Abyssal Arcanist [Chapter 9]

Hey peeps!

Here is chapter nine. I hope you enjoy!

Shami

CHAPTER NINE

MONOPOLY OF VIOLENCE

Today, our class was Combat Arts.

After the headmaster’s speech about the changes to Astra Academy, I walked with Sorin, Nini, Nasbit, and Raaza through the long halls of the Academy until we reached the doors that led to the training fields.

Knovak was already there with his unicorn. He opened the door and allowed us through, but he muttered things to himself. Something along the lines of, I’ll get better, but I couldn’t make out all his words. Knovak didn’t even glance up when I walked by.

I thought it would just be the six of us in class, but someone waited for us just at the edge of the grass outside. I recognized her immediately, even from behind. Phila had the longest hair in our class—it went to her waist—and it glistened a vibrant strawberry blonde. When she turned around, her hair fluttered outward, like the skirt of a giant dress.

With a smile, Phila said, “Oh, there you all are. I was beginning to worry that I had forgotten our schedule.”

Her robes were held tightly around her body. The chilly morning air whipped by, and Phila shivered. She was rather thin, and she didn’t much care to spend time outside.

Phila’s eldrin, an elegant coatl, slithered around her feet. His name was Tenoch, and he was a five-foot-long corn snake with white and orange scales. His colorful wings resembled a parrot’s, and he draped them around Phila’s sides, as though attempting to shield her from the weather.

“Is this better, my arcanist?” Tenoch asked.

Phila nodded once—but she didn’t stop shivering. “You’re so kind to me, Tenoch. I don’t deserve you.”

“Nonsense, my arcanist. Come. Let’s find the professor straight away. If you start exercising, I’m sure you’ll heat up.”

I glanced around, hoping the other two members of our class were nearby. Unfortunately, I didn’t spot Ashlyn or Exie.

“Is everything okay?” Phila asked. Her coatl hugged her with his wings, and she scooped up his snake body into her arms. It was awkward, but they managed after several flaps of Tenoch’s wings. “You don’t need to be worried about me,” Phila said with a smile. “I’m fine.”

I wanted to say I wasn’t worried, but instead, I replied with, “I’m glad. I can’t wait to see what Professor Leon has for us today.”

The others chuckled at my joke as we all stepped onto the grass field. It stretched out before us, surrounded by a track for running, and several pieces of equipment in the center for training our muscles or specific combat arts. Javelins, weights, bows, and fake swords were kept on a wood rack, ready for our class should the need arise.

Everyone glanced around as he stomped across the field. Captain Leon was usually here before us. Instead, there was a hazy fog that lingered around the field, as though clouds had settled onto the Academy and taken up residency on the edges of the grass.

It was odd. Astra Academy had controlled weather—what were these rebellious clouds doing?

“Oh, there you all are,” a voice from the clouds said, wafting over us with the morning breeze. “I was wondering when the headmaster’s speech would conclude.”

A man stepped out of the cloud cover around the field.

His posture was upright and confident, though he wasn’t that tall, perhaps a few inches under six feet. He had a well-balanced and athletic build, and he didn’t wear the school uniform—just a shirt tight enough to hug the muscles of his physique and a pair of loose trousers.

The man didn’t even wear shoes.

It reminded me of Professor Helmith’s aversion to shoes.

This strange man also kept his head perfectly shaved. I saw every dent and odd crease in his scalp. Most people had a slightly wonky head, but hair kept that fact hidden.

The man’s arcanist mark was also on full display. It was a seven-pointed star with a serpentine dragon woven through the points. Well, a dragon and… some clouds.

A nimbus dragon.

“I’m Professor Jijo,” the man said as he walked toward us, his movements fluid, displaying a combination of agility, control, and power.

The instant Jijo said that, a dragon snaked its way out of the clouds. It was a creature with six short legs with bird-like talons. And while the nimbus dragon had no wings, it flew through the air with ease regardless. Its blue scales shimmered with the vibrancy of a summer afternoon sky, and its mane was made of wisps of clouds, constantly morphing and flowing, as if it was made of living vapor.

