M.S. Davidson
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59. This Sounds Political
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 14:00:11 +0000 UTCDarla, it turned out, was a pig. And honestly, I wasn't sure what else I'd expected—it tracked perfectly with everything else about this place.
She was pink with delicate floral tattoos scattered across her skin, wearing a gold necklace adorned with matching flowers and an actual pair of glasses. She was massive—easily bigger than Red—and would've been a prize pig anywhere on Earth. When we entered Thea's chaotic laboratory, Darla had her front legs propped on a table, examining paperwork like an administrative assistant.
The lab itself was a beautiful disaster. Contraptions, half-finished devices, and chalkboards covered in equations that didn't even use recognizable numbers filled every available surface. Marco pointed toward the obvious culprit behind the explosion—a long steel pipe affixed to a tripod, its muzzle completely blown apart into twisted metal ribbons.
They'd set up a reinforced metal plate to catch whatever it fired, but a hole the size of a small person had been punched clean through it. The doorway sat directly behind the devastation like an unfortunate bystander.
"Thea, I believe you've been asked multiple times to take steps to prevent uncontrolled explosions on Academy grounds," Marco said with the patience of a saint.
"That was a controlled explosion, Marco. Trust me, if there's gonna be an uncontrolled explosion, the only steps I'm takin' are fuckin' big ones," Thea shot back without looking up from her work.
Darla let out something that sounded suspiciously like a snicker.
Marco sighed like a man who'd fought this battle before and lost. "You get to tell the Grand Mistress, then. Here are the measurements for your two participants. At least make sure they have a third before you ignore them completely."
He handed over a folded slip of paper, then twirled dramatically—as if flourishing a cape he wasn't even wearing—and promptly left.
Thea tossed the slip onto a towering stack of papers without reading it. "Find a place to sit your little asses for a minute. Darla and I gotta document this experiment. Don't fuckin' touch anything."
Cass and I exchanged another look. We perched on two high stools that felt more decorative than functional. Thea reminded me more of Doreen than Lana—I was starting to think all Vildar were just bat-shit crazy in their own unique ways.
Red settled beside us, tail wagging as his eyes locked onto Darla like she was the most fascinating thing in the universe. I could tell he wanted to rush over and inspect the pig up close, but was keeping himself in check.
A deep foghorn sound rumbled in the distance—the same one we'd heard on the boat.
"Must be more boats from La-Roc arriving," Cass mused. We'd passed several loading up when we left, but ours had departed first.
"You think Malcolm might be on one?" I asked.
Cass nodded. "We'll have to find him. Would've been easier if we'd stayed at the harbor."
Red suddenly sprang to his feet, bounding toward the door before turning back with that expectant look I was learning to recognize.
"You think you can find him?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
Red shot me a look that easily said, are you seriously asking me that? His tail wagged once, but his eyes held a focused intensity I was recognizing as pure determination.
"Fine, fine. If anyone gives you a hard time, you come right back, okay?"
"That mana beast... it is your familiar?" Darla's voice cut in, words slightly muddy like someone speaking through a plugged nose.
Even Red's eyes widened. Of course, the pig could talk.
"Uh... yeah?" I replied, still adjusting to the concept of having a conversation with a pig.
Darla trotted forward, a thin blue lanyard clutched in her mouth, dropping it at my feet. "There are several familiars at the Academy," she explained matter-of-factly. "If he wears this, no one will question him—as long as he keeps his nose clean. And doesn't relieve himself anywhere inappropriate. This is a respected institution."
Red's eyes twitched like he was barely restraining himself from launching at Darla to inspect her up close. I picked up the makeshift collar and approached him.
"You okay if I tie this loosely around your neck?" I asked, but Red was already leaning down like he'd done this a thousand times before.
I looped the lanyard around his neck, tying a double knot to keep it secure. Instinctively, I checked the fit with two fingers, making sure it wasn't too tight. Red stared at me with something that looked almost... happy.
The expression seemed to translate itself—he actually believed me when I talked about knowing other dogs.
I patted his flank reassuringly, and he licked my face before bounding off down the hallway like he had important business to attend to.
Darla cleared her throat with a sharp oink. "He is most intriguing. Clearly sharing relation to foxes and wolves, but distinct."
"He calls it a dog," Cass said, her expression unreadable but completely fascinated by Darla.
The pig snorted thoughtfully and made her way back to the table where Thea had settled in, flipping through scattered papers. Several minutes passed, and Cass's fascination gradually shifted to impatience. Thea and Darla muttered back and forth, the only acknowledgment of our presence being occasional glances from Thea—just to make sure we hadn't moved.
I stood up, circling the mangled metal pipe without touching it. Maybe half a meter long, its thicker base likely housed the payload, while the front half looked like something out of a cartoon explosion.
As I wandered, I started picking out familiar elements among the chaos. There was techno-magic everywhere—gadgets lined with wispy runes, tools that looked eerily similar to their Earth counterparts. A lathe sat near the far wall, mana coins scattered around it. Another bench held a metal box covered in wires with a circular glass disc embedded like a screen.
