7 Rivals, Part 2

We walked on in awkward silence—Ms. Lockwood's cold shoulder made it hard to ask more questions—while our feet carried us westward and past one of the grand longhouses I'd noticed earlier. Along the way, we saw a wide circular sandpit where a group of novices—all of them wearing matching red cloaks and form-fitting padded maroon jackets—were training in the traditional 'shield wall' maneuver originally devised by the dwarven warriors of Nidavellir.

"Um, is that the standard Academy uniform?" I asked with a furrowed brow.

Maroon wasn't really my color. A red cape was cool though.

"The gambesons are exclusive to the Warrior's Lodge," Ms. Lockwood answered.

Finally. I was beginning to think I was walking around campus with an actual goddess statue.

"Desdemona! Don't run ahead of the line, dumbass!" someone yelled.

"Put your backs into it, drengr!" another screamed.

I stopped to watch the young warriors train—noting how well they moved together and marveling at their skill with shield handling—before I heard voices coming from somewhere ahead of me. I glanced forward and found three people in red cloaks blocking our way. They were each of a different species, but they wore the same matching maroon gambesons, khaki cargo pants, and leather boots that the kids training in the sandpit were wearing.

"Why're you with the noob, halfbreed?" asked the lanky, pasty-faced, blonde bright elf on the right of the trio. He eyed me haughtily. As if I were a bug on the side of the road he wanted to step on.

'Huh, I was right Ms. Lockwood was a halfbreed… but why's this jerk-elf being rude to her?' I wondered.

"Didn't you know, Einarr"—the tall girl on the left—a button-nosed, slanted-eyed, green-skinned half-orc with wild, wiry hair and tusks protruding out of her lower lip—sneered at my companion and me—"trash tend to attract more trash."

"You'd be the expert on that, Kaveera"—Ms. Lockwood raised one of her long, thin eyebrows at the half-orc—"seeing as you're always below me in the novice rankings."

'Oo~~oh, I don't know what the 'rankings' mean but that felt like a solid burn!'

As expected, Kaveera's face scrunched up in anger. It was a look that enhanced the menacing appeal of those tusks of hers. "That's because you cheat, you filthy völva!"

'Oof. That was over the top.'

Hearing the old curse for 'witch' thrown at her, Ms. Lockwood's eyes narrowed into slits while her hand flew to her saber's hilt.

Hers wasn't an exaggerated reaction. Völva was a serious insult because witches were reviled all over the realmsverse. They were the beloved agents of 'Chaos', and they spread this evil god's gospel wherever they went, causing calamity and tragedy to many who witnessed their advent.

Now, seeing this as my opportunity to get into Ms. Lockwood's good graces, I stepped forward like the white knight of a rom-com movie and forced everyone's attention back on me.

"Hey, I'm Will," I said in a friendly tone. According to Divah, first impressions mattered. It was something I'd forgotten when I met Ms. Lockwood. I wasn't about to make that same mistake twice though. "What's up?"

Kaveera the half-orc and the elf named Einarr—a name that rhymed with anal—eyed each other before they both burst into laughter. It was very rude considering how nice I was being.

"You're never going to make it solo, Will, so try and make friends," my master had instructed before she sent me away, "the kind of friends that'll bravely fight by your side even when you're up against an elder dragon."

Now that I thought about it, I didn't think Divah meant people like Kaveera and Einarr. Bullies didn't make good friends.

'Wait. Hold on… is this really happening to me right now?'

Einarr was speaking self-importantly—something about how I shouldn't act tough when I just got lucky against Doomsday—but I was a little too excited to pay attention to his rambling.

'Have I stumbled into the time-honored cliché that is bullying?'

I admit it. I was looking forward to this particular event that I hoped to experience once I was far away from Divah's protection. I was so glad to have stumbled into what was basically a teen rom-com must-have moment that I couldn't help but grin widely despite the insults flung my way. That might have antagonized the quiet, dark-haired guy in between the bright elf and half-orc.

He was shorter than his two companions but the steely-eyed look he gave me was far more intimidating than the half-orc's sneer or the bright elf's arrogant expression. He looked human, although the two jagged horns protruding out of the sides of his head to curve forward like bull's horns gave him a fierce countenance despite his obvious good looks. Patches of dark blue scales covered portions of his tanned arms. There were scales around his neck too. These marked him as a dragonkin, a race I was intimately familiar with since I'd lived the last five years of my life as the apprentice of one.

Two, amber cat-slit eyes appraised me. Then the frown above his pointy chin was reshaped into a lopsided smile that showed off the two sharp fangs peeking out of the upper lip. "So, the only apprentice of the famous 'Dragoness' has more spine than the rumors let on."

