Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Exclusive Tooling

In front of each pouch or collection of pouches was a sign with a number while some pieces also had colored tags. The numbers were a bid to prevent anyone from choosing based on past relationships with a leatherworker. Melchior wondered whether this was even necessary. He had no prior experience with commoner leather shops. They only needed to obfuscate which one was Veremund's though if he ended up choosing him he’d just pick someone else instead.

It was just as fun to see his designs realized as to see the novel things the craftspeople created. Every pouch included the blank space on the front but though the sizes of some were too small for his liking. But it wasn't his choice anyway. He was also surprised by the size disparity between pieces that were supposed to use the same dimensions. He wondered whether converting the numbers had caused errors.

“It seems that some people were confused whether the dimensions were internal or external measurements. The colored tags denote pieces which perfectly match the given directions. Blue means the internal capacity matches while red means the exterior dimensions are correct,” Milda explained.

Melchior looked over everything until he found one set with all colored tags. The tooling was nice, favoring repeating patterns over edge details, and the hardware looked easy to use. There were two versions of Sebastian's bag along with a set of tiny pouches made to Sigsnyr's dimensions. While they felt stiff and robust, they looked refined and delicate.

He called Sigsnyr over. “Do you like these ones?” He pointed to the small collection.

“They look fun but why are they so small?” He asked. He was holding a long bag made to carry lesser used potions that needed more protection than potion loops would offer and a set of pouches made with Nikolaus in mind.

“We thought you would like something for your magic tools that are too small and delicate to stuff into larger pouches with other things,” Melchior replied.

Sigsnyr looked over all the tables. There were six such small bags or sets thereof made by different people. “You ordered this many variations on the chance that I might like them?”

“The protected potion bags were for Zipporah, the loops for Gerianne, the tiny bags for you, the sets of two for Nikolaus, and the long bag we added at Sebastian's behest. It seems rather popular,” Melchior observed. “Since we couldn't see Theodore to look at his pouches, we asked for the most popular size among knights. Oh, could you all choose one for him too?”

Sigsnyr remained stunned for a while longer. Melchior waved a hand before his eyes. “Who would be so generous?” he whispered.

“I also wanted to see what was possible and chose an exclusive leatherworker,” Melchior said.

Zipporah joined them. She was the first to make her choice. “I would like this one my lord. It is much prettier than what I currently use but I do not think it will stand out too much,” she declared and presented one made to the popular dimensions.

Only Gerianne chose the pouch selected for her and only because she planned to buy the less expensive loops herself and have Melchior give her a set of two. Melchior was amazed and saddened that all his preparations had been for nothing. He also had to concede that Isolde was correct about letting them choose. “How could we get it so wrong,” he mumbled.

“My lord, it is true that I should have a pouch to protect my more expensive potions and would have been very happy to receive one, but I saw this one and was taken by the pattern,” Zipporah said.

“I hadn't considered having special bags for my tiny tools,” Sigsnyr admitted. He was now stuck between three options and had to look at everything a second time.

Nikolaus stepped forward with a set of loops. To meet the brief, the artisan had added a square of leather to the front. “You can never have too many,” he mumbled.

Kirk passed over the money for each item and placed them in a box to deliver later. For Theodore, they selected one of the long bags. While the gift receivers were happy to be getting things for free, they looked on with jealousy while the others took away their bags right then. After making their selection and paying, they were sent back to the castle so none of them noticed that they were charged twice as much as Melchior.

“My lord, did you commission all of these and pay the commission fees?” Sigsnyr asked after Sebastian purchased his long bag and two others.

“Yes. I put up five small golds along with Master Fred,” Melchior replied.

Sigsnyr shivered. That was so much money.

“My lord,” Zipporah sighed. “This is still much too generous. You do not seem to be planning to buy any pouches yourself either.”

“Perhaps I should get one for Wilfried,” Melchior replied. He didn't have a potions belt but wore the normal kind like any other knight. He left his stunned retainers to look things over again. A more decorated pouch would be best for Wilfried, he thought. This left only one option. It had tooling reminiscent of magic circles as well as carefully carved organic details.

