Chapter 30

The Winter Formal

Normally a protectorate would be allowed to take the night off from their official duties during grand events like the Winter Formal and other such events. The idea would be that the Protectorate would stand guard outside and wait with the other protectorates until their charge decided to leave. This, of course, assumed a few things, first that there was not a need for a translator, which protectorates could and often would assist with. Second, Lykan was currently the head of much discussion behind many closed-door meetings. Not just with the heads of the Magi Academy of Sidhertha but of many groups around the continent.

There was also the fact that as the officially recognized apprentice of both the Sword Saint and Shai’jan, Lykan would be expected to at least make an appearance at such a grand meeting like the Winter Formal where the Sidherthan royalty and cabinets would be in attendance. There was a silver lining to all of this, as the apprentice to both the Sword Saint and Shai’jan, both renowned Swordmasters, Lykan would be all but required to carry his sword with him. For if he was to be appointed as the next Sword Saint or Master of the Azani war arts, he would be directly employed by the Queen herself.

While Sidhertha stood at the forefront of technological advances, even going so far as to implement rifles to the different standard regiments of the military. A few of the heavier classes of blimps have been redesigned with high-performance cannons, which were meant to serve a second tier of defense against dragons. While cannons would ultimately prove futile against smaller targets like Azani Shaman, one could not rule out the importance of such devices if a flock of dragons was to roost in Sidhertha. Thus the Kingdom always planned for every possible scenario and tried to improve its tactics and training to meet the ever-emerging threats. Always as a backbone was the availability and utility of magic, without which the Sidherthan Kingdom would not exist. Thus the importance of the Sidherthan Academy where all aspects of growth and development could be explored and practiced. The binding oaths of those who would attend were a great reminder of the bedrock that this Kingdom wished to build itself upon.

With so much going on with preparations for the Winter Formal and repairs to the school, a lot of students were at a loss for what to do. Some thought feverishly about the looming threat of war with the Azani. A lot of Azani staff and even Shai’jan had been given wider births than usual. Surprisingly the only people who had not given Shai’jan any room for discord were his pupil and his one true friend, the Sword Saint.

Thus when Telka, dressed like an Elven Princess, finally found Altier and managed to convey the fact that she was looking for ‘Lykan’ mainly by stating his name over and over again. Somewhat unsurprisingly, the two found Lykan with one of his Masters practicing Meditation in the deserted training fields.

What was surprising was the fact that Lykan, who was in the lotus position, seemed to be levitating with his eyes closed. Seeing the display, Telka felt chills run down her back as she watched the display.

“Good, good,” Shai’jan said, while in the lotus position, but he was on the ground talking his student through the different steps. “Now hold that thought. That live current of energy. Let it run, find its path and expand even further.”

“Okay,” Lykan managed through gritted teeth. Sweat was pouring down his face as he looked deep in concentration.

Telka looked to Altier. He, too, looked back at her. Both were in astonishment as they watched what should theoretically be impossible. A non-Azani shaman was now doing what only the most revered of the Azani could do.

Lykan was on the cusp of the peak stage. He was meditating so fervently that the energy in his body had expanded and become lighter than air. This was a painful process as normally, energy was seen as a part of the soul. But in order to levitate, or even fly, the shaman or magic-user had to pull forth energy from the spiritual world and infuse it into their very being. Then once that was achieved, that energy then had to be circulated to such an extent that it created a lifting effect on the wielder. This was why both Focus and Meditation were required as pre-requisites. Focus to maintain concentration as one’s body steadily began to rip itself apart from the inside. Fortunately, Lykan was able to go further due to his Regeneration Ability. The Regeneration Ability within Lykan’s body began healing newer, wider channels within Lykan that allowed for greater lift. Whereas his body had been focusing on hardening and becoming denser, now the opposite was true. His body focused on keeping the hardness but allowing for lighter materials to take the baseline form. It was a process born of hours upon hours of meditation and practice.

For months Lykan had secretly been meeting with Shai’jan to work on improving his meditation. The meeting with Altier and Shai’jan before the awards ceremony was just a formality. It was a sign to Lykan that they could no longer keep their training program a secret. It meant that Lykan would likely be expected to take on more responsibility for the country of Sidhertha, should he, in fact, gain the title of Sword Saint. The title Sword Saint was a lifelong title that forever bound one to the bestowing country. To refuse such a title would be disastrous, especially for someone so young. It would forever be a slap in the face to Sidhertha.

