Guy the Wise 3: Real Fight (Patreon)

Guyard of Fenrest had returned.

Lady Tanya discovered that fact with some relief. He took his seat at one of the many desks in the instruction room, quiet and dignified as ever. The past few days that she had seen him, his face had been harrowed and unhappy, and she worried for his well-being. When he was absent the prior day, she feared the worst. Fortunately, he had returned—and he looked much better than he had before. There was light back in those bright white eyes of his. He was one of the few of her students that actually paid attention during her lectures, as most viewed the study of history as unimportant. They were eager to be done with this and move on to the combat class.

Tanya cleared her throat as she prepared to launch into her lecture. “I’d like to discuss the results of the work you’ve given me recently. The vast majority of you performed abysmally.” She scanned the room, spotting tired eyes and slouching posture. “You may think that these lessons are unimportant now, but the fact is, the Empire of Ironmarch expects you to be as adroit at governance as you are at combat. Looking at the examples of centuries past will be invaluable if you come to govern lands.”

She limped around as she spoke. She had been assigned this duty as an instructor because she was crippled, and because it wasn’t particularly valued. Nevertheless, Tanya tried to put passion in her work for the few that cared.

“Allow us to discuss the most powerful figure in the empire. The Empress,” Tanya said, steering into what she knew her students were interested in—the great and powerful. She regained some listeners. “The Empress was much like most of you. She was a lower ranked noble in a place called Ironmarch. Back then, it wasn’t a grand sprawling empire. Ironmarch was a mere backwater, sustained by an iron mine and named thusly because it bordered enemy territory.”

Tanya heard a strange noise, and flicked her eyes to its source. It sounded like a puff of wind. She didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but she kept her eyes there just in case.

“However, the Empress developed her own Aether Techniques, strengthening her body, mind, and spirit,” Tanya continued.

Then, she saw what the noise was. A pretty blonde boy named Aaron was spitting sunflower seed shells at the back of Guyard’s head. She knew the young man—rumors suggested that he provided Cadaverine to some of the students here. It was technically illegal, but so pervasive it might as well have been accepted. He spat once more. There was already a small pool of five or six seed shells lingering in Guyard’s luscious white hair. Some snickered.

“…the Empress greatly enjoyed battle, yet her own mortality vexed her. She eventually requested that she be petrified in stone,” Tanya continued, hesitating. “Hence, a regency council rules in her stead to this very day. Whenever a grave threat to the empire emerges, magic breaks her petrification, and she vanquishes the opponent that threatens the empire. Since becoming Empress, she’s never lost a battle.”

If she stood up for a Guyard here, Tanya knew that he would have trouble later. She wouldn’t be able to exert any influence in the training room, and he might get beaten. Aaron continued to spit sunflower seed shells at him. Aaron was partially elven himself—that was why he always went so extreme with harassment. Guyard had been singled out as the one with the strongest elven blood, and thus, those with lesser elven blood were especially brutal to prove that they had no sympathies to their elven ancestors. It was him or them, in their view.

“What were the name of the Empress’ Aether Techniques?” an overeager student asked.

Tanya was about to answer, but something about Aaron’s demeanor got under her skin. Guyard had just come back and he looked better, but these people already seem determined to torment the poor boy back into depression.

“Aaron,” Tanya said, limping into the aisle of desks. She held out her hand expectantly.

“What?” Aaron asked innocently.

“You’re nearly a man grown. Don’t play games with me like you’re a child,” Tanya snapped.

Aaron sighed, and then plopped the bag of sunflower seeds in her hand. She walked to her desk, and placed them inside its drawer. She hoped that she wouldn’t regret this, but… perhaps it would console Guyard knowing at least someone wished to shield him.

***

“Finally done with that boring hag’s class…” someone stretched behind Guyard. “When’s the next class tournament?” he asked.

“Couple weeks,” another said.

Guyard looked around the training hall. It was dingy, filled with dirt, a few training dummies, and a bunch of training weapons. The combat instructors were few and far between, and they mostly worked with the best of the best. The instructors here wanted nothing more than to recommend a promising talent to the Upper Ward to secure some benefits for themselves in the future. Students had been given an Aether Technique early in the year, then thrown into this big open hall to sort themselves out. The only important days were the in-house tournaments, which occurred once a month to determine the pecking orders.

