Chapter 1
Debut
Sunlight scattered through the old shutters as dawn broke over Ancerbridge.
It lazily scattered around the living room of a messy apartment, painted a gold sheen over an old, red sofa with stuffing falling out in various places. A bandaged hand shoved an old tape into the bottom of a television, causing it to crackle to life. Nia Morotsov had seen this video hundreds of times, but today she needed it more than ever.
Sitting back on sofa, she absentmindedly dragged a comb through the thick, black hair that fell down her back, wincing every now and again as she hit a knot. Her attention was fixed firmly on the screen before her.
The video had been recorded on an oversaturated camera, which was pointed at the floor and a pair of dusty old shoes that seemed ill-fitted for the broken and dry ground beneath them. A small mutter emerged from behind the camera, until it whipped around to show an older man with long, silver hair and skin as cracked as the farmland around him.
“Look, I know everyone is pissed about what happened in Belmadear, but you have to see this.” He turned the camera around, holding it around his shoulders. Before him stretched a field of golden barley which blanketed the field around him, rising to a height around his hips. Ahead, an old and rotten barn stood tall above the field. Thick, black tarpaulin provided roughshod cover for the myriad holes in its roof.
“Nia! Where are you?” Raising his voice exposed his fraternity with tobacco. From somewhere in the golden field, a little girl was giggling. Barley strands parted and rustled as she ran. The barn door cracked open, then slid shut a few moments later. “There was that kid in Gedunda, developed a Resonance at what? Thirteen? Just watch.” There was an electric excitement in the man’s voice as he strode through the field. “In fact, show this to Ashara, tell him he’s wrong, he owes me an apology.”
Watching as the camera drifted closer to the barn, Nia capitalised on the lull in action to swing off the sofa. She strode over to a pot of coffee left on the side of the kitchenette, pouring some into a mug with poorly painted cats on its face. Carefully carrying it over to the coffee table, she breathed in the bitter aroma and relaxed back into the sofa, curling her feet up and leaning on its arm to continue watching the recording. “Oh Sil, you stupid man…”
The man was approaching the barn door. On his arrival, he twisted the handle and dragged it open. The barn consisted of two floors, On the ground floor, straw and tools lay discarded on the ground, a beaten up, blue car cautiously poked its nose out from under a tarp.
“Where’s Nia then?” The man called out into the barn, answered by a little giggle from somewhere behind a bale of hay. Striding along its side, he saw the corners of a little dress poking out from underneath an upturned wheelbarrow. Tutting, he placed a foot atop the wheelbarrow and leaned onto it. “Hmm… I could have sworn that I heard her somewhere…”
Something knocked against the inside of the metal, before two short taps echoed out. “Let me out!” The little voice called.
“Oh well… I’ll just wait here and see if she comes back.” The man taunted, keeping his weight on the contraption.
“Get off of me!”
“It’s like I can still hear her voice.”
“Sil! Get off!”A three-layered hum started to emerge from beneath the wheelbarrow.
“Here it comes, partial Resonance usage from an eight-year-old.” Sil took his foot off of the wheelbarrow. Just as he did, the hum reached a screeching crescendo. The wheelbarrow rocketed off of the barnyard floor, flying straight into the ceiling and instantly smashing through it. The camera raced to follow it, zooming in on the hole in the ceiling and following the now scrapped metal as it twisted and spiralled off into the sky. From behind the camera, Sil cheered. “Good job Nia! Now let it down!”
The humming died down to silence. A little girl with long, black hair knelt on the ground in a pale, yellow dress, clutching a stuffed rabbit in her arms, staring up at the ceiling with eyes as pale and bright as the moon. The whistling sound of descending metal grew louder and louder, before it fell through the roof again and smashed onto the ground. It would be disingenuous to call it a wheelbarrow after its brief but intense flight. The front wheel had vanished. The hull’s paint had stripped off. The bars had been bent out of shape to look like gnarled tree branches.
“Come on. Let’s go get food.” Sil offered little companion a hand, lifting her to her feet. “Race you to the car!” A guiding hand at her back pushed her into a run, leaving the old man alone once again.
“We’ll be back soon, once everything has blown over, but I’m not driving her back through that hell hole. It’s been a few weeks of training now, and I’m more confident than ever. That girl’s the future.”
The camera went dark. In her darkened reflection upon the curved television screen, Nia saw a tear running down her face. Swiping it off of her cheek, she necked the remainder of her coffee and slapped her knees, shooting up to her feet. Quick pocket check. Keys, stereo, knives, wallet, everything she needed.
