Day3: Youth + “You did this?”
Day 3 of @oc-growth-and-development’s OC-tober challenge and the @fictober-event!
Series: Stonebreaker (Original Fiction) Characters: Tellene & Re’an
If the knock at her door had been any more timid, Tellene might have mistaken it for a trick of the wind. Well, it’s about time. Huffing, she reached down, sliding the key around her wrist into a small hole in her desk. With a twist, the door at the far side of the room clicked open. “Come in,” she said, taking a brief moment to check the state of her robes, making sure the red lapel lay flat and creaseless. Appearances were important business in Tel Shival. Almost as important as one’s skill, although the two seemed closer in competition now than they used to be. It was difficult to stand out in a place so overflowing with talent. Both the Allied Kingdoms and Khathi Empire only ever sent their best, and even then, most were turned away.
Luckily, Tellene, First of the Weavers, never had a problem making a name for herself.
It had been quite some time since she last dealt with an accolt. Being the youngest and least capable among their ranks, Tellene never had the patience to hold their hands as they trembled their way through basic glyphstrings. In fact, it was a testament to her dislike of instructing that she only spent a year as a Leirah before seeking - and gaining - a place among the Maesars. Now, Tellene folded her hands in front of her and fixed her narrowed gaze on the door as it tentatively inched open.
Oh Divider’s Own...
“Quickly, accolt. My time is precious. I will not have it wasted.”
That seemed to do the trick. By the drawing of her next breath, a nervous youth stood in her study, the door swinging shut behind him, his hands worrying the white sash around his waist. Like many from the western-most regions of the Empire, Re’an was slight in stature, his grey-brown skin reminding Tellene of the ashewoods that bordered her childhood home. While his entry record placed him at nineteen, he looked at least three years younger, with wide brown eyes and an almost frenetic disposition. Although, she conceded that could be circumstantial, given her reputation. Not to worry. The rigours of study and the intellectual warren of academia would age him soon enough.
However, and most interestingly, this young man had already found a way to stand out from the herd.
“M-Maeser Tellene,” Re’an stammered. Then, like a panicked afterthought, he raised two fingers to his throat and bowed his head reverently. Or it would have been reverent, if he didn’t appear moments away from fainting. “I, um… y-you sent for me?”
Tellene arched a brow. Rather than state the obvious, she simply cleared her throat and raised a small bundle of papers, bound together by a red string. Holding them aloft for Re’an to see, it was hard not to feel a little sympathy as the colour drained from his skin. “You did this?” she asked.
Funny, how simple questions rarely received simple answers.
“No,” he replied immediately, almost instinctively, then hesitated. “I mean, I-I’m not… I’m not sure if… I don’t---”
---“Let me make this easier,” Tellene interjected. She flipped the papers over and inspected the cover page. “Is your name Re’an?”
He cringed, but nodded, some of the nervous energy bleeding out as he resigned himself to his fate. “Yes, Maesar.”
“And you are a third year accolt?”
“Yes, Maesar.”
“And you recently sat an exam for Leirah Sonoval’s class on...” She glanced at the paper again, barely concealing a frown. “Thaumic Rhetoric: A History of Dissent?”
What in the Divider’s name were they teaching these days?
With her opinions carefully hidden behind painfully endured etiquette training, Tellene simply returned her attention to Re’an. Again, he nodded, apparently having lost the ability to use his voice. Sighing, Tellene was about to press on, but an errant thought stopped her in her tracks. This could be an interesting moment to gauge his mettle. In fact, with what she intended, she would be remiss not to seize such an organic opportunity.
“I imagine,” she continued slowly, setting the papers down and turning to the first page, “you have some theories as to why you are here?”
To her surprise, Re’an didn’t hesitate, equivocate, or attempt any other twist of rhetoric he had so clearly studied.
“I cheated.”
Good. So, he was reasonably honest, despite evidence to the contrary. That or he was clever enough to know that lying would serve him poorly. Either way, Tellene approved. If nothing else, it showed he could assess a situation quickly and with some accuracy, even while shaking hard enough she swore she could hear his bones clicking together.
