A dozen different emotions vied inside Elise as she watched the Sorceress herself descend the stairs with the obvious intent to interrogate her. The Sorceress. The Slayer of Seven Cataclysms. The Savior of the World, or close enough. And equal to those titles, though no one besides one of the maids or butlers inside this Academy would think so: the Headmaster’s own sworn lady.
The time for retreat had passed her by, and Elise once again debated whether Nicole had shown greater wisdom by doing so.
“Elise,” Vivisari said as she arrived. “I didn’t know you would return today. I would call it a coincidence, but it might be anything but. I suspect a certain man’s meddling.”
…meddling? Elise didn’t understand what Lady Vivisari meant by that, but perhaps she wasn’t supposed to, because the mage continued before Elise could express confusion.
“Is now a good time for you to speak?”
“Of course, my lady,” Elise responded instantly. Even if just as a social nicety, the Sorceress asking her whether she had time to talk felt absurd. A Glove was expected to make herself available for the lady of the house to begin with, never mind for this lady of the house.
Lady Vivisari nodded, then turned to lead them away. Elise followed after a short hesitation, her thoughts churning. Nicole had scurried off before giving Elise full context. She appreciated having any warning whatsoever, she supposed, but half an idea was almost worse than none. She’d been responsible for the Headmaster and his lady having argued—or rather, Remy had. Somehow?
Finding an empty sitting room, the Sorceress gestured for Elise to take a seat. Elise would rather have stayed standing for a number of reasons, but she obviously wouldn’t go against the Sorceress’s desires. So she sat, and Vivisari did as well.
“Please don’t be worried,” the mage opened with, which Elise noted only happened when there was reason to be worried. “I just need to ask you a few questions.”
“I’ll answer as completely as I’m capable of, Lady Vivisari,” Elise replied smoothly, a decade of training standing strong against even the strangest of scenarios.
There was a short pause as Vivisari studied her. “I believe we met on the Convoy a week or two ago.”
“Indeed. You left an impression, my lady.”
“I’ve been told I do that.” The woman’s tone was as flat and bored as before, yet Elise picked up a hint of amusement buried somewhere deep—maybe even wry and self-deprecating. Though only a few degrees easier to read than a stone wall, the Sorceress wasn’t completely inscrutable. “I’m glad you’ve returned to the Academy. I owe you my personal thanks. I should’ve given them back then, but failed to.”
Elise’s response was her most delayed yet. The Sorceress’s thanks? For what? Elise hadn’t done a tenth of what she could have through the course of those events. “I’m sure I deserve no such thing,” she eventually said.
“My apprentice told me the story. You opened the Lounge’s doors, killed the monster attacking her, and helped dislodge the panel to the backup power cores when it was stuck. I’m not sure it’s a given that anyone else would’ve let her inside to begin with, but you did. So thank you.”
Elise hesitated. Would the collected nobles have let the teenager back inside the Lounge? She didn’t know—Elise hadn’t given them enough time to debate. If the Count had voiced aloud that the banging at the door should be ignored, she wasn’t sure she could have justified disregarding the direct order. So she had acted before the possibility manifested.
She might have disobeyed regardless, given the sheer damage such a demand would have caused. She’d never been a particularly good White Glove. Like all of her colleagues, she had her strengths and weaknesses, and quiet servility sat low on the list. Like the Deputy Headmistress, she thought, internally wincing at the comparison. Constance was fiercely respected, but not well liked. To be fair, what disciplinarian was?
“It is the very least I could have done,” Elise answered at last.
Noticeably—or at least noticeable to a White Glove’s scrutinizing gaze—the Sorceress didn’t disagree with the statement. So she did disapprove of Elise’s inaction during those events, even if it hadn’t been the source of her and the Headmaster’s disagreement. “You still helped my apprentice, and the Convoy. So once again: thank you.”
She accepted the praise only because refusing to do so would be undignified. “Your words honor me, my lady,” she said, dipping her head.
Vivisari studied Elise for a moment. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to talk.”
“I am certainly in suspense on the matter, Lady Vivisari.”
“I’ll get straight to it then. I overheard you speaking downstairs with one of the students, so you already know the basics. Your little brother. Remy, I believe it is?”
Elise suppressed a flinch from showing on her face. So the Sorceress had been aware of that conversation with Nicole. Elise had started to think otherwise, but apparently she wasn’t so fortunate. At least the woman didn’t seem bothered by what some might have perceived as gossip.
Hearing her brother’s name come from the Sorceress’s lips felt more than a little strange, too. “I see,” Elise said cautiously. “Can I ask how?” The question came out firmer, less servile than anything she’d said previously. The nervousness from being confronted by a legendary figure of history paled in comparison to her protectiveness of Remy. She had spent most of her life caring for her younger sibling. “I struggle to imagine any possible way he relates to you and the Headmaster, much less in a way it would cause you two to argue.”