Pouring a glass of water over the plants, she did a once over of the apartment. Things were clean, though a thin layer of dust was starting to settle over the bookshelf and the liquor cabinet. Though they were Sil’s favourite pit stops in the flat, Nia hadn’t touched either since he’d left. She’d clean them later.
Walking to the door, she plucked off an old note card, affixed by a piece of tape. Discarding it into a bin filled with weeks’ worth of colourful pieces of paper, she leaned over a corner table and wrote a replacement note.
“Sill. Watered plants. Going to combat exam. Will be back tonight. Leave me a message if you come home.”
As she stepped out of the flat and onto the landing, she sat on the banister and slid down the stairs. Waving to her downstairs neighbour as she hopped off at the bottom, she strode towards the carpark and fished her keys out of her pocket.
Nia’s car was a rusted old truck with a bumper that had obviously been welded back on a few times. She remembered arguing with Sil when he had first bought it for her, shouting that he could have easily afforded a better or ‘cooler’ car, a red one with stripes. Those feelings had passed. Hopping into the driver’s seat, she flicked the bobble-head kitten stuck above the dashboard and tried to start the car. Coughing and wheezing, it took four attempts to kick it into life and motion. When it did, it lurched and stalled for a moment, then crawled off to the exit of the carpark.
“Good job, old girl.” Nia comforted the car as she checked her mirrors and pulled up on the corner. In the misty morning, the first signs of life were starting to blossom onto the streets. Sweeps were preparing to open their stalls, people were jogging down alongside the canal, the paperboys were cycling by, tossing rolled up post and magazines onto the doorsteps as they rode along. Nothing brought a smile to Nia’s face more than the sunlight bouncing off of the slick cobbles that made up the road towards the Silverwatch academy, a fresh dawn always put a fire in her belly.
Turning off of the corner, she drove uphill and away from the apartment building. She cruised by barbershops and corner stores, turning her radio on to a twangy, rock station on the way. The drive to the academy was a short one, mostly consisting of stopping and starting at traffic lights before she pulled onto the road alongside the canal. In the early hours, when the road was empty, Nia could slowly cruise down along the river without holding anybody up. She watched ferrymen rowing their “love boats.” The little three seated vessels bore a divider that afforded paying couples some privacy as they cruised down the water towards the wharf. After years of driving her clunky truck opposite their path, it had become their routine to acknowledge one another with waves, cheers and, when they had the time to stop, a sandwich or cup of coffee.
Driving passed the canal; she navigated up a ramp and turned onto a wide bridge. Looming over the houses before her was the Silverwatch Academy. Renovated after Ancerbridge’s old colosseum, sunlight and night-time rain had aged the massive structure’s ancient, yellow stone.
Parking her car in an empty spot near the academy’s front entrance, she paused for a beat to stare up at the colosseum wall. Towering over her, she watched as the dawning sunlight slowly crawled up the building’s face. A glass window faced directly into the path of the sun and, as the light hit it, it started to shine a brilliant mixture of red, yellow and blue. As soon as the light started dancing through the window, Nia heard heavy bells begin to toll in unison. The day had begun, and she was going to make the most of it.
Walking through into the halls of the academy, she quickly signed in and made her way towards the colosseum pit. The inside of the academy had been renovated, lining the stone walls with plaster and transforming certain rooms into offices, dorms and utilities. On any other day, Nia would have occupied herself with time in the gym or the pool, but on this particular morning, she didn’t spare them a glance. She turned through a few more corridors, jogged down a flight of stairs and found her way into a dark, grey tunnel, still cold from the rainy night. Before her, the colosseum pit stretched out in all of its glory.
Nia was one of the first to arrive. The pit used to be filled with sand, but a thick layer of wood chips and soft shavings had been laid down over it to accommodate the nightly rain that swept over Ancerbridge. Two sets of steel, scaffold bleachers stood side by side at the far-left wall. Nia winced and remembered the uncomfortable feeling that came from spending hours sat on them listening to lectures in combat theory. Today, she would make it all worthwhile.
Despite her early entrance, there were a few more people stood in the pit. Some of them, Nia recognised instantly. The veteran tuner, Dusk Mc’ Lorne, stood in his trademark black coat and trilby. A cigarette snuck out from under the hat’s rim. Nia’s breath caught in her throat as she recognised him, a smile forming on her face. Dusk was one of the most storied tuners still active in the Silverwatch. Everyone knew about the more famous cases that he had solved in his early career as a one-star tuner, though Nia had learned from Sil that he had even more interesting and impressive stories that he refused to share. He rested a firm hand on the shoulder of the man stood before him. Nia knew him too, Kaiser. His face wore an eternal look of boredom, and even though he hung his hands in his pockets, it always seemed like he was ready to get into a fight.
