Ranvir tried to focus through his headache, going over the paragraph for the fifth time. Reading records from long past duels wasn’t exactly his version of great fun, but it was all he could manage at the moment. No matter how much it grated him.

Going over skills from past space tethered, both generators and manipulators, all fucking two of them that is. It was still a reasonably sized catalogue to work through, though most of the answers were depressingly similar. There was a technique that generators could employ where they generated a lot of space, causing the existing spatial material to compress. This compressed space was then able to divert energy, through some function of space Ranvir didn’t understand.

It was a fairly simple technique for a generator to manage, but directly compressing space was, at least at pre-stage, a lot more difficult than the technique described. No matter how Ranvir tried, he couldn’t manage it without some measure of shrinking what he wanted to compressed, then stretching the material around it. It took a lot of concentration, creating two effects while still blocking whatever attack was coming.

Another technique he’d found called for simply generating a pocket space and let an attack or item fall into it, parrying it in that way. Again that should be possible, though a generator could just make the space. A manipulator would have to either prepare the space before hand, or judge where the attack was coming from, calculate its speed, and still have enough time to pinch off the space before it hit them.

No matter where he looked, he found seemingly simple techniques made difficult by their lack of commonality. Not to mention, there hadn’t been much in terms of space manipulator records. And those that had been made weren’t huge on studying or writing as a career. There didn’t seem to be half a scholar between all the books he could find, with the exception of Figir. Figir who was so thick with her own self-importance and self-assigned prophecies of greatness that she accidentally killed herself playing with the only true combat technique Ranvir’d ever found.

In all the records of space generators fighting, or even just them supporting the United Alliance, had he found a single directly combative technique. It seemed like space could do no harm, though it was equally excellent at avoiding said harm. From running into pocket-space, compressing space to divert it, hardening space to stop it, folding space to trap enemies—even if it only lasted long enough to jump into a pocket-space and run away—he’d found half a dozen techniques on avoiding damage.

From what he could tell, space techniques generally weren’t super power intensive, even relatively large scale techniques. Only light was… lighter on the drain, while something like obsidian, or ice, were heavy on drain, however, they were also easily the best for fighting Ralith. The Flesh-torn could disperse light pretty easily, whereas targeting something with as much mass and heft as obsidian or ice took longer, making them more effective weapons against their enemies.

“How’s it going?” Kirs asked, sitting down opposite him. She carried with her half a dozen books of her own. “You look frustrated.”

Ranvir looked up, then shut the book shut and slid it to the side. “A little.” He ran a hand over his face, then into his hair. “I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do.”

“Stuck?”

Ranvir shrugged. “I can feel it, whenever I get deep enough into tether-space. Something’s lingering there, something that isn’t quite right. It’s bugging at me, anytime I spent more than fifteen minutes in there I feel it digging at me. Cutting into my concentration.”

“And you don’t know what it is?” Kirs asked with a wince.

Ranvir just about dumped his head on the table, he would’ve if not for his headache. “No idea. At all. But I think it’s important. I know it is. Otherwise, I’m just waiting until I’m strong enough to advance.”

“But you don’t want to advance?”

Ranvir cradled his head in hands again. “I know it’s there, I just need to figure out what it could be.”

“What does it feel like?”

He looked up from his hands with a slightly wild look. “Like I’m dirty? I think? It’s tough to explain.”

“Maybe you just need a distraction.” Kirs asked. “Something to get your mind off it for a while. Or just advance, you don’t get everything perfect. You can’t. Killing yourself trying to reach perfection is going to kill your chance at advancement.”

Ranvir let out a long sigh. “I don’t know… Maybe you’re right, maybe I shouldn’t bother with it. It’s just aggravating, you know? I’m doing nothing, just waiting until I’m strong enough to advance.”

“Doing nothing, or doing nothing new?” Kirs asked, pointedly.

Ranvir winced, though she probably couldn’t see it from where she was sitting.

“Take this advice from a friend. You probably just need some time away from it. Give it a few days, a week or two, then return to it and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Then with a bit more of a playful tone. “In the meantime…” She slid a book out from her pile into his view.

“’Ankiria’s Noble Court of Bacchis’?” Ranvir asked, looking up to Kirs. “What’s this? Politics?” He made his discomfort plain on his face. His idea of a good time did not involve reading stories about politics between noble houses in a distant country.