“That is mine!” Veremund chirped. “I was rather sad that no one wanted it.”

“It is just so much,” Zipporah noted. “It would look out of place next to more understated pieces.”

“So it is perfect for Wilfried,” Isolde giggled.

“Did you find a craftsperson you like, Veremund?” Melchior asked.

“I did! In fact, this has been a lucrative day all around. Eikestine bought mana blocking gloves which will cover my pouch acquisition,” he replied. “And this, number twelve, their work is so refined, so delicate. I cannot do work like this.”

Melchior examined the pouches leftover behind the number twelve. No one had chosen one but they looked too fragile to be worn by knights. They were pretty and made to specifications but he had no confidence they would hold up under rigorous use. They were perfect for a scholar.

“I will select this craftsman,” Melchior said, indicating the bags he looked at earlier. Fred's jaw dropped while Milda shook her head. “Do they also make shoes?” Melchior asked, choosing to ignore their reactions.

Fred was still glancing from the new belt to the table and back while Milda urged him to respond. “Oh… yes, my lord. Cole doesn't cobble himself but their shop has one,” he replied.

“Cole is the young man who asked to inspect your belt and who made this one. We didn't expect you to pluck his number from the crowd,” Milda explained.

“Lord Melchior has a most discerning eye,” Isolde said. Melchior glanced at her. He wouldn't say it like that. He just liked the work more than the others. Perhaps, like Sheila, Cole had endeavored to court his preferences specifically.

In any case. Master Fred had to buy more bags than anticipated even though more were sold. All three adult knights made purchases. Fonsel bought one of the delicate bags from number twelve for his wife too. Deliroze decided against a folio in the end. The ones he could afford were too crude while the ones he wanted were too nice. Since he'd already purchased something expensive for Deliroze, Melchior didn't offer to buy one for him. He left feeling a little defeated but still had fun looking at everything.

Melchior returned to his room with his spoils and a heavy heart. He would need to rethink the paintings and redoodle the reference sketches. He would also need to ask Veremund what the best kind of paint for leather was. Veremund agreed to do some tests using the egg and sap and stray bits of leather and would let Melchior know in about a week.

Much like the highbeast class, he only realized how much he had to paint after a second look. There were the six pouches, Ferdinand's diptych, Flautzeal’s diptych, as many Hauchletze orders as he could muster, and their special order based on a poem he didn't understand. He also still wanted to make one for his mother and was considering painting Wilfried’s pouch since the blank spot on the front was rather conspicuous.

It was unfortunate then, that something more interesting than painting appeared the next day. With a bright smile filled with pride, Sheila presented the edible clay. It was a pleasant yellow-green and smelled slightly floral. Melchior squished and kneaded it while giggling maniacally.

“We have tested it extensively in the orphanage. This recipe is soft when sculpting while holding detail. It takes two full days to dry and can be reconstituted with a bit of water if forgotten without a cover. I added dye derived from safe to eat flowers and an equally safe but very bitter flavor,” she explained.

“Why make it bitter?” Melchior asked.

“It proved irresistible to the youngest orphans,” Sheila sighed.

“But it is so salty,” he noted.

“That was not a deterrent,” she replied.

“Excellent work, Sheila. I know this is not quite food but I appreciate you giving it just as much care as your other work,” Melchior praised. He made a copy of the recipe to sell to his father and began sculpting a zantze immediately. Sheila was both kind and magnanimous so she presented her creation after dinner when her lord would have ample time to play with it.

As only his knights remained. Melchior gave leave for Gerianne and Nikolaus to join him. He also found an excuse for Kirk to assist.

Making a zantze without the assistance of magic was harder than he anticipated. After a long while of making a four legged something that looked wonkier and wonkier, he pulled out his highbeast to make a model. He made a zantze that was just large enough to be detailed before working on his lump again.

The children carried on into the night squishing and molding and attempting to copy the sculpture with mixed success. They found Nikolaus to be surprisingly good while Melchior was shockingly bad.

