their seats. "They do know how to grovel after all," she hums aloud.

Stephanie raises an eyebrow at her. "That's groveling?" she asks.

"I am a merciful lady, after all," sniffs Elizabeth haughtily, and Stephanie barely manages to catch herself before making a ridiculing snorting noise. "I can lower my standards." Her smile takes on a slightly sinister air as she adds, "If this was Tenereia, her head would've long been on a pike."

Your eyes widen in shock as you ask, "R-Really?"

"No," sighs Stephanie impatiently, "not really. It's wartime propaganda."

But here Sieglinde clarifies, "Elizabeth exaggerates, but it's true that the leaders of the Tenereian Union are...less accessible." She shrugs. "Perhaps it would be unfair to suggest that they are entirely beyond reproach, but the gulf between them and those they rule is wide indeed."

"So start cozying up to," Elizabeth cruelly advises with a hint of a cackle in her voice, "and crawling between the legs of as many highborn ladies as you can while you can. You might not get the chance when Tenereia subjugates us all."

Stephanie groans, burying her face in her hand even as you blush in embarrassment at Elizabeth's "suggestion". Sieglinde, meanwhile, refuses to be tripped up by the diminutive blond mages and calmly offers, "A more charitable interpretation of Zabanya's words, if you're going to be very liberal about what she actually meant, is that we are bound together by our endeavor to become Caldran mercenaries, a very special feat not completely restricted by socioeconomic divides." Elizabeth playfully sticks her tongue out at Sieglinde for the verbal dig, but the taller elf ignores her as she continues, "You're on the same squad as Elizabeth and myself, you've befriended Azalea Charmaine, and you seem to have won Aphelia Treiser's respect." She looks like she's trying to appear reassuring when Sieglinde concludes, "Don't let birth be a barrier to what friendships you think you can forge."

"Or anything less intimidating than a wyvern," Stephanie adds helpfully.

"Or anyone you're willing to take your clothes off in front of," Elizabeth chimes in much less helpfully. Then, taking advantage of your obvious embarrassment, "So how far did you strip, anyways? All the way?"

The calmer part of you, the part that you're not listening to right now, tells you that this is the moment where you'll loudly blurt something embarrassing - in this case, "only down to my undergarments" - and then try to find somewhere to hide forever as you realize you actually said that very loudly. Thankfully, Stephanie - being your roommate and a previous witness to such outbursts - rescues you from such a fate in the nick of time as she sighs and stresses, "Just down to her undergarments, alright?"

"How scandalous," smirks Elizabeth, but she fortunately doesn't get very far. Sharp footsteps at the door, the scraping of chairs against the floor, and students shuffling across the classroom is a familiar indication that the instructor has entered the classroom, and the tactics lesson for today is about to start.

Your squad's conversation comes to an end, although Stephanie uses what few moments she has left to whisper to you, "She seems to notice that you exist now. Zabanya, I mean."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" you wonder aloud with no small amount of uncertainty. It seems only yesterday that Elizabeth only regarded you as something that came with the backdrop, despite being someone in the same squad.

"Well, she's only pulled on your ear, called you a mewling quim, and inquired about how far you've undressed. So...you're off to a good start, I guess?"

You try not to drop your head against the desk in front of you.

"Now," comes the clear voice of the elven instructor, cutting through the last vestiges of conversation in the classroom, and your surroundings become solemnly silent save for the crisp lecturing of the adult at the podium, "as the entire Academy probably knows by now, one of ours recently outwitted a wyvern by taking off her clothes." Heads swivel in your direction, giggles echo through the classroom, and you consider hiding under your desk. "It was an excellent application of the strengths available to the group at the time, even if it was incredibly risky: A dryad's ability to blend into the local flora, a mage strong enough to disorientate even a wyvern, and three other apprentices as backup doing the exact right things at the right time." The instructor gives you an approving nod. "Well played."

You try not to let the light applause around the classroom get to your head.

"Now," the instructor claps her hands together once to bring everyone's attention back on her, "since we're talking about this, let's assume another hypothetical: That you have been caught in the same situation - stuck in a crevice with a wyvern - but it becomes necessary to fight it. What advantages do you immediately have?" She looks around, and when none of the apprentices answer or raise their hands, she gives a small sigh before turning in the direction of your squad and calls upon one of your own: "Ravenhill."

Sieglinde's answer is cool and succinct: "A wyvern hunts primarily with its claws and weight. Without the ability to take off, biting becomes the only offensive option available to it...aside from stepping on someone."

You don't turn around to look, but you somehow have a suspicion that Sieglinde was looking at you when she uttered that last part of her answer.

"Very good," the instructor nods, even as she begins to draw a very rough sketch of a wyvern's general anatomy on the blackboard, emphasizing the lack of "arms" that it has; rather, where the arms would traditionally be for other creatures are instead its wings. "Yes, remember: Wyverns are primarily aerial predators. Although sometimes regarded as a 'smaller cousin' of dragons, there are very obvious structural and anatomical differences, key among them being that a wyvern only has two legs. Its primary method of hunting is to swoop down on unsuspecting prey, dig its claws into the victim, and crush it with its weight. Wyverns are also known to perch on the branches of thick forests, using its long neck to ambush victims from above. Neither option was possible, meaning the wyvern would've fought with a significant handicap. It is still a formidable threat on the ground, but not optimized for combat there. What about combat? How would you actually fight a wyvern?"