“Just open it.” Kirs said, though she didn’t look up from her own book.

Narrowing his eyes at her, Ranvir peeled the cover open, the first page following halfway up before peeling down, obscuring the letter hidden within. He almost said something before catching himself. There was a reason Kirs had been circumspect about it.

“This better be good.” Ranvir mumbled, pulling the first page back and revealing the letter. It wasn’t in an envelope, it was a just folded once as to avoid revealing it contents on first glance.

‘Ranvir.

You have to be careful of the ankirians. I was made aware of your run in with them the other night, related to the assault against your person. Again, I cannot explain to you how sorry I feel that you were attacked here on campus, especially under my direct protection and that you had to rely on the ankirians where we’ve failed. Though we are being quiet about it, know that there’s an investigation going on with a direct line to the Queen’s newly mandated Master of Education.

Unfortunately, this isn’t what I’m warning you of. I’ve now had multiple reports of one of the ankirians asking after the space manipulator she met the other night. Along with at least two break in attempts by said ankirian into the first year dormitory. So far Zubair, their Triplet Master has been able to curb her attempts, but be aware of Saleema’s attention, Ranvir.

Beware of who’s watching.

Pashar.’

Ranvir looked up from the letter, folding it absentmindedly. “Do you know about this?”

Kirs looked up, her eyes widening almost imperceptibly, before relaxing. “It’s just basic information about the main political entities in Ankiria.” Kirs said, though her eyes spoke a different tone. “If you don’t know about Ankiria, I suggest you read up on it.”

Ranvir hesitated, before slowly getting up. He slipped Pashar’s letter out of the book, crumpling it in his hand. He considered pinching off a pocket-space to store it in, but he was afraid the exhaustion from today’s training would limit his ability, it could even be a signal to Saleema.

The thought of the woman watching her. Mad eyes behind a veil of unwashed hair. Wrinkles around the eyes that spoke of middling years, but an age rolling off her presence in waves.

Light blue fear, long-legged and cold, crawled down Ranvir’s spine, each leg striking a nerve on its way.

Taking a bracing breath Ranvir stepped away from the table. He fumbled the letter and nearly threw it on the ground, before he managed to get it in his pocket. “I think I’ll do that.” He said, inconspicuously. His reply, for some reason, made Kirs wince even as she avoided looking up.

Making his way over to the desk was pretty easy if he was being honest. He was tired from training, his legs were sore, his back and shoulders a little stiff, but nothing like when he’d first arrived at the academy.

Making his way to the desk, without looking around for any potentials spies was a lot more difficult. He didn’t even really make it, he couldn’t stop himself from throwing a few slow glances around the room.

“Hi.” He said to the old man at the desk. His flighty pale hair hanging around him like a halo.

“Good day, young sir.”

“I was wondering if you have any books on ankirian history, like sort of primers, I guess.”

The man broke into a peerless smile, two rows of pure white teeth displayed for a second. “Of course, of course. Follow along.” He waved for Ranvir to follow him around the desk, all the way to the end of the wall, then around the end of the desk and back the way Ranvir’d came. “It’s just up here, you see… Here, our collection on Ankiria.” He stopped barely five meters to the left of where Ranvir had been standing when he’d first approached the librarian.

“Primers, primers, primers.” He went through the shelves in quick order, surprisingly nimble fingers pulling out books. Within seconds, he offered four books to Ranvir.

“’Sunking: Myth and Legend’, ‘101 Ankirian Children Stories’,” He looked up at the librarian at that.

“Children stories tell a lot about a country’s society.” The old man said, his hair waving in a non-existent breeze.

Ranvir shrugged and continued on. “’Ankirian History: From founding to present’,” He could see how that one was relevant, it was pretty short to have encapsulated the entirety of Ankiria’s history, so it was probably only the highlights. The last one was a true tome. “’United Alliance: Histories of the Nations: Ankiria Part I’.”

“You can save that for last.” The librarian leaned in. “Only read it if you’re really interested. There’s a lot of good information in the ‘United Alliance: Histories of the Nations’ series, but it’s pretty dry most of the time.”

Ranvir weighed the books in his hands, then nodded to the old man. “Thanks.”

He nodded in return, white hair falling about his face. Ranvir took the books and returned to his and Kirs’ table.