Shattered Sanity

While his personal life settled into a constant rhythm, the same could not be said for his social life, as the seeds of enmity that Riven had planted during his first few days at the Academy had now started to show their results.

Every morning, once he returned exhausted from Professor Mike’s Physical Conditioning class, Riven usually found himself sharing breakfast with Circuit, Orton, Batista, Flair and two other first-years named Jeff and Matt, who had somehow joined their growing group of thugs during the past week.

Together, the seven of them had gradually formed their own clique within House Argent, although the reputation surrounding their little group was considerably less respectable than anything Circuit might have preferred.

To most first-years, they were simply a gathering of bullies.

Orton, Batista and Flair had already managed to begin a feud with several students from House Viridian after an argument during Professor Mike’s Physical Conditioning class, when a few Viridian students had apparently mocked the three of them for struggling beneath their weighted training equipment.

The confrontation itself had ended inside Mike’s class without anything more than insults, although Orton and the others had waited until everyone was returning towards their respective castles before jumping the unsuspecting Viridian students and beating them senseless.

Three bloody noses, one swollen eye and several bruised ribs later, House Viridian had apparently decided that the matter was far from finished.

”They’re looking for us now,” Batista explained casually one morning, as he stuffed another piece of bread into his mouth. ”Apparently those bastards went crying to their seniors after we beat them.”

”Let them come,” Orton replied, seemingly unconcerned. ”They started it.”

”They called you fat,” Circuit muttered from beside him. ”You broke someone’s nose because he called you fat.”

”He called me a fat pig,” Orton corrected seriously. ”There’s a difference.”

Circuit stared at him for several seconds before quietly returning his attention towards his breakfast.

Jeff and Matt had somehow arrived at the table carrying problems of their own.

Jeff, the younger son of a minor western noble family, had already developed the unfortunate habit of collecting gambling debts from other first-years for a thirty percent cut, while Matt had been suspended from the House Argent training grounds for two evenings after getting into a fight with another student over access to one of the better training stations.

Neither seemed particularly ashamed of their reputation.

If anything, both appeared to have concluded that Riven’s table was exactly where they belonged.

And strangely enough, Riven understood why.

The students who attracted trouble throughout the Academy had gradually begun gravitating towards the person who had caused more trouble during his first few days than any of them combined.

Riven had beaten Gary Ironveil unconscious during an exhibition duel, knocked out two Aureate students during Physical Conditioning, threatened Milano of House Fox inside the Argent common hall and publicly refused to apologize for any of it.

Compared to him, everyone else sitting around the table seemed almost reasonable and they treated him like the big boss too.

However, while he was happy with his influence slowly growing, Circuit looked terrified of his new friends.

Every morning, Circuit sat amongst them with his shoulders slightly hunched, quietly eating his breakfast while conversations involving fights, grudges, gambling debts and potential retaliation continued around him.

’How the hell did I end up here?’

Circuit wondered each morning, and yet, despite looking increasingly uncomfortable with the company he was keeping, Circuit never actually moved to another table.

There was, after all, one undeniable advantage to being publicly associated with six thugs, which was the fact that nobody dared to bother him.

After a week, almost everyone inside the academy knew just how weak he physically was, which should have made him an easy target for anyone looking for somebody incapable of fighting back.

Instead, nobody had so much as deliberately bumped shoulders with him since he started spending most of his time around Riven.

The protection was completely unspoken.

It was also extremely effective.

And so, Circuit bit his tongue and decided to accept his new reality.

—---------

For Riven though, questionable breakfast companions were hardly the only problem developing around him, as more importantly than that.... Gary Ironveil had finally returned.

His injuries had healed enough for him to resume classes, although the Gary who returned seemed considerably different from the amiable young man Riven remembered facing during their exhibition duel.

During Professor Mike’s morning runs, Riven could frequently feel Gary’s gaze drilling into his back.

During Dueling and Practical Combat, the same thing happened.

Even during lectures where neither of them had any reason to interact, Riven occasionally looked across the room only to discover Gary already staring directly at him.

There was anger behind those eyes now.

The humiliation of being beaten unconscious before hundreds of first-years had clearly remained with him long after his physical injuries disappeared, and Riven could sense the resentment almost every time their gazes crossed.

’He wants to get back at me.’

Riven was certain of it.

Yet rather than avoiding Gary’s gaze whenever he caught him staring, Riven usually responded with a small, deliberately cocky grin before turning away.

He was not going to apologize.

Nor was he going to pretend that he regretted what happened simply because Gary had returned with a grudge.

If the man wanted revenge, then Riven was going to deal with it whenever it came.

Gary, at least, was a problem Riven understood.

Mary, however, was a mystery he could not solve.

Throughout the past week, Riven had gradually begun noticing her watching him more frequently, particularly during Spell Mastery whenever he practiced [Lightning Step].

Unlike Gary’s openly hostile glare, Mary’s attention carried no anger.

She simply watched.

Sometimes Riven caught her observing the way he stood before attempting the technique, while other times her eyes remained upon him after another failed attempt forced him to stop and begin the circulation again.

Her expression rarely revealed what she was thinking.

That somehow made it worse.

Because Riven understood exactly what she was searching for.

Mary had known him before House Dawnriver.

She had known the boy who struggled to learn alongside the other children from Ashfang, and unlike the nobles surrounding him now, she possessed memories against which every small habit and mannerism could be compared.

His appearance could be explained.

His name could be explained.

Even the evidence surrounding his supposed childhood as Riven Dawnriver could make her doubt her own memories.

But the more she watched him, the more uncomfortable Riven became.

During breakfast, he occasionally caught her looking towards his table from elsewhere in the hall.

During Spell Mastery, he felt her gaze whenever he struggled through another attempt at [Lightning Step].

Even while moving between classes, there were moments when Riven looked across a corridor and found Mary already watching him.

’Don’t look at me like that.’

Riven turned his attention away from her during another Spell Mastery session, forcing himself to concentrate upon the Storm Aether circulating through his legs.

’Just give up already. I’m not the same person you knew.’

Yet the thought carried an uncomfortable hypocrisy that Riven understood perfectly well.

Because no matter how desperately he wanted Mary to stop watching him, Riven could not stop watching her either.

Throughout the day, his eyes occasionally searched for her before he even realized what he was doing, checking whether she had arrived for class, who she was speaking with or whether she seemed all right.

Sometimes he caught himself watching her practice.

Other times he merely looked long enough to confirm that she was there before returning to whatever he had been doing.

Neither of them approached the other.

Neither spoke.

Yet somehow, that silence felt considerably more dangerous than Gary Ironveil glaring holes into his back or House Aureate members searching for an opportunity to retaliate against him.

Riven had spent the past week gradually bringing every other part of his Academy life under control.

His training had developed a routine.

His weapon skills were improving.

His first Storm technique was slowly progressing.

Even his meditation was becoming easier.

His social life, however, seemed to be developing into a convoluted collection of enemies, questionable friends and a girl from his past who was getting increasingly close to recognizing something Riven desperately wanted buried.

And unlike his training, Riven had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to fix any of it.