Nimbus dragons were among the smallest of the dragons, at least according to Professor Helmith. She was right—the little dragon sailed over and landed on Professor Jijo’s broad shoulders without difficulty. It was about the size of Phila’s coatl.

“This is my eldrin,” Jijo said as he came to a stop in front of the class. He scratched the dragon’s chin. “He’s a nimbus dragon by the name of Cirrus.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Cirrus said, his voice airy and light. I almost missed it.

“Hello,” Sorin said, waving.

The shadows around his feet stirred. “Greetings,” Thurin said from the depths of the darkness.

No one else said a word.

Professor Jijo half-bowed to the class and then motioned to the field. “I apologize for my late arrival to the Academy. I was away on business and only recently could I return to my post here at this illustrious institution.” With a smile, he added, “Headmaster Venrover told me all about this eventful year. I’m a shame I missed it.”

“Trust me, you didn’t want to be here.” Nasbit forced a nervous laugh. “But the headmaster is making sure it never happens again, so that’s good.”

Jijo held up a finger. “Well, as your combat arts instructor, I’m going to give you all the tools to defend yourself, in case something unspeakable happens again in the future.”

Phila raised her hand barely above her jawline.

The professor’s dark brown eyes were sharp. He quickly turned to face Phila. “Yes? Oh, and please tell me your name, so that I might commit it to memory.”

“I’m Phila Hon,” she said. “Um, but I was wondering… Do we need to learn combat per se? What if I would rather learn magic I can use in constructive ways?”

“Phila Hon…” The professor slowly walked around the six of us in class. He rubbed at his chin, and his dragon—still perched on his shoulders—did the same. “Do you know who is in charge here?”

Phila’s eyes grew wide. “Hm? What do you mean?”

“Let me rephrase. What would happen if an arcanist tried to rob another arcanist?”

“Rob?” Phila blinked her eyes. “I suppose knights or other arcanists would arrest the criminal.”

Her coatl nodded along with her statement. “That’s right. The knights would do something.”

“And what if the knights tried to rob someone?” Professor Jijo walked a full circle around us and then stopped. “What would happen then?”

“Well, it would depend where it happened. Maybe the queen of the empire would step in. Or maybe another powerful arcanist. Like the Warlord of Magic.” Phila brushed her long hair with her fingers. “Isn’t that the proper way? My mother said it was best to leave such matters to the governing arcanists.”

“What happens if the Warlord of Magic decides to rob someone?” Jijo asked, diving deeper into his hypothetical.

The whole class was silent for a long while.

Raaza snorted. “We met him once for a class. He didn’t seem like the type who would rob people.”

“It’s just for this thought experiment,” the professor said, smiling. “What would you do if the Warlord of Magic robbed someone? What if he was robbing one of you?”

Sorin crossed his arms. “Well, uh, I would try to stop him if he was hurting anyone in this class.”

Jijo snapped his fingers and pointed at Sorin. “Ah. There. You’re making my point for me. You see, the person in charge is whoever has a monopoly on violence.” With a playful twirl of his hand, he manipulated the clouds around the field until most cleared away, giving us all better visibility. “If you had no way to fight back, you would be at the complete mercy of whoever was the strongest individual. You must never allow yourself to come under the rule of someone who has a monopoly on violence. You must retain some for yourself—so that you can always fight back, just in case.”

Raaza’s expression shifted from neutral to shocked. It was as if someone had hit him in the face with a wet fish. He stood a little straight and even raised his hand.

Again, Jijo noticed immediately. “Yes? Your name, please.”

“I’m Raaza Luin. But… go back to what you were saying… You think it’s right to fight back? What if… What if we can’t win against the Warlord of Magic? Shouldn’t we just let him rob us? So we can live another day?”