Vivisari’s gaze drifted away in a manner Elise might have called ‘shifty’ if the description weren’t so unfitting for a centuries-old, extremely powerful archmage. “Argument is maybe too strong of a word,” the woman said. “We just… disagreed on a matter. And it caught me off guard.”
Elise waited, her suspicion growing.
“Winston obviously cares deeply about this academy, and every student who attends or attended,” the Sorceress explained. “When I found out that your younger brother was Blighted, and that you’ve been paying for his treatments, I…” The woman trailed off, a small frown touching her lips. “I was surprised, as I said.”
Elise bristled. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions, like she had earlier, but she thought she saw the general shape of what had happened now. She had already been on edge because of Remy’s involvement with whatever this was, and she had also already been offended on the Headmaster’s behalf for how his lady had tactlessly argued with him in front of the students.
That mild offense tripled and quadrupled at the implication in the Sorceress’s words.
“Do you mean to say,” Elise began, “that you believe the Headmaster should have done more for me?” She took as polite a tone as she could, but even she could tell it was an obvious veneer. “The Headmaster, who saved my life. The lives of everyone in my hometown. Who brought a destitute orphan with a dying brother into his academy, paid for my training and his treatments, and shaped me into a person who could provide for those treatments herself. You think he should have done more. That man.”
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Vivisari raised a hand to calm her. Elise realized the tone she’d taken with the lady of the house, yet only half regretted it.
“Yes,” the Sorceress said. “I do. But not how you’re imagining. I should’ve finished the thought. From what I understand, your brother’s potions are a substantial financial burden. And while Winston might be Titled, he’s no adventurer. By his standards, even the upkeep of the Academy is significant. He has many students to care for. You obviously yourself perceive that if you’re capable of doing so, then you should be the one carrying that burden. His giving you the means to do so was more than enough of a blessing.”
“Is more than enough.”
The Sorceress inclined her head. “But that wasn’t the source of our disagreement. The reason I was caught off guard, and argued with him, was because I know that he cares about his students. That he would do anything in his power to help them. Except, apparently, one thing.”
Elise hesitated, unsure what Vivisari was getting at.
The Sorceress sighed, as if disappointed in Elise’s reaction. She finished the thought aloud. “Except come to me.”
The words struck her dumb for a moment. “To you, my lady? For what? The Blight is incurable.” Even for the Sorceress, were the words she didn’t say aloud. “Moreover, even if it were, it isn’t a servant’s place to impose themself on their lord or lady.”
Another small sigh. “That’s what he himself said, using almost those exact words. Which is why I was upset.”
“From how I see it, he speaks the simple truth.” Elise had absolutely no place to be disagreeing with the lady of the house, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt compelled to defend the Headmaster. “Maybe if there were some urgent matter he couldn’t solve himself, he would act improperly for our sakes.” She believed that. If one of them were dying and only the Sorceress could help, she knew the Headmaster would break propriety and plead on their behalf. “But my situation, and Remy’s, is no such thing.” Though she disliked—hated—bouncing between high-paying contracts, she hadn’t grown so entitled as to not recognize her fortune. Of the thousands of other orphaned children with sick family members throughout the world, most simply starved and died. To have attained the comforts, means, and influence she had was truly unimaginable, and she had a single man to thank. Hence how strongly driven she had felt to defend the Headmaster, even if it meant arguing with Lady Vivisari herself.
Rather than the woman seeming annoyed at being continually contradicted, though, her features had softened. “We’re just repeating the discussion I had with him, at this point. I can’t say I fully agree—I wish he was more willing to ‘impose himself.’ He’s done so much for me and I’m happy to return the favor. But he’s allowed to have his own views on the matter.” She shook her head. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about. As I said, I came to discuss your brother.”
After everything Vivisari had said, Elise knew what the mage was implying. A part of her closed off at the idea. She smoothed her expression out and folded her hands in her lap. “You intend to try to help him?” Though the statement hardly needed repeating, she did so anyway: “But the Blight is incurable.”
“I don’t believe there is such a thing as incurable. Not for diseases of a magical origin at any rate. Simply very difficult. But it is a disease, unlike—” She paused. “Another situation I was handling yesterday,” she said, waving her hand to dismiss the thought. “Which means it falls firmly outside my specialty.” A hint of amusement crept in. “The general strategy when it came to fighting the Reaper was ‘don’t get Blighted.’ Even Rorik couldn’t have cured it outright, or any healing specialist. Only have broken its self-renewing effect.”
Elise had hardly forgotten who she was speaking to, but even so, it was incredibly surreal hearing the woman talk—casually, wistfully—about fighting a Cataclysm.
