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028 - Between a Rock and a Hard Place
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 17:14:21 +0000 UTCEthan frowned and couldn't help but sigh in his mind, knowing full well what was about to happen. Still, before either side could get a word out, his small guard stepped before him. Her sword was an inch out of her scabbard, and she had daggers in her eyes, prompting most of the new arrivals to recoil ever so slightly, giving the two groups some much-needed space.
Seemingly unperturbed, Nicholas Howe didn't even deign to give the woman a single glance. Instead, his gaze was fixed on Ethan as he stopped just a few steps away, within reach of her sword. Her expression grew slightly darker as her sword was released another inch.
Still, Nicholas didn't waver in the slightest. His eyes were calm and peaceful, prompting Ethan to grow increasingly concerned. His serenity felt eerie, considering the current situation. Even his entourage seemed unnerved. They were fidgeting, unsure of what to do as their leader remained silent, merely observing Ethan's response until one chose to step forward.
“You mutt! How dare you block Lord Howe’s path!” he barked, spit flying from his mouth, looking slightly smug.
However, the short lady's gaze didn't shift a millimetre, remaining on the one possessing the highest threat level. She had no proof as to the authenticity of this feeling, yet she trusted her instincts. She wasn’t some rookie who had never experienced bloodshed.
She was inducted into the Archon's Guards more than four years ago and has been under her master's tutelage ever since. Few could scarcely believe what she had experienced in those short years, much less the naive people before her.
And yet, this young man of barely twenty felt dangerous. Not as much as her master, but few within the Imperium could compare. Instead, the man felt like a hidden blade, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice. Whether or not it would be lethal against her was left to be decided.
She knew that if she were alone, this man would pose no threat, but now, a burden had been forced onto her by the one she respected most. She had no qualms wagering her body to not fail her expectations. As such, her hand was primed, ready to unleash her blade and separate the heads of fools who didn't know their places, no matter whose lineage they originated from.
Facing but the slight glimpse she offered, the man who spoke up couldn't help but take a single step back. Sweat began to pool on his forehead as he felt his body grow cold. Somehow, his neck began to ache, and he couldn't help but massage it slowly, unsure whether it was still attached.
This reaction drew interest from the crowd. Most merely looked on, awaiting a good show, while some of the more astute knew of the gravity of the situation and the overwhelming tension between the two groups. Many parted from the crowd and scattered, wishing nothing to do with it, while only a handful sought help from the faculty.
Meanwhile, Ethan was stuck behind the small woman with a wall of people at his back. Whether or not he wanted to flee, he now couldn't. This involved more than himself personally but also his family's prestige. He couldn't fail them, lest he be punished by his sister for it. She had never tolerated weakness.
However, just as he was about to speak, Ethan felt the crowd's atmosphere shift. Unlike when their common gazes were observing the whole situation, they were now fixed on the young man whose limbs were visibly shaking, and his eyes tried to avoid looking at the small woman.
This elicited giggles from the crowd, who openly mocked the young man. It became so overt that Ethan couldn't help but feel bad for him, who seemed visibly shaken from embarrassment. He even gazed at his Lord Howe with a pleading look, yet Nicholas didn't even deign to look back. He merely looked past the small woman and onto Ethan.
Just as he seemed about to crumble, the young man struck with one last bout of desperation. More than embarrassment or shame, his expression was now one of abject fear, almost as if the dread of being discarded had enveloped the whole of his being. He simply leapt into action without much thought behind it.
“Ethan Lancaster! Do you call yourself a man being protected by a woman? Lord Howe has graciously come to see you personally! Can’t you face him yourself without hiding behind another?” the man barked, but all could hear his voice was laced with desperation.
Maybe the man thought this would wound Ethan's manly pride, prompting him to step forward, yet he couldn't be more wrong. Ethan had long discarded such childish fantasy. Ethan would have been a fool to remain bound by such idiocrasies in a world where everyone was armed with powerful spirits.
“I’m good here, thanks,” Ethan said bluntly, prompting the crowd to erupt in laughter.
The man was stunned, mouth wide open, as he looked at Ethan as if he were a fool. Ethan could see him turn slightly red, not of embarrassment but of rage. He seemed to be on the verge of breaking and doing something that they both would regret—the man more than Ethan.
Still, what concerned Ethan more was Nicholas Howe's lack of reaction. Throughout the ordeal, he remained completely passive, never uttering a single word as if awaiting something. Then, a thought hit Ethan. Maybe he was waiting for an excuse—an excuse to enforce his will onto him, and that foolish man was the tool Howe would use to get to him.
While this was a cruel realization, Ethan wouldn't put it past him. Magisters didn't reach their positions by playing nice. Any method was fair game in these power struggles as long as it couldn't be linked back to him. Obviously, such individuals usually bore children of similar temperament. Ethan's only choice was to defuse the situation before it exploded.
“Can you blame me?” he said slightly nervously.