As he had before, Melchior needed a teacher. Sculpting was a new art form in the temple so they would have to range farther afield. Kirk was sent on a new mission to find a sculpture with enough free time and nice enough manners to give a couple of lessons. He would also find a pottery shop willing to fire the figurines and make the blooming tea bowl.

Lothar was amazed. Melchior had only just received a portion of his commission fees back and had already found a reason to spend them. He was also not the only person surprised when Melchior pulled three duchy grade potions from his supplies to fill the loops on his new belt only to present it to Deliroze the next day.

“Uncle wears his all the time except for ceremonies and formal events. You can attach pouches to this side and we will find a cage or something for your highbeast to hang from here,” Melchior explained while Deliroze fidgeted and Kirk did his best to put a belt on a squirming child.

“Oh… thank you, Lord Melchior. I will treasure it forever,” Deliroze said as he danced before the mirror. “Now I look just like Lord Ferdinand.”

Melchior joined him, his diptych clacking as he bounded over. “We do, don't we!” They shared in their mutual euphoria while Isolde and Flautzeal looked on with envy. They liked Melchior’s belt but hadn't felt the need to have their own until this moment.

“We have much work to do, my lord,” Isolde called.

“Ah, yes,” Melchior replied and returned to his table. They had to plan the rest of their intensive course for Ansgar and Jochten as well as go over their pitch for the paper meeting.

They had charts showing the relationship between bells invested and profits for papermaking and printing. Deliroze noted that the Hasse clergy didn't spend that much time, perhaps three mornings per week, doing that kind of work. They still made a considerable profit since they produced their own paper and ink. Being as they were in their own pocket of lush forest, they were plenty capable of collecting nearly all of their materials.

What they did besides paper and book production, Melchior didn't know. He guessed farming and spinning and relaxing and such. So long as they made enough to support themselves and grew enough tasty vegetables, he saw no reason to interfere with their way of life. The thought of sending more permanent residents resurfaced. That priest had been so happy to return. Perhaps he didn't want to be parted.

“Lothar, how many spare gray priests do we have at the moment?” he asked.

“Close to twenty if we count those coming of age this year,” he replied.

“So it would not be a burden if two or three remained at Hasse in perpetuity?”

“Unless we see a large influx of new blue clergy, my lord. Would you like to send more priests to Hasse?” Lothar asked.

“I am considering it,” Melchior said but didn't elaborate anymore.

Looking at their profit, Isolde could understand why he wanted to send more workers there. Compared to the temple orphanage, they were doing more with fewer people. Then again, they didn't have as large of a building to clean nor were they interrupted by nobles nor did they have to herd children when they went gathering. The temple workshop made many innovations and served as a research center for the Plantin Company in Ehrenfest but Hasse was under the jurisdiction of the Archduke. That he was agreeing to pay for information generated in his own shop was confusing, but she wasn't going to ask the question and ruin the deal.

Instead she took some time to think of counter arguments. They brought in Kazmiar to look things over and make some corrections. He would be attending the meeting but would leave most of the negotiating and selling to the kids. After everyone's input, Melchior felt ready to do business.

Special Classes

Melchior spent the next morning reviewing the materials for his upcoming lessons with the other second years. He was annoyed that he couldn't get perfect scores on his own tests and went hunting for the more obscure information he’d forgotten. Ansgar and Jochten were bound to have questions and he would need to have answers.

Benedikt watched this fervor with some confusion. Melchior had created frighteningly difficult exams, far beyond what he would encounter at school, then worked himself into a panic because he couldn’t get perfect scores. Before now, Benedikt hadn't understood Isolde's insistences that their lord needed reminders to relax rather than to study but he did now.

“My lord,” he began. “Perhaps you would like to prepare for whirling class,” he suggested.

Melchior placed down his pencil to consider this. There was still a bit of time before he needed too but it was the first day Gerianne and his retainer's would join them. Lord Bonifiatus had finally acknowledged their skills as being good enough not to distract Charlotte during practice. He agreed to get dressed so there would be time to wrangle everyone. It turned out to be necessary since the knights couldn’t decide whether to change into floaty sleeves or remain as they were. After lots of bickering they ended up being on time to practice.

