I Am Vengeance!!!

SOLVEIG

“I—I’m a what? Lout sounds like a bad word!”

Miriam growled. “I knew it. It’s the gods’ grandest joke, and I’m the damned butt of it.”

Solveig hitched. “You’re n-not making any sense…”

“What’s there not to get?!”

Solveig jumped slightly at her raised voice.

“You’re an absolute numbskull!” the commoner cried.

That can be argued…

“You’re spoiled rotten!”

That wasn’t true at all…!

“You probably don’t know a lick about foundational theory judging by your complete lack of formula sheets anywhere in this room—all while the academy’s administration treats you like you're the gods' gift to the realm!”

…

…Okay that was somewhat true...

“A fraud like you… with no ambitions of your own…” the red-head pointed with shaky fingers. “Took my entire life away from me…!”

Solveig stood entirely frozen.

That wasn’t the whole truth was what Solveig wanted to say…

But she couldn’t. Someone like this girl will most definitely leak such confidential information for sure. If she didn’t keep her end of the deal, she could say goodbye to her future.

And did Solveig even have a future? What were Solveig’s goals beyond the extension of another more powerful person’s goal?

I don’t know.

Miriam slammed her fist against the shiny floor, pushing herself back up onto her feet. She reached into her uniform pocket and drew a gleaming token of some sort, tossing it straight at Solveig's boots.

“What’s that?”

“My dueling token!”

Oh crud…!

“I challenge you to an official rank-clearing duel, Solveig!” Miriam demanded.. “Right here. Right now. If I lose, I will pack my bags, leave Hrafen Academy forever, and stay entirely out of your luxurious hair. But if I win... you give me my old room back!”

Solveig’s stomach violently dropped.

A duel! This was bad…!

“But you can’t duel at all, can you?” Miriam continued. “You just got in here to get Lord Cain’s attention, didn’t you?! You probably can’t use a lick of magic because you’re just a coward!”

Her skin shimmered.

No, no, no…!

I definitely could and probably make you eat dirt too!

But the entire problem was… this girl was probably right! She couldn’t use null magic anymore, remember?!

Solveig couldn't fight well using normal magic. Well, she could—more than a few times, the Demon King suppressed her null magic…

But in a fair 1v1 like this duel requires… the premier smartest student in this academy will trounce her for sure, swat her away like a fly! Solveig highly doubted compensating with her battle IQ would mean jack in this advanced new world.

And when she loses… she will just blow up, like she always does!

With her heart hammering against her ribs, her skin prickling and slightly glowing, Solveig closed her eyes.

What can I do, what can I do…?

How can I expect to solve a conspiracy when I can't even handle this...? I don't remember things being this hard to keep together, even when the Demon Loser was still around!

I’m gonna just blow up at this rate, for sure…!

‘You could always apologize.’

She opened her eyes in pure confusion.

There was a sudden, strange weight resting on her right shoulder.

She turned her head to look, and right there, sitting cross-legged next to her collarbone, was a tiny, glowing, translucent version of herself, complete with miniature medical bandages and an equally condescending pout.

Solveig Number Two?! 

Nyooooooo!!! 

I thought that damn mind splitting curse was cured by Uncle Hrafen's magic!

'He didn't get rid of all of me. After all, deep down, you know you still need me~  

'Must be a hell of a crisis you are having!

'Besides, didn't you inflict the curse on yourself?'

I only created you because I couldn't possibly multi-task so many tasks all at once. I didn't need Solveigs that talked back either!!! Once the Demon King went kaputt I didn't need you any longer... and I certainly don't need you for this!

'Can you we just get back to the topic at hand? You know... like simply apologizing?'

Apologies…? Solveig 2, you are crazy. The Great Solveig never apologizes! It’s bad for her—

‘But would it hurt you, really? 

'It’s not like this world is as stressful or scary as the world you left.’

But... but…!

‘But it scares you to surrender. 

'Doesn’t it? Well, news flash: it scares me too. 

'We are sharing the same damn brain, damn it! So…’

What if.

‘Yeah. What if… what if you could just… say sorry and not…’

...and not have to watch everything blow up again?

With a final, desperate gasp, Solveig’s brain entirely capitulated.

Her knees buckled. Her hands slapped the polished floorboards with a loud smack, and she slid forward until her forehead was pressed flat against Miriam's boots. Her skin glowed too, but it didn’t seem like Miriam cared.

“I’m sorry! I’m so, so, so sorry!” Solveig wailed right into the fabric of Miriam's shoes. “Please don't challenge me! I don't want to fight you! I wanna be your friend instead! Y-You can even have your room back! Just please don't make me cast anything!”

Solveig was on the floor for a while.

A girl like her got impatient easily, so she looked back up.

Miriam was standing frozen, her hand still raised as she stared down at the weeping in the dirt.

Her mouth was half-open, half-not.

When Miriam caught her looking, it seemed she had finally made up her mind.

"Tell me something. You got a goal in this world beyond bein' Cain's lapdog, or not?"

"I-I—of course, I do? A brat like him? Gods—"

"All you been doin’ so far is saying you will. If you was truly doin' the things you claim, you wouldn't be actin' this pathetic and dependent."

She spat to the side, not breaking eye contact.

"Or is the first lick of approval and fancy social standin' enough to make you go belly-up for whoever's holdin' it?"

"I am not just a sounding board for Cain. I promise."

“Then say it. Say you need to go to the Opening Ceremony for yourself. Not him.”