“Regardless,” Vivisari continued, “your brother wasn’t struck by the Reaper’s scythe. It’s a lesser form of Blight, seeing how he’s alive at all. It’ll still be difficult to remove, and in fact I don’t want to give you any guarantees. Not even the strongest of Vanguard’s potions will suffice. That said, I doubt the task is beyond my means. I have several promising ideas already.”
Elise sat there and stared at the woman. The words didn’t make sense in her head. A part of her also balked at the idea, no matter how elated she should be. She had spent her life tending to her brother’s illness. And from nowhere, through no effort of her own, he might be cured? Just like that?
Surely such ludicrous fortune didn’t fall into a person’s lap twice in their life. Attending this academy alone was ridiculous for someone like her… much less excelling in the way she had, to join the exclusive ranks of the Second Class. Though she would claim some portion of that feat for herself, not assign it to mere fortune.
The Sorceress’s personal involvement—her claims, which could hardly be dismissed outright, that she could cure the incurable, and for her little brother no less—felt too absurd to entertain as the truth.
Nevertheless, Elise stood and curtsied low. “And how will I repay you, my lady?”
“There’s no need for that.”
Elise hadn’t meant her words in a humble, ‘thank-you’ sort of way. She kept her head down. “I will insist as completely as I am able, without aggravating the woman already showing so much generosity.” She felt a strange twisting in her gut at the idea someone else would be Remy’s savior, without even her involvement in the matter, but she refused to let that overshadow what she should actually feel: relief and joy.
Nevertheless, she needed to provide repayment, however she could.
“Please sit down, Elise.”
Elise couldn’t refuse a direct order. She pulled out of her curtsy and sat, barely keeping her reluctance from showing outwardly. The Sorceress studied her for a long moment.
“I don’t need repayment. But, from what I understand, you haven’t been enjoying your contracts, and—while this isn’t public knowledge yet—Vanguard will be opening its doors to wider recruitment. A Glove on retainer would be useful to us for a number of reasons.”
Elise’s eyes widened, despite all attempts to keep herself composed. Once again, the words and what they implied had come from seemingly nowhere.
“My steward was attacked recently,” Vivisari elaborated. “He has his own means of defense, and I provided him more, but a Glove on standby, should anyone in the guild need one, would give me further peace of mind.” A brief pause, then she added, “More staff wouldn’t hurt either, generally speaking. Managing a house’s affairs is a skill set easily translated to a guild, and my steward is… more than a little overworked.” Her tone turned dry. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he himself planned this. Maybe he wanted an extra pair of hands. As I mentioned earlier, he’s a man who enjoys meddling.”
Elise didn’t know where to begin unpacking those statements. First and foremost: her? Working for Vanguard?
It would be… unorthodox. A White Glove did often serve entire families, but rarely organizations as a whole. And a Glove always had a primary lord or lady, usually the head of the house. Who would that even be in this instance? Not the Sorceress herself, obviously. That role was taken by the Headmaster. The guild’s steward?
Elise supposed she had always been an unconventional Glove. Maybe it was fitting. In any case, she’d been offered a way to repay the Sorceress, and she wouldn’t turn it down.
“I would be honored to fill that role for Vanguard, my lady.”
Vivisari nodded. “There’s one more thing. Though my help isn’t contingent on this—I’ll see if I can cure Remy regardless of what you say.”
A catch? Paradoxically, she almost felt relieved. It was hard to trust generosity like this appearing from thin air.
“Your brother,” Vivisari continued. “Apparently despite his condition, he’s trying to be an adventurer.”
“He… is.” Once again, she had no idea where the Sorceress was going.
“I assume you disapprove?”
A short pause. “I… disapprove in the sense that a thirteen-year-old is too young to be fighting monsters,” Elise responded mildly. She mentally ignored the hypocrisy of how the White Glove’s training included exactly that, as did most elite training organizations.
“I wouldn’t disagree,” Vivisari replied.
Since the mage remained silent after that, she probably wanted Elise to elaborate. “His condition changes that pursuit from simply inadvisable to outright foolish,” she added. “He’s rarely healthy enough to be training, much less out in the wilderness. So yes, I disapprove. But he insists against all my efforts, so I can only support him.”
He had never said so in explicit terms, but she suspected that determination came about from being saved by the Headmaster—and by Elise’s continued efforts. He wanted to use his so-called second chance at life well. No matter that the Blight made him half the adventurer he should be, and that going off and getting himself killed would do the opposite of repaying anyone.
“I see,” Vivisari said. “I would want your blessing first, before I make the offer. But from my perspective, if he’s going down that path and won’t be convinced otherwise, then the best thing we can do is to have him trained, supplied, and equipped properly.”
Elise started. For the tenth time in the conversation, her mind boggled at the implication.
“Again, my help with his condition isn’t contingent on anything. But we have a Quest to meet certain recruitment requirements. Vanguard is in need of a bronze-rank adventurer.” The Sorceress tilted her head down. “Can I have your blessing to extend an offer?”