He had attended a few of her early lectures in combat theory but had stopped coming soon after. Was he here to spectate?
As Nia started walking towards the two, a cheerful and excited voice came out from the tunnel behind her. “Heyyy, its Helenia!” Turning her head over her shoulder, Nia saw another pair of familiar faces.
"Whiskey" Saint-Claire, the rockstar, was like a living sun. Everything about her was warm and radiant, from the sweeping, blonde hair tied up behind her head to the chocolate brown of her eyes. It carried the same fondness and comfort that an old friend’s might, despite the energy she put behind everything she said.
Nodding to the music that ringed out of her headphones, she fished a stereo out of the pocket of her scrappy, denim jacket and flicked it off. Nia smiled as she eyed the messily stitched Silverwatch badge affixed to the jacket’s breast pocket. She remembered Sil complaining about a rookie who was overly attached to her sense of style, rejecting the formerly mandatory black coats in favour of roughshod, workman’s denim. Despite the criticism, Whiskey’s fierce individuality had won out, and the rules regarding uniforms had been relaxed in the following years. Since then, she had met Whiskey on a handful of different occasions, a few times at parties or while she was out shopping with Sil, and twice when she had volunteered particularly disastrous attempts at teaching practical lectures as part of the academy. Despite her lack of talent as a teacher, Whiskey had left the room star-struck, they had carried on talking about her for weeks after her first visit.
Walking a few paces behind her, shadowed both by the tunnel and her taller sister, Espresso waved to Nia and flashed a small smile. She wore a white tank top and black cargo trousers, the only customisation being her belt, which had a silver buckle in the shape of a curled-up cat. One hand fidgeted within her pocket while the other clutched a cardboard cup-holder with four paper cups wedged inside it.
Nia smiled back at both of them, turning and walking back down the tunnel towards them. “Hi! How are you?” She offered a high-five to Whiskey, who returned it with force before skipping by. “I’m great thanks, a little hungover but I can’t really miss my sister’s big day, especially not after I submitted the recommendation to get her here..." Her eyes suddenly darkened as she glanced past Nia's shoulder "Shit, is that Dusk?” Tilting her head in confusion, she strode off without another word towards the sombre man, leaving Nia and Espresso alone in the tunnel.
“So… New haircut?” Nia smiled at Espresso, breaking the void left by the taller woman. They had seen each other as recently as two weeks ago, where Espresso had worn her dark brown hair in a professional bob. Now it was short and spiky, like an urchin. Sweeping a drooping spike back to attention, Espresso shrugged. “Felt like I needed a change, I’m still getting used to it.”
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“Looks fierce.” Nia nodded approvingly.
“Thanks.” Espresso nodded appreciatively, but stared straight ahead into the colosseum. The two broke from the tunnel.
Nia broke the silence again. “Don’t get in your head, Espresso, you’re gonna do great.” A reassuring pat on the shoulder earned a slight turn of the head and a sideways glance in Nia’s direction.
“Thanks Nia. I’m going to go get ready. Good luck.” Espresso waved a hand as she started to move.
Nia paused for a beat, then nodded understandingly. “Good luck, Espresso.” The two parted ways, Nia heading over to the trio of Whiskey, Dusk and a broad man who cut an imposing figure beside them, who Nia couldn't remember the name of.
Nia locked eyes with the third figure as she strode towards the group. As she got a few paces away however, she saw him raise a hand to Whiskey and Dusk before heading in her direction. He wore a coal coloured hoodie and grey sweatpants, both seemingly made of some thick cotton. His face rested in a naturally mean impression, his brow hung heavily with fading bags under his eyes placed above a hard jawline. His stare was cold, sweeping along to Nia as if to locate prey, though he upped his chin in acknowledgement of Nia as he passed her by.
“Hey man-” she started, but was cut short.
“Gonna get changed.” He stated bluntly, keeping his stride. Nia turned her head to track him for a second, then shrugged and came to a somewhat awkward stop next to Whiskey and Dusk.
“Excuse me, are you Detective McLorne?” Nia tilted her head as the man looked up at her, his narrow eyes sitting above a tight face. Dusk's high cheekbones and pallid complexion gave his features an almost eternal sense of sleep deprivation. “Yes. Your name is Helenia Morotsov if I recall.” His gaze naturally questioned her presence.
