Ranvir readied his notebook for tether theory, vowing to himself to pay better attention this time. He knew Drifa was knowledgeable and smart, she just either didn’t know or didn’t care to present the information in an interesting way. Either that, or it had been so long since she started that she’d lost the excitement.

Class filed in slowly. At the beginning of the trimester students had arrived well ahead of the scheduled start, due to the class laying immediately after breakfast. That had changed as the days passed and they stopped caring as much about Drifa. Not in warfare theory though, those students had grown both prompt and respectfully silent. Ranvir couldn’t count how many times he’d seen students climbing ropes and ringing bells during his morning runs, before they’d finally managed to shut up.

The thought sent flickering embers of golden delight through him, though they faded quickly. Soon, the bell hammered through the halls of the Wethorn building seconds after Drifa entered the classroom.

“Good morning class.” She said, dumping her bag on the podium. The weather-worn leather of the messenger bag, seemingly as old as her.

“Today, we’re going to be talking about some of the differences between Manipulators and Generators and how they change during your advancement.”

Murmurs whispered through a few of the students as she dug up an old notebook. Opening it to a specific page with a well trained motion, she glanced it over once before snapping it shut and turning to the class.

Ranvir sat up straighter, trying to muster some true excitement. The best he got was a dim flicker of yellow attention.

“Let’s start with the obvious differences: Generator’s material comes from them. It doesn’t matter what their Discipline is, Piercer or Wings, it always emits from their own body. Manipulators, on the other hand, could grab material at the very end of their Dagger without much issue.”

Ranvir had started his notations as she spoke, but was interrupted as the door opened. Through the frame of the door, Ranvir could see Pashar and a younger man, a year or two older than the class. His cheeks were either clean shaven or didn’t need a razor. His hair was long, bright, and curly well outside of military regulation and he didn’t register to Ranvir’s senses as a tethered, the difference obvious standing next to the Pashar’s much heavier presence as a Sword.

Ranvir leaned back in his seat, fighting the urge to scratch at the back of his hand and the scab over it. The cut was shallow so he’d decided it didn’t need medical attention, mostly to avoid seeing Stjarna so soon after his last visit.

Pashar waved the man into the room, he nodded to her briefly before entering with a surprisingly confident stride. Especially, considering the room he was stepping into. Forty sets of eyes tracked him, most of them with some sort of disdain or superiority complex. Not that he seemed to feel any of that weight.

“Miss Drifa.” Pashar said, entering behind the newcomer nodded to the teacher. “Class.” Pashar turned to the newcomer. He was wearing the same uniform as her, the administration version of the student uniform. “This is Thormod. He’s new to the school and as a teacher so he will be with Miss Drifa for the next few months as he’s learning the ropes.”

“Oh.” Drifa muttered, her monotone voice as dry as always. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Thormod said, bowing slightly to the class. “It will be an honor to teach you all.”

There was some dispersed murmurings throughout the class, but no clear response. Ranvir for his part simply nodded at the young man.

“His job.” Pashar continued. “Is to be Drifa’s assistant as she requires it. That means assisting her in questions, helping you, and keeping track of the class.” Pashar’s penetrating perception perused the class. “Have a good day.” Her gaze lingered for a moment on Ranvir, before she nodded and strode out the class with the purposeful stride Ranvir was starting to recognize her for.

“Miss Drifa.” Thormod said. “I will try not to disturb your class.”

“There’s not much to disturb.” One of the students in the back snorted loud enough that Ranvir could easily hear it.

“And your name is, sir?” The new assistant asked, turning to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I’m asking.” He replied with a smile as painted on as Ranvir had ever seen. Ranvir was certain the student couldn’t see it, but where he was the malicious glint was clear in Thormod’s eye.

“Hrolf.”

“Thank you, sir.” Thormod strode to the chalkboard and wrote Hrolf’s name down, with two strikes next to it. There was a beat of silence, where Thormod gestured for Drifa to continue.

She cleared her throat. “Right, where was I?” She flipped open her book again, though Ranvir noted a bit of color returning to her voice. “Generators and manipulators, differences in how their power works, right.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “Obviously, there are some limits that seem impossible to break. You Discipline, no matter it’s range cannot bypass another person directly. Wings might encompass them, but not invade them. Daggers and Swords tend to be stopped completely by a person, though Lances are big enough to surround them, similar to stepping into a Wing’s sphere.

