Ranvir sipped his beer. It wasn’t as strong as what he’d had during the celebration back at the village, since he still had to survive the academy tomorrow. Even Grev had gone light with his drink.

They were currently seated on a balcony on the second floor of a drinking house, called the Flying Arrow. Apparently, Grev was a regular, the bartender recognizing him by sight.

The Flying Arrow was located at the top of a hill in a richer quarter of the city, which allowed them to look out over the cityscape. It lent a sense of scale that Ranvir hadn’t been able to grasp properly when he’d first entered the capital.

There were some clearly delineated lines throughout the city, where the average wealth of citizens changed. The houses became better maintained, there were less black smoke rising into the sky. Even the smells got more pleasant.

Grev pointed out a square a few blocks away, that dipped into the ground. They were high enough and the slope was shallow enough, that they could see into it. “That’s called the Virrel.” He explained. Ranvir could see people enter the dip through one of three stairways, which slowly descended along the outer edge of the Virrel.

“The bottom has these channels carved into it.” Grev continued. “Like a pattern, with liquid running through it.”

“Liquid?” Sansir asked. “Like water?”

“Not quite water. It’s more like what you find at Ceremony Halls.” Grev explained.

“The water we get dipped in?” Esmund asked.

Grev nodded. “Not only that, but at the center of the pattern, there’s this block of stone. It’s cold to the touch and unlike any other material we’ve ever found, or been able to work with.” He leaned forwards over the table, lowering his voice. “My father said, that Masters could sense the latent power in the stone, but they aren’t powerful enough to activate it.”

Ranvir found himself halfway standing up from his chair trying to get a better look into the Virrel. While he could see the bottom, and something placed in the center of it, it was too far away to make out anything specific.

“If they’re not strong enough to activate it, what will it take?” Ranvir asked. “A Triplet Master?”

“Maybe, I heard Ankiria has one of these stones too, and they always seem to have the strongest tethered.”

Ranvir hadn’t heard about that. Ankiria was one of the biggest countries in the alliance.

“Ankiria, Sankur and Vargish always have the strongest tethered, but they’re the biggest nations.” Sansir explained, to Esmund who was clearly not following along.

“The theory is that those stones can be used like the water we find at the ceremony halls, but to make much stronger tethered.” Grev continued. “In fa-“ He was interrupted by the loud sound of people yelling something.

They all paused to listen, as the noise grew.

“Is that chanting?” Esmund asked, looking out over the balcony, to see where it was coming from.

“Time to stop the war! We don’t want it no more!” Ranvir could now make out the words they were yelling, though he still couldn’t see them. He did, however, notice Grev tense up.

“Let’s go inside.” Grev said, with none of his usual humor. Ranvir had already gotten up from his seat, mug in hand.

“Why? I wanna see?” Esmund had gotten up too, but he was now leaning over the balcony rail instead of retreating inside.

“That may be, but you don’t want them to see you. I can guarantee that.” Grev’s voice definitely held an edge of tension.

“Time to stop the war! We don’t want it no more!”

“Let’s go.” Sansir’s voice held the necessary weight that Grev’s lacked, and Esmund reluctantly pushed off the rail.

“Fine, but you’re explaining this to me.”

Ranvir nodded at that, as he followed them inside to a free table. There were plenty, it was barely past noon after all.

“Time to stop the war! We don’t want it no more!” The chanting had gotten loud at this point, their voices almost seeming to echo. They were clearly on the street at this point. Underneath the chanting, Ranvir could hear the stomp of feet on cobblestone. Hundreds of feet. He felt it reverberate through the building slightly.

“They’re not gonna come in here, are they?” Esmund was finally looking worried.

“Not if they don’t see any uniforms.” Grev replied. “There’s been a few incidents of them attacking people in uniform, but it’s usually lesser problems. Most people in white-on-black know better than to get too close.” He looked pointedly at Esmund, who hid his face behind his clay mug as he took a sip.

“Explain it for us.” Ranvir said, after the rumblings had passed. They were still audible, but not overpowering.

“There’s been a growing idea that there’s no point in the war. The front lines haven’t changed as long as living memory.”

“The last known big change was when we gained almost thirty miles of land, nearly a hundred and fifty years ago.” Sansir added.

“Yeah, so there’s been no big change to the war over the last century. We’ve gained nothing, but we keep losing soldiers and tethered on the battlefield. So in Vargish, this idea that the war wasn’t necessary started some years ago. After it failed to gain a foothold, it started to instead spread to the lesser nations, like Elusria.”

Sansir face changed, as he finally understood. “The Vargish are one of the main benefactors of the war, they along with the other two, get to have their United Alliance, which keeps the lesser nations armies focused on the front lines and lets them keep a careful watch.”

“Right, so the notion moves to Elusria, and other smaller nations. Here it gains the foothold it couldn’t have in Vargish. Mostly because we’re waging this war, for seemingly little-to-no-benefit. Instead, we’re losing many of our youngest and brightest. But the thing is, we’ve pulled out of the war before.”

“We have?” Esmund asked, leaning forwards slightly, almost tipping over his clay mug.

“Yeah, some eighty years ago, the Queen pulled back all combatants.” Grev went on. “The Ankirians didn’t take that too kindly. They told her our forces were needed on the front lines. She resisted of course, which is why our royalty now has the same yellow eyes as the Ankirian kings.”

