6.53 – Expectations
6.53 – Expectations
"Can't we practice somewhere else?" Delta asked. "If our 'public introduction' is gonna be a whole thing we needa prepare for."
"My father encouraged me to do this," Rosalie sighed. "And I mean encouraged in the euphemistic sense. We don't have a choice in the matter. We'll need to acquaint ourselves with the training facility anyway. It's one of the best places in the world to hone our skills."
"Does seem like it would be easy to find good sparring partners there," Delta mused. "Still. You seem tense."
Rosalie considered her before sighing. "Yes," she said. "Tense. Half for me, half for … you three." Her expression turned dry. "You two," she corrected. "Madeline is more than capable of carrying herself in a dignified manner. I can trust her, at least."
Maddy seemed flustered by that declaration. "W-Well. Sort of. I don't hang around nobility often. The Sovereign are … pretty separated from high society. That's kind of the point."
"You can control yourself, though. These two can't."
Delta made a show of being offended. "Excuse me? These two? Don't insult Zoey like that." She came to no defense of her own, mock or otherwise.
Rosalie sighed. "Your unexpected alliance with me will be of significant intrigue," she said. "I hope you realize that. You do, right?"
"I don't give a shit what a bunch of snotty nobles think of me," Delta snorted. "Honestly, I'm excited to kick their asses. Bet they think they're hot shit. They're about to find out they're not."
Oddly, Rosalie seemed pleased by that answer. Or at least, half-pleased, half some other mix of emotions.
She glanced at Zoey next.
"I'm way out of my depth," Zoey admitted. "You know that. I'll do whatever you tell me. I don't want to make you or your family look bad." She reached out and squeezed Rosalie's hand. "We're on your side."
Rosalie blushed. "Oh, don't take it that seriously," she said, huffing. "The d'Celestins are far, far out of reach of petty politicking." She grimaced. "Just, you need to be aware that there will be politicking. We're going to run into … hangers-on. Sycophants. Enemies and allies."
"Enemies?"
She waved her hand. "Of the smiling while scheming sort." Her expression darkened. "We have private rooms reserved, but my father suggested we don't use those. He wants us to show our faces. To use the public arenas."
"Ah," Zoey said.
She mulled over that for a second.
"We'll be on our best behavior," she said, bumping her shoulder into Rosalie. "Promise."
Rosalie only sighed again.
"I wish I didn't have to subject everyone to this," she muttered darkly. "I know you three think you've come to terms with my family name, but you haven't."
"Wrong," Delta announced. "I haven't remotely come to terms with the fact I'm fucking a d'Celestin. Your dad can punch holes in reality." She shivered. "I wonder what he'd do to us if he knew what we were doing to you last night."
Rosalie glared at Delta, though for once, the comment seemed benign, or at least not explicitly delivered to tease.
"You'll be dealing with the smaller-scale issues than my father today," Rosalie said. "Rather, all the vying-for-position families, prominent or otherwise, inside Mantle. They'll be fascinated by you three, without a doubt."
"Which is why you wanted to give us advice?" Zoey prompted. The actual words she'd used had been 'filling them in on how they needed to behave,' but she could tell Rosalie was stressed, and Zoey was more than willing to ignore her more bristly than usual attitude.
"Advice," Rosalie said, snorting. "The most important part is, can I trust you two not to fuck?"
Zoey hesitated.
"How are you hesitating at that!"
She raised her hands. "I literally need to, to recharge my mana. Me and Maddy burn through it pretty fast, much less when I'll be testing out an entirely new rune."
"Oh. Well, yes, that's understandable, I meant more—" She sighed. "For fun. You and Maddy do what you need to, just be subtle about it."
"Um," Maddy squeaked.
"Use the restrooms, if you must, one of the ones out of the way."
"We'll be careful," Zoey promised. "What else?"
"From a more mundane perspective," Rosalie said. "Being in the official wayfaring party of a d'Celestin comes with a certain status. Expectations. And my father had candidates in mind, so now there are a bunch of spurned families out there, those who expected to be on my team or had the potential, but who were unceremoniously replaced. They're not going to be pleased. And we will bump into some of them, probably sooner than later."
"Huh," Delta said. "Like dealing with a bunch of jealous exes."
Rosalie gave her a highly unamused look, then paused and reconsidered. "Honestly? Yes. That analogy isn't far from the truth."
"You do seem like a girl with a lot of baggage," Delta said. "It's okay, blondie. I'll make it clear that you're ours and no one else's."
Rosalie sputtered at the dramatic phrasing. "Please don't. I'm requesting tact from you two. These families, they aren't enemies, not necessarily. We want to maintain amicable relationships with as many of them as possible." She grimaced. "Even if they're unpleasant, I don't want to burn bridges. My father doesn't want us to. And some of them were …" She struggled on the next word. "Friends," she said. "Not really, but the closest I had, growing up."
That sobered Delta. "Friends?"
"Sparring partners," Rosalie said dismissively. "A d'Celestin doesn't have friends."
That breezy statement struck Zoey as profoundly upsetting, and she was glad when Delta announced her displeasure without a second thought, with far less filter than Zoey would have.
"Fuck that," she said. "You can have friends. I don't care who you are. Don't say some dumb shit like that."
Rosalie blinked, then blushed a deep red usually reserved for the bedroom. "Well," she said, clearing her throat "Anyway, I wanted to warn everyone. If everything goes swimmingly, the worst will be us making introductions and explaining our situation, the story of which I'm confident we've straightened out by now." Serious looks at each of them, followed by a nod, confirming that assumption for her. "Then, eventually, we'll have our own practice rooms, and we'll be able to go about our business in peace. But I doubt the best case will happen."
"Never does," Zoey said.
The rest of the trip over was filled with less important discussions. Before long, they had arrived at the Mantle Training Facility. The sprawling compound of buildings—basically a campus—was situated high up the mountainside, beneath the smattering of high-noble residences, though above the low-nobles. The positioning wasn't superficial; the height of a building up Mantle's mountainside represented its importance, and this was the premier arena for wayfarers across half the world.
The facility itself was all gleaming white stone, pillars, and glass. While not as ostentatious as Rosalie's home, its wealthy construction and pristine upkeep was obvious at first glance. Exiting from the carriage that had carried them across the city, the team of four admired the gleaming building, though undoubtedly for different reasons.
Inside was a similarly luxurious interior: polished tiles and marble, wide-open spaces and an expansive atrium. A few people were scattered throughout the spacious area, dressed in armor of various sorts, either plate or leather or cloth, often mismatched, as tended to be the case with shard loot. Fortunately, none of them looked over at their arrival. Zoey knew they wouldn't go unnoticed for long.
Rosalie checked in with the receptionist, who, despite surely working with high nobility daily, did a double-take when she told them who they were: not just shocked at Rosalie's own family name, but also her strange 'teammates'—who she should've recognized, but didn't.
And then they were heading off down one of the hallways, into the maw of the beast.
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