A tense silence spread throughout the tavern as Azreon shouted his challenge to Shaya. Everyone stopped to watch the spectacle: dancers ceased their jigs, drunks dropped their ramblings and the tavern’s staff tensed up as if there might be immediate violence and property damage. Azreon’s lance surrounded the table Shaya and Bri sat at, as if cutting off their escape routes, though Oraeus, Apricot, and Samorn watched from nearby – tensed like crossbows about to go off.

The bard’s jaunty tune petered out, to be replaced with a low, tense dirge to set the scene.

“Hold on a moment,” Shaya said, turning back to her friend and leaning in closer to her, “Hey Bri...”

Heart thundering in her chest, palms suddenly damp, Shaya took a deep breath.

“How dare you ignore me!” Azreon shouted.

Shaya ignored him, reining in her emotions and thoughts to form a simple, cohesive sentence: “Will you go out with me?”

Bri blinked, stunned. Her face reddened and Shaya’s heart dropped as Bri shook her head, mistaking it for rejection. A moment later she realized Bri was just clearing her head, her red hair tussling as she did so.

“Really? Now is when you come to your senses and ask?”

“To be fair,” Shaya countered, “I was about to ask before I was rudely interrupted.”

“I will not stand for this!” Azreon shouted, drawing his sword.

“Well, the answer is obviously ‘yes’.” Bri said, grinning.

“Awesome!” Shaya exclaimed, returning the grin with a blush of her own now, “Sorry, we’ll hammer out details in a moment.”

She collected herself and turned back to Azreon, the naked mythrite pointed her direction sobering her right up. A part of her was thankful for that; aside from the outburst being yet another strike against him in a room full of witnesses, she was worried what she might have done while influenced by alcohol. The gears turned in her mind for every advantage she could think of, knowing that Azreon’s abilities in a one-on-one fight outstripped her own at the moment.

“I accept,” she replied levelly, “but, unlike you, I’m not immune to repercussions because of daddy and need to work to pay my tuition. If you want to fight me, you’ll have to book it on the last day before our final deployment.”

“You think I’ll wait that long for satisfaction?”

“It’s that or you don’t fight me,” she shrugged, “I’m not the one with anything to prove here. Additionally,” she paused as his eyes narrowed further, “I’m not a morning person, so you’ll have to book the fight for mid to late afternoon. You wouldn’t want people to think you only bested me because it was during my off-hours, would you?”

“Would you like to make any further stipulations?” He growled through gritted teeth.

“No,” she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, “set the other parameters as you see fit. They won’t make a difference to the end result.”

“No, they won’t,” he said, his lips twisting into a smile that made Shaya nervous.

She hid it as she responded, “Now put up your sword before my friends destroy you.”

Azreon’s brow quirked, then he winced as he and his lance turned to find Oraeus, Apricot and Samorn full of aether, espers hovering behind them with menace. Shaya wouldn’t have liked their odds in a straight fight against Azreon’s lance, but with the element of surprise while they were fully charged?

Shaya liked those odds a lot.

Azreon’s eyes met Samorn’s and he flinched from whatever silent message was conveyed between them. Emotions flashed across his face in a blur that made it difficult for Shaya to catch: confusion, frustration, anger, defiance, and perhaps even lust.

Composing himself with a haughty sniff and without another look to Samorn, Azreon returned his blade to his scabbard. “Let’s go.”

Shaya's friends didn’t dismiss their espers or the aether until Azreon’s lance had left the tavern. The whispers started well before then, the evening made far more interesting to the occupants than their normal night of drunken debauchery. Slowly but surely, the bard returned to his frenetic dance music to burn off the excited energy, drinks flowed freely again, and the tavern’s atmosphere returned to normal as Azreon’s miasma faded.

“We can’t take you anywhere,” Apricot joked as they returned to the table.

“Hey,” Shaya said, holding up her hands defensively, “just be thankful I didn’t start a bar fight. My friends in Kelahk still haven’t let that one go.”

“You shouldn’t have accepted,” Samorn said, her tone morose, “and especially not without further conditions... Una is crazy, but not psychotic. Azreon though...”

“What’s he going to do?” Shaya shrugged, “Try to kill me?”

“Yes,” Oraeus said, sitting across from her, “he’s killed people in duels before Shaya. He’s infamous for his career as a duelist.”

“Well... Titan spit.”

“It’s okay,” Bri assured her, “you gave yourself a bunch of time, I’m sure you’ll be prepared for it.”

“Definitely,” Apricot nodded.

Samorn and Oraeus shared a look that suggested they disagreed.

“Oraeus,” Shaya said, “you’ve been trained in a similar dueling style to Azreon. Could you teach me?”

“In two months?” He shook his head, “I can try, but there’s no way you can master it.”

“I don’t need to master it, I just need to know what to expect and adapt accordingly. Azreon’s overly focused on the one style, I’m sure I can find a hard counter to it and exploit that against him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Oraeus nodded, still sounding concerned, “as long as you can find the time.”

“I’ll take Samorn’s advice and cut back on my shifts a little, I can afford to now... and she’s right, I do need to spend more time with the people I care about, for my own mental well-being.”

“And maybe my mom will have something you can use too,” Apricot added, “with your training with her.”

“Yeah,” Shaya nodded, “my next training session with her is a week away, I’m sure I’ll get a better handle of things then.”

Then she smiled, turning back to Bri, “But for now, I believe we have plans to hash out?”