Folding her hands on her desk, Tellene flicked her gaze to the wooden chair at the side of the room, nestled between stacks of books. Hesitantly, Re’an followed her silent instruction, picking it up and carrying it over. Once he set it down, he stood awkwardly by its side, unsure of how to proceed. I love that my reputation still precedes me, Tellene thought, before making an acquiescing motion.
“Sit, and tell me exactly how you cheated.”
Even though Re’an perched on its edge, chair seemed to swallow him, his arms drawn close, heel bouncing agitatedly against the carpeted floor. But then, much to her surprise, his brown eyes flicked up, meeting her gaze. Holding it.
Interesting.
“You don’t already know?”
A faint smile threatened the corner of Tellene’s lips. She fended it off. “It is clear to anyone with a set of eyes that you copied entire sentences - sometimes paragraphs - from a variety of seminal texts.” She leaned forward, chair creaking slightly beneath her. “I asked how you did it, in an exam hall, under the watchful eye of three supervising Leirah. And do not lie to me. This is important.”
Re’an shifted, wiping his palms on his robes. It was though his skin was too tight and he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. “I, ah…” The words stuck like glue to the back of his throat. “I... have a bane, Maesar.”
Tellene regarded him flatly. “A bane.” With a suffering sigh, she reached up, massaging her forehead with her fingertips. Unfortunately, it took time to overcome a youth spent surrounded by misinformed superstition; nonsense like banes and knacks and the old gods. It was yet another process she lacked patience for. “Oh, very well. What kind of bane, then?”
Clearly sensing her irritation - mostly because she never bothered to conceal it - Re’an refused to meet her gaze, chin down, fists pressed to the tops of his thighs. “I-I remember things well. Too well. Mostly things I read, like words, pictures, symbols...” He pulled in a breath, then mustered the courage to look up again. “Maeser Tellene, I read every text Leirah Sonoval set, then a few more outside the curriculum. The Maeser Librarian recommended some papers as well, and I read those too. Exams, they… they make me nervous. It gets hard to think, so I always over-prepare.”
“Many accolts feel the same way, and compensate similarly.” She tapped his paper with her nail, the sound sharp, ringing through the room. “That does not explain what you did here.”
Re’an hesitated. “I know what I need to say, most of the time. But when I start changing the words it just…” He wrinkled his nose, and Tellene saw an old frustration in the expression. This was not a recent struggle for him. “It just doesn’t sound right anymore. It’s like the way it was written the first time was how it was meant to go, and when I change it, something always gets lost. This time, when I saw the question, I panicked. So I just took the parts of what I read that seemed relevant and wrote them down. I didn’t even think about---”
Tellene held up a finger, silencing Re’an mid-sentence. “I did not ask for excuses. You are not here to beg forgiveness.”
The comment seemed to surprise him. “I’m not?” A genuine look of confusion swept across his face, followed closely by an even more surprising emotion. One that straightened his spine and brightened his eyes with something alarmingly familiar. “Then... why am I here?”
Curiosity.
Tellene leaned back in her chair, folding her hands over her stomach. “I have met many thaumists with incredible memories. In truth, as a Maesar Weaver, I consider myself among them. But even in the best of circumstances, none of us can transcribe entire passages of relevant information - from multiple resources - with perfect accuracy. Not the way you have. It is highly unusual.”
Some of the young man’s self-consciousness returned. “Yeah, I know.” He caught himself, stiffening. “Ah, I mean: yes, Maesar Tellene.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “How long have you been in Tel Shival, Re’an?”
“Three years.”
“Do you lack ambition?”
He blinked, startled. “No? Maesar, I---”
---“Then why have you hidden this skill for so long?”
Still rattled by her previous question, he answered this one with far less hesitation, hands shaking. “Because I didn’t want people treating me like I’m---”
Tellene raised her brows as Re’an bit off his sentence, his jaw physically clenching from the strain of it. “Like an anomaly?” she offered. Re’an huffed, a rueful smile tinging his lips that made him appear much closer to his age. Maybe even a little older.
“That is a... nicer way of putting it than I’m used to, Maesar.”
Ah. There it is. He had been hurt before. Treated like an oddity at best, an aberration at worst. She would have to tread more carefully than she thought. “Re’an,” she said, and her tone pulled him out of his mind and back into the room. “You are aware that what you are capable of is in no way a ‘bane’, are you not?”
“I…” He looked down. “Yes, Maesar.”
