You could hear the scrubbing brushes and running water from outside the alchemy lab. Abel was on his hands and knees trying his damned hardest to clean a burn mark off the tiled floor, something he’d done by accident trying to use his flames to melt a sticky goop off a faded measuring cup.
His counterpart was seated on a lab bench as far away from Mr. Fire-Hazard as possible with closed eyes and a breath of icy magic swirling before her, commanding different brooms and mops and cloths to move about and make every surface around her spotless.
Each afternoon was like this, even on days they didn’t use the lab, they had to come and clean after other classes who’d gotten lazy since the new cleaning crew--Abel and Angelique--had started working. In the two months they’d been cleaning together, their routine had remained stagnant: Angelique would always beat Abel to the lab, and would always finish first. And as they worked in silence, Abel would start a random conversation, only to quickly realize he was being ignored. Then Angelique would leave him to finish just as the sun dipped behind the horizon.
But on their sixth week cleaning, Angelique didn’t show up.
Far behind the main campus were miles and miles of barren plains and lush forests. On normal days, these could be used for sparring and mock battles; and for those whose main academic focus was the military, the fields could be used for practice drills. A group of men approached an auditorium, placing a magical barrier around it before stepping inside. Eight podiums had been erected at the front of rows and rows of deep black velvet seats. There was a man for each podium, and they all marched and stopped at them simultaneously.
“Anyone wanna bet on the body count this year?” A tall bearded man inquired, his bright yellow eyes glossing over the other men mischievously.
“That’s not funny, Rexx. These are people’s kids you’re betting on.” Another man said, his scarred black hands resting on his podium, slowly imbuing a magic circle on its wooden surface.
Rexx snorted, turning to his left. “Nadir?” He spoke to a man at the end of the line, a shorter gentleman whose brown face glowed above the light of his vibrant magic. His black hair had been slicked back, and his jaw clenched as he smiled slowly.
“I’m not sure. You know, with Andromeda finally adjusting to the school's mana, I doubt we’ll have too many casualties this year. But,” he paused, smiling to himself, “I’ll bet drinks for the next three months if we don’t lose at least ten kids this year.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” A man from the other end of the group called out angrily. “Rexx, shut your damn mouth and do your job so we can call it a day!”
A few of the others laughed, a sign of their agreement. They all worked on conjuring their magic circles in a brief moment of silence. The auditorium was pitch black under the setting sun, save for the light of the men’s magic flowing around their arms and hands like silky electric ribbons.
“How many kids do you think are cracking these babies?” Rexx asked, breaking the silence.
“They figure yours out every year.” Said the man who’d reprimanded him earlier, Zeidan Lovelace, throwing Rexx a sly grin. “I think you make yours easy on purpose.
Rexx scoffed, clearly offended. “Not at all! But why should we try to trip them up on the first trial? The other two trials pose way more risk than breaking magical circuits. I want them to feel like they actually achieved something before they get their asses kicked by each other in the last two trials.”
Zeidan frowned. He stared Rexx down through his small wire framed glasses, not losing focus on his magic circle as more symbols and glyphs took form around it. “This is a crucial part of becoming an excellent mage. Not being able to transcribe and break magical circuits and circles means that they won’t be able to get through wards, create their own spells, or comprehend possible danger. This is detrimental to their education, and if you don’t take this—”
“And done!” Rexx interrupted. He danced around the other podiums, admiring the beaming rainbows of the circles that his cohorts were creating. “Oh, so complex!” He jeered, walking up to Zeidan, dropping his jaw as his eyes glazed across the intricate magic circle.
“Problem?” Zeidan challenged, noting the look of awe in Rexx’s sun-filled eyes.
“No. This much is expected of Andromeda’s favorite lapdog.”
Zeidan’s magic halted, an infinitesimal pause, before continuing. Rexx sneered at the sudden energy shift in the room. The other men had gone completely silent, feigning their focus on their circles; but Rexx could feel all of their attention on him and Zeidan.
“So, what’s it like?” Rexx gibed.
“What’s what like?” Zeidan probed, a hint of distaste in his deep voice.
Rexx placed a friendly hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “What’s it like hearing her scream your name while you fuck her!” He hissed. Zeidan froze. “I mean, come on, whenever she isn’t in her office, we all know she’s with you.”
The silence in the room was thick, suffocating even, as Rexx’s words ricocheted like bullets off the limestone walls.
“I am her bodyguard,” Zeidan spat, trying his best to stifle his rising anger. His braided hair danced around his head as he shrugged Rexx’s hand away from his shoulder. “Where she goes, I go. Unless she wills it otherwise.”
A hearty laugh rose from deep in Rexx’s chest. “Right, right. And, I’m sure she wills you into her chambers every night? Or maybe, you will it?” Rexx took a cautious step away. “Or maybe, she makes you beg at her feet like the dog you are, only taking you into her sheets after you’ve lapped that tongue of yours over every inch of her voluptuous body.”
Zeidan finished his circle, but he didn’t dare move his hands from the podium. He gritted his teeth in seething anger, his expression hidden behind his neat braids.
“Hey, Rexx,” Nadir called. “That’s too far.”
Nadir flinched at the blast of invisible mana Rexx shot towards him, telling him to shut his mouth.
“But what I really want to know is, how is her arch, huh? Is it a deep, cat-like arch? Or is she a pillow princess, and you two only fuck in missio—”
Rexx choked violently, clawing at the powerful hand that had wrapped itself completely around his entire neck. Zeidan didn’t so much as look Rexx in the face as he tightened his grip. Not a single one of the men moved from their podiums, fearing that they would be caught in the ensuing wrath.
“Is-Is this how you choke her?” Rexx breathed, beginning to flex his own magical prowess. But even he knew he was no match for his battle-hardened counterpart. “This might be a little too hard!”
“If you and I weren’t teachers at this academy,” Zeidan said, his voice the embodiment of calm fury. “I would have you killed a hundred times over for your disrespect. I don’t care about your opinions of me, you can hate me for all I care. But you leave Morgenstern OUT of your twisted thoughts.” Zeidan released a sudden wave of holy energy, steering away the ensuing words of one of the others. “You have one strike left before you face divine persecution. I’m sure our coworkers would love to see that.” Zeidan released Rexx, his flaring blue eyes calming themselves. Rexx burst into a fit of coughing before storming from the auditorium, his teal robes trailing behind him as his magic slammed the door closed, shaking the entire room.
Sighs of relief filled the air as the other men finished their magical circles and hastily exited the room, avoiding eye contact with Zeidan, who’d seated himself on the front row next to the center aisle. His velvet cloak sat folded neatly next to him. “Bastard.” He mumbled, gazing up at the high windows that bordered the ceiling, soft moonlight pouring in, soothing his temper.
