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There once was an abomination who had no place in this world. She clutched this doll tightly, and eventually was drawn into a cold and lonely painted world.
It had been a long time since she’d last seen that doll, but Priscilla didn’t care. It didn’t even matter that she had no idea where the painting was right now – what was really important was that it was a beautiful painting, and she had a quiet, comfortable life within it. Wherever it was, she had been left undisturbed by foreign visitors, able to live in peace in a world she truly belonged in.
She made her way back to her tower at a casual pace, taking her time crossing the bridge and simply enjoying the view at the end of a nice long walk around what little there was of the world. The Crossbreed treaded lightly on bare feet over cold, dark stone, and with a sigh she passed through the archway leading to what she thought of as home – a large, circular tower with only arches for walls and decorated only with a light dusting of snow wherever no roof existed.
And that was all she really needed. Furnishings would just get in the way, and there was enough to do elsewhere that Priscilla was perfectly comfortable coming home only to rest… and get a little bit of privacy from time to time.
Naturally, her bladder had filled up over the hours she’d been out, and she had come home because she had waited long enough for the sensation of fullness to become persistent, the pressure always nagging at her to do something about it. And now she could take care of it without being bothered by the hollows and crow demons.
Priscilla approached the edge of the tower, starting to pull up on her fluffy, multi-layered dress, but she stopped and instead turned to take up her scythe when she heard an odd noise. Her bladder was forgotten for a moment as she positioned herself in the middle of the circular room, looking over at the entrance with her scythe held out defensively. A heavy fog had set in to block the archway, and though Priscilla had never seen it for herself before, she knew exactly what it meant – someone had found her. Someone was trespassing within the painting, so the mist had appeared to protect her from the invader.
Certainly far from the greatest of times for something like this to happen. Of course, the impenetrable clouds having appeared meant that she was guaranteed some privacy for a while, so she did still have the chance to take care of her more personal business; but she had no way of knowing how long it would take the intruder to get through to her. Whoever they were, they could come through the fog at any moment – leaving Priscilla confused as to why the white mist was traversable from the outside, yet the fog door did not open from this side – and she certainly didn’t want to get caught in such a vulnerable, compromising position.
So the Crossbreed waited, standing with her weapon ready for whatever should happen to cross through the barrier. And she waited. And… waited. She wasn’t sure how much time was passing, but eventually she relaxed her stance and held her scythe more casually, tapping her foot impatiently as she stood staring at the fog.
Quite the awkward predicament for her to be in – she needed to urinate, and could do so for as long as she was alone in her tower, but because she had no way of knowing when she might get some unwanted company, she had to assume that, at any given moment, the intruder was right on the other side of the mist.
But then it would be demonstrated repeatedly to her minutes later that she could have relieved herself, only for it to by then be too late for her to do so because surely now the intruder would show up within moments… and then the cycle would just keep repeating. Eventually she was fidgeting beneath her dress, growing more and more impatient until at last Priscilla decided that she had the time to spare to quickly do her business and get back to waiting.
Of course, that was the exact moment a human-shaped shadow appeared on the clouds, and shortly afterwards some sort of human did indeed step through the fog, covered in armor and a bloodstained gold-trimmed blue surcoat, and carrying a terribly-battered kiteshield and a well-used sword to match.
Priscilla tensed up and pressed her legs together, her heart racing as she took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. “Who art thou? One of us, thou art not,” she said. “If thou hast misstepped into this world, plunge down from the plank, and hurry home.” Then she hastily added, “If thou seekest I, thine desires shall be requited not.”
She watched with surprise as the human responded by laying down its weapons and instead reaching up to pull off its helm and everything beneath it, revealing a female-looking face and a short brown ponytail. Then the human simply looked up at her, and spoke carefully. “Are… you not going to try to kill me or anything?”
“Thou must returneth whence thou came,” Priscilla responded, shaking her head and still a little on-edge even with this human having disarmed herself. “This land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind, but thou dost not belong. I beg of thee,” she continued, gesturing with her scythe to the balcony behind her, “Plunge down from the plank, and hurry home.”
The human just looked up at her with a confused expression. “Wait, what was that you said about peaceful?” Holding out her hands as an exasperated gesture, the human continued, “I died like twenty times out there. Mostly because of those wheel skeletons. How’s that peaceful and kind?”
“Thou dost not belong here,” the Crossbreed said again, her heartbeat normalizing but her voice still a little shaky from lingering nervousness and tension. “Thou intrudeth upon their home, armed as thou art, and expect that they not defend themselves?”
“Okay well, I didn’t know that doll would pull me into the painting, so, you know, I didn’t exactly have time to consider whose home I was showing up in.”
Priscilla raised an eyebrow at the human. “Doll? Thou hast retrieved my doll?”
The human shrugged. “I guess,” she said. “I found someone’s doll lying on the ground in prison and, just kinda… Well, it’s a bit of a long, uh… Eventually I ended up here after that, I suppose.”
“And what bringeth thee to this place?”