"Um, duh," I answered reflexively.

She was less than a hundred years old but Divah was already a legend, which meant I, her number one sidekick, would be a future legend, one that would shine brighter than any other. At least that was the dream I was chasing. It's why I came to the academy in the first place. Well, that and figuring out why I'd been cursed with Extra Life.

"Oi!" the half-orc stepped forward. "Show some respect, veslingr, or we'll—"

"Do to me what even Doomsday couldn't?" I supplied.

Yeah, reminding them of my earlier performance and combining it with my best wolf-eyed glare—the intimidating gaze I'd been practicing in the mirror every day since I learned Divah was going to let me apply to the Academy—was enough to make the bright elf and half-orc exchange uneasy glances. The dragonkin wasn't intimidated by me though. He ignored my wolf stare—which was kind of disheartening—and walked over to stand between me and Ms. Lockwood.

"You should have stayed with the Lodge, Liara… you've gotten weaker since you joined the Tower. Kaveera and Einarr will get ahead of you if this stagnation continues." He patted her gingerly on the shoulder, but there was nothing friendly in this action. It was a credit to Ms. Lockwood that she hadn't flinched from the aura of hostility coming off him. It was an aura he turned on me next. "Better watch yourself, trash… A human trained by a dragon is still human."

As the dragonkin nudged past us—his wide shoulder slamming against mine—I felt the strength of his aura grow, and my hands curled into fists involuntarily. From that one brush-off, I could tell that he was strong. Maybe even stronger than the current me—and that made me giddy.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "Don't you want to play with me first?"

He stopped walking away to glance over his shoulder. "Play?"

I turned around to face him and jerked a thumb at the nearby sandpit. "How about we go a few rounds?"

Seconds ticked by while his gaze searched my face, traveled down the length of my body, and then back up to my provocative lopsided grin. Then he snorted.

"It doesn't work like that here… We can't just fight whenever we want to," he stated.

"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow at him. "Why not?"

It was Ms. Lockwood who answered for the dragonkin. "Rankers aren't allowed to compete with other novices unless it's in an official match."

"And you can't request a match until you get into the rankings," the dragonkin added.

"So, if I get into the rankings—"

"Then you can request a match with a ranker up to ten ranks higher than you," the dragonkin explained. He didn't sound arrogant about being a ranker, which slightly changed my opinion of him. "It'll take you a while to get to me though."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"A match with a high ranker isn't possible unless you're a high ranker yourself or close to one," Ms. Lockwood explained. "Draken is ninth in the overall ranking of the Academy."

Ninth in what I assumed was a list of hundreds of novices was a pretty crazy accomplishment, one worthy of respect. It only made me want to test myself against him more.

"Work hard, human." He turned around and waved his middle finger at me. "I'll play with you when you've proven your worth."

'When.' It wasn't a question of 'if' for him then.

As Draken walked away, his two henchmen hurried after him while giving me and Ms. Lockwood the stink-eye. They were such clichés. He wasn't though. Draken might be that other thing Divah told me to look out for—a rival.

"The trick to getting stronger real quickly?" Divah had contemplated the naïve eleven-year-old me's question before answering, "A rival would do the trick."

"D-do you have a rival?" I'd asked.

"Nope." She had ruffled my hair then. "Your master's the strongest there is."

I watched Draken's retreating figure while I recalled my master's boastful yet probably truthful words. Over the years, I learned that Divah was a badass unlike any other.

"Wow," Ms. Lockwood eyed me skeptically. "You're hostile to everyone you meet, huh."

"Um, I don't think so," I countered. "I just… I'm not good with relating to people."

"So, zero social skills"—she eyed my clothes; the classic aviator jacket made of blue dragon webbing Divah had bought for me on my thirteenth birthday, the frayed jeans that were so old they didn't reach down to my ankles, and my white sneakers, the only enchanted item among my equipment—and said, "and zero fashion sense… You're going to fit in well with the tower's people."

Ms. Lockwood wasn't trying to be mean. It was an objective assessment of me that sounded a lot better than her earlier frostiness. She also didn't look like she'd been fazed by our encounter with the bullies. There was an excitement in her expression that mirrored mine like she was raring to challenge the dragonkin herself given the opportunity. That's when I realized that Draken wasn't the only rival I met today.

"What rank are you?" I asked curiously.

"I was twentieth before I joined the tower." Ms. Lockwood nudged my shoulder with her elbow. Then, in a far warmer tone than I had a right to expect, she said, "Come on. Let's go home."