These were dangerous waters Lykan was treading. Even while he was aware of some of the surface movements, he had no clue of the volatile currents that ran counter, just below the surface.

Telka watched Lykan, but rather than him having a calm, serene face. She knew that face all too well. He was grimacing in pain but trying to keep his face blank as he fought through the pain.

Telka moved to go to Lykan to comfort him. But she was stopped.

“Don’t,” Altier said, in a tone so low that he hoped it wouldn’t break Lykan’s concentration.

“But I can heal him,” Telka said in broken Sidherthan.

Altier just shook his head. “You would heal him back to how he was, not how he needs to be. This is for the best. The more Power an individual has, the longer this process takes.”

Telka gasped as she knew of Lykan’s amazing Power Attribute. The way he was able to effortlessly call forth the ancient world laws like they were nothing. Seeing him now, in this state, made her so frustrated. Every time she looked, he didn’t need her. Then now, the one time she could help, it would only hinder his growth. This was happening more and more. The more she wanted to help, the more she only hindered him.

She was angry that at this rate, she would only be seen as an obligation to Lykan and never a true partner.

“Come on, kid. We can practice later. Looks like your date is here,” Shai’jan said, glancing over and seeing both Telka and Altier.

Upon seeing Telka, Shai’jan’s eyes bulged wide as he darted to his feet. “Madame, if you were not a student, I would be honored to take you to such a gathering. To just be seen with you in public would be my honor. Lykan truly is a remarkably lucky man to be honored as your Protector.”

Smooth as silk, the words rolled from Shai’jan, and as anticipated, Telka blushed brightly at the compliment. While she still had a hard time translating her thoughts to Sidherthan. She could more or less understand the words being spoken. It didn’t hurt that Shai’jan, the second Swordmaster of the Kingdom, was bowing and making grand gestures that showed his true meaning, that of wanting to flatter her.

Lykan, for his part, managed to levitate his body higher in the air until his legs unbuckled from their lotus position. Once that was done, he stood fully. His eyes still had a distant look to them, but soon he was able to shake his head and focus on the here and now.

That is when he first saw Telka, and his jaw dropped.

“Wo…wow,” he stammered.

Telka giggled lightly at the look of shocked praise. It felt nice for him to notice her in that way.

“Come on. We will be late,” Telka said, holding out her hand.

Lykan, for his part, gave his formal suit the once over, dusted his backside, then took her arm smoothly in his and escorted her as both a protectorate and a date. The only reason he was able to do this was due to the two men who quickly fell in line behind them, the Sword Saint who fell in behind Lykan, and the Azani Swordmaster who fell in behind Telka.

For the winter formal, the school had used the main entryway and removed quite a few sliding walls that were mostly unknown by the students. This not only linked the main entryway to four classrooms that had been emptied for tonight’s festivities. But it gave a much grander view where hundreds of delegates could gather easily and comfortably.

While Telka and Lykan weren’t the last to show up. They were the last of the students to make an appearance. When the Dean came over clearly irate about the late arrival of their two students who had earned the most recent accolades, it was the Sword Saint who covered smoothly.

“Ah, Dean Mathers. Sorry for the late arrival. I had a bit of trouble with my scabbard,” Altier said, gesturing to the sword that was fashioned to his hip. Only then did the Dean notice that three people had just entered with their swords attached to their hips, one of whom was a student. He was about to say something but then bit back his retort as proper etiquette kicked him. With a deep breath, he calmed himself and responded.

“Well, it is better late than never, I suppose. Please do mingle around, all of you.”

This was important for Dean Mathers. Not only was this a chance for him to showcase the talent that he had gathered to train here, but also his chance to show off what he was able to do with that talent. To say that he was nervous was an understatement. His stomach was in knots. He hadn’t been able to eat all day due to constant worry and stress over making sure everything was perfect for this evening.

He had heard from Cassandra Dane, the Piran ambassador, that several high-ranking Piran officials would be in attendance tonight.