“Dear brother, I recall your request being for Gerianne to join us. You have brought nearly your entire retinue,” Charlotte sighed.

Melchior blushed sheepishly. “It has grown into a bit of a trend. I began teaching Gerianne how to whirl and they all asked to join us. I assure you, they will not interfere with your lessons,” he replied.

“It seems you cannot plan even the smallest event without drawing in more people than anticipated,” she teased but allowed everyone to stay. Flautzeal took the chair provided for him and began playing a calming tune for their introductory stretches and movements. He’d written and arranged even more songs in the proper tempo so they could have a variety of things to dance to. While this made things feel less austere and sacred, it was more enjoyable than listening to the same song over and over or the unaccompanied clacking of a metronome.

Melchior certainly had more fun now that they had enough people to fill all seven slots. Charlotte was glad of the opportunity to work on her spacing and coordination as well as her general whirling. She also noticed that the light gloom that had fallen over Melchior since Wilfried retired from their lessons was lifted by the new influx of people. It was a bonus that the knights could join her in practicing the spear whirl. She would need to perform as the leader for their pre-tournament ritual and possibly for ditter with Dunkelfelger.

Once again, Zipporah showed her superior passion for dance. She needed no breaks and took every opportunity to whirl with Charlotte or Melchior or just to Flautzeal playing. Some of Charlotte’s knights looked on enviously as Cecilia and Eikestine were allowed to whirl as well. To still their discontent, they were invited to join for the last dance of the day.

“Grant power to those of us going into battle!” Charlotte cried. She’d been practicing using a deeper voice to bark orders during hunts and ditter so this rang out deafeningly in the enclosed room. Melchior had to cover his ears as he watched the nearly all female battle dance spin and glitter before him. Their spears struck in unison and moved in identical arches even though they rarely practiced together. He shivered with Gerianne as they enjoyed the spectacle together.

Nikolaus retreated behind Melchior the moment it was over. “I felt I would be speared had I messed up,” he whispered. Sebastion didn’t say anything, but his face showed agreement. The girls, meanwhile, jumped and rejoiced about their incredible performance.

After lunch, Melchoir practiced music then began painting. There was no time for reading or portraits when he had over a dozen pieces to finish before winter. He was largely obligated to work in his hidden room since most things were gifts for his retainers and that's where his supplies were stored. He took a break for dinner, where he tried to convince his parents to come to whirling class, then continued until bedtime. After only one day of this intensive creative work, he was feeling tired. While he would normally plan to do something else with his freetime the following day, he felt he needed to keep up the painting. After a bit more compression than he probably should do, he fell asleep with a small sense of dread.

By morning he’d forgotten all about his impending evening behind the canvas. Today was the first highbeast creation class. Since his knight uniform was still being made he borrowed Nikolaus’s old one which was Cornelius’s old one. Being nearly a decade old now, it was soft and lovingly mended in spots. The metal treads were still intact so it was still just as protective as it should be. It was exciting to look much like everyone else for a change. This also meant that his first lesson in faestone armor forming was a crash course before breakfast.

“It’ll be easy,” Fonsel assured him. “You also won’t have time to create something ridiculous.”

Melchior made a pouty expression. “I intend to make something cool and beautiful,” he countered.

“And covered in flowers, no doubt,” Fonsel huffed. He ignored Melchior’s annoyance to begin his lesson by forming light armor and laying it out on the table. For boys, this included the breast plate, vambraces, greaves, and a codpiece. “It provides extra protection against the most deadly strikes,” Fonsel concluded.

Melchior wondered what was so deadly about being sliced across the ankle. “If the tendon at the back is severed, you will be unable to walk,” Sigsnyr explained. “Your wrists also have large arteries and will be closer to other people's weapons than anything else.” Melchior nodded along. The chestplate was self explanatory. Getting stabbed through the mana organ would turn you to soup instantly after all. He pointed to the last bit. “It might not kill you but that's important too,” Sigsnyr said with a slight blush.