“Actually, it’s just Nia.” She nervously chuckled, looking to Whiskey and finding a reassuring smile. Dusk was a man you just got used to over time. Generally, quite a long time.
“I take it he is taking the test today, then?”
“Yes. My recommendation.” Dusk took a long drag from his cigarette and dropped it on the ground, stomping it into the wet woodchips beneath him. “You’re Sil’s protégé, aren’t you Nia?”
Nia nodded and smiled. Though Sil had nothing good to say about Dusk, the late-night rants of his aggressive and blunt approach had told Nia more about Sil and his little neuroses than the man before her.
Nia had heard different stories about the warehouse tragedy two years ago from half of the other students in the academy. She was intensely curious to know more, especially about the strange resonances that were included in his mission report. Before she could stop herself, the question spilled out. “Detective McLorne, I’ve read your report on the attempted arrest of Chelone Vellichi and I—”
“Bad area.” Whiskey blurted out. Nia looked to her in confusion, then back to Dusk. His hollow eyes felt as though they bore holes into her soul as he stared back at her.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t think it would be a sore subject after –“
“Bad. Area.” Whiskey chuckled and clapped a comforting hand on both Nia and Dusk’s shoulder, shaking both of them slightly. “Let’s talk about something less gloomy. Who’s this Kaiser you’ve recommended, Dusk?”
Dusk didn’t lift his gaze, but Nia spotted his hand drift up to rest above his right hip. “He’s an associate of mine who wishes to join the Silverwatch.”
“I think I remember him from some classes a few months ago, but then he stopped coming?” Nia tilted her head and furrowed her brow as she spoke, glad to have been reminded of Kaiser's name. Something about the man before her seemed a little off. Before she could muster the courage to ask him if he was alright, Whiskey caried on. “So, why’d you recommend him then? Does he even have a Resonance?” She asked as she knelt on the ground, tying the laces on her boots.
“He does. He shouldn’t need it today, though.”
“That’s incredible.” Nia hummed in appreciation. “He’s a weapon wielder then?” Of all of the students in the Silverwatch academy, less than five each year would graduate and become an official tuner. Those who did, according to Sil, were either exceptionally skilled with their resonance or even more impressive with a weapon. Field work required that one could fend themselves even against a small group of armed people.
“See for yourself.” Dusk said flatly. As usal his monotone voice and thousand-yard stare betrayed nothing close to a hint.
“Riiiight, well… We’ll let you get on with your brooding session, mate.” Whiskey lightly punched him in the shoulder. Nia counted three stars on Whiskey’s badge, then another three on the badge pinned to Dusk’s coat. Rank three tuners. Both the same as her mentor, though the gap in age and experience gave Dusk a presumed sense of authority over her.
“Where is Sil, today? He was the one that recommended you for the combat trial in the first place, no?” Dusk turned his inscrutable gaze onto her as he shot the unexpected question. All of a sudden, Nia felt as though she was drowning.
“I don’t know… He hasn’t been home in a little over a month.”
“He’s usually gone for a few weeks at a time, Nia, I’m sure he’s fine.” Whiskey comforted her, placing a warm hand on the small of her back. “He’d kill to be here today, you know?” Nia nodded
“How long has it been, exactly, since you last saw him?” Dusk’s gaze hadn’t changed or broken.
“I- I don’t know… Maybe forty days?”
“Interesting.” Dusk relented his hard stare, looking off to the corner of the colosseum. “Thank you, He-..." He shook his head slightly. "Nia. Sil is capable. If nothing else, he’s not the type of man to die alone on a mission. He will come back to you eventually.” Facing her again with a hollow smile, he offered her a handshake. “I know I brought it up, but try not to dwell on things like that today. I hear impressive things about you, I hope that you can do yourself proud.”
“Thanks.” A swirl of emotions roiled within Nia’s chest. She had wanted Sil to be here today to watch her, but listening to Whiskey and Dusk offer their support told her that her mentor must have been bigging her up to his colleagues, which was a close second to his active support.
Turning to the entrance of the colosseum, Nia counted another three attendees that had entered over the course of her conversation. One of them was a tall, olive-skinned man who had pulled his hair in a tight knot behind his head. He wore a humble white tee beneath a bomber jacket which bore a badge adorned with two stars. Next to him were two women, one was dressed in a blue suit with white hair, clutching a sword at her hip. Nia couldn’t spot a badge on her, but the nod of mutual recognition that she shared with Whiskey suggested some kind of fraternity. The other had short, auburn hair and a badge pinned into her satchel, one star. Today, Nia hoped to earn a first star of her own.