He put on a brave front yet made his voice tremble ever so slightly, just enough for the young man to pick up on it. Of course, the crowd also did, and their attitudes immediately shifted. They had sensed weakness and pounced straight onto it. Their laughter at the young man died substantially, replaced with slight sneers as they looked at Ethan. Still, within, Ethan was pissed that he was forced to go this route but showed none of it outwardly.
"You came here unannounced in a large group. And judging by her and the crowd’s reaction, you also openly brandished your spirits. How do you expect me to react?” Ethan added, this time with a convincing frown, almost as if he felt outrage at this provocation.
“And what about your guard?" the young man spat back, feeling renewed vigour. "Her hand has always been on her sword. Even now, she is ready to unleash it at the slightest provocation. We cannot afford to lower our vigilance with what happened recently to one of our own. If your guard chooses to let go of her sword, then we, too, will retract our spirits!”
The tension felt palpable, so much so that the crowd held their collective breath, their anticipation mounting. Even Ethan felt a headache coming on, wishing to leave as soon as possible. He simply wanted to research the new form of magic now open to him. Was that too much to ask? Between them all, only two remained calm and unconcerned.
The small woman filtered out their argument, focusing solely on Nicholas Howe while he looked at Ethan. His spirit had yet to emerge from the blazing red contract stone prominently displayed from his ear. On the other hand, the small woman's stone was nowhere to be seen, yet her spirit was shown at her side, legs slightly cocked, ready to pounce. From a glance, Ethan could see a vicious smile on the hound.
Yep... Ain’t no way I’m convincing them to let this go... I’d have better luck trying to teach a pig to fly.
“Sorry, but that’s not happening,” Ethan said with a shrug.
This prompted a loud gasp from the audience at the callousness of his tone. Their gazes went back and forth between him and the young man, only to see him grow slightly redder with rage.
"Don't get me wrong," Ethan added helplessly. "It's not that I don't want to, but that she just doesn't listen to me. She didn't even tell me her name. If you want something from her, you'll have to ask my sister for it."
Another loud gasp echoed from the crowd at Gloria's mention. While most had never interacted with her, Gloria was a student but two years prior. Many rumours about her and her personality still floated around among the most senior members of the student body—some which they'd rather forget. Even now, her presence hung over the Academy like indelible ink, never to be forgotten. Even the faculty dared not speak of her, especially since she had now returned with much more power than before.
The young man was tongue-tied, unable to utter a word more as he didn't have the guts to do so. Ever his master's family, the Howes, would instead steer clear of this vicious woman. Still, the young man couldn't let things end like this, if not for his sake, at least for his master's.
"Even if true, that doesn't give her the right to unleash a weapon within the Academy. The Academy has its rules, and she must abide by them!"
“First, you speak for Howe, and now for the Academy. Is there no one you do not speak for?” Ethan asked, looking straight at the young man, his gaze piercing. “Honestly, if it was me, I wouldn’t want anyone to put words into my mouth, especially when I can speak for myself. Don’t you think so as well?”
Ethan turned to face Nicholas Howe, yet he was unnerved to see that the man still showed no emotions on his face. This was a stark contrast to the last time he had seen him meeting with Beth while deep in the forest. Back then, he openly showed his frustrations, even attacking her. But now, he was much too composed, as if everything was inconsequential. Ethan couldn't get a read on him.
Just as the young man was about to protest, Nicholas raised his hand, shutting him up instantly, as well as the surrounding crowd. The hall grew so silent that one could hear a pin drop. The uninterested bystanders had also stopped walking away. Only the echoes of their steps resounded up to the high ceilings before slowly dissipating.
“I can indeed speak for myself,” Howe said, his voice calm and deep, each word expertly enunciated, yet he left the rest of his sentence unsaid.
His eyes were like a bottomless pit where one could lose himself, yet they seemed to be looking past Ethan as if he wasn't worthy to enter the man's gaze. Somehow, Ethan couldn't help but feel deeply insulted despite knowing the gulf of power between them.
They weren't dissimilar once. Each possessed the same status, able to rise to the peak of this structured society. Yet, one remained on the path laid before him, while the other one had fallen from grace. They were two sides of the same coin: similar but completely opposite.
“If the lady wishes not to lower her blade, then so be it,” Howe added, yet somehow, the crowd couldn’t help but be in awe of his magnanimity, which made Ethan helpless to repress his cringe.
He felt his expression twist, if ever so slightly, becoming distorted with something akin to jealousy, yet the mere thought of being envious of this man made him hate himself. This felt like acknowledging his inferiority, something he refused to do.
“How fortunate to be addressed by the famed Howe Family Heir; how can I possibly be of service?" Ethan said, yet he immediately regretted letting his emotions cut through his words.
He couldn’t help but lower his eyes as he felt the sudden change from the crowd. Gone was their lightheartedness, awaiting a good show. Now, they looked at him with accusatory gazes. But worse than that was Howe himself. His expression hadn’t changed in the slightest once again. He merely responded in a calm and even tone.
"Rumours have it that you were found within the surrounding forest at the same time as when my page went missing. You will tell me everything you know."
His words were more than a simple suggestion, almost an order, leaving Ethan with no escape route but to address the matter directly.
