“Very good, Miss Callahan. A full ten minutes faster than anyone in the previous class noticed me.”
Lord Teft was handsome, the perfect image of a conventional gentleman, though unconventionally dressed. His suit was bright purple, the same color he’d worn on the stage. He leaned against a long wooden cane. Not a dueling cane, this one seemed ordinary. His blonde hair was meticulously cropped and his smile displayed immaculate teeth.
The students fell silent as he spoke. “Perception. This is the single most important characteristic for any prospective duelist. No amount of power, speed, or even finesse is sufficient to overwhelm an opponent who is sufficiently aware of your strengths and weaknesses.”
He turned toward the student who had identified him. “Miss Callahan, you were the first to notice me. How and why? You may stand to answer.”
She stood up, proving even taller than I had expected. She was at least my own height, if not taller. I might have imagined it, but I thought she was blushing a little bit. “Well, sir, I didn’t think you’d be leavin’ us alone on the first day. So, I just kept on lookin’ for you.”
“Good. You may sit.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Something seemed amiss, so she kept looking. Now, can anyone tell me what she did wrong?”
I frowned. Was he going to embarrass her further in front of our class?
Roland stood up.
“You.” The teacher pointed at Roland. “Go ahead.”
Roland gestured toward the girl. “She found something that resembled what she was looking for — a blur, an indication of invisibility — and stopped there.”
He folded his arms, turning back toward the stage. “But Shadows can manage things more complex than a single blur, and standing around invisible in the middle of a stage? That’s asking for attention. It’s misdirection. You’re somewhere else.”
Lord Teft grinned. “An interesting assessment. You are also wrong. I’m standing right here. I simply wanted to see if someone would fabricate a mistake when none was made, and you performed admirably. You may sit down.”
Roland’s expression as he sat was even more dour than usual. I could understand why.
Moreover, I was beginning to sense a theme in this teacher’s style. Now that I knew what to look for, I found the blur sitting in the back of stands almost immediately. I concentrated on details as much as possible... and it looked to be roughly the same height and weight as Teft. The clothes seemed to match as well.
Interesting.
Roland might have been wrong about the teacher being on the stage, but the core of his argument was right — the man standing on the stage was a form of misdirection.
Some duelists prided themselves on planning several moves ahead, much in the manner that strategists attempted to in war games. What move was Teft planning?
I saw Roland’s gaze shift just slightly, to the same spot I’d seen.
He’d seen the blur, too. He knew. And he saw me looking at him.
I nodded, lifting my left hand and quickly extending two fingers in the air. An old signal we’d used in war games: an alliance offered.
Roland’s eyes narrowed, but he returned the gesture.
The teacher folded an arm behind his back, raising his cane with his right hand and waving at the students. “I suppose most of you are here because you want to learn to fight, yes? No need to wait on that any further, I suppose. Any volunteers?”
I blinked. We’re going to start fighting now? None of us have had any training with our attunements yet. This is going to be a complete mess.
Which is probably what he’s looking forward to, I suspect.
I didn’t stand up. Most of the class did, however. Including Roland and Patrick.
Sera looked right at me, which was interesting. I hadn’t realized she’d seen me. She remained seated as well.
The teacher turned straight to Roland. “Eager to be embarrassed again immediately? What’s your name?”
Roland’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “Roland. Roland Royce.”
“Well, good sir Roland Roland — what an unusual name! — you can come stand up here. And...” He waved at another student, a thin boy with an Elementalist mark on his left hand and a glove on his right. “Master Kent, you can join us as well. The rest of you who volunteered, remain standing.”
Both students made their way to the stage, taking positions on opposite sides. Roland’s hands sat on the hilts of his two canes. “Master Kent” raised his attuned hand into a ready position, indicating he had at least some idea on how to use it.
“Oh, you’re not going to fight each other. That wouldn’t be interesting at all.” He smiled. “Outside of tournaments, most modern duels are not fought between two combatants who are equally eager. The overwhelming majority of duels are between one fighter who wants a duel and someone else who has no choice but to accept.”
The teacher turned to Kent. “Master Kent, you’re the son of a duke. When you inherit, you’ll be able to challenge virtually anyone outside of the royal family to a duel. Let’s assume you feel like showing off — not much of a stretch, I assume — and wanted to do so by beating someone in a duel. Who would you choose?”
The skinny boy scratched his head. “Um, well...” He scanned the crowd. “Can I pick someone who isn’t standing?”
The teacher grinned. “Of course.”
Kent turned his head, looking embarrassed. “Guess I’ve gotta pick Marissa Callahan, then.”
The girl who the teacher had called “Miss Callahan” earlier balled her fists, but remained silent and seated.
The teacher tilted his head to the side. “Why would you select Miss Callahan?”
Kent folded his arms. “Figure she already got ‘erself some points by finding you first. Gotta beat someone who already made an impression.”