“…Rifts have a variable degree of stability. Of the three discussed in this study, one remained in a permanent state of activity, while the other two fluctuated between unstable and stable states in a seemingly random pattern. At first glance, this seeming state of randomness could be a result of the nature of the Rifts themselves. However, thanks to Knight Protector Exercitus and their courageous preliminary scouting of the other side of the inordinately stable Rift, we may note that Dame Exercitus observed several key similarities to the environment in which the Rift was discovered….”
- Julia Imaginosus, On The Nature Of Rifts (238, 3rd Era)
Noble houses all drank from the same cup of poison, known collectively as pride. It led to a belief in superiority and obsession with status. In the best, it led to making choices based on their names and titles. The weight of this ego weighed on those below, even if they had benevolent intentions.
We’re here to make them look good. It made sense. Stick two highly trained and privileged high nobility into a group with an average initiate and two using loaner Armors?
It provided enough of a variance to make it seem plausibility random, yet with the space for the two wearing cutting-edge Armors. No doubt, they also had countless hours of high-quality training to shine brighter.
It might’ve made sense to add a third sub-par Armor user to the group instead of Garin if it was only the judges their houses cared about. But they weren’t attempting just to impress the Academy. No, to ensure their house properly displayed overwhelming power, they needed someone like Garin to represent a typical noble house. A person to set a baseline and add a little bit of deniability for rigging a trial.
How disappointing. Erec clenched his hand.
He’d have to try to fix that in the field, twice on the same day the warning had appeared. If he got in a fight and the servos gave out, that might spell real trouble.
He let it go and sighed. This is fine, it’s fine. Don’t let it get in your head. Erec didn’t need to impress the higher nobility; he didn’t care what they thought. The only thing that mattered by the end of this trial was what their examiner thought. And by proxy, what the Orders thought of his potential.
The political games were unimportant. Garin twisted to look at Erec, disengaging his helmet to show a big smile on his face. “Holy shit, we’re in the same group as a future Duke and Duchess! Do you know how insane that is?”
“Why are you getting so worked up?” Erec snapped.
“W-what do you mean? This is a great chance to make some good connections. Besides, everyone’s going to be looking in our direction—way more than the other groups. I bet a lot of the Orders are very interested in—“
“Garin, they won’t be looking at us; they’ll be looking at them.” Erec jerked a finger towards the two stars of the event. The grin slipped a bit on his friend’s face.
“Well, yeah, but I mean, we’ll still be on screen. If we do something, we’re bound to have a bigger shot of impressing someone. And making a good connection with high nobility opens a lot of doors.”
“They’re going to compare us directly to those two. We’re here so they look good. And do you want to be friends with Colin? I’ve already seen enough of the guy for a lifetime.” Garin went silent and placed his helmet back on his head to block his face. His friend turned away. I hate doing that to him. But sometimes Garin needed a reality check; this entire trial was a competition. How you did mattered when compared to others. The only catch was that you couldn’t get too hung up on it and hesitate since that’d end with failure.
His mother had often told him about self-fulfilling prophecy. You had to believe that you would succeed, but it was a double-edged sword; your mind could sabotage you and cause a cascade effect of failure.
"But we'll show them that they're wrong," Erec vowed to Garin, giving a quick shake on his friend's shoulder, which was hard to do with him in that sturdy set of Armor. Garin didn't respond, but his posture changed, sinking into an eased position.
For a long moment, they stood quiet as a group. Lyotte refused to meet Colin's vain attempts to engage her in a conversation further, and the newest member of their five was content to keep quiet. No doubt, the anticipation and awkward rank differentials present in the group got everyone's nerves frayed.
The boy in the worst Armor was too busy trying to tweak his Armor. Which seemed like a good plan in theory, but Erec didn't want to risk setting off some malfunction in his before they got to move, especially with finger servos acting up.
