What's a Wentz!?

Training, training, training, over and over. Gradually, my swordplay improved, and although I often groaned at the bell that beckoned Marigold and I to the arena for our daily battering, I found myself more frequently excited by little victories—I would manage to block a difficult strike, or jump over a sweeping attack, or even disarm my opponent! I surprised myself, and I would smile briefly before remembering what exactly I was training for, and unease would set in all over again. We were knights now; would we soon see the battlefield? Everyone else seemed excited to fight. Like Ynwe said, it seemed to be like a natural part of these people's existence. In part, I felt that excitement, too, but I was still uncertain. I wasn't yet confident that I could defeat any of my fellow knights, let alone an enemy force fighting seriously—or worse, a god. Well, maybe I could beat Marigold at least. We were rarely paired together for sparring, and of course during auxiliary training we were split up to work with Ynwe and Far respectively.

Ynwe had begun teaching me the basics of emanation. Despite the whole thing being done internally, with no special tools, it was a rather difficult process, both to understand and to execute. It was all about "the soul" and "the self," but it was also about drawing on "the power of your forebears" and "noumena." Was I meant to draw on my own power, or someone else's? It seemed very contradictory to me.

"It is as you say," said Ynwe, "but you must understand that contradictions are not definitionally untrue. You are an integrant of Ariel. So, you are Ariel, but you also, obviously, are not."

The best I had been able to do so far was to produce a tiny droplet of water in my palm, but I honestly wasn't completely sure that it hadn't just been a bead of sweat. Marigold couldn't even do that much.

"I don't know," she said. "Do we maybe just not have enough power or whatever to do it?"

Ynwe brushed his fingers through the fur on the side of his face. "I may be wrong," he said, "but I believe you can do it, moreso now than I did before. Perhaps the problem lies in your connection to the holy."

"You mean, to Ariel?" Marigold said.

"Yes, to Ariel, and to those who originated him."

I crossed my arms. "How could I have a meaningful connection with Ariel!? What he did... I can't possibly feel any pride or devotion for that!"

"Understandably so." Ynwe glanced down briefly and sighed. "Actually, I do not have a strong relationship with my father, either. And yet, I draw on our connection each time I emanate. There must be more to it."

"Well," said Marigold, "it's not just that we don't like Ariel. We basically don't know anything about him."

"Only that he's a traitor," I said, nodding.

"Hmm, yes," said Ynwe. "If you have no image of him at all... that may be it. But, there would be great difficulty in remedying this, as you might imagine. There's really nothing in the Capital to help. Everyone wants to forget him."

"...Right." 

Many more fruitless training sessions passed, and Kabhathea grew irritated at our lack of progress. "Estille brings me you two, saying your unique qualities would prove useful... yet here we are, and you can't even emanate!" she scoffed. "Ynwe, I have entertained this for more than long enough; it's time to move on."

Ynwe bowed his head. "I understand, Master, but with a little more—"

"No," Kabhathea said sternly. "I need results. We don't have the luxury of time."

Ynwe's lips tightened, and he lowered his head further. "Yes, you are right," he said. "I must apologize for my foolishness."

To my surprise, Kabhathea shook her head. "That won't be necessary. I respect what you are trying to do, Ynwe."

His gaze rose to meet hers, and he smiled slightly. "Thank you, Master."

Far sighed, likely glad to be done with the futile attempts at teaching us emanation. I had initially assumed her constant quietude to be a result of shyness at meeting new people, but she was still not much for words, so that must have just been how she was. She seemed fond of Ynwe, though, and would pretty much go along with whatever he was doing. With how inseparable they were, I wondered if they were a couple, but I had seen no further signs of that—it was an odd relationship, to be sure. 

"Master Kabhathea," Far said.

"Yes, Far. Speak up, would you?"

"You say time is not on our side," Far said, having raised the volume of her voice by a fraction of a whisper. "How much longer do we have?"

"We are nearing one wentz out," Kabhathea said. "I'll announce this to everyone at the commencement of the next training."

"One wentz?" Ynwe said. "Forgive me, but that is too soon! This cohort is not ready!"

Kabhathea sighed. "I know. But Estille will be with us."

"What?" Ynwe said, sounding genuinely baffled.

"And do not forget, Ynwe, Far—you will be there, too. I am relying on you. And you, Marigold."

Marigold twitched and glanced at Kabhathea with a concerned face. "...Me?"

"I will need your magic." I was slightly annoyed to have been left out, but realistically I didn't offer any special skills to the group. I thought back to my first battle, piloting Alithet, and I wondered if Ynwe or Far had ever piloted a Divine Instrument. Maybe that was the one thing I could say I had over them! Although, it's not as though I had much success with it...

"Still, Master!" Ynwe said. "It's too early to—"

"It is risky," said Kabhathea. "But Estille sees something in us. I was told to think of this a test. If I were to refuse... well, you understand."

Ynwe sighed. Far looked at him, eyes wide with some mix of anxiety and a sort of seen-this-all-before resignation.

As we left the arena, I was filled with dread. What was all that...? I had never seen Ynwe so riled up. It was like he and Far were almost certain of our impending demise.

"Hey, Far," said Marigold. "What's a wentz?"

Far appeared displeased by the question. "Wentz's twenty cil," she said quickly.

"Hm?" Marigold said. "I'm... afraid I don't know what that is, either."

Ynwe chuckled. It was the sort of awkward chuckle you get when someone's just told a great joke at a funeral and you aren't sure how to react.

I stared at the ceiling and thought back on all that I had absorbed since coming here. "One cil is... like a day, right?" I said. "Isn't it twenty-four periods?"

"Just twenty," said Far. "Why would it be twenty-four?"

"Still, how'd you pick that up?" said Marigold.

"Just... listening to people, I guess," I said.

Marigold smirked. "Eavesdropping, you mean?"

"I wouldn't call it that! I mean, when I'm sitting there by myself, and the air around me is rife with conversation, I can't help but hear it, so why not try and learn something?—that's how I see it, at least."

Marigold nodded slightly. "Hm. So then, if twenty periods is a cil, and twenty cil is a wentz... that's less than a month! We're supposed to fight twenty days from now!? Like, really fight!?"

"It seems so," Ynwe said solemnly. "Honestly, this sort of short notice is unprecedented. And to send such an inexperienced group into the flames of battle so early... I don't know what our Master and Estille are thinking."

"Yeah," I said. "The Commander seemed worried, too. It was strange seeing her like that... y'know... not yelling at us."

"She's not a bad person," said Ynwe. "She is hard on the new recruits, but she has her reasons. She used to be one of the Order's most successful Commanders, but she had one bad battle and lost nearly her entire force. It was a total disgrace. That was hundreds of cycles ago... she is still trying to claw her way back up the ladder. There is no room for error in her eyes. That unbending, ceaseless effort—I respect it greatly. I trust her more than anyone, but it is hard not to fear the worst possible outcome. I... don't know if she could bear the pain of such defeat a second time."