Off in the distance, standing against the wall of refreshments, was Marcy Kline. She had volunteered to help with the festivities. While she had many suitors ask for her to be their dates for the evening, she had turned them all down. She had wanted to ask Lykan to be her date. She had the entire argument detailed and ready. A protectorate couldn’t be the date of their protectee. Thus Marcy would swoop in and offer Lykan to be her date so he could be closer to her. Then the attack happened, and he was seen as a hero who couldn’t get out of coming if he wished. To make matters worse, she too had worn a red dress, but her dress looked utterly bland and tactless next to Telka’s. No, the dress isn’t the problem. It is who is wearing the dress that is the problem, Marcy thought.

She had known that this was the boy from her hometown, the boy she always thought would go on to do great things. The only problem was he had gone on to prove himself multiple times over before the Gods. And what had she done? She read a few hundred books. Truthfully she didn’t enjoy books, at least not at first. But seeing as books were the only way she could get close to Lykan, she forced herself to read and enjoy reading. She suspected his father knew of her intentions. He would always smile at her and would never kick her out, even when she wasn’t reading. Sometimes she would just get too tired of reading, her head hurt, and she would just sit there quietly waiting for Lykan to take up his customary spot at the center of the Library. He would come in sweaty from training and sit down with a book or two and begin reading. She smiled, thinking of how his father would kick out the other students who were not reading, but never Marcy.

“Go on. Talk to him,” Mr. Vita would say with a smile. Marcy would always want to but never could build herself up to say anything. Now at the back of the great hall, she felt the same as she always did. She could see him clearly. He glowed with an aura that was unmistakable. At least he glowed to her sight. Seeing him now, the boy who had been kicked out by society. She wondered what if. What if I had gone with him like I wanted to that day? That could be me. He would at least know who I am.

So many thoughts of what-ifs and could-bes flowed through her mind that she almost lost track. Finally, when the two had come to the center of the room and the number of people approaching them slowed down, Marcy made up her mind to go forward and talk to him. Just as she took one step forward, trumpets blared.

Official Delegation Music.

The sound of someone important arriving could be heard first outside, then echoed by the musicians that were stationed inside. The song that had been playing abruptly stopped as the band switched to the official welcoming song of the country, “Welcome to our neighbors.” This was the official song used to greet foreign dignitaries who came to any formal gathering.

That’s when no less than a dozen well-trained warriors walked in. The fact that they were all high-ranking wizards of Piran was easy to note. They all wore the official colors of black suits lined with crimson silk. Twelve of the most powerful magi Marcy had ever seen entered as couples. They were all exquisitely dressed and well-muscled. These were clearly members of the elite guard. The guard was meant to portray the youth and vitality of the dragon country.

Then finally, the official royal delegate came. That she was a royal delegate of Piran was in no doubt, she was beautiful with flame-kissed hair, pale skin, and a crimson red dress that once again made Marcy’s look like a palely colored rag in comparison. Her dress was of royal silks and sheer fabrics that reflected light back out. From this distance, the material was hard to make out, other than it was expensive and oh so extravagant.

Inwardly Marcy sighed. The resolve she had a moment ago to go talk to Lykan had melted. She might be able to approach him as the person wearing the second-best red dress, but she would be fooling herself into ever thinking that he would remember her after such a showy entrance.

The Dean was the first to greet first the guards, then the Princess herself. Only now did Marcy even realize that the Princess came with a date, one who also had a sword at his side. Seeing the blade, it was clear that this was a sword saint from the foreign country as well.

The moment Marcy lost all hope was when the Princess laid eyes on Lykan. The moment she did, she waltzed around the Dean, who looked perplexed for a second, then proceeded to follow, but only at a distance after a glare from the armed escort who was with the Piran Princess. She made her way right up to Lykan and began speaking. As soon as she saw this, her heart began to break.

“Hey Marcy, would you like to dance?” Steve Ricters, one of the people who had originally asked Marcy as a date, had come. She looked at him and his large but nowhere near the lean muscular body of Lykan and sighed.

“Would you care to go out for some air?” Marcy asked.

Hearing this, Steve smiled brightly. “Yes, yes I would.”

With that, he held out his arm, and Marcy wrapped her arm in his, not wanting to stay in the crowded room any longer. She took one last look at Lykan, who was talking to the foreign dignitary with fluid ease. Seeing him act so comfortably in a situation that would have made her nervous, she could only shake her head. Then with a few steps, she resigned herself to spend time with Steve.

Forcing a fake smile to her lips, she stepped outside to the cool, refreshing breeze that awaited her.