“Hey,” someone behind Guyard said. Then, he was shoved.

Guyard staggered forward and turned around, the instincts of Luca urging him to raise his fists and fight. Aaron stood there, the quarter-elven boy that had been spitting sunflower seed shells at him.

“Get a training weapon,” Aaron commanded. “We’re sparring.”

Guyard looked around. Some of the others were looking at them expectantly. He has seen this memory many times before in Guyard’s mind. This wouldn’t be the first time that Aaron had singled him out for a sparring match. Even if he won, there were other people stronger than him waiting to take up the battle. There was a clear pecking order, and an expected outcome.

Luca had endured such displays of authority. Sometimes, made men of the mafia acted incredibly irrationally and belligerently to unprotected associates. There really wasn’t any recourse unless one was made, or a relative of a made man, themselves. He had to accept what happened without retaliating—retaliating meant that something even worse would befall him. Maybe he’d get shot, maybe someone would break his leg. Either way, he couldn’t fight the system.

In this scenario, it was much the same. it was wise to go along with things.

“Hurry up,” Aaron said, looking back to his peers for approval.

Wordlessly, Guyard walked over and looked at the various training weapons. He was drawn toward the simple wooden club, but he didn’t expect to have a true sparring match on his hands. Instead, he grabbed the weapon that Guyard had been using before this: the sword. With Luca’s influence, it felt unnatural in his hands.

Just get this over with quickly, so I can do the training that matters, Guyard thought.

Guyard walked back up and stook a fighting stance. The poor training of the instructors ran through his head, and Guyard raised his weapon up. Moments later, Aaron rushed toward him, and after a half-hearted deflection, Guyard took a strike to the face. The hit stung, but both Luca and Guyard had been beaten a lot worse, and the Aether within strengthened the body minutely. The sparring match went on a little longer, with Guyard taking blows without retaliating overmuch. Eventually, Aaron knocked him down.

“By the gods…” Aaron lamented. “Hardly worth the air you breathe. I’ll find someone more worth my time…”  He shook his head and walked away.

Guyard stared up at the open sky for a little bit and then rose to his feet. He dropped the wooden training sword, retrieved the wooden club, and went over to the training pells. That brief exchange confirmed the Aether within was chaotic, restless. Luca’s memories and instincts had disturbed it. Right now, he needed to strengthen his body. In doing so, he would begin to adjust Luca’s instincts to this new form, taming his Aether naturally. Then, he could begin congregating his Aether anew.

Alone and unwatched, Guyard struck the training pell again and again. It was a humble start, but it was necessary. Guyard had been neglecting his training slightly, but now, that would change.

Of course, it wouldn’t do to get too tired. He had something else he wanted to do later today.

***

Guyard leaned up against a tree as he stared at Aaron, hidden by bushes. They were in the courtyard of the Lower Ward. The combat ‘classes’ were over, and they were given time for lunch before they resumed. From Luca’s perspective, that couldn’t be called a class—everyone was just thrown together arbitrarily and bid to fight amongst each other.

There were extra classes after the combat classes, but each were optional. Guyard wasn’t registered for any, having been harassed ruthlessly out of the ones he’d tried to join. While he might reexamine that perspective later, today, he had other plans. And right now… he was confirming rumors.

Aaron sat amidst several others. As Guyard observed, people walked up to Aaron with coin in their hand. They would hand off the coin, and Aaron would hand them a small brown satchel.

Guyard smiled when it was confirmed Aaron was dealing in a drug called Cadaverine. The name alone revealed some of what the drug did. It was allegedly grown on the corpses of the deceased. It would extract the most vivid memories from those corpses. By ingesting it, the user could relive some of the most powerful moments of the departed’s life. While not inherently harmful, it had been outlawed due to its unethical cultivation method. Nevertheless, many people sold it all the same.

Aaron was one such dealer.

