Beneath the Dragoneye Moons

“War.” The professor paced in front of the class. He was built like a soldier, his robes clearly modified to let him run and fight at a moment’s notice, and he carried a sword strapped to his waist.

In a twist, the class was held in one of the stadiums, not in a classroom, and the uniform for the class was the exercise outfits, not the typical poofy robes that were required everywhere else. Mormerilhawn, the Black Rose, master of the arena, was lurking near the sidelines, chatting with Shirayuki. I could eavesdrop on their conversation, but then I wouldn’t be focusing on the first lecture of the War class. “It is a word that encompasses so much, and is boiled down to such a little word. War. What is a war? Anyone.” He asked the moderately-sized class.

A few hands hesitantly went up, and one confident hand.

I kept my hands down. I didn’t know for sure, and venturing a poor guess would just waste everyone’s time.

The professor seemed to think the same thing, and immediately pointed at the student. He stood up and recited.

“War is simply a continuation of politics by violent means.” He sat down after finishing his answer.

The professor nodded.

“Good. Eloquently put. There is always an objective to war, and while you’ll rarely be in a position to know what it is, attempting to divine it is useful. The objective can be dumb. Sometimes it is as petty as pride, or a desire to show off. This class, like a war, will be ugly and brutal. I’m not going to mince words. I’m not going to try and pretend war is noble and glorious. Those of you who believe that have been lied to.” The professor continued to energetically pace in front of us like a caged tiger.

“The master of the arena has graciously agreed to assist with our class today, and will be assisting sporadically. All of you have gotten shielded. Nobody here is at risk of being harmed. I am planning on a practical demonstration later.” He announced.

The fact that he was telling us this ahead of time told me that the ‘practical demonstration’ was going to be a surprise. I started to evaluate the students around me.

“There are a dozen different types of war, which I’ll get into in a minute. Fundamentally, nearly every war, by the numbers, is economic. It’s about amassing wealth and power for those directing the war. These are the least devastating on a large scale, and also the most common. I call these ‘raider’s wars’.” He paused, like he expected the vast swaths of angry mutterings from his students.

“Yes, that’s what most ‘wars’ are.” He continued on. “One noble doesn’t like another. They get a party together and raid the territory of the other. They’ll try to seize gems and goods, with the larger prize being capturing another noble and ransoming them back to their family. This can happen from small levels to a national scale, when an entire country ‘wages war’ on another country. In reality, the people there are simply trying to obtain wealth, in one form or another. Capturing and settling new land, a permanent source of wealth, is another, larger goal. Occasionally this is broken out into wars of conquest. End of the day, they’re all the same. Raider’s wars.”

The angry mutterings were reaching a crescendo.

“Homework! For bonus points. Write an essay explaining why I’m wrong. Moving on.” The professor had neatly and skillfully decapitated the brewing mutiny among his students.

“Knowing the motivation is important. If you’re against raiders, they’re in it for the money. Make it too expensive for them to continue, and they’ll generally cut their losses and return home. Can’t bribe them, they’ll keep extorting you for more. Need to hit them in the pocketbook for them to go home.”

The mutterings were back, and he held up a hand.

“With that being said, I will acknowledge that pride and ego often come into play here. Attackers are willing to keep going, on the chance that they’ll end up making a profit, and because whoever’s in charge can’t retreat for various political and personal reasons once the attack’s commenced. It takes a significant kick to the teeth for them to retreat with nothing, but once it’s too expensive to keep going, and they get a minor win with which they can claim victory, then you can count on them leaving.”

A hand shot up, the same as before. The professor eyed the student doubtfully, but then called on him.

“What’s your number?” The professor asked the student. The student with his hand up in the air pointed at himself.

“Me? Number?” He asked.

The professor nodded.

“How many intelligent beings have you killed in a team or army? Monsters don’t count.”

The student paused a moment.

“23.” He answered.

“Alright Mr. 23. What’s your question?”

“Will they still leave if it’s a war of conquest like you said, where the goal is land?”

The professor sighed.

“Less likely, and that’s where it gets… messy. And by messy, I mean a lot of blood, screaming, and stacked bodies. Let’s continue on. One aspect to raider’s wars which is particularly nasty to handle is when the people making the money are the arms suppliers. People who are making their money and wealth selling weapons, armor, and expertise to those actually waging the war. They’re getting paid either way, and have every incentive to keep the war going.”