I'd never been great at science, but I knew an engineering lab when I saw one.
"Do you make techno-magic here?" I asked, pointing to the lathe. "Is that what you used to make that boom-stick thing?"
I thought of Danny, my little brother, the engineer. He would lose his mind if he knew I was standing in a magical laboratory.
Suddenly, Valor flared a warning—Thea was right next to me.
I jumped, turning to find her staring at me with narrowed eyes.
"I fuckin' love it!" she practically yelled. "Boom-stick? It just rolls off the tongue!" She squealed with delight. "Boom-stick! Boom-stick! Darla, get me my fuckin' boom-stick! Yes! It works—menacing but marketable. You're a gods-damned genius, Gaian boy."
Thea's gaze locked onto me like a predator who'd found the perfect prey. "What's your name? Do you have a major yet? What class are you from?"
If I'd had any doubt she was Lana's sister, it was completely gone now. The look in her eyes wasn't just familiar—it was somehow more intense than anything Lana had ever managed.
"Uh," I started, glancing at Cass, who looked one breath away from cracking up. "We're not students... we're here for the Grand Tournament that starts tomorrow? And... I'm not Gaian."
Thea's eye twitched. "Hey Darla, what'd that memo say the other day? The one about the tournament?"
Darla flipped through pages like she was speed-reading a report. "Grand Tournament to decide the fate of the Grand Mistress's direct Apprentice, whom Maris Valerian has challenged... privileged reasons..." She snorted a few more times before landing on what she was looking for. "Breaker Ben Crawford, sworn to the Monster Hunters through Acolyte... Terran."
Thea burst into laughter, cackling like a maniac. "Oh, this is too much! You're Lanavelle's pet project. No wonder she exploded when I swept you out from under her the other day. Shit-baskets, Darla, that means we actually gotta do this or we might get fired again... or worse, forced to fuckin' teach classes."
She stomped over to Cass, whose amusement had shifted to growing concern.
"Alright, so that's Ben Crawford—the entire reason this whole hootenanny is happening. Who are you?"
"Cassandra Winters?" Cass answered, sounding almost sheepish.
"Winters?" Thea's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You related to Astrid?"
"That's... my mom?"
Cass winced as Thea threw her arms up in exasperation.
"Fuck! The Grand Mistress's apprentice and the Winters heir to La-Roc." Thea turned to Darla. "This is soundin' awfully political—are we fucked? Who's your third?"
A throat cleared from the doorway.
Red trotted in first, tail wagging like he'd just accomplished something important. Malcolm followed right behind him.
"Uh, I think that might be me," Malcolm said hesitantly. "Malcolm... Valerian. You're Theadora Glass?"
Thea's face fell like a building collapsing in slow motion.
"Oh, fuck-sticks. You three are the whole gods-damned problem."
Darla squealed with laughter from the desk, practically wheezing. "I told you not to!" she managed between fits of oinks and giggles.
***
Thea sprawled across a desk, staring at the ceiling and groaning every few minutes while Darla handled the explanation. Twenty minutes in, we'd heard most of it—teams of three, several events leading into one-on-one duels depending on scores, specific prizes based on placement.
Nothing too surprising except for Malcolm’s registration sheet. Cass and I leaned in to see scores not only close to ours but also that he was noted as a Seeker. Made sense since he was hanging out with Malcolm all the time.
Something kept tugging at Valor's awareness, my focus drawn to different areas of the lab. It wasn't like anything I'd experienced before, and the more it happened, the more I wondered if something dangerous was lurking.
"If you're a Seeker, why not go to Sylvarus?" Cass asked, skepticism obvious.
"Because my mother will come here. She won't go to La-Roc… if she can help it," Malcolm explained. "Look, you know why I was originally on the island, right?"
Cass nodded, but I must have looked clueless because Malcolm sighed.
"If it's not obvious, I'm an Arcanist from a family that leads the Strikers. My mother refused to let me access anything unless I gave up my pursuit. So I left. Walked my own path."
He turned to Cass, exhaling sharply. "I'm sorry for the shitty things I've said. I know now that you were doing the same—finding your own path. Dorian lied about so much, and I'm the idiot who believed him. You and I have a lot in common."
Cass shrugged. "Gaia's tits, Malcolm, who cares? You're part of our team now, and we both have no idea what you can do. Last I heard, you were trying to crush things or something."
Malcolm balked. "I beg your pardon? My area of expertise is Condensation. My Seal is called Convergence. I condense energy and then collapse it with explosive force. Hard to measure with the tools on the island, or I think I would've scored higher in Power."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Thea suddenly perk up, sitting up from her desk like something had just gotten infinitely more interesting.
"Okay, wise guy," she said, pointing at the mangled tube. "Why did my fuckin' experiment explode?"
Malcolm laughed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Instructor. If I'd known this was your experiment, I would've spoken up sooner."