“Oh, it finally happened?” Apricot grinned, holding out her hand to Oraeus, who placed another gold coin in it.

“I may need to charge you for the practice,” Oraeus complained, “given how much you cost me this evening.”

“Shush you,” Apricot teased, “this is an important lesson for you too. And just think how pleased Ralus will be.”

“Ralus?” Bri and Shaya asked.

“They called this before most of us,” Oraeus explained, “at least Ren will also have lost money to this... but the amount of favours we owe Samorn now...”

Samorn’s gaze was distant, taking none of her usual pleasure at the advantages accrued.

+++++

“Wow,” Rea said, “you’re really walking on sunshine today. I had to fuel most of your rage myself the entire bout.”

“Oh,” Shaya smiled, “sorry about that. Aside from the duel with Azreon, my life’s definitely looking up right now.”

“Oh?” Rea smiled, “that’s good to hear. Though I am a little worried for you, if I’m being honest.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“Not yet,” the professor smiled at her apologetically, “you’re growing faster than he is through your hard work, but he’s had years of additional instruction over you in magic and the finer points of combat. And you’ll be fighting him on his ground, where his skillset is strongest.”

“Well, I’m hoping you have something for me that will help even the playing field.”

“Well...” Rea thought about it, “he is pretty arrogant, I’m sure he’ll let you get a nick or two on him to make the bout look good. Venom might be quite effective against him and I keep my garden very well stocked, if you’re interested. No Assassin’s Vine, I’m afraid, since I haven’t murdered anyone on my property to infuse the soil with a desire for vengeance, but I have plenty of mundane options that should be subtle enough.”

“What!?” Shaya looked horrified, “I meant more like leveraging the blood rage, not getting myself expelled.”

“Oh, yes,” Rea said, crossing her arms, “that won’t be possible. You really shouldn’t be relying on your rage in uncontrolled situations.”

“...Titan spit,” Shaya sighed, “there’s no way you can teach me to harness it in two months?”

“Unlikely,” Rea said, “but the silver lining is that I do think you’ll be able to eventually.”

“Why’s that?”

“From everything I’ve read, Tarrak’s curse is uncontrollable – many records and stories simply speak of them flying into a berserk rage and killing everyone around them. But, from historical records and census data, it looks like violent crime is generally high in Kelahk and its people are known for their anger, brawling, and general inability to handle criticism.”

“...I see,” Shaya said, trying to follow along, “and why does that matter here?”

“You are able to control your rage, at least somewhat. Your rage doesn’t seem to be nearly as powerful as those of the stories, where berserkers double in size or manifest their demonic heritage... though I’m sure many of those are exaggerated. Ergo, I theorize that the strength of Tarrak’s bloodline is what influences this – those with very little blood, like the average person in Kelahk, simply have His anger management issues; whereas those with direct descent have it all.”

“So, you’re saying that, because of my mixed heritage...I’m actually in a better position to leverage the rage?”

“Precisely. With years of training, I think you could learn to control it quite well. But as it stands, you still have minimal control over your actions while in the rage and you have just as little control of how deep into the rage you fall. This is important: based on my observations thus far, the deeper into the rage you fall the stronger you become, but the less control you’re able to exert. For now, the disadvantages outweigh the advantages, though you’ve already shown remarkable improvement in today’s session.”

“Gods,” Shaya growled, “he’s such a bloody nuisance. I don’t even care about the duel, I just want to focus on my studies.”

“Ah, that’s the other reason I’d have to advise against using the rage against Azreon. He’s a particular... sore spot for you.”

“Yeah, yea, you’re right,” Shaya shook her head, “I need to find some other advantage against him. Zaal offered to get me a different esper, but then I’d have to learn a different school of magic entirely in two months...”

“Did he now?” Rea smiled, “Well, if you’re looking for different espers, you’ve come to the right summoner.”

“You’d help me?”

“Of course!” Rea grinned, “Anything to stick it to Zaal. How dare he try to poach my pupil!”

“You’re not...really my real mentor,” Shaya replied apologetically, “not that I don’t appreciate all your help, but honestly Auric has helped me a lot more than you thus far.”

The tall, thin elf sniffed, “we’ll see about that.”

“You’re going to try to poach me from Auric now, aren’t you?”

“No,” she replied hastily, “...maybe. Do you want another esper or not?”

“Depends,” Shaya chuckled, “are you going to make me give up my current one?”

“No,” Rea snorted, “managing the expectations of multiple espers is half the fun of being a mage, and what differentiates the best of us from the chaff. Our power grows exponentially the more options we have, regardless of how difficult they are to maintain. Hells, even Zaal has two espers, the hypocrite.”

“Well then, colour me interested,” Shaya grinned.

“Perfect,” Rea grinned back, “but you’re right, there’s no sense doing it before the semester ends. Splitting your focus will only decrease your performance, so let’s revisit this during the break between semesters.”

“Damn it, why can’t anything be easy?”

“Clearly destiny intends for you to grow – which means pushing yourself and working through the discomfort.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who believes in destiny.”

“I don’t,” Rea admitted with a smile, “but it sounds better than ‘life sucks, grow strong or get plowed.’ Or, ‘don’t put more effort into finding shortcuts than working hard, that way lies madness and corruption’.”

“True,” Shaya frowned at her, “but I’m not looking for wisdom right now.”

“No doubt,” Rea replied, her tone teasing, “I know what occupies the minds of young adults.”

“Don’t you dare bring up that book again...”