The professor continued to pace, and I was fascinated. He had a presence, an energy, that was captivating.

“Next up is what I’m broadly defining as an ideological war. The gods are only involved in a fraction of ideological wars, but fundamentally, they’re all the same. The attacker has a deep-seated belief that the defender must die. Rarely, the goal will be for something other than killing off another group. These are harder to deflect, and correspondingly rarer. It also segues nicely into my next type of war. Total war.”

He stopped, and looked at us all.

“Total war is what most people think of when they hear war. It is a war for survival. It is a do or die war. One country’s ideological war is another country’s total war. When a country believes it is in total war, all the rules are gone. There is no Treaty of Kyowa. There are no rules of engagement. There is no proper treatment of prisoners. It is why I have such respect for Nime.”

The students were talking loudly amongst each other, and the professor silenced us all with a gesture. It didn’t stop the students, of course, he simply used some Sound magic to mute them.

“Nime understands these principles better than anyone else. They cultivate Poison, Miasma, and Spore classers. Anyone attacking them knows that they’re not going to respect the so-called ‘rules’ of war, and will unleash anything and everything they can simply to survive. Every attack on Nime is an assault on the small nation’s very survival. They know how to properly threaten others. It is why nobody raids Nime. The cost to wage a raider’s war on the nation is too high, most of the attackers will get killed. An ideological war is likely brewing, as they are routinely condemned for openly violating Kyowa, but nobody acts on it. Nobody is harmed enough to do something about it. The nation is poor, and the cost-benefit analysis is always negative.”

I saw his point. “I might die, but I’m taking you down with me.” Was one hell of a deterrent.

“I want you all to spend a few moments thinking of conflicts you’ve heard of, and seeing if you can categorize them.” The professor said. “Then we’ll move onto the next section.”

I thought of the Formorian war. That had been a total war, Remus’s very existence hanging on the outcome. They were monsters. They didn’t want wealth or land, they simply wanted to consume.

From their point of view, it was probably a… raider’s war? They ignored the dwarves, who were too tough a nut to crack.

Lun’Kat attacking the dwarves was probably something of an outlier. Probably also an ideological war, but designed to cause damage to the dwarves, instead of enriching herself. Probably a good example from everyone muttering about ‘that’s not how wars work.’

At the same time, when faced with stiff enough opposition, she did leave the battlefield.

“Moving on. Who can tell me why armies are primarily composed of [Warriors]?” He asked the students.

More confident hands went up, and the professor called on one of them.

“Number?” He asked.

“Three. Solo kills all.” The woman had a particular swagger to her voice. I could imagine her strutting, even though we were all sitting on the ground.

“Ms. 3. Why are armies primarily [Warriors]?” He asked her.

“Because they have staying power.” She promptly replied. “Level for level, stat for stat, quality for quality, a [Mage] is more lethal than a [Warrior] or a [Ranger]. But they run out of mana quickly, on the order of seconds. A [Warrior] can fight for hours on end.”

I snorted. A bad[Mage], sure. There was a reason all Rangers got trained, and were issued armor and weapons.

At the same time, I couldn’t deny that she was right. Most mages were significantly weaker without mana than a warrior of a similar level, and that was before armor and weapon skills were brought into consideration.

The professor nodded.

“Only partially correct. [Warriors] and [Rangers] are capable of fighting for hours, while [Mages] are only strong for a short period of time. A larger, more important aspect is that it’s physical work. Anyone with physical stats can pick up a spear and join a shield wall or picket line, letting armies recruit from the general population. Mages, in contrast, require significantly more time and training as a mage to get to a respectable level where they can make an impact. A mage is equivalent to a career warrior. Han’s generals, Rolland’s knights, Vollomond’s raid leaders, Lithos’s trolls and more are strong examples of career fighters from around the world, all of whom rival a mage in their ability to impact a battlefield. They simply do it over the course of hours, instead of minutes or seconds. Ms. Elaine, in the purple robes, would you be willing to give me a hand for this next section?”

It took me a tenth of a second to realize he was talking to me. The purple robes looked fantastic, but they made me stand out in the sea of black, and I was used to being the picked-on student in classes. I stood up.

“Sure! What are you wondering?”

“I picked you because you’re a healer, and healers are generally a known quantity in what they can do. Unlike, say, a mage, who could have any number of unusual skills. Please, feel free to decline, and I will pick on someone else to share. In broad strokes, would you be willing to tell us roughly how long it would take you, under ideal conditions, to empty your mana pool, and what you could accomplish in that time?”