Whiskey waved and smiled to those that she knew, patting Nia on the shoulder with a comforting grin and moving off to exchange pleasantries. For a second, Nia looked back to Dusk. He was lighting another cigarette and facing off into the old stone of the colosseum. Nia chose to follow Whiskey over to the bleachers, but sat on the other side.
Nia unwound and re-tightened the bandages on her hands as she waited. Greetings and conversations had eaten up the remainder of the time before the combat trial was scheduled to begin. The bells tolled once again as silence fell within the colosseum. All eyes turned to the tunnelled entrance, where a shadowy figure started to emerge.
In walked a middle-aged man built like a willow tree, gaunt and tall. He wore a fine, silk shirt that hung messily over tailored, black trousers and black brogues. His face wore a disinterested expression as he swept his eyes over the bleachers, narrowing them behind his minimalistic reading glasses. One hand carried a black notebook and pen. Nia caught a brief flash of a upmarket brand logo on its front face, but the colourful tags that bloomed forth from between its pages told that the man had little respect for the prestige associated with it.
An equally bourgeois jacket was slung over his shoulder, black with purple pinstripes. A wave of excitement flew through Nia as she studied its lapel, which bore a pin with five stars on it. This was Ashara, the only 5-Star member of the Silverwatch in the country, the highest attainable rank.
In her time at the academy, she would listen intently as every lecturer or retired watch-member told their story of how the prodigal Ashara exceeded their every expectation. Sil made no secret about his issues with the man’s personality, but undercutting every complaint was a reverence for his ability. The last that she had heard, Ashara had been employed on the battlefield of a foreign warzone. His presence in the centre of the colosseum pit filled the air with a sense of ease and control, as though there was nothing here which escaped his notice.
He wore an air of mild annoyance, briefly flipping opening his notebook to scan a page, immediately shutting after and yawning. As they reached the centre of the colosseum, Ashara raised his voice to address the small crowd.
“Right. People I have to get a train in about four hours, so I want to do this nice and quick, okay? As you all well know, this is the final practical examination you’ll take before becoming a 1-star member of the Silverwatch. I will be co-ordinating the event and taking notes on your performance, and we’ll decide here and now if you’re ready to join our organisation.”
Though his voice was raised, Ashara did not face the crowd as he spoke. Instead, he stared into the reopened notebook in his hand. “I have a list of candidates and your representatives. When I call you, can you both please come up.” Each candidate for the combat trial had to be recommended by a three-star or above member of the Silverwatch, an act which reflected seriously on the representative as much as the candidate. Espresso had her sister. Kaiser, for some reason, had Dusk’s backing. Nia had been recommended by Sil... Who wasn't here. A flash of embarrassed heat ran down her back as Ashara noted his need for both the candidate and their representative. “Of all the months to go missing…” She muttered under her breath.
“Right, Espresso Saint-Claire and Whiskey Saint-Claire, get over here.” There was no hostility in Ashara’s voice, he did not bark or shout his commands, he plainly but forcefully called upon the two women. As they approached him, he slid his thumb along the inside spine of his notebook and let his arm dangle lazily by his side. Nia couldn’t make out their conversation, but after a brief exchange he nodded and the two stood in a horizontal line behind him.
As Ashara looked at the notebook, the first change in his unflappable demeanour flashed within his eyes. Gently closing them for a moment, his shoulders visibly sank and he shifted his weight between his feet. “Dusk, Kaiser, come here.”
Nia hadn’t noticed Kaiser re-enter the pit, but she watched intently as the two strode up to Ashara. Kaiser had taken off his hoodie, wearing a longsleeved black tshirt that showcased his powerful build. Fashioned securely to his back was a broad bladed, black machete. They were industry standard as far as melee weaponry for tuners went, though Nia’s attentive gaze picked up on the numerous serrations that Kaiser had carved into the blade. Looking at it, a reflexive want to avoid ever coming to blows against the man arose.
As soon as they were in reach of him, Ashara pulled Kaiser in and whispered in his ear for a few moments. When he faced back up into the colosseum, Nia caught the slightest, fading signs of anger upon Ashara’s face. His ire seemed faced at Dusk who, despite the massive difference in authority and stature between the two of them, stared straight through Ashara as though he wasn’t there. Kaiser seemed unfazed. After another short conversation, the two joined Espresso and Whiskey in the line. Ashara flicked his attention back down to the notebook.
