Esmund couldn’t guide Ranvir through an open field without halfway pulling his arm off, let alone through a hallway wide enough to drive a wagon through. Ranvir’d thought he could’ve gone the entire day without pain medication, but after making it back to the lounge, he knew for certain that wasn’t an option.

It felt like his friend thought he had a fear of walking into walls, torch sconces, doors, their frames, tables, chairs, and other people, and decided he was going to fix that. And he was going to do it through the raw power of exposure. It was sheer luck that his leg wound hadn’t reopened again during the brief journey from the medical facility back to the first year dorms.

With a groan, Ranvir slid onto the coach, and Esmund lifted his wounded leg to settle it on the table. Either that, or he’d seen an insect and grabbed the first immediately available item to smash it.

“Shit!” Ranvir winced as his toe crunched against the table leg.

“Sorry, sorry.” Es apologized for the millionth time, finally getting the leg around the accursed furniture. He dropped it onto the table, but someone had enough foresight to put a pillow under.

“Thank you, Kirs.” Ranvir sighed, lifting one hand to scratch at the itchy cream on his face. Someone, probably Esmund, hit his hand like he wanted to break it.

“You’re not supposed to fiddle with it. Your burns won’t thank you.” Es scolded.

Ranvir groaned, slipping his hands under his butt to keep them from wandering. “Thank you too, Es.”

“Not a problem.”

Ranvir’s leg burned. His eyes felt like they’d been left to dry in the sun for two days and the skin on his entire face was prickling with tiny needles.

“Here, Ranvir.” Sansir said. “I’ve diluted the pain killer with a bit of water, like the note said.” He grabbed Ranvir’s wrist and gently guided it to the clay cup in his hand. The smooth texture and cold feel soothing to Ranvir, who had felt naught but pain and hard walls for far too long.

Sansir guided the cup, keeping Ranvir’s movements slow, yet he still nearly missed his mouth. He would’ve guessed he used his eyes to gauge where his mouth was.

The medicine tasted horrible, but Ranvir gulped it quickly, instead of complaining about it. He knew how ungodly annoying constantly complaining about medication could be.

“Thanks.” He got out after drinking, but froze. “Wait, I shouldn’t take anything, it’ll interfere with my ability to reach tether-space.”

“I wouldn’t worry about.” Grev said. “There have been delays.”

Delays? Ranvir thought. Pashar didn’t mention any delays. Maybe someone else got to the principal, made him see reason. Ranvir hoped it was true, as he let the cushions wrap him as tightly as they could. It was probably something else.

“Yeah,” Es said. “I heard about that. Something’s going on in the city, right?”

“Something like that.” Grev replied. “Don’t really know what. All I saw was Master Ayvir blasting out of the gate in a streak of light. I sometimes forget how fast light tethered can move.” He spoke with no detectable hint of excitement, even though he was going for Discipline of Body.

“He’s a Lancer, right?” Kirs asked.

“Yup, but he apparently gained more notoriety at the front lines, picked up both Veil and Flesh, though I don’t think he’s gotten any of them up to second stage, yet.” Grev replied, with the same trained indifference.

“He might become a Triplet Master, then?” Es asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“Probably not.” Kirs said. “From what we’ve been able to tell, it’s easier for a Lancer to pick up the first stage of the other two Disciplines than it would be for a Sword. But the problem comes in the tether's flexibility. The second advancement on a secondary Discipline is often described as harder than their mastery advancement. Though we don’t really know why. It’s the reason so few Masters ever really delve into second Disciplines.”

“Oh, okay.” Esmund tried to keep it quiet, but his excitement was undeniable. Ranvir guessed he was just happy to be one of the first potential Triplet Masters in a long time. If Ayvir managed it, that would make him less special. Though, he also knew about Dovar, but Es seemed to think of that as some sort of rivalry despite them never having spoken two words to each other.

“Back on topic.” Ranvir said, reaching up to scratch at an itchy lip. His hand was slapped down again. “The exams have been postponed, why?”

“Something’s happening in the city. I’ve heard half a library’s worth of rumor.” Sansir said. “Everything from Flesh-torn raiding the city, Ankiria attacking, to the protest turning super violent.”