I weighed his request. On one hand, skills were generally private, and asking someone to reveal their skills to the world was rude. On the other, the professor didn’t seem to give a damn about trampling over feelings, and he was right that healers were a known quantity.

That, and my skills had been on display in the arena, although I didn’t know if anyone here had watched me.

“I’m oathbound. I can empty my entire mana pool in a single second.” I deliberately included the oathbound detail as a misdirection. I’d had time to learn what most healers were like, and broadly, what people thought of oathbound healers.

Harmless do-gooders. I had absolutely no problem leaning into that reputation… and it was the truth!

“A single second. What can you do then?”

I shrugged.

“Keep everyone inside the stadium alive, from heart wounds to decapitation, bringing everyone back to perfect health. Naturally, exactly how many people and how many injuries depends on the number of people and the severity.”

The professor nodded.

“For a single second, the healer is a goddess, literally performing miracles. At the right time, at the right place, she can sway the entire battle her way, healing every single person. But what happens after that second? What happens after her miracle?”

“She dies.” One of the students answered, unprompted.

I loudly snorted. Not likely. I wasn’t going to ruin the professor’s lecture though.

To my surprise though, he gave me a wink.

Oh fuck.

I saw exactly where this was going.

“The healer dies! Exactly! Now, as I mentioned at the start of this class, everyone is shielded by the arena master. Nobody here can get hurt. Elaine, if you would do the honors of demonstrating an empty mana pool?”

He totally knew I was part of the combat team. I was guessing that one of his lessons was something about deception in warfare, since he’d deliberately called me out as a healer - which, on the surface, was entirely reasonable.

Just wished he’d talked to me before. Was probably another layered lesson in always being prepared.

I knelt down and stuck a finger in the dirt, and unleashed [Nova Lance]. The layers of dirt helped hide what, exactly, I was doing, and after 20 seconds my mana pool was depleted.

I then threw up my [Mantle of the Stars] in a sphere around myself, the skill requiring a single point of mana upfront to cast.

With an added bonus - it gave me enough space around myself for what was about to happen. I already saw one or two students - including Ms. 3 - who had realized what was going on.

“Break it to empty my mana pool.” I announced, putting my foot over the glassy hole I’d drilled through the dirt. I subtly bent my knees in preparation for what was going to happen next.

I looked at the professor.

“I can use regenerating mana, right?” I asked him.

He gave me a tiny nod as he started to speak.

“Right! First practical demonstration of the day! Remember, you’re allowed to go all out, nobody here will be harmed! The healer has arrived, and performed a major miracle, revitalizing and saving hundreds! If she escapes, she’ll be able to return soon and do it again! All [Warriors] and [Rangers]! Kill the healer!” He announced, and the world turned to chaos.

I promptly activated the greater invisibility rune in my chest and jumped. I’d known what was coming, and I’d reacted faster than anyone else had.

What was nice about the rune was it took just a hair less mana to run than my current regeneration rate, and I’d gain more and more regeneration as time went on. The cost was fixed, and one day I wouldn’t notice it at all.

I’d reacted fast enough that I needed to take down my own shield so I didn’t slam into it. Nobody had smashed it fast enough.

I soared over the thinnest part of the crowd. As I did, the professor made another announcement.

“Healers, Mages, and non-combatants, if you could please sit down for this demonstration.”

People sitting down were off-limits. Got it.

I landed heavily on the arena grass, the force of my landing making the grass around me ripple. I carefully started to prowl around, trying to find the best place to start my part of the fun.

I heard a few students complain that they hadn’t known, and hadn’t brought a weapon along with them, and it was unfair and how were they supposed to participate.

Idiots.

That was the whole point of the exercise!

A few more people were wondering what was going on, since I’d clearly disappeared. Was the exercise over?

“The healer is still alive and around! What are all of you lollygagging around for!? Stop asking questions and find her!” The professor roared with a smirk.

That got a few students to jump, but I’d already found my quarry. One of the students had a longsword, and was marching around, swishing it through the air.

I took a deep breath. I was putting a lot of faith in Mormerilhawn here.

At the same time, I knew how his shields worked, and what was effective, what would transfer and what a lethal blow was.