She could just say she was employed by the Duke—that she’s literally beholden to look out for Cain’s interests specifically.

But nowhere in the contract did it state that I had to build my life around him.

With a heavy heart, Solveig made her choice.

“I will have a goal.”

“Which is…?”

“I will… I’ll form my first connections in Hrafen… and hopefully make my first friend! Oh, as well as being the prettiest girl there!"

…

"Good gods… y’know what? Good enough," the redhead said. “I rescind my challenge.”

Miriam picked her dueling token off the ground.

Solveig's heart then suddenly, inexplicably, fluttered.

She felt she could cry. But why? She just apologized, that was all.

When was the last time she could just… apologize?

Solveig swallowed. “But also…”

“Hm?”

“I also want a win… that’s mine. Not Cain’s. Not the Duke’s. Mine. So scratch that earlier goal. I wanna do something that people can remember me by: not as Cain's tutor or whatever else!”

Miriam's expression was unreadable.

"...You reckon you can do me one favor while we're huntin' down this letter?" the girl asked.

"Anything."

"Them little movements your mouth was doin' just now?"

Solveig blinked. “Like this?”

“Yes. Less of that, please.”

“Okay, anything, like I said!”

“And I will be significantly more of your friend as a reward once we actually find this thing.”

…

Friend?!

Yes!

Yesyesyes!

“Cool! I mean—zip!” Solveig clamped her jaws firmly shut. “Mmm-mpph mm-mmph mmm-movementth.”

“Good,” Miriam said.

\\

ISOLDE

“Do have a good time out there, my shining diamond,” her father said, pressing a brief, cold kiss to the side of her cheek before releasing her hand. “You know what you have to do.”

Isolde smiled flawlessly. “Of course, Father!”

Then, just as quickly, her father turned on his heel and strode back toward his carriage.

As efficient as always.

The Beastkin academy butler standing at the edge of the cobblestone courtyard bowed low. “Mistress Isolde. I trust you are well-rested for this upcoming semester?”

“Sorry.” Isolde didn’t even turn her head. “I don’t talk to the help.”

“Of course, of course. Forgive me, milady.”

She promptly walked inside the courtyard, and upon first impressions, the decoration, she had to admit, was well-considered. It had the Cunningham family’s fingerprints all over it.

She could have done better though.

But historical architecture wasn't what thrilled her today. No, the truly delightful part of this entire day was knowing that a ceremony as cheerful as this orientation week was really just a premonition for the hosts’ inevitable doom.

Isolde glided through the grand doors of the auditorium and took her seat in the front row, the velvet cushion.

Her family had taught her well, beat it into her: a Blackmore does not slouch. A Blackmore does not show weakness. And a Blackmore certainly does not feel.

Her eyes drifted across the rows of ascending seats, instantly locking onto a familiar, tense posture a few sections away.

Cain.

She smiled.

Oh, the pure joy of watching the remaining fragments of happiness being sucked right out of his face the moment he noticed her. She wanted to see where those pathetic, noble ideals of his would take him now.

They could have had it so good. Their families had aligned it all perfectly.

But Cain had broken it. The arrogance. The APATHY!

It was a disgrace!!

Isolde thought back to her own tantrums.

Her tears.

Her bruises.

The ‘conditioning.’

Cain put her through hell under the weight of his own soft-hearted foolishness…

Let's see how well your diplomatic tongue serves you when I ruin everything you hold dear, darling.

When I step on the stage with you, I will show the academy who you truly are…!

"Pardon us, my lady."

She turned. A woman she didn't recognize, dressed a shade too finely for a servant and a shade too plainly for a noble.

"I'm sorry. Who are you?"

"Futureplanner Seren."

"Seren is not an Illustrian name."

"Correct."

"In fact, it sounds like you're from—"

"Llanfair. One of the four Quadrant states. Yes." She said it easily, which was awfully haughty of her.

"Then how are you here?"

"What a loaded question… I'm merely visiting the school, that's all."

"I imagine there are a great many people uncomfortable with you being here."

"Ahh, and yet it'd be terribly rude to turn away a guest, wouldn't it?" Seren’s grin didn't move. "Besides. You lot don't really have a say in the matter, do you?"

"...I don't recall inviting you to say that."

But it was true. Illustria was so weak that they have to let interested enemy parties into their walls lest they risk total war. Both sides don’t want it right now for different reasons.

But Illustria’s reasons for not fighting were much more dangerous.

"You and I want the same thing, in the end,” Seren continued. “To topple the current ducalship, one small step at a time." She spread her hands. "What I am isn't nearly as important as what I can give you."

"If you're suggesting we cooperate… that I become embedded in your schemes…"

Seren’s grin widened and widened.

"Then I'm not interested."

The grin immediately turned into a blank expression, then a scowl.

"I'd never court with you Quadrant thugs."

"Charmed. And yet you implicitly endorse us. Do you not?"

"I do not represent Illustria as a whole. Yet." Isolde's jaw tightened. "But yes. We do. Only because you've forced our hand."

Isolde’s eyes grew dark.

“But no. Dim ffiars o beryg, as your capital says.”

Seren inclined her head, shaking her head once, and already turning to leave.

"See you in the Ceremony, Isolde. I'm very much looking forward to your Grand Debate. And we will see how far you can really take this alone."

She stared at the older woman’s back as she disappeared among the noble crowd ahead.

All the while, Isolde growled.

You better not steal my glory, you damn slaver. 

I’m not about to let a no-good two-bit slaver get in the damn way of my great revenge…!