He glanced at the chalkboard, tapping three different spots. "Your calculations are solid, and your understanding of the runes is fundamentally correct. But that tube had nowhere to vent excess force near the point of exit. Too much strain on the one path the energy had to take."
He poked at the damaged pipe. "If you give up a small amount of explosive force and allow it to vent—maybe here and here—you'd likely be able to reuse it several times. I'd also replace the ignition rune with—"
"Oh, shit-baskets, it's so obvious!" Thea blurted, springing into action like she'd been electrocuted. She grabbed the mangled pipe and began tearing through the lab, scooping up random tools and materials like a woman possessed.
Darla let out an audible sigh. "I believe you've found yourself a class should you choose to attend the Academy, Seeker Malcolm."
That nagging sensation hit me again—stronger this time. It wasn't near Thea. It was coming from the other side of the lab, as if something had moved quickly away from Malcolm's demonstration.
"So what do we do next?" I asked, trying to distract myself.
"Now," Thea said, dumping mana coins onto her workbench, "now I get to work!"
Darla oinked in frustration. "We'll need to register your full team before tomorrow morning and head to the far side of the island for the arenas. This is something your damn liaison should handle!"
Thea pretended not to hear, firing up something that looked suspiciously like a welding torch. "Can't fuckin' hear ya, Darla. I'm wearin' goggles!"
"She'll be useless until she finishes," Darla muttered.
Cass stood up, stretching. "Well, I'm starving. Any chance we can get some food?"
I pulled a pastry from my soul-space. "Found this in my house in Mo-Lei. No idea what it is, but they're delicious."
Cass groaned, taking a bite. "I was trying to find an excuse to leave and explore, Ben." She chewed once, then froze. "Oh, fuck me, these are good."
I passed another to Malcolm, Red, and Darla. We all ate quietly while Thea worked, the sound of her tinkering filling the comfortable silence.
"So you have a house down there now?" Malcolm asked.
"Apparently! Even got guest rooms if anyone wants to visit. Right near the city gate."
"Oh! Nana's place?" Cass perked up. "Yeah, I know it."
I nodded. "That's what Narrin said."
Cass laughed. "Oh, that guy. He's so weird. He insists on speaking Eloquentia even though he doesn't need to. Nana translates and says he calls himself stuff like 'this destitute and empty husk of a monk.'"
I let out a full-bellied laugh. "Yeah, that's him—taking the whole monk thing to ridiculous levels."
Malcolm grinned. "We used to have a Sentarian merchant who'd say things like 'this woefully unprofitable merchant whose only loyal customer is despair' while carting off wagons full of gold."
We laughed, and I glanced at Malcolm, noting how relaxed he seemed. The tension between him and Cass had completely evaporated.
Suddenly, Malcolm shot up from his chair. "Darla, do you have more of those plates? I'd like to demonstrate my Seal."
Darla nodded, leading him to a stack of test plates. Malcolm swapped one in, rolling his shoulders as he faced the target.
"I'm not exactly fast," he admitted. "But if we end up fighting something hardy, I'm positive I can help."
He held his hands in a circular mudra, and I noticed he wasn't wearing bracers like most Arcanists.
"Fire, when unconstrained, spreads wildly," he explained, focus narrowing. "But when compressed, it becomes something completely different. Unlike lightning or similar energy, with the right collapse of compression, you can use that new state to devastating effect."
I felt something forming in his hands—like Radiance but with more focus on heat. My knowledge of the Light rune told me Malcolm had just created fucking plasma—a literal mote of molten death suspended in his circular mudra.
He collapsed it into a streak of blazing light that tore through the plate and kept going, cutting straight through the entire enclosure. The structure fell apart in perfect bisected halves.
"Oh, fuck," he muttered.
Darla oinked happily. "Happens all the time, we'll just—"
A chunk of the doorframe, perfectly cut, crashed to the floor. A glowing orange line stretched along the hallway wall, the stone itself barely resisting the cut.
Malcolm winced. "I'm still sorting out the... calculations. Pretty slow still, but I can collapse the energy in different ways for other effects."
"That was... wow," I said, clapping him on the shoulder.
Cass's grin stretched from ear to ear. "We're gonna fucking win this."
Before I could respond, that nagging sensation tugged at Valor again—stronger this time. Red let out a loud cough, then smacked his lips in a way that triggered a recent memory.
I didn't hesitate. Picking up my stool, I burned mana and hurled it impossibly fast at the spot Valor had been warning me about.
A loud grunt rang out as the air twisted, revealing a familiar shape.
Henrik twirled through the air, knocked off his feet by the hit. He stumbled, tripped over something, and with a loud thud, smacked his head against a workbench—knocking himself completely unconscious.
"Henrik?!" Cass practically yelled, rushing over to her brother.
"Ah, shit, Cass—I threw that way too hard," I admitted.
She shot me a look that was almost proud.
"What? Your aim was too low. Gotta aim for the head—really make him regret sneaking around." She snorted as she heaved Henrik onto a table and patted his head gingerly.
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