"Wouldn't wind magecraft be enough?" inquires an apprentice from the other side of the classroom, most likely someone who isn't actually a mage.

"In terms of physical force, wind magecraft does not actually pack significant force, especially when compared to other classes of elemental magecraft. It is incredibly versatile in many ways, often far moreso than magecraft involving other elements, with many creative applications. But as apprentices, you are unlikely to possess the kind of power to summon winds strong enough to cut through a wyvern's scales, something that Melanie Aster was aware of at the time."

"An arrow through the eye," someone else suggested. Probably not very seriously, seeing how some of the other apprentices giggle at the answer.

"Amusing," the elven instructor snorts dryly, "but probably more difficult than you'd imagine, seeing how the wyvern would be trying to move around and kill you. An intelligent answer, please?"

"Doesn't that mean Neianne's greatsword would've been the only weapon powerful enough to cut through?" comes another answer.

"Excellent, very good. Yes, with the other weapons at hand being daggers, a shortbow, and wind magecraft, a greatsword would've been the best bet against a large opponent such as a wyvern. Combat would've then been about setting up the perfect chance for Neianne to deliver a fatal blow with her weapon, either at the wyvern's neck, the thinnest part of the wyvern's main body, or in the softer, less-protected underbelly.

"This is, of course, assuming that combat is unavoidable. We now suspect that the wyvern was part of a Tenereian plot to inflict damage on Apaloft to dampen morale back home. The wyvern was not acting only out of hunger, but had been deliberately driven into a frenzy. Had it not landed in a crevice, retreating may not have been possible, seeing how outrunning an wyvern's flight speed is a fool's errand. But since it was possible, and since many engagements allow retreat to be possible, it should always be considered a serious option." She settles her gaze upon you before continuing, "As much as Neianne's courage is to be commended, and as much as we should appreciate her success, the wisest solution would've been to flee and search for more qualified help." You try not to look in the direction of Penelope and Wendy, a bit too nervous to see how they would react to an eleven instructor suggesting that the "wisest solution" is to leave the human Wendy behind. "Caldran mercenaries do not tolerate cowardice, but nor do we tolerate foolishness. You fight the battles you can win, and you don't fight battles where not only will you most likely lose, but where you don't have to lose. Do not let others take care of problems you can solve yourself, but do not create more problems for other people in your attempt to solve them."

The instructor allows a moment of silence to pass, to emphasize what she has said, to let her words sink in...before announcing, "If 'how do you fight a wyvern' ever comes up on a quiz, Neianne will be the only apprentice from whom I shall be accepting the answer of 'take off your clothes'."

The classroom erupts into friendly laughter once more, at the expense of the increased flow of blood in your face.

*****

The first snowfall finally graces Faulkren. The temperature is not cold enough to repaint the landscape from green to white, not yet, but it heralds the changing of times. The field exercise becomes a fond memory, and life at the Academy settles down into a calmer routine, days of lessons and training punctuated by episodes amongst apprentices.

The instructors have been giving you extra homework where academics are concerned due to your damaged arm, in hopes that you can focus instead on the physical and the martial once your arm heals. Sadly, it does mean that when weekends and free time come along, it's not yet possible to make good on Sieglinde's offer to train with her.

That being said, you have hardly forgotten Azalea's offer of teatime with her and her friends, especially now that there's a venue at the Aroma, the cafe in town run by the two elves you ran into last time, Nicole and Tiffany. You aren't as familiar with Azalea as you are with Sieglinde, and the idea of having to sit with another group of unfamiliar acquaintances - Azalea's own circle of friends - sounds intimidating, especially when you consider Azalea's social class and the people she's likely to be hanging out with. But maybe that's part of the challenge you must face: Learning how to interact more, especially with people you don't know as well. Besides, a part of you quietly wishes to emulate and learn from Azalea's own graceful behavior and social etiquette. At the very least, she isn't a wyvern.

And, of course, you can spend time with other people too. You never managed to find the rest of Squad Four during the field exercise, so you would hardly mind spending some more time bonding with Stephanie, Sieglinde...or maybe even Elizabeth. Vesna is another pre-existing relationship you can capitalize on, especially now that you have gone through a harrowing, life-threatening experience together. From that same crisis, you've made new acquaintances, maybe even friends: Aphelia, Lucille, Melanie, and Mia. And seeing how you've actually successfully saved a life, maybe - just maybe - Penelope and Wendy would be amenable towards a more amicable relationship.

[x] Aphelia Meredith Treiser

[x] Azalea Cherilyn Charmaine

[x] Elizabeth Irivich Zabanya

[x] Emilie

[x] Lucille Lorraine Celestia

[x] Melanie Aster

[x] Mia Honette

[x] Nikki

[x] Penelope

[x] Sieglinde Corrina Ravenhill

[x] Stephanie

[x] Vesna Rainer

[x] Wendy

[x] Wilhelmina Adelaide Marienberg

Choose three.