Ranvir leaned back in his seat. “They killed her?”

“They slaughtered her family, put her niece on the throne and put a child in her.”

“That’s…” Esmund seemed lost for words, so was Ranvir for that matter. He hadn’t known about any of that.

“She was fifteen, when she took over the rule of our country.” Grev sipped his beer for a long moment. “Though she started out as a figure head, she was both a talented tethered and a clever woman. She slowly weened off the ankirian influence, though there’s still some vestiges of it left. Like the royal yellow eyes.”

“And Pashar.” Ranvir added.

“Actually, she’s supposed to be a defector from Ankiria.” Grev said, to Ranvir’s surprise. “Dad wouldn’t tell me the specifics. The only thing he told me was: ‘You think we’re gonna go through all the effort of rooting them out of the royal court, only to let them infiltrate our military?’” He mimicked a deeper voice, while holding a finger over his lip to signify a mustache.

“Wait, so why’s there a war at all?” Esmund asked. “If there’s no purpose for it?”

“It’s a long story.” Sansir said. Everyone looked at him with surprise. “I was expecting to go into the military, I’ve been preparing.”

With the others satisfied with his explanation, he quickly began. “The war with the Ralith is old. More ancient than the country of Elusria, even if our ancestors still lived here. The flesh-torn are monsters of war, they live only for the purpose of slaughter. The fact that there’s been so little change to the front lines for so long, speaks to the efficacy of our military.

“The flesh-torn supposedly first attacked Ankiria during a border dispute with Vargish. At first they were mistaken for a lesser threat, but at their relentless advance, it quickly became clear that Ankiria needed to focus their attention on the Ralith and not Vargish, despite their longstanding enmity.

“It almost lead to Ankiria’s fall, as the Vargish used that as an opportunity to extract their pound of flesh. It was only when the Ralith tore a swath through the Vargish army, that everyone realized the severity of the situation.”

Sansir stopped to take a long drink of his own. “The Ankirians and Vargish managed to hold their line against the Ralith, but the flesh-torn are endless. Slowly, they began pushing both nations back, until Sankur joined the effort, based on the pleas from the two nations.

“With their combined effort, they were finally able to put a stop to the Ralith advance. But they had lost a lot of land to the flesh-torn and were unable to push them back. With the flesh-torn’s ability to remove the Goddess’ touch from the world, they simply didn’t have enough tethered to keep up the fight.

“This led to the first instance of a whole generation going through a trial to assess their connection with the Goddess.”

“What did they do before then?” Esmund asked.

“Only the nobles and rich merchants that could pay their way forward, had access to the Ceremony Halls and their water.” Grev explained, before waving for Sansir to continue.

“Exactly, with their new drive to gather as many tethered as possible, their numbers soared into the sky. Of course, they needed training so they started the first military academy.

“Within a few years, they weren’t as hard pressed as they once were. They had enough tethered that even the Ralith’s ability to neutralize their power, was overshadowed by sheer numbers.”

Ranvir knew, from childhood stories, that the flesh-torn were the antithesis to the Goddess. That their presence could remove her power from the world. I gotta see what they have at the library, back at the academy.

He focused back in on Sansir, as his tall friend continued talking. “With some of the pressure now taken off the Three Nation Alliance—as it was known back then—it started forcing other countries into their organization, turning it into the United Alliance. As they strong armed more nations into their group, they started pushing the Ralith back.

“As Elusria first formed nearly five-hundred years ago, it did so under the banner of the United Alliance.”

Ranvir hadn’t known the history of Elusria, only what the mayor could tell them, during her impromptu lessons when he’d been younger. Before his mother’s accident.

Ranvir felt a gray premonition, that the stalemate between the United Alliance and the Ralith couldn’t last. With the protest running around the streets of their capital city, it looked a little shaky.

They continued hanging out inside the house, instead of returning to the balcony. Learning about the war had put a damper on the mood, though, it only lasted until a pair of women got into their own booth.

Ranvir was surprised by Esmund’s interest, since they were older than he would’ve thought was attractive. He wouldn’t explain, instead he simply kept a knowing smile on his face. At least, Sansir didn’t seem to care at all.

After the tension popped, Ranvir’s tall and bald friend seemed to deflate into his seat. He looked asleep if not for the occasional flicker of his eyes, that told Ranvir he was still paying some attention to Esmund and Grev’s conversation.

Soon enough, they paid the barkeep, which was way more expensive than Ranvir had anticipated, and returned to the square. The teachers—someone Ranvir didn’t recognize—were already waiting for them. The rest of their group quickly arrived, except for a few stragglers that a teacher went to gather. They returned to the academy just in time for dinner.

After dinner, Ranvir went to the administration building to send another letter to his parents. At first he’d intended to tell them about his issue with his power, but even thinking of writing it made him feel dark purple with shame, at unloading his worries onto parents too far away to help.

Instead, he decided to keep it light. He told them about how exhausting physical training was, about all the weird new sights he’d seen. How big all the buildings were. He told them about Grev’s antics with the First Queen’s statue, and all the sights they’d seen in the capital.

After he’d handed the letter to the student behind the desk, not Himir this time, he felt a little lighter. His feeling a brighter, happier yellow, than the dark cloudy one infected by his worries for his future at the academy.