“Well, it couldn’t be the Flesh-torn.” Kirs said. “The Ralith are contained at the front lines. For a group to make it all the way here, they’d have to sneak through the military encampments, make it past all the supply lines without disrupting them or getting noticed by them or their guards. All the while avoiding any villages. After that, they just jump in the city and make a half-assed attack? Doubt it’s them. Also, they would be much more likely to attack Ankiria, Sankur, or Vargish.”

“That’s a fair point.” Sansir replied. “I don’t know what it is, maybe it’s some kind of attack on the Royal School by the anti-war protests.”

“Speaking of the Royal School.” Ranvir sat up a little straighter, pushing both hands into the cushion in a two-part maneuver to sit better and keep them away from his face. “Don’t they also have healers? I think we’ve even seen one.” He nodded toward Grev and Sansir. Es snorted a laugh but kept quiet.

Maybe I wasn’t as on point as I thought. He kept looking in that direction, just to make sure.

“There are multiple reasons.” Grev said, to Ranvir’s right. And not just a little bit. Blushing, the space manipulator sunk deeper into the couch, keeping his head turns more subtle. “But the biggest one I know of is separation of power.”

“Separation of power?” Ranvir asked.

“The War Academy teaches male tethered to kill and fight. We learn about warfare and strategies. We learn how to best avoid a struggle when they’re not to our advantage, and we learn to wield our power to the benefit of war. One way or another.”

Grev paused for a long moment before continuing. “The Royal School teaches female tethered how to rule and manages facilities. The ladies that leave the school are likely either Lords, craftswomen, or, in rare cases, scholars. At least, that’s the way I was taught it.”

“He is, in part, correct.” Kirs said. “That’s the official reason. If you mix the power to kill your opposition with the power to rule over their citizen, you tend to build warlords instead of generals. Something the Queen has very little interest in. She doesn’t need half a dozen Warlords roaming the countryside trying to conquer her domain.”

Ranvir nodded along and Kirs continued, “There are other reasons as well. Likely that they want fewer women on the Master’s Council. Currently, it’s eight tenths men. They want to keep the power in their own hands.”

“Why?” Es asked. Ranvir thought he might have a good guess.

“The school teaches its girls how to use their power for the benefit of the community and only in extreme duress to wield it against an opponent. In fact, they spend very little time dedicated to actual use of their powers. This leads to advancement becoming less of a focus and therefore more women stall at their second advancement than men…”

“Since,” Sansir picked up, also having figured it out. “Our lives are directly tied to our ability to protect ourselves and our friends. If we do not train hard and advance, our chances of dying on the front lines are significantly higher than if we were stationed in some small town as a Lord.”

“Yeah.” Kirs said. “That means more men achieve the third stage, so there are more of them to fill the Master’s Council. Most of the women who reach the third stage only do so because they were specifically targeting joining the Master’s Council.”

Ranvir leaned back in his chair. “So that’s why I can’t be healed? They aren’t advanced enough?” He knew it was a gross oversimplification, but he was blind and in pain. He was allowed to grossly oversimplify a complex situation.

“They can’t completely control what other Masters do, but they can limit their opportunities for interaction.”

“Well, there are still healers in the city. Tethered healers, that is. They’re just outrageously expensive. So much so that most noble houses don’t even have one on retainer.” Grev said. “They do their job and they do them well, but nearly all of them keep a long distance from the army and academy. They’ve done their duty and need do it no more.”

“Couldn’t the academy pay?” Es asked.

“Why would the academy or Master’s Council shell out the gold necessary for a pre-stage tethered who—from their perspective—is unlikely to ever reach beyond Lungs? Or any of the second stages, for that matter.” Grev asked. “It’s a tall ask and, no offense, Ranvir, but you haven’t done anything that impressive. For Dovar or you, Esmund, they might’ve done so to build good faith, but not for Ranvir.”

“Gold?” Esmund asked. Ranvir could feel him lean forward on the couch. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, good healing is very expensive.” Grev replied. “That’s why I suggest you take the rest of your medication and go sleep it off.” This was directed at Ranvir. “They’ll likely hold the exam in a few days. The pain killers will have worn off and all you’ll have missed a highly unenjoyable night.”