Having scented blood, he naturally had to ask. “Why is the codpiece important if being hit there isn't fatal?” he asked with a mix of innocence and mirth.

“If you lose that you can't inherit your house,” Fonsel replied while shaking his head. It was neither a blushing nor a laughing matter. “Not even healing is guaranteed to restore their function so try not to lose them.”

Melchior nodded solemnly and began memorizing the look and placement of the armor. He held the deep blue feastone to his chest and poured mana into it. It was an odd feeling to be slowly ensconced in metal. As it crept around his torso he shivered. “It tickles,” he complained.

“When you do it that slowly, yeah,” Fonsel replied.

Melchior ignored him to maintain his mental image. After about a minute he’d finished the chest plate. “What about everything else?” He asked. There was no more faestone to use.

Sigsnyr placed his arm against his chest plate. His bracer was absorbed into it then reformed on his wrist in the blink of an eye. “Think about using more than you need since you need to move material to your legs and such with your arms,” he added.

After much work, Melchior managed to complete his light armor. He stood proudly before the mirror and sighed. As much as he teased Gerianne, he was only a bit bigger so the armor still only served to highlight how small he was. With the long tunic covering his pants, he even looked just like a girl his age. “I would like to change my hair,” he declared with a frown. The delicate front dangles and loosely gathered ponytail only made him look less intimidating. It was not so much a problem that he looked like a girl then that his gentle aspect made a mockery of the armor.

Pepin changed the style to match the archduke. The wild bangs and tight ponytail were just as adorable but looked more battle ready. Since he had time and sat in front of a mirror, Melchior went about changing the generic motifs on his chestplate. Fonsel teased him about the flowers so he was forced to add some around a tree branch curled into a loop. Sigsnyr and Pepin had praise for the design while Fonsel maintained a flat expression.

“Why change your hair just to add flowers to your armor?” he asked.

“Now, I do not look as delicate,” Melchior replied as though the answer were obvious.

Gerianne couldn't stop giggling when she saw him. “Oh how adorable. The armor just makes you look tinier, my lord,” she teased.

“Yes, yes. You have had your revenge. We must be going or we shall miss our own class,” he replied.

“My revenge has just begun and I need do nothing else myself,” she cackled.

Indeed, Gerianne didn't need to tell Melchior he looked adorable. Helenwig and Cecilia squealed when they saw him. He took a deep breath and prepared to ignore all whispering. It was terribly difficult when even Dedryck was dopey eyed for a split second. The only thing that saved him from being the talk of the day was the arrival of Sister Streita.

She wore her casual shrine maiden outfit over a practical shirt and riding pants as well as light armor under her golden sash. Melchior hurried over to greet her. “Welcome Sister Streita. Thank you ever so much for agreeing to teach everyone. I feel my own method would not be sufficient for everyone’s needs.”

“No one method is,” Strieta replied jovially. She looked around with a nostalgic smile. It had been some time since she stood before so many young, shocked faces. “Shall we begin?”

Before Melchior could say yes he was drawn away by his knights. “Why is she here?” Fonsel growled.

“I asked her to come,” Melchior replied.

“You asked a priest to teach knights how to use a highbeast?!” Fonsel whispered. It was a true whisper making it all the more unsettling. “What were you thinking? Why didn't you consult anyone?”

Melchior cowered under his intensity. “I…I made the decision very quickly. Sister Streita helped me so much. I thought she would be the best person to help us teach so many people.”

“She is a priest. They do not belong at the Knights Order,” Fonsel hissed.

“I am a priest and I am at the Knights Order,” Melchior replied.

“That’s different.”

“How so?”

“You are the Aub's son.”

“And Gerianne? And Nikolaus?” Melchior pressed.

“They are your retainers. They follow where you lead them but Streita has retired from noble society. She is not a knight and therefore does not belong here,” Fonsel replied.

Melchior took a moment to compress his rising anger. “Sister Streita accompanied the knights on trombe exterminations just this last autumn and she will do so again next autumn. Before that she served as a knight of Ehrenfest for over forty years. She was an instructor. If such service does not entitle her to walk these halls then neither does yours,” he said.

