2. Some Lessons Belong in the Classroom

Dueling Gym
Kiraen stars to work on the dummy, by the time she have gone through every karta twice she has two conclusions.
One, this is bloody difficult stopping just cutting skin.
Two, the hairband is a lot of extra weight on the blade, and it is in tatters now and it has been a constant distraction.

By the time she leaves for a shower, she has a new idea. She going to get herself some lipstick. A ring of lipstick around the blade would not weigh as much, and would have the same effect. And it would look badass placing the tip of the blade inside her mouth to apply the ring of lipstick before her training.

Bow’s End Tavern
Greta’s brow knits together as Zix speaks. She listens — or tries to — but when Zix finishes, Greta’s response comes without hesitation, her voice firm, but not angry.

"Nah, see, that’s where you’re wrong. They are the same." She leans forward, elbows braced on the table, her bright blue eyes locked on Zix’s. "You flash a smile, you bat your lashes, you tilt your head just so — it’s all angles and leverage, same as squaring your shoulders and showin’ off the muscle. Either way, you’re pushin’ someone to do somethin’ they wouldn’t maybe do on their own. The only difference is one’s soft and sweet, and the other’s loud and obvious. But they both work ‘cause they poke at somethin’ inside the other person — fear, attraction, respect, whatever."

But before anyone can answer, Greta’s already shifting gears, her expression brightening slightly — not in dismissal, but in that unmistakable way Greta tackles uncomfortable topics: by plowing through them into bigger ones.

"But y’know what’s really wild? Magic." She spreads her arms wide like she’s trying to encompass the whole damn University in the gesture. "Forget smiles and fists and coin. Magic’s somethin’ else entirely. If you’re clever enough, trained enough — you’re playin’ a whole other game."

She starts counting off on her fingers. "With Amplifico you can change your own senses, charisma and pheromones to a level so high people feel somethin’ they can’t even explain. With Dominatio you can swipe a memory right outta their head, like takin’ a coin off a table. With Perceptio you can peek ahead. Do this for just a few minutes, an hour maybe — just enough to know exactly what to say or where to stand so things break your way. All those choices we were talkin’ about? Magic can snip and twist ‘em without the poor sod even knowin’ it’s happenin’."

Her grin is crooked now, somewhere between admiration and unease. "That’s the real power gap — not muscle versus charm, not rich versus poor. It’s the folks who understand magic, who can bend it to their will, and the ones who never stood a chance against it."

She leans back, folding her arms across her broad chest again. "That’s why I don’t lose sleep over flexin’ at a greedy merchant. ‘Cause somewhere out there is someone who can make that same merchant think his whole family’s already dead, just to make him willingly sign a paper."

There’s no bravado in her voice now — just blunt certainty. "Compared to that? My fists are downright polite."

She grabs one of the enchanted pastries, biting into it with a crunch, her gaze flicking back to the group.

Greta gives Zix a look — she knows they could argue all night and still be spinning their wheels in the same mud pit come morning. She shrugs one broad shoulder, her iron-ringed braids clinking softly.

"Eh. No point goin’ in circles, Zix. You’ve got your stance, I’ve got mine — and neither of us is changin’ it tonight." She grabs her glowing drink, swirling it lazily. "Let’s call it a draw and save our breath for the next class debate, yeah?"

She downs a hefty gulp, wincing slightly as the magical fizz sparks against her tongue, then turns her attention to Marlena. The change in topic earns a grateful grin, though it fades a bit at the question itself.

"Power’s part of it, sure," she says, voice quieter than usual, though still firm. "But it’s not just about wantin’ power for power’s sake." She drums her fingers against the table. "My dad’s a professor here. Been one longer than I’ve been alive. I grew up hearin’ about magic, breathin’ it in..."

She pauses, jaw working for a moment before she adds, "Where we are from, a strong back and a quick fist’ll get you respect in the village square — but in a place like this?" Her hand sweeps out, indicating the whole of Misthaven. "If you can’t sling spells, if you can’t shape magic like breathin’ air, you’re just... there. Standin’ in the corner while the real players talk."

She huffs, shaking her head. "I’m gonna learn this stuff — the real stuff — not just for some shiny degree, but so when I walk into a room, people know I belong there."

She grins again, but it’s smaller now, a little more honest. "Magic is a tool, yeah. But it’s also a key. And I’m not about to spend my life stuck on the wrong side of a locked door."

Dueling Gym
As Kiraen wiped the sweat from her brow, her mind still spinning with the lipstick idea, the sound of measured footsteps caught her attention. The faint clink of armor accompanied them, and when Kiraen glanced over her shoulder, she saw her — Lieutenant Veyna Kallisar, second-in-command of the Eastern Dragon Guard.

Kiraen had seen her before, both in passing and during her initial tour of the campus. Veyna cut an imposing figure — not in size, but in presence. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight braid, her scaled armor polished to a muted sheen, and the long scar carving down her left cheek spoke to experience earned the hard way. Her posture was as precise as her sword strikes were rumored to be — confident, yet never arrogant.

The lieutenant offered a brief smile, though it barely softened the sharpness of her gaze. "You're practicing well for an Assistant Librarian, Miss Nyrazzrin."

Kiraen tensed slightly, caught off guard. "I—"

But Veyna raised a hand, cutting off any need for excuses. "I mean that as a compliment. Precision like that doesn’t come easy, especially when you're learning to hold back." She took a step closer, her sword hanging at her hip, the weight of it seemingly effortless against her side.

"The Guard keeps an eye on promising students — and you? You caught my attention before." She tapped a finger against the scar on her cheek. "We recognize the ones who’ve trained not just for sport, but for survival."

Kiraen felt her jaw tighten, unsure whether to take the words as praise or suspicion.

"So," Veyna continued, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, "why didn’t you apply to the Dragon Guard? With those reflexes and that focus, you could have walked into officer training."

Kiraen shifted her weight slightly, trying to read the intent behind the question. It wasn't a direct challenge — more curiosity, maybe even a touch of disappointment.

Dueling Gym
Thank you - I will give it some thought
Something about the Lieutenant just doesn't sit right with Kiraen, but she has learned enough about court intrigue to be polite and non-comical. To Kiraen Lieutenant feels like a hound who have spotted its pray - and Kiraen is no-ones pray!
I'm over analyzing, she is just a greedy human who wants to command me.

Dueling Gym
"Okay, assistant librarian. Just make sure you know which fights you’re willing to walk away from — and which ones will follow you no matter where you go."

She turned, her footsteps echoing as she strode toward the door. "See you around, Nyrazzrin."

Kiraen stood there a moment longer, her hand tightening on her stiletto before she slowly let out a breath. The gym was about to close.

Tavern
The waitress gives Marlena a wink and sashays off toward the bar, leaving she wondering whether she’s blushing from the drink… or something else."My dad? Professor Harnock Ironhart — teaches Telekinetic Archaeology." Greta drums her fingers on the table absentmindedly. "He’s all about digging up ancient ruins without so much as liftin’ a shovel. Says it’s all about precision, finesse — movin’ a single grain of sand if you need to."

She snorts, shaking her head. "Not exactly my style, but... can’t argue he’s good at it."

At Dorian’s question, her brow creases deeper, confusion plain on her face.

"The Hollow Quill what-now?" Greta’s eyes narrow slightly as she looks at Dorian. "Rewriting memories? Never heard of it."

Her gaze flickers between him and Zix, suspicion starting to creep into her expression. "What are you on about? Is this some upperclassman prank, or are you just tryin’ to mess with me?"

She leans forward, elbows on the table, all traces of playfulness gone from her voice. "If you’ve got somethin’ to say about my dad, spit it out."