Ranvir looked around in wonder as the small garden emerged from within the trees. They’d gone a different route through the forest than their group usually took, passing through an entirely different part of the forest. Now, it suddenly cleared away, revealing a clearing a couple dozen meters wide, and a tiny well maintained plot of land and an even smaller shed.

There wasn’t much in the garden currently, it was an elaborate path of grass winding around empty plant beds and bushes that had withdrawn in preparation for winter. At the center of the small garden, lay an oblong pond that was maybe three long steps across at its biggest. In front of one plant bed, a man of such massive size that he demanded attention, no matter where he went.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this.” Herlu muttered, deliberately ignoring the preening Kalf standing next to him.

“Of course not.” The second-year told him. “Doubters should never fear to hear of their wrongs.”

Apparently, Herlu calling Kalf a consummate gossip was an understatement. The student breathed rumors like normal people breathed air. While this wasn’t the first place they’d been looking for the tall Master, they’d arrived here within an hour of first recruiting Kalf’s help.

“Master Orulf.” Sansir said. His voice shook as he stepped forwards, hands gripping his sleeves as he held them forcefully by his side. “Can I have a word with you?”

The Master grunted, as he kept working on the garden. Sansir looked behind himself to the others, lingering on Master Ayvir. Though he said nothing, Ranvir could feel his plea for help.

“Master Orulf, your student requires your assistance.”

The voice called out before Ranvir could even think of how to help. He saw the startled looks on the rest of the group, before he turned to the source of the voice.

She walked through the group, only stopping once she stood shoulder to elbow with Sansir. Kirs gave the nervous ice tethered a reassuring smile. “Listen to him, you owe him that much at least.”

Orulf grunted again, though this time he pushed himself to his feet, revealing legs that matched his overwhelming size. “Owe him, do I?”

Kirs, however, did not back down, instead her brows drew down into a frown. “You think you don’t?”

“I’m not sure I’m still his Master.” Orulf replied, disgruntled.

“I want your help.” Sansir said, but his words were overwritten by Kirs’.

“You were never his Master. You were only ever a teacher. You were never the equal to Master Svenar, for Sansir.” Kirs’ tone freely displayed what she thought of the Master. “You’re unsure if you’re still his Master?” She sneered at him. “Can’t be what you never were.”

From the corner of his eye, Ranvir saw Kalf’s mouth open wide, his hands eagerly dry washing.

“Careful, girl.” Master Orulf. “You’re speaking to a Master.”

“Or what? You’re going to abandon me at the slightest hint that I don’t think the Triplet Goddess’ word are spilling directly from your mouth? Spare me.”

Master Orulf’s face was a thundercloud by the time she was finished, dark and bristling with fury, only emphasized by his mustache. “You try me, but you are not a student here, librarian.” The last word came out a growl.

“Hey!” Esmund exclaimed, stepping forwards, no doubt to defend his girlfriend, but Grev stopped him with a hand around his bicep.

“This is for Sansir and Kirs.” Grev muttered to him, pulling him back. “Orulf is objecting to Sansir’s training, which stems from the same issue that allows a non-tethered to be a part of our group at all. Besides…” Grev finished nodding back to a very aware looking Ayvir.

“At least I’m good at my job. What did you do, as a teacher, when you were presented with a new training method?” Kirs quirked an eyebrow. “Did you listen, consider what he had to say? Talk with your colleagues about it? Try it out for yourself?”

Orulf’s mustaches twitched under Orulf’s frown.

“And the worst part is…” Kirs gestured to Sansir. “He still looks up to you, despite your behavior.”

“Yet, he does not take my lessons to heart.” Orulf grumbled.

“Sir.” Sansir sounded young, in a way Ranvir hadn’t ever heard from him before. “I tried, but…” He faltered, before picking back up again. “You know manipulation and control of ice like nothing I’ve ever seen. But when I tried your methods for growing stronger, they were slower than Ranvir and Kirs’.”

“You think they know better than me? That their experience so outweighs mine?” Orulf glowered at the tall tethered, looking spindly next to the Master.

“That’s about enough of you.” Kirs said, holding up a hand. “Sansir really wants you to be there when he advances. I get that you showed him a place where he could feel safe and appreciated for his skills, but you’re not that good. So I’ll offer you a challenge, if you win we’ll leave you alone to your bitterness.”