Fonsel took a step back. “That's…” That wasn't how things worked. He knew that but he couldn't say it when faced with such naked rage. Gerianne didn't even remind Melchior not to Crush anyone. Fonsel felt for a moment that pressing any farther would be bad for his heart. Plus, this was neither the time nor place to make a scene. “If that is your will,” was all he managed to say.

“It is that we might all benefit from Sister Streita’s deep wisdom and effective pedagogy,” Melchior said. He stomped his tiny greves back over to Streita. “I apologize for my outburst. Let us begin.”

She nodded and followed him to the center of the room. As his speech had only just carried through the large, echoy hall, no one asked what a shrine maiden was doing at the head of their class. The true novices, there to make their first highbeast, stood at the very front while those who signed up just to learn Melchior's strange techniques gathered behind them.

“Thank you all for coming on this morning ordained by the vibrant summer rays of Leidenschaft the God of Fire. Today we will be teaching the very basics of highbeast creation. Those who are already capable of forming highbeast, we ask that you support your juniors in taking their first steps,” Melchior announced. He then stepped to the side so Dedryck could read out the pairings. Some people looked happy to be assigned a kid they knew while others looked baffled.

Adaire was only upset about not working directly with Melchior long enough for his brother to walk over and begin encouraging him. Melchior watched on sadly. Now that there was another general instructor and his friends didn't need his help, he had very little to do. Streita began her explanation by having everyone expand their faestones to waist high balls. Those with time on their hands, spent it murmuring about her teaching techniques and how they differed from their various Royal Academy instructors.

“I would have gotten faster if we had her instead of Fraularm,” some one chuckled.

“She’s better than the old man who used to do it. Professor Duf… Doof… Do something. I can't even remember.”

“She didn't make them do full size balls?”

“Boxes already?”

Melchior walked around and listened to these comments while watching the lesson. It was not a long first lesson. Few kids had as much mana as Gerianne, let alone Melchior, so they reached their limits quickly. Melchior passed through giving encouragement and congratulations. “I was very disappointed not to fly on my first day as well,” he told one, particularly despondent girl. She was only eight and had pushed herself very hard to finish her highbeast feastone in time. “We will all come back next week and try some more.” she nodded and dried her tears on the handkerchief her tutor provided.

“We ask that our older participants now summon their highbeasts so our novice friends can peruse the options,” Melchior called. Those who’d lost enthusiasm found their souls reignited by the colorful herd of beasts.

“Horses and shumils are very popular these days,” Streita noted. “Do not be afraid to choose them. They are popular for good reason.”

No matter how practical and elegant, a horse could not compare to a goltze or schnestrum. The children were devastated to learn how many creatures were off limits because they represented a powerful house. “I thought it was just lions,” Felicitus sighed.

The scholars also brought out Melchior's drawings and other inspirational materials. Veremund had even offered a portion of his collection of animal paintings and drawings. While the novices had fun looking at all the highbeasts, Melchior was slowly surrounded by older knights.

“Lord Melchior,” one began. “Might we see the flaming bird?”

“I can summon it for a little bit but it requires too much mana to be practical. We think that having perpetually moving parts is like flying near top speed all the time,” Melchior explained and he conjured the image of a phoenix and had it leap from his hand.

This was both a novel way of summoning a highbeast and the most impressive one anyone had ever seen. They oohed and ahhed and touched the flames which weren't capable of burning anyone. Someone added a bit of mana causing the phoenix to snap its sharp beak at them. The clamor went silent immediately. All eyes flew to Melchior who was having a casual conversation with Gerianne about the feasibility of creating a curtain of frost around a highbeast.

“My lord,” Dedryck said softly.

“Yes Dedryck?”

“Are you paying attention to your highbeast?” he asked.

Melchior looked at it strutting with annoyance. “Oh no, I’m sorry. Did they do something?” He called it over and stroked its ruffled feathers.

“Are you saying you did not snap at Yarchteck for trying to power your highbeast?” Dedryck pressed.