Professor Jijo chuckled. Then he held his hand against the small of his back and lifted an eyebrow. If his head wasn’t shaved, he’d likely have oily black hair, like me and Sorin—judging by his dark eyebrows.

“Raaza Luin—there will be moments in your life where hiding will only make things worse. The reason you should study combat arts is so that you always have the option to fight back. If you never have the option, you will be ruled through fear and tyranny. Perhaps not now, but eventually.”

“I agree,” Raaza whispered, practically in awe.

“So, I do have to learn combat?” Phila asked, her gaze downcast.

Professor Jijo chuckled. He stepped away from the class and waved his hand again. A few clouds formed across the field. They became white bubbles of mist. “You needn’t worry, Trainee Hon. Our practice today will be against these clouds and nothing more.”

Phila patted her coatl eldrin. “Well, my hands are soft.” She glanced down at her palms. “And my arms are… delicate.”

“And I’m a fan of physical competition,” Nasbit interjected. “If we’re bringing up complaints.”

“Who are you?” The professor created seven cloud bubbles, one for each student.

“Nasbit Dodger.”

“Ah. I see. Nasbit Dodger—fear of competition is understandable, but it can also be a boon. When you compete with others, you are forced to reflect on yourself. If you win, you can reflect on your strengths. When you lose, you can critically examine your weaknesses.”

“I still don’t like it,” Nasbit murmured.

His stone golem nodded its boulder head.

Jijo chuckled. “Fair enough. Perhaps, before this year is over, I can change your mind.” He pointed to the bows on the rack. “Today, we will have no competitions. Instead, I will teach you all how to use a bow and arrow. Then, I will show you how to use your bow with your evocation.”

“Our magic?” Nini asked, her voice soft. “B-But some of us don’t have evocations that can be used like an arrow.”

While some people could evoke fire and use it on an arrow, Nini and Sorin both evoked terror. Nini was right—how were they going to use that as a projectile weapon?

“I’ll show you once you’re good with a bow,” Jijo said. Again, he motioned to the equipment. “Trust me. I’m familiar with the magics of a reaper. I know your limitations, and your hidden strengths. Come, come. Show of hands—who here has fired a bow?”

No one raised their hand.

If Ashlyn were here, I knew she would be the only one with her arm in the air.

“What was your name, reaper arcanist?” Jijo asked.

“Nini Wanderlin,” she replied.

“Ah. Good, good, Nini Wanderlin. Trust me, once I’ve finished my lessons with you all, the bow will be your new favorite companion.”

I set Twain on the grass. He stared up at me with a frown. The grass still had dew on the blades, and I knew it had to be wet to the touch.

“You’ll be fine,” I whispered to him.

Twain huffed as he awkwardly walked to the edge of the field. The other eldrin followed suit, giving all their arcanists plenty of space to practice with their new weapons. Tenoch clapped his wings, encouraging his arcanist as much as possible.

Sorin and I walked together over to the weapon rack. Neither of us had ever picked up a bow. Technically, we had used a crossbow when we played around with the city guard one afternoon, but our father had yelled at us afterward, and it never happened again.

I grabbed one of the bows and spun it around, examining it from all sides.

It was crafted from supple yew wood, and polished smooth. The slender curved frame seemed higher quality than anything we would need, and I grazed my fingertips across a small portion.

The bowstring, taut and purposeful, stretched the length of the bow, and was woven with delicate threads of something shimmeringly silver. It was almost ethereal.

“Gray?”

I flinched and turned to my brother. “Yeah?”

“You’re staring at that bow like it’s your honeysuckle.”

My face heated and I turned away from him with one force stomp. “What’s wrong with you? I’m doing no such thing.”

“You were, though. You sure you’re okay?”

I pushed him aside as I headed for the professor.

The bow…

For some reason, I knew it was more than high quality. It was exceptional quality. And I liked it. That was weird—since I never had thoughts about bows before—but right now, I felt excited to try it out.

I wanted to shoot something.