After the rest of the groups were paired together, a solitary Knight made his way toward Erec’s group. His rank was above what the announcer declared for their examiners. Erec’s jaw dropped as he took in the solitary tree crest of the Verdant Oak, along with the symbol below for a Master Knight. The customized Armor had a series of exhaust pipes sticking out of deep green pauldrons. The helmet was gone, exposing the bearded and wild thick-hair man beneath. He looked less like a noble Knight and more like a homeless man who’d stolen a suit of pristine Armor.
“Attention.” His voice carried softly through the air, but nobody in the group missed the command. This time, knowing what to do, Erec scampered into their makeshift line.
Once they faced their test administrator, the Knight cleared his throat.
“Alright, alright. This is fine enough. I’m not one to repeat myself, so listen closely. I’m Sir Boldwick. I’ve been a part of this order for nigh on fifteen years, and I’ve lost a lot of friends outside these walls. Frankly, I find this test a gross disrespect to their memory, but it is what it is. As such, I’m setting some ground rules. One. If I give you an order, you cease what you’re doing and follow that order. Two. You keep your damn ears trained on me at all times. Three. There’s no such thing as a hero, only corpses and survivors; best you don’t forget that.” Despite that grim statement, Boldwick concluded his speech with a smile.
“Uh, sir. There are heroes.” Colin spoke up and puffed up his chest. “Dame Suzeth, who dived into the Render Rift to buy the priests time—“
“Corpse,” Boldwick replied with a sigh. “She never came out. No way she survived in whatever world those beasts came from.”
“What about Sir Gallen? He went out and rescued those kids that slipped the gate and then fended off a cyclops on his own to protect them,” Lyotte said.
“Ah yes, Sir Gallen. He went on to extort the merchant families of those children for his ‘heroics’ and led to them having to sell their assets. A month later, they returned to living underground as paupers. Yeah. He’s a real hero.” Boldwick snorted.
“I see nothing wrong with him demanding fair compensation for services rendered,” Colin said, this time stomping a foot at their instructor’s blasé attitude.
“A hero is someone who acts off altruism. Supposedly. Naturally, such a thing doesn’t exist very long, kids. So quit putting people on pedestals when they don’t deserve it. It doesn’t do you any good and doesn’t do them good either. Besides, that silly idea is deadly, seen enough naive initiates get that romantic thought in their head and end up as another corpse. Your potential and your family don’t matter when your heart stops beating.”
At that, finally, Colin had no reply. The duke’s son shut up and stood with a too-straight back and stared straight ahead towards the distance. Sir Boldwick rubbed the back of his head and sighed.
“Now, where was I? Ah, yeah, we’ll be heading out. You’ll have to forage for supplies. We won’t be heading out more than twenty miles from the walls. There’ll be plenty of places to scavenge and some small fry to take on, probably.” He looked between them all. “Any questions?”
Erec slowly raised his hand. Despite the distraction of the two spoiled nobles, he couldn’t help but take in the constant fidgeting of the boy in the barely-functioning armor.
Boldwick tilted his head and gave a slight smirk. “Oh, you raised your hand. Fair enough, go ahead and ask. For the reference, though—I don’t care about that sorta thing; you got a question, ask.”
“Er—right, uh, are we going to be given any provisions before we head out of the gate? Like camping supplies, rations, or repair kits…”
Sir Boldwick laughed and shook his head, a tear coming to the corner of his eye. “Oh, by the Goddess, no. Even though it’d make perfect sense for a team of Knights to leave the walls supplied to the teeth, the administrators, in their infinite wisdom, thought it wouldn’t be enough of a challenge. You’ll get a water flask, anything you have on you, and that’s about it.”
Grand. Erec had a horrible premonition that his Armor would break down, but would it happen before the other guy’s did? He watched the guy’s head sink as they stared at the dirt. He realizes it too. Perhaps the administrators counted on it; this whole thing was designed to be unfair. But Erec had a trick up his sleeve, and it might just be the thing that let him stand out enough in this group to net him an Order.
“Well, if that’s all the questions, what do you all say to getting this trainwreck going? Some of the other groups are starting out—it’s going to be a long walk, even with Armor. Sun’s high in the sky, and there’s no time like the present.”
“Yes, Sir.” They all responded in near unison.