Melchior looked shocked. “I wouldn't do that. I apologize, Sir Yarchteck. Were you injured?” The phoenix jumped back into his hand while he walked over.

“I’m perfect all right, Lord Melchior. How do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“You seem to imply that your highbeast doesn't just move without you touching it but moves according to its own will, that you have imbued it with life,” Yarchteck elaborated.

Melchior blushed and looked down. “I have to imagine it has emotions for it to move at all,” he mumbled.

Those too far to hear wonder what could be so shameful for an Archduke Candidate to break poise. Was it all an elaborate act? Had he just been found out? Those who were close enough were stunned. It was a sentence that made no sense whatsoever spoken like it was merely embarrassing. “You imagine…” Yarchteck’s question was interrupted by the arrival of Wilfried.

The hall full of excited children and lounging adults immediately quieted as everyone paused to kneel or bow. “Greetings, brother. You have come too late to take the class,” Melchior said. He took the opportunity to hurry out of the circle of older students.

Wilfried looked around. “This doesn't look much like a class of any kind,” he replied.

“We are mostly finished,” Melchior said.

“I see, so the next group may enter and begin?” Wilfried asked.

Melchior realized that he'd forgotten the time. “Oh yes. My apologies, dear brother. We will surrender the hall,” he promised and stepped away to call things to a close. Everyone looked sad to leave. New friendships were forming between tutors and their students and between people who just learned they used the same obscure animal for their mount. “Thank you all, once again, for coming to our class. We shall reconvene next week at the same time and place to continue the lesson. It is dangerous to manipulate mana so do not attempt to practice without direct supervision from an adult,” he announced.

Everyone gathered their highbeast faestones and began to file out. A few people were also a part of the next group, so they remained to begin setting up.

“We shall be more cognizant of the time next week,” Melchior promised. His knights began to assemble around him while the scholars packed the materials away.

“Since you're here,” Wilfried began. Brunschwarts stepped out of the group of people following him. “You said that Brunschwarts could join you.”

“I did. And this is an advantageous time. Now you can speak with our other instructor,” Melchior said. He said goodbye to a dumbstruck Wilfried and led Brunschwart over to meet Streita. She was busy reminiscing with an older woman and accepting farewells.

“Sister Streita, this is Sir Brunschwart the new instructor who taught our class,” Melchior said while making every effort not to grimace. He watched Brunschwarts take in Streita's graying hair and blue robes but was unable to discern his opinions on the matter. After a moment she knelt and offered first time greetings.

“You may… I believe you are teaching the first forms incorrectly. I had to retrain both Gerianne and Lord Melchior,” he began.

“They are not incorrect, only different. The style I teach allows for greater delivery of force. A boon to women who are generally at a disadvantage in that area,” she replied.

“Why teach such a thing to Lord Melchior who is very likely to grow as large as the Knight Commander and will have the use of enhancement magic?”

“It will be some time before he is so strong. There may be battles in that time where a child's frame puts him at a disadvantage,” Steita returned. They continued to devolve into greater and greater minutia while being shuffled out of the training room. Not once did Streita not have an answer for Brunschwart’s questions. The high level conversation drew Dedryck into their circle so the novices were forced to begin practicing on their own.

“I think he likes her,” Gerianne whispered.

Melchior nodded. In spite of his gruff expression and incessant questioning, Brunschwarts was pink with delight and spoke with animation. The older apprentices were also drawn to the conversation by an unseen force so Melchior had to lead the conditioning himself.

It felt strange to run in armor. He had to slightly change his posture and felt like he couldn't breath as easily. Thankfully he could alter it a little to alleviate his problems. He couldn't make it any lighter though. The metal infused tunic was just heavy enough to slow him down and make it hard to hold a conversation while running. Felicitus was more than happy to fill the silence with musings on what would be the best faebeast and what he would do now that he could transport himself. Melchior suggested the library, making a point to advertise the math section and hinting about possible expansions to the collections.

The conversation had not ended by the time they finished exercising and doing a dodging circle so they dragged Dedryck away to teach them.