Laufa, the Weapon

The Krastas College of War. January 7, 1435.

Laufa’s breath caught in her throat. Eralia’s… Weapon?

She squeezed her bandage through the stuffy uniform covering her arm.

“That’s enough, Adeus.” A voice cut the arena’s murmurs short.

Warden Rustes rose from his high seat, flanked by Lodran captains. His bulky figure blocked out the sun as he stood, his weapon catching a glint of sunlight along its edge.

“As a disciple of this College, a certain amount of respect is expected.” His gaze lingered on Eralia before he slowly shook his head. “To interrupt a trial is a grand offense.”

Below, Eralia tilted her head to meet the Warden’s stare. Mordhun let out a short, ugly laugh, but Eralia didn't even blink. How the hell can you be so calm!?

Instructor Pruatt managed a stiff nod. “Thank you, Warden…“

But Pruatt’s voice died at the sight of the Grand Master.

Grand Master Vellen raised a single hand. The entire crowd, even their instructor, sucked in a breath as the whole arena fell silent. Laufa couldn’t hear anything but her own heartbeat pounding away in her ears.

“Very well.” His voice was flat.

The instructor flinched as if Vellen had slapped him personally. “Grand Master, you couldn’t possibly mean—“

“Disciple Adeus, I hereby sanction your petition.” Vellen gave a formal nod. “I’ll be looking forward to your performance in the final trial.”

* * *

As the crowd scattered, Mordhun approached Laufa.

The disciples who’d been gawking at her hurried aside, scattering pebbles as he shoved through them. His normally spotless uniform was smeared with dirt from their fight, his hair still disheveled, too.

He stopped just short of her and paused. “A word of advice, commoner.” His gaze wandered to Eralia across the pit before meeting Laufa’s again.

Mordhun lifted the toe of his boot, nudging a loose stone. “I’d be wary of the company you keep. Some alliances tend to, crumble, under pressure.”

He held that position for several seconds, then brought his foot down. A muffled crunch echoed through the arena. She flinched. His eyes stayed locked onto hers before he turned his back on Laufa completely, the last of the disciples trailing behind him, clearing out the arena.

She watched them go, her chest finally loosening.

But her silence didn’t last long. As his angry footsteps faded, she heard another lighter pair approaching from behind.

“Laufa.”

Laufa’s shoulders tensed up. “What did you do?” She waited for a response, drawing a breath that turned into a choke.

She didn’t need to turn to recognise the voice.

“I’ve given us a chance.”

It was none other than Eralia. Who else would it be?

“Are you insane?” Laufa whipped around. Her arm swept behind her, still aching from the match. “You must be, right!? You know, for a second, I thought that maybe, just maybe, you were on my side, but I guess you’ve got it out for me too!”

Laufa’s voice cracked. “You really had to drag me into your stupid war!? Mordhun, the Warden, they all want us dead—“

“They already did.” Eralia stepped forward. “From the moment you stepped foot through those gates. Don’t you understand? You’re an anomaly—”

“Stop calling me that!” Laufa shook her head violently. “Anomaly, Weapon, I’m not some sort of freak!”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m…” Her mouth slipped shut.

“Because, I can guarantee that’s all they see you as. A dangerous one, to be used and discarded at the first sign of risk.” Eralia folded her arms. “I’ve given you the power to resist, Laufa. That’s what I’ve done.”

“You didn’t even ask me!” Laufa jabbed a finger at Eralia’s chest. “And what about you? I’m not stupid, you’re just using me, too!”

“Then say no,” Eralia said.

“I should!”

“You could.” Eralia rested a finger on her chin. “You could try your luck alone. Keep your head down until the day they send you to die on some frontier. But you won’t.”

Laufa’s defiant gaze wavered, for just a second, before she clenched her fists. “Oh, yeah!?” She planted her hands on her hips. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because, if you’re anything like me,” Eralia smiled. “You’re tired of these choices being made for you.”

A throat cleared behind them. Instructor Pruatt strode in, stopping beside Eralia.

He shoved a sealed scroll into Eralia’s hands with a tight frown. Then, immediately turned, without even a glance in Laufa’s direction, as if she wasn’t there. “Follow me, Adeus.”

Laufa waited for Eralia to turn to their instructor, to address him, or to at least just acknowledge him. But she didn’t. Her attention stayed completely on Laufa.

Eralia extended a hand. “So. What will it be?”

Laufa stared at it. Her own hands were still caked with dirt from the trial, but Eralia’s were clean. Calloused, too, just like hers.

She’d never noticed before.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want you, Laufa.” Eralia leaned in until their faces were just inches apart. Laufa could smell the sweet perfume hiding the tang of sweat underneath. “Your power, your loyalty. Everything you have. In return, I’ll give you the same, I’ll keep you alive. Trust me, I take good care of what's mine.” Her fingers grazed Laufa’s forearm.

A jolt raced through Laufa, like static electricity, the kind that made the hairs on your arms stand right up.

She forced her chin up to meet Eralia’s emerald eyes straight-on. She’d never seen them look so intense. They were usually empty, indifferent, but today they looked almost… Possessive.

“...Okay. You get one chance,” She took the hand, Eralia’s fingers completely swallowing hers. “That’s it.”

This was the second time they’d held hands today. Yet this one felt less like a handshake, and more like Eralia’s fingers were choking Laufa’s own in some sort of twisted knot.