Orulf snorted out a derisive laugh. “A challenge? You think you can match me?” He looked at the girl who was only slightly more than half as tall as him, and probably weighed a fourth.

“A challenge of knowledge.” Kirs said. “Who knows more of ice tethered and their history and skills?”

Orulf’s face turned pensive, immediately changing from a sneer to suspicion. For many excruciating moments, he stared down the much smaller girl. The tension continued for so long Ranvir started to feel it in his throat, like a tight dark blue constriction on his breathing.

“Fine. As the challenged the first question is mine.” Orulf went quiet for a moment, and Kirs crossed her arms while waiting. A twinkle of victory entered his eyes. “Which way does a tether spin?”

Kirs let out an exhausted sigh. “I’m not stupid, deosil. My turn.”

The Master’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the librarian, as he’d put it.

“Triplet Goddess.” Kirs murmured, before elaborating. “Sunwise.”

Ranvir frowned, mentally reminding himself to find a way to use deosil in a conversation at some point. It was a sort of weird question, because the tether didn’t have anything in the world that it spun in relation to, but… deosil felt right.

Master Orulf grumbled under his breath, but waved her on.

“Who is the strongest elusrian ice tethered to live?”

“Vestgeir.” Master Orulf replied easily. “That’s not even a hard question, he’s a famous twin master.”

Kirs split into a wide grin. “What about Sigul? From the re-founding of Elusria? Right hand of the first Queen? A Triplet Master?”

Orulf glowered at her, the idea that he was getting cheated flickered across his face. Slowly, he took a step closer. “Are you lying to me, girl?”

“Please.” Master Ayvir called out, striding closer. Though Ranvir felt no power coming from either of the Masters, they had a look of a razor’s edge to them. “She is right. The first Triplet Master in elusrian history. Even among Triplet Masters she was supposedly pretty powerful, what with her royal blood and what not.”

“Fine.” The Ice Master snarled. “My turn, what determines Discipline affinity?”

“You’re not much of a scholar, are you?” Kirs taunted. “Many theories though most of them rely on the people propagating their gut feelings. The real answer is that we don’t know. It could be handedness, eye color, hair color, or any of a dozen other ways people have decided to measure it. Though recent research suggests it might be the shape of the tether.”

“That’s not an answer.” Master Orulf complained, though he looked far less certain this time.

“We don’t know.” Master Ayvir said, rolling his eyes. “You’re making this unnecessarily difficult for yourself. You picked a question to which the answer depends on the Master. I’m partial to tether-types, by the way.” He winked at Orulf. “The evidence is looking really strong.”

Orulf threw his hands up, clearly starting to regret the challenge. “Your turn.”

“During the frost march of one-eighty-nine-“

Orulf sighed, throwing his hands in the air.

“Which technique was discovered?”

The Master gave her a glare before saying with all the certainty of a guess. “Snow-stepping?”

“Fog control, even smoke if it’s cold enough.” Kirs replied with an angelic smile.

“Yes!” Esmund cheered from behind, pumping his fist so wildly he almost pulled Grevor to the ground. Ranvir realized that at some point Grev had gone from gripping Esmund, to Es gripping Grevor.

Orulf smirked, a devilish look on his face. “How do you advance to Sword?”

Kirs hesitated. Ranvir watched her with a frown. They’d tried to research it, but just like with first stage advancement, there were no concrete details available. They had some guesses at picking Concepts, which seemed to be a mostly internal affair of rationalizing. But in reality, they had no clue. Maybe it was exactly like the advancement to Dagger, maybe not. It was more violent after all.

Kirs wet her lips, glancing at the Masters before a smile quirked her lips. “You ask your teachers for help.”

“Wrong.” Orulf replied immediately.

“Well…” Ayvir countered. “Not wrong… That is how any of them would do it, should do it.” Orulf glared at his younger colleague. “You gotta pick better questions, my friend.”

“During the battle of Six Fields in three-twenty-seven, what was the name of the tethered who advanced to Master in the middle of the fight?”

Master Orulf’s eyes closed the moment Kirs started talking about a specific conflict, slowly he reached up past his mustaches and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You win. I give up. I’ll help as best I can.”

Kirs grinned turning to Sansir, who seemed stuck between happiness and dissatisfaction. Guilty red crawled into Ranvir, the dark color moving in creeping lurches as he considered the excitement he’d once seen from his friend as he introduced him to Orulf.