“Helenia Morotsov, Sil Delver...”
He turned and faced the bleachers, scanning through them for a moment before Nia stood and started climbing down them. All eyes were on her as she strode across the colosseum. Nia spared a glance to the unknown faces on the stands, who stared on with a mixture of curiosity and doubt. Ashara raised a brow above his glasses as he took another cursory glance through the arena, searching for sign of her mentor. Behind him, Whiskey offered an enthusiastic thumbs up and a toothy grin. Standing before Ashara, he looked down on her.
“Where’s Sil?” Ashara asked plainly.
“Don’t know, sir. He’s been away on a mission for quite some time.”
Ashara slowly rolled his eyes and turned his head to the empty space beside him. “Why is Sil recommending people for combat trials when he isn’t going to be here to advocate for them?”
After a few moments of awkward silence, with his deliberations finished, Ashara shrugged. “Alright fine. Helenia, is there anything that we need to know about your Resonance before we begin the combat trial? Does it have a high collateral, does it have a long activation period that you would feasibly employ before a mission’s start?”
“No sir, it’s a contact-ephemera type, I’ve used a restriction to ensure that I can only—.” Nia answered straight away.
“Spare the extended definition, I’d like to see it for myself first.” For the first time since he entered the pit, Nia saw Ashara crack a small but polite smile. She quashed her desire to fly into a rambling tangent about different resonances, and silently nodded.
There were many different classifications of resonances, and she could talk about them for hours. The only time that Nia had ever really enjoyed reading was when Sil provided her with some of the emerging literature about tuning, the art of creating a resonance. She had devoured the books voraciously, pouring over each one again and again. Contact resonances, as the name implied, required contact with the target to activate. Ephemera resonances, while a slightly vaguer category, were grouped by their creation of phenomenon rather than entities.
“Right, go hop in the line for me, Helenia.” Ashara nodded over his right shoulder to the group of Silverwatch members and members-to-be that were splayed out behind him. Nia went to join them.
“Okay folks,” Ashara clapped his hands once as he turned to face them. “Let’s run through how this will work. You’ve each been recommended by a 3-star or above tuner, two of whom are accompanying you today. In this combat trial, you will be put into a brief, one-on-one fight with one of those tuners. The goal here isn’t just to measure your overall combat aptitude. I want to see how well you can handle dealing with a Resonance that you’ve never encountered before.” As Ashara spoke, he slowly walked up and down the line ahead of him.
“The fight will be stopped when one party renders the other unable to fight –“ Ashara fished six sets of handcuffs out from under his jacket, “— by restraining them with these.”
Sweat started to form on Nia’s brow, and her heartbeat started to quicken. Sil wasn’t here. So, she’d be facing one of either Dusk or Whiskey? Ashara carried on his explanation about how he would be refereeing and judging the fights, but Nia was suddenly lost in her own head. She had fought with Sil hundreds of times in sparring, she knew how tough a 3-Star tuner could be. She looked down the line to the two of them. Whiskey rocked back and forth from her heels to the balls of her feet, hands stashed in her pockets. If Dusk felt anything particular about the organisation of this event, Nia certainly couldn’t make it out from underneath his hat.
“Are there any questions?” Ashara had wrapped up his explanation, looking expectantly to the group. Espresso raised her hand immediately.
Ashara deadpanned. “This isn’t school, Ms. Saint-Claire. You can just ask.”
“What if we lose? Does that mean that we automatically fail?” Espresso nervously twisted her heel into the ground. As she asked the question, she turned her attention to Dusk, who had folded his arms behind his back in an attentive stance.
Ashara shook his head. “No, not necessarily. If we think that you have the aptitude to accompany a higher-ranking tuner on investigations, then we’ll accept you even if you can’t best your opponent here.”
Espresso nodded quietly, closing her eyes as Whiskey rested a reassuring hand on her shoulder and whispered something that Nia couldn’t hear into her ear. Ashara looked to Kaiser, then over to Nia. When neither of them stepped up with a question of their own, he nodded appreciatively.
“Okay people –” he slung his bag off to the stands, “— I’ve chosen the matchups. First up, Espresso Saint-Claire and Dusk McLorne. Next, Kaiser and Whiskey Saint-Claire. Finally, Helenia Morotsov, given the lack of your representative's presence, we'll have to adjust on the fly." He looked briefly at the bleachers, the observers of myriad ranks all falling silent as the notion of being pulled into the examination became palpable.
After a few moments of thinking, Ashara rested his gaze back at Nia.
"You will be facing me.”
