Laufa, the Weapon

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 straight through the arena’s murmurs.

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 this trial is a grand offense.”

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

Instructor Pruatt managed a stiff nod. “Thank you, Warden…“ But his voice died the moment his gaze found the Grand Master

Grand Master Vellen raised a single hand. The entire crowd, even their instructor, collectively inhaled as the whole arena fell silent. Laufa could hear nothing but her own heartbeat pounding away in her ears.

“Very well.” Vellen’s voice was flat, not loud at all.

The instructor flinched as if Vellen had personally hit him. Pruatt’s head snapped towards him. “Grand Master, you couldn’t possibly mean—“

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

* * *

As the crowd dispersed, Mordhun approached Laufa. The disciples who’d been staring at her hurried aside, scattering pebbles as he shoved through them. His normally spotless uniform was soiled from their fight, his hair still disheveled, too.

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

Mordhun held that position for a second, then brought his foot down. A muffled crunch echoed in the arena, making Laufa flinch. His eyes stayed locked onto her as he did, before he turned his back on her completely and the last of the disciples trailed behind him, clearing out the arena. She watched them go, finally letting out a deep breath she hadn’t realised she was holding in.

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

“Laufa.”

Laufa’s shoulders tensed. “What did you do?”

Laufa waited for a response, drawing a slow 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 said, stepping 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 choose, Laufa. That’s what I’ve done.”

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

“Then say no,” Eralia said.

“I should!”

“You could,” Eralia’s eyes drifted closed for a moment. “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 a moment, before clenching 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.

Pruatt thrust a sealed scroll into Eralia’s hands with a tight frown. Then, he 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.

She 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. She’d never noticed before either, but Eralia’s fingers were calloused, just like hers.

“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 her 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 lifted her chin to meet Eralia’s 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.

* * *

Cold droplets beaded on Laufa’s hair as a light drizzle swept through the forest. The troops all whispered around her, over a hundred disciples large, their piercers clinking in sheaths. It was finally time. The final trial.

She pulled up the hood of her now-damp cloak and glanced back.

At the head of their command was Lady… Captain Eralia on horseback. Laufa had always imagined riding a horse would be a messy thing, the horse rearing to-and-fro, but with Eralia, it almost looked graceful. Maybe the horse was as scared of her as everybody else was, because it hadn’t so much as neighed. A Lodran banner soared behind Eralia, slotted into a leather socket on the horse’s back. Its golden fabric gleamed against the grey sky.

Laufa surveyed the troops as she shuffled through wet grass towards the frontline. Surveyed made her sound intelligent, but really, she was just trying to copy what everyone else was doing. Earth’s last war was, like, twenty years ago. How should I know what to do?

A piercer plunked to the ground. She bent over to pick it up. Her fingers closed around the wet, cold pommel as her head bumped right into someone else’s on the way back up.

“Ack—” Laufa yelped, a hand flying to her forehead. “Sorry!”

“No, no, my apologies,” a panicked voice replied. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just…” Laufa’s eyes lifted from the ground, up to a familiar face. “Nachkt!?”

Nachkt winced, rubbing his own forehead. “It’s you?” His eyes widened. “...You know my name?”

“I…” She trailed off, her cheeks flushed. They’d only met once. Was that creepy?

“—That’s right, the first trial, of course you do. I didn’t think you’d remember me, though.” His hand moved to scratch the back of his neck.

“How would I not!?” Laufa’s voice came out louder than she’d meant. “You saved me!” A nearby disciple shot them an annoyed look.

“Saved you?” Nachkt took a step back, shaking his head. “No, you saved me, that was entirely my fault. Rather, I nearly got you eliminated…”

“No, it wasn’t your fault at all!” She waved her hands. “Oh, I’m Laufa, by the way.”

Nachkt blinked slowly. “That goes without saying, doesn’t it? After that last trial, I’m sure everybody here knows your name.”

“Right…” Laufa gasped. “Ah, here!” She shoved the weapon back into his hands.

A horn blared across the field, signalling that the mock battle would begin soon.

Nachkt glanced from the piercer to her. “You’d better get going, Laufa.”

“Ah, right.” She took a couple quick steps forward, then turned to give Nachkt an awkward smile. “I’ll see you later, Nachkt!”

She sprinted through the rustling grass towards her assigned spot. Her hand steadied the piercer bouncing in its sheath at her side. Somehow, the nerves in her stomach had settled a little.

That was, until she remembered that they were up against Mordhun, and her fate was completely in Eralia’s hands. Her fingers clenched around the sheath. If she screws us over… She’s getting two, no, three barriers straight to the face!