“There are other interesting issues that arise. Warp is a notable example, a generator and manipulator’s material doesn’t act the same at the higher stages. Generated warp reach a critical mass point, after which point anymore generated energy seem to simply evaporate, whereas manipulated warp seemingly stack much more densely.”

Drifa turned from the class to Thormod. “Do you have anything you want to add?”

He cocked his head, looking at her a moment. “Have you talked about supremacy?”

Drifa shook her head, gesturing for him to step forth. “They’re all yours.” There was further unhappy muttering, despite the class barely listening to the teacher, it seemed they didn’t appreciate getting educated by someone nearly their age.

“Supremacy.” He began, walking the front of the class. He waited until all the noise had faded away. “Interesting name, no? It’s simple really. It’s what allows a manipulator to take control of a generator’s material. It’s what allows a generator disrupt a manipulator’s control.”

There was some murmurings from that. “Supremacy is simple. It comes from advancement, the more advanced you are, the stronger, the more likely your Supremacy will show. As pre-stages you’re at the very bottom, you have no Supremacy.”

There was a snort from Hrolf. “There are the Untrusted.”

Ranvir winced as he heard that word. He’d seen it used a few times in the books he’d read, most notably a certain Principal with quite zealous beliefs. His personal opinions of the non-tethered people clear.

“Really? Hrolf?” Thormod asked, walking over and putting a third stroke after his name. “Are you saying that you have Supremacy over me? That you can control, or disrupt my expressions? Or do you simply not understand what we’re talking about?”

“You can’t talk to me like that!” Hrolf exclaimed getting up in his chair.

Ranvir finally got a clear look at his fellow student. He had one of the cleanest fitting uniform’s Ranvir had ever seen, despite most of the students having experience rapid growth through the last trimester. Their uniforms did a good job of keeping up, but not comparable to a tailor. The rich jewelry on his fingers gave his identity away, even his if uniform hadn’t.

Even an inexpert eye would’ve been able to see the value of the three rings on his left hand. Though Ranvir recognized the dozens of hours, the intricately carved grooves in the golden ring on his thumb had taken alone. He hadn’t worked with gold often, but knew it to be a soft, yet exacting metal to work with. Especially, if the one who commissioned it was noble.

By comparison, Thormod looked plain. His uniform was clearly of a similar make to theirs, though he’d probably gotten help stretching his to fit. He wore no jewelry or affectations and he didn’t have a capital accent. Though Ranvir couldn’t see the glint of malice in his eyes anymore, it had been a match for the noble’s indignation.

“I do.” Thormod said. “If you don’t like it, then you can walk out that door. I’ll make sure it’s a nice long walk. The alliance can always use another soldier.”

“You don’t decide that.”

“Actually, you’re a student at the academy. I am a new teacher, no matter how new. It’s quite literally my job. Now sit your noble ass down, or get out of class.” The silence in class was so thick Ranvir felt he could claw it apart with his fingernails. Hrolf looked from Thormod to Drifa.

She let out a dry chuckle. “Go on, we’re in the middle of a lesson.”

Thormod cleared his throat, blushing slightly. “Quite. Supremacy only really starts to show towards the end of first-stage, or the beginning of second-stage. A late first-stage tethered could express their Supremacy through their power towards a early first-stage or pre-stage tethered. During your first trimester test most of you likely felt a Master or ex-student expressing their Surpremacy over you, shutting down your tether ability.”

“That sounds like the flesh-torn’s oppression.” Ranvir couldn’t help but mutter.

“Please, raise your hand if you have anything to say, student…”

“Ranvir, sir”

“Student Ranvir. And you said it sounded like flesh-torn oppression. You’re right, it does sound similar, I’ve even found a quote from an ex-student who has experienced both and he had a quite… expressive comparison.” Thormod, pulled a notebook out from his own bag, that he’d left against the wall of the classroom, then cleared his throat. “Supremacy feels like having a bucket of cold water doused over you. Oppression feels like being seconds away from drowning as you’re fighting the inevitable pull of a thousand claws dragging you into the endless depths.”