I stalked up next to the student, and as he completed a swipe, I chopped down with my arm. I hit the wrist hard enough that it would’ve been broken without the shield, but it was enough to disarm the student. Before he could shout a warning I twisted, using my other hand to punch him in the throat, and he vanished.

The Black Rose’s shield had considered him ‘dead’, and teleported him out of the arena.

Leaving his weapon behind.

I quickly picked it up, my invisibility automatically extending to cover it as well.

The hunt was on.

I was likely stronger and faster than most of the warriors and other physical classers here. I didn’t have skills supporting my weapons. [Sentinel’s Superiority] was about fighting prowess, not hardening weapons.

There was still uncertainty and confusion, but a few Classers were starting to organize the other students. I didn’t have a whole lot of time here.

I dashed forward to the first likely target, another student who was staring at the ground, seeing something I couldn’t. He was intently looking at the path I’d taken though, and while greater invisibility was supposed to erase my footsteps, I wasn’t going to discount a more powerful skill somehow divining tiny traces.

I was unused to longswords and how they handled, but fundamentally ‘stick them with the pointy end’ was true of all weapons. A quick thrust at his chest, and he vanished without anyone noticing.

“Take in this feeling.” The professor lectured as I worked on my next target, my sword flickering out like a spear to teleport him to the sidelines. “The sudden chaos. The fear. The lack of knowing. The violence and confusion. The unexpected. This is a small fraction of what war is like, and the best I can replicate in a classroom setting like this. In the real world, you wouldn’t get a warning. You wouldn’t get a lecture at the same time. Try to grab onto these feelings, and understand a small part of what war is. What you will subject others to. Master yourself.”

I managed to take out three more students during his speech, focusing less on stealth, and more on speed.

I was tempted to force the professor to teleport off the field as well, to really hammer home the lesson he was trying to impart.

Instead I crept around a student who somehow had gotten himself a shield. I paused right before I was going to slice him in half from groin-to-head.

He didn’t exist in my sphere of awareness.

He was an illusion, a mirage. A clever lure by one of the other students.

The rest of the students had, by this point, realized something was up. That I was still here, picking people off, and they were organized and huddled together.

I skipped back a dozen steps and grabbed a pebble.

Time for Brawling’s favorite trick!

I wound up and threw the rock as hard as I could, aiming to brain the star organizer.

I cleanly missed. The rock went sailing over her head.

I mentally grumbled to myself.

I hadn’t fully figured out every last aspect of my new body, and it wasn’t like ‘how to throw rocks’ had ever been in any of my training courses.

“Stop! Halt the exercise!” The professor bellowed. “The healer has successfully escaped, able to come back later and heal dozens of people once again. What have we learned?” He asked the group.

I dropped my invisibility and rejoined the group. I got dirty looks from a number of the students jogging back from the sidelines, where they’d been teleported away. Didn’t care.

Mormerilhawn also came over.

“High level healers are hard to catch.” Ms. 3 said, giving me a look that was hard to interpret.

“That this class is bullshit.” A student muttered under his breath. I could still hear him.

“Level matters.” A familiar student called out. I handed his longsword back to him, getting a small nod of thanks in return.

The professor nodded.

“Another important lesson is not to judge by tags or looks.” The professor said. “Mormerilhawn?”

The arena master stepped up.

“For those of you who pay attention to these sorts of things, Elaine is the star of the School’s under-30 combat team.” He announced. “She is a mage-healer, and yet took out a third of you with her physical capabilities alone. She was on track to successfully eliminate the rest of you, in spite of her stated goal being escape. Deception is the heart of warfare, but do not underestimate the System, and what it empowers all of us to do.”

The professor turned to me.

“Elaine, given your age and level, are you willing to share your numbers with us?”

The request didn’t sting like it would’ve before I started seeing Linnet regularly. I closed my eyes, processing the numbers.

After passing the biomancy hurdle, and having a little more than a year left at the School, I was preparing for my Medical Track thesis. The Medical Manuscripts. I’d be getting endless looks and whispers… might as well start preparing.

Nobody would believe my numbers, but I didn’t care.

“14,878 intelligent beings killed in a team.” I stated. The vast majority of them had been shimagu at Ochi, where I’d let rip. “13,565,516 System kill notifications while working in a team.” I further stated. The end of the Formorian war was responsible for most of those, Destruction’s earthquake combined with the literal hand of a god descending to smite the dread queens.

I opened my eyes to a field of wide eyes and slack jaws.