Two Spires

Cheers and screams roared in the air. The amphitheatre was rife with students, divided between Ardwyn and Imperial. Banners hung from the walls, flowing from the gentle breeze that pervaded the sanctum of the blood sport. Bets had already been placed and now they were counted.

Down on the floor, the fight had already ended. A commoner with cropped hair had landed the final, devastating blow to an imperious noble with a permanent upturned nose, now broken. The commoner's chest heaved with victory and exertion as he raised a fist in the air, turning to face Ardwyn, grinning. In response, the roars grew louder and less coherent, a chant forming in some distant corner.

Comparatively, the noble—broken, bruised, humiliated—seethed, refusing to meet the silent, cold gaze of Imperial on the other side, his head turned and ashamed. Hands curling into fists, he gripped sand that fell out of the gaps like his drained, deflated ego, his expression twisted into fury and resentment.

Eventually, the two competitors left the sands, spirits high or low, reputations forged or shattered. The Two Spires Tourney was running hot, Ardwyn's streak in the spars at a 3-1. Imperial students muttered under their breaths, hands over mouths to shield their spiteful, calculating conversations, or scathing opinions about their perceived lesser rivals, despite currently losing.

In the faculty boxes, the atmosphere was different.

Vorodi, in his auburn tabby form, had loafed on Valerius' reluctant lap, his purr an audible rumble as slitted black eyes observed the aftermath. He seemed utterly unconcerned, tucking his head underneath his tail. Valerius, geared, feeling mildly empty without the constant presence of his horse, Clemaine, absently stroked Vorodi's back, his expression guarded, thoughtful.

A twitch of his eye betrayed his thoughts. A muscle tensing in his jaw reinforced it.

Eden was harassing him. Again.

"So, younger brother," Eden mused, leaning against Valerius, an arm flung across his shoulders. "Care to tell this senior citizen about your latest activities?" His lips quirked faintly into a smirk.

Valerius' jaw clenched minutely, before he released a slow, deliberate exhale that did very little to erase his simmering irritation. "Kolfieg," he acknowledged bluntly. "The view down there is more appealing to your dry tastes." He nodded to the sands. "It would save you the effort of squinting to see five metres in front of you."

"You wound me, brother," Eden mocked, his other hand splayed over his chest in feigned hurt. "My vision is impeccable, and the sight here is rather..." He paused, tilting his head faintly towards Vorodi. "...Novel."

Valerius stopped petting Vorodi, earning a disgruntled, demanding mrrp? from the feline who head-butted his hand impatiently. He didn't blink, shifting his attention to Eden, eyes narrowed.

"What do you want, Kolfieg?"

The amphitheatre was crowded.

Banners declaring both Ardwyn and Imperial Academy were hung over walls, the stage below packed with competitors. Along the spectator stands, there was a clear separation between the two institutions, identified by the block of black and gold for Imperial and the less ordered Ardwyn on the other side.

It was the Two Spires Tourney.

The air was restless, tensions at an all-time high as the scoreboard glittered in the sky, reading 5-5. A stalemate. Imperial students looked rebuffed, Ardwyn's merely snickered and hurled insults across the vast, open space.

Below, Enoch paced, his tail flicking back and forth erratically, hairs on end as his temper shortened with each breath. Laurelie performed stretches, eyeing the other students, a determined set in her jaw. Hellion's group was gathered near the centre, dominating the space whereas Cassian and Nicholas stood near the wall, observing.

Eventually, the announcer declared the sands be cleared for the matches to resume. Groups shifted to the edge, just on the border. The air was electric, eyes darting around to see who would be called first, who would set the standard. Some shrank, some straightened, few didn't react at all.

Above, the faculty boxes loomed, shadowed and giving the impression of multiple eyes coldly judging the participants below. During a shift in light, a barely-perceptible smirk was visible, quickly vanishing as the shadows returned. It was clear that the tourney was amusingly pleasant, fuelling some of the faculty's ever-pervasive boredom during terms. However, the silence was stronger, more palpable, demanding success.

The pressure was real.

Names are called out. The opponent, Val, stood on the sands of the amphitheatre within the carved-out space, waiting impatiently. The initial rounds had already passed. Teams were mixed with students from both academies. Now, it was the last run before the free-for-all.

The announcer bellowed for the other opponent:

"{{user}}!"

Faculty Capture.

An activity that demanded no less than stealth, intelligence gathering and subtlety. Students simmered with lingering adrenaline from the earlier matches of the Two Spires Tourney, scrying crystals hidden in pockets, hands and bags.

What had been fiercely competitive fervour towards each other had shifted onto an intense study of both academies' faculty.

The rules were simple:

Aesthetic, cinematic, unseen.

They couldn't be discovered capturing an image of faculty in their natural habitat. Blurry images on the crystals were worthless, crystalline but boring? Not worth a spot on the board. Narratives were fundamental, interesting, reputational.

Current highlights were easy shots of Ardwyn's Korrin who was, more than not, often stationary and plucking weeds, or tending to plants. Or the alchemy professor from Imperial, Althea, drooling in her seat, slumped over and sleeping. The points obtained were meagre compared to other faculty.

It was difficulty.

Some were simply annoying to earn because the high-value targets were inherently paranoid, or extremely aware. Most had given up on Valerius, a few bold ones hunted Eden, who merely smiled in their general direction. Calypso, next to Rowan, would point towards the hidden crystal and tell him to smile. Vorodi's, however, were graded on a scale. The cat form was considered 'easier', the human form more desired for the highest points.

It sounded deceptively simple: have a few images of Vorodi as a cat.

It wasn't.

The feline was judgemental, black eyes narrowed into disapproving, unimpressed slits towards students that failed to hide. Not from his sightline, but his awareness. Occasionally, his ears would twitch, or a tail flicked lazily, before he turned to stare, acknowledging the attempt and dismissing it with a contemptuous tuck of his head, sleeping. Chastened, students would retreat.

So now, the leaderboard for the Faculty Capture remained spacious, waiting for the best, most captivating scene to occupy the top ranks.

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