Not so honest, then.
As much as Tellene lacked patience for most accolts, this one tugged at her. It spurred something almost protective; an instinct she thought she had fed to the sharks years ago. Perhaps being faced by a unique mind, still young enough to doubt its own capacity, had struck a chord she thought severed. Or perhaps she had simply uncovered some long-buried empathy.
Either way, she had made her decision.
“Cheating on a final exam is grounds for severe censure, depending on the Leirah. You are aware of this?”
Re’an squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, Maesar.”
“And you are aware, being in your third year, that any censures on your record will severely jeopardise your opportunities when selecting a discipline?”
He sounded almost feverish. Defeated. “Yes, Maesar.” He swallowed tightly. “I… I want to apologise. I made a mistake. I will accept whatever punishment Leirah Sonoval sees fit.”
“Leirah Sonoval would have you expelled.”
Wide brown eyes fixed on her, horrified. ”He---what?” Re’an bolted to his feet, breaths coming in short bursts. It was as though he was unsure of whether to stay, run, or faint. “Maesar, please, I won’t do it again - I swear I won’t. It was one time - the only one in the three years I’ve been here. I can retake the exam, a harder one even, I don’t care. I’ll do anything, but please, please…”
Part of Tellene thought this moment would be somehow satisfying. It was an important moment - one she could not avoid if she was to make sure she got what she needed. But instead, as she watched Re’an blink back tears, frantic and terrified, all she felt was pity. Maybe even guilt.
Divider, what was happening to her lately? She was losing her touch. It was a good thing she rarely left her studies, or maintaining her reputation would be significantly more difficult.
“What discipline did you plan to join, Re’an?”
The change of subject - possibly even her change in tone - managed to shake him from his panic. Somewhat. “I… I couldn’t decide between the Augists and the Weavers.”
For the first time, Tellene allowed a smile to tinge her lips. “Well... perhaps I can help you reach a decision.”
This time, when he looked at her, there was no more fear. No more self-consciousness. No more dread. There was simply hope, pure and reckless.
“Y-You would let me join the Weavers?” Re’an swiped his eyes hurriedly with his sleeve, clearly embarrassed. “But Leirah Sonoval---”
---“Has no power over a Maesar’s charge.” She met his gaze. “I will allow him to assign you some texts on academic ethics to appease his wounded pride, but should you accept, that will be the end of the matter.” She paused, then added, “Provided you do not do it again.” Unless instructed.
She gave him a moment to let her offer sink in. It was an extremely rare thing for an accolt to be taken on as a charge, yet alone by a Maesar. In her twelve years as First of the Weavers, Tellene had never even considered taking a charge. Even from among the Leirah, who had petitioned her incessantly for a good ten of them. It was too much work for too little return. Too much like mentoring, which she had gone to great lengths to avoid.
Yet... here she was.
“You won’t regret this,” Re’an said suddenly, as though reading her mind. He seemed to have collected himself, and while he still trembled, there was something else about him now. Something charged and determined, if not to prove himself, then to prove others wrong. That was good - he would have to do a lot of that. No one takes kindly to someone pulling ahead of the pack. Divider, he reminded her of another man she knew. All he needed was red hair and about ten times the stubbornness. “Maesar Tellene,” Re’an continued, “I don’t know how to thank you.”
At that, Tellene snorted, arching a brow. “If you think you will be thanking me for this, you clearly have not been paying attention. I suspect your dormmates have already reallocated your bed and said their farewells to their fallen friend.” When Re’an actually smiled, Tellene struggled against the urge to immediately scare it away. No, that would not do - not if he was to be her charge for the foreseeable future. She could not bear timidity for any length of time. “You will meet me here every morning, directly after first meal. I am beginning your lessons in advanced glyphwork early.”
Re’an nodded frantically, swept along by the moment and all of its promise.
Then he stopped.
“Um... Maesar?”
“Yes?”
“I have Leirah Pelona’s class after first meal tomorrow.”
“I see.” Tellene leaned back, chair creaking beneath her weight. “Have you read the works of Djenovir?
“Yes, Maesar.”
“And you can recite them?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have already completed the class.” With that, she turned the key in her desk, and the door on the far side of the room clicked open. “Don’t be late.”