Universities were quite lucrative as far as drug markets go—there was a large customer base of adventurous youths looking to rebel or just experiment. While it was certainly something that might get him punished by the Imperial University, Aaron was likely paying off some influential people to pull some strings. Maybe an Upper Ward student was collecting a take—say, about 10%—in order to shield Aaron from any punishment. Maybe it was a faculty member. Luca had seen it a thousand times before.

Guyard turned away and walked back into Lady Tanya’s humble building. The brown-haired noblewoman sat at her desk, her cane leaned up against her leg as she read. She turned her head at his arrival, and her face fell sympathetically when she saw him.

“Guyard…” she greeted sadly. “I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Guyard said. “Rather, thank you.”

Tanya sighed. “The alchemists in the infirmary should be able to help mend your wounds. Would you like me to accompany you to ensure that they provide fair treatment?”

Guyard shook his head. “No, but thank you. Rather… there was something I wanted to ask. Are all of the students of the Lower Ward housed in the same dormitory as myself?”

Tanya nodded. “Most of them, yes. Why?”

“I met a friend today, and I think I want to visit them. The issue is… I don’t know where they are. Is there anywhere I could check which room a student resides in?”

Tanya looked pleased at his mention of a friend. “I believe the administrative desk has a ledger in case a student has lost an item. You might check there.”

Guyard smiled at her, summoning all of the pleasant demeanor Luca had once lacked. “Thank you.” He fiddled with a paperweight on her desk—a round ball. It was pure metal, and much heavier than it looked. “May I… have this?” he asked, holding it up.

“Why?” Tanya asked, puzzled.

“I think this is just what I need to solve a problem I’ve been having,” Guyard said cryptically.

“Feel free. It’s just a heavy lump of metal.” She waved her hand magnanimously.

Guyard pocketed it. “Thank you, Lady Tanya.”

***

While all of the other students were attending the elective classes that began after the combat classes—alchemy, magic, for instance—Guyard returned to the dormitories of the Lower Ward. He had an extracurricular activity in mind.

Upper Ward students were given board in the Imperial University itself, but the students of the Lower Ward were given a small building down in the city itself. Every morning, they had to walk up the long stairs leading up to the training facilities. Guyard was in a section that wasn’t his own. He looked at the small number plates beside the uniform wooden doors, comparing them to the one written on the back of his hand.

When he finally found the one that he was looking for, he looked around to be sure that no one else was watching. Then, Guyard pulled out a thin metal wire from his sleeve. He inserted it into the shabby lock, jimmying it until he heard a click. He pulled open the door and walked in. He’d practiced on his own door’s lock for a little while, and he was glad he did. The locks here were far less sophisticated than on Earth—at least until Aether-infused locks got involved.

Guyard looked around the room, taking it in. Then, he shut the door behind him.

***

Aaron rubbed his eyes as he walked back to his dormitory’s door. Today had been a good day. He retrieved the key from his pockets, slotting it into the lock and turning it. He pushed the door open and walked in. Immediately, he was alarmed. The place didn’t look anything like he’d left it.

Moments after that confirmation, something hit him in the side of the head, and Aaron staggered to the left. Someone shut the door, standing to block it. It wasn’t an especially large man, but he had a bag over his head with a rope to draw it tight and small eyeholes to see. He held one of Aaron’s long wool socks in his right hand.

“Call for help,” the man said with a gravelly voice. “You can explain to the guards your bulging coinpurse, and the Cadaverine all over you.”

Aaron exhaled, touching his temple from where blood dripped down. He tried to run forward and tackle the man thinking his opponent was unarmed, but the intruder whipped that sock around. Something heavy was inside it, Aaron realized—one second too late, as it turned out, because it slammed against his cheek and sent him crashing into his bed. His vision danced as pain ravaged his face.

“My eye…!” Aaron called out.

“Your eye? My apologies…” the man continued. Something he couldn’t see slammed Aaron’s teeth hard, and he fell off his bed to the floor. “Meant to hit your fat fucking mouth.”

Aaron groaned, having never been hit this hard before. He couldn’t see, and he could feel teeth swimming around in his mouth.

“Now… let’s see… where’s the money?” Aaron felt the man patting him down. “You strike me as a bootlicker… hence, you must keep the coin in your boot,” the man continued, grasping at precisely where Aaron kept his coin.

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