Dungeons and Dalliances

Days ticked by, and the daily routine of Tenet, while packed, became comfortable and nearly repetitive. Not that repetitive was bad. Repetitive was how practice became instinct, and well-honed instincts kept delvers alive.

Natalie, Sofia, and Jordan delved after class each day. None were as interesting as the first. They’d lucked into an amazing set-up with Ana and Liz. The other mages and healers they found to trial were, while competent, as all Tenet students, not remotely as skilled or as good of a fit as the first team.

The delves were less interesting in other ways, too. Namely, the stickier sort of encounter Natalie had gotten into near the end. Though that had been … fun … she was glad it wouldn’t be an every-day thing. She was starting to accept—even enjoy—the stranger parts of her class, but that didn’t mean she wanted every delve to end with a body-shaking orgasm, writhing in the grip of dozens of powerful vines. Or whatever else the dungeon could cook up.

Especially because it would get rather hard to explain, rather fast. Not just disappearing via trap—or worse, it happening in the open—but the rewards she would have to sneak out. At least, until she brought her team into the loop.

Both Ana and Liz had no shortage of teams to trial for, though Liz much more so than Ana. Healers were valuable, doubly so competent ones, and triply so ones with the surname Beaumon. Though circumstances of birth didn’t matter as much at Tenet as the greater world, they still mattered, with connections opening and closing doors someone like Natalie could never manage on her own.

Not to mention, Tenet was only a four year institution. When they graduated, having made allies in the form of the royal family would be, to say the least, a valuable asset.

So, almost every open team wanted Liz. She might not be joining them. Natalie hoped she did, but she had to admit it was unlikely. Then again, maybe? Natalie planned on asking Liz about it, today. Since it was the second last day before the weekend, she only had one more trial, and had delved with two other teams. Whether she wanted to join Natalie’s group should be mostly solidified.

Spars were as interesting as always, being Natalie’s favorite part of the day, barring the obvious: after-class delves. And, uh, the other practical experience-earning encounters her class demanded of her, with Jordan and Sammy. But favorite academic part.

Unfortunately, there was a downside to sparring class. Or not exactly a downside. Just something Natalie hadn’t a clue how to deal with.

“Think it’s a coincidence?” Camille asked. “How our class has most of the better students, and so does theirs?”

Camille had ‘made friends’ with Natalie. Being the woman Natalie was almost certain had caught her in the restroom, using an illusion of Tess to put on a show, Camille’s presence was, to say the least, awkward. Even a week later, the knowing smirks she sent Natalie’s way made her face heat up. Natalie didn’t know if she should confront her or just ignore the teasing. The latter was easier in the short-term, and with how much she had on her plate, it had been what she’d chosen.

Though she didn’t need to tolerate Camille herself, just the awkward circumstances of what she knew, and how she apparently liked tormenting her. Barring that, the dark-haired woman was a competent mage, had interesting insight, was one of the few low-borns like Natalie herself,. Moreover, she was gorgeous and fun to talk with—when the topic didn’t turn to how ‘interesting’ Natalie’s illusions were, and whether she’d ever ‘gotten creative’ with them.

Natalie had even offered for Camille to trial with them, but she already had a team. Apparently, she was strictly aligned under House Gylver, and her patroness had organized a team in her stead with little choice on her part. So, lowborn, but not connectionless. Natalie, Sofia, and Jordan were likely close to unique in that regard. Like Camille, they’d qualified by raw talent alone, no extraneous factors, but unlike Camille, and most other lowborns at Tenet, they’d done so without being noticed. From the far south of Valhaur, no-where land to put it generously, they’d snuck past any major house’s attention. Or even minor house.

“Coincidence?” Natalie echoed. “Probably not. I get the feeling Tenet picked classes carefully. How else would me, Jordan, and Sofia be together?”

“Bigger picture than that, even,” Camille said. “Not just putting people who know each other together, but it seems like the good classes have all the talent, and the bad classes … well. Don’t. Remember yesterday?”

Natalie wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like laying down a blanket statement like ‘everyone from yesterday was terrible’, but it was true.

For the past week, Instructor Robin had had them sparring against students from other classes. Internal fights only did so much, since it didn’t take long to learn each other’s abilities. The primary benefit from fighting other students was the variance in skillsets, the same as found down in the dungeon, and thus a growing capability to adapt to an unknown opponent.

“They weren’t the best,” Natalie agreed.

“But today.” Camille whistled. “Class twelve.”

Today’s opponents were a different matter. For maybe the first time, they were, as a whole, losing. Not that these fights were really about winning or losing, but Natalie suspected everyone kept track. She wouldn’t say she had enormous class pride, but she’d been noting each of her classmate’s performances, and the class as a whole, and had been satisfied after spars each day, seeing them come out as an overall victor.

“They’re the ones to watch for, if I had to guess,” Natalie said.

“To put it lightly. Bet the top list is gonna be half full of them. Guess it makes sense, too. They have Elida and Johanna.”

“Elida and Johanna?”

Camille gave her an odd look.

It gave her a flashback to Sammy—when Natalie had demonstrated her cluelessness to the ‘political situation’ at Tenet.

“They’re important, I’m taking it,” Natalie said dryly.

“Maybe you should spend less time practicing with your illusions,” Camille said, “and more on learning who the best students of the year are.”

Natalie’s cheeks colored. Like usual, Camille made it obvious she knew what had happened in the restroom, but never pointed it out directly. Always layered in innuendo. But to her actual point—“I’m more focused on my own business.”

She realized her mistake a second too late. A grin split Camille’s face.

“Yes,” Camille leered. “You’re very occupied with yourself. I’m well aware.”

“Shut up.” By instinct, she went on the offensive. “And for someone talking about this so much, I’m starting to think you’re just as creative with your spells.”

Camille blinked at her. “With my spells? How?”

Bizarrely, the confusion seemed genuine. Natalie flushed even deeper. “Your vines and stuff. Please.” She was a plant-based mage, and Natalie had learned first-hand how that could be … employed in certain ways.

“My vines?”

“You’re fooling no one.”

Slowly, Camille pieced it together. Her mouth fell open. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

Mortifyingly, Natalie was pretty sure Camille really hadn’t ever considered it. To be fair, Natalie’s mind had only gone there because of the encounter down in the dungeon.

Face crimson, Natalie turned away and crossed her arms.

“You really have an imagination,” Camille said, shaking her head. “I aspire to it. Maybe I will aim for some creativity.”

“Elida,” Natalie said, trying not to let that image linger. “Who is she?”

“Don’t try to change the topic. Any specific suggestions?”

“Elida,” Natalie repeated firmly.

“Maybe you want to come help? Teach me? A lesson from mage to mage?”

Natalie froze.

Camille laughed, and before Natalie could respond, she’d moved on. Maybe too quickly, and with her own pink tint to her cheeks, as if the last sentence had gone too far, slipped out by accident.

“Elida Parda-Halt,” Camille said. “Third daughter to Ardell Parda-Halt. You seriously don’t know her?”