“Well, I was just, you know,” the human said with a little chuckle. “Going for a nice little walk through Anor Londo to pick up a bowl, and…” She shrugged again. “Found the painting.” Then she started to lower herself to the ground. “I’m just gonna sit down if you don’t mind…”
Priscilla’s heartbeat quickened again as she glared at the human, gesturing once more to the balcony. “No,” she said. “Thou cometh from Anor Londo. Thou art not welcome in this place. Begone.” Then she repositioned her scythe so as to be a little more threatening.
“Woah, hey.” Holding up her hands, the human spoke quickly. “I’m not from Anor Londo. I was just passing through. I’m from… Actually, I forgot where I’m from, but… Not there, at least, I know that.”
Lowering her scythe somewhat, Priscilla continued eyeing the human with a suspicious gaze. “Then what business hast thou there?”
“Well, like I said, I was on my way to pick up some bowl because a snake told me to…” After a moment to think about what she was saying, the human added, “You know, hearing that said makes it sound really crazy, but I swear-“
“Never mind,” Priscilla said suddenly, squeezing her legs together under her dress and bending slightly at the knees. “It matters not to me what thou wouldst do outside the painting. Thine place is outside, and thou must return where thou dost belong.”
“Can I at least ask you a few questions first?”
“It would be best for thee to hurry home.”
The human pulled a half-full flask from her belt and sat down. “I’ll be quick,” she said, taking a drink of whatever incandescent liquid was in that little green bottle. “I promise. Need to rest a bit anyways before I go jumping off into a bottomless pit…”
“Fine,” Priscilla conceded, rubbing her thighs together and positioning her scythe so she could discreetly press it against her crotch through her dress. “Ask thy questions. Then begone.”
“Right.” The human took another sip from her flask, then took a moment to think before inquiring, “So what exactly is this place?”
“This is the creation of Ariamis, a world made for that which does not belong outside.” The Crossbreed tried her best to ignore the heavy, burning weight in her bladder; hopefully there wouldn’t be too many questions.
“How’d you end up here, then?”
“That is not thy concern…”
The human nodded. “Sure. Fine. Could you at least tell me what you have against Anor Londo, though?”
Hesitantly, and still squirming in a manner that she hoped was subtle, Priscilla said, “It is the city of the Lord of Light, who fears all that is not as he expects. All that is dark.” Seeing the quizzical look on the human’s face, she added, “Surely thou doth understand? Art thou not undead? Even before I entered the painting he persecuted and imprisoned thy kind.”
“I’m not following,” the human said, drinking again.
“This place is a bastion for outcasts,” Priscilla said. “A refuge beyond the reaches of the Lord of Light.”
“But it’s in Anor Londo.”
Priscilla looked down at the human and blinked a few times. “So thou sayeth. Perhaps he intends to surveil it and ensure none that belong here escape.” Gesturing again to the balcony, she added, “But surely there would be nothing stopping thee from thine own exit.”
Nodding and downing what remained in her flask, the human said, “Yeah, I get it. Just one more question.”
A warm trail trickled down Priscilla’s leg as she considered her response. Just one question, and then she could pee. “This is acceptable,” she said.
“So what do you know about Gwyn imprisoning undead? I mean, I know I spent the last however-long sitting around in a cell until pretty recently, but… I’m kinda fuzzy on why.” The human adjusted her position, folding her legs as much as possible.
“Thou art born from the Dark,” Priscilla explained quickly, feeling more warmth running down her legs. “The Lord of Light fears the spread of the Dark, thus he doth try to control all that cometh from it.”
The human just looked up with a strange look, shifting in her seat. “So, wait… The snake said that…” She sat mumbling to herself and gesturing for a little while, with Priscilla rocking back and forth on her heels in the meantime, then eventually announced the conclusion she’d reached. “Then, I guess… I’ll see if I can find a way to get to the Flame without that snake… Hold onto the Lordvessel for a while, at least, I suppose… See what I can do with it…” Then she pushed herself up, standing unsteadily with her legs pressed together and knees bent. “I just, uh… Need to do one thing before I leave. I swear, estus goes out just as quickly as you can get it in…” She fiddled with the strings holding parts of her leg armor together as she hobbled over to the edge of the tower, dropping several bits of plate behind her and eventually tugging her thick pants down.
Priscilla looked away and pressed a hand between her legs, and the human got into a stance with her legs spread and hips forward, bringing both hands down to manipulate her skin. A moment later, Priscilla heard a hiss and a heavy sigh as the human relieved herself. With nothing outside the tower for her urine to land on, there were no sounds of her stream making contact with anything, but just the sound of it passing from between parted lips was enough for Priscilla to understand that the human was forcefully urinating and would continue doing so for a while.
But surely the Crossbreed could handle listening to that until the human went away? Sure, her bladder was aching and every pulse of desperation would force more of its contents out, now as little jets that were starting to get the floor wet. But she could hold on. All of the squeezing and leg-crossing in the world wasn’t enough to get her leaks to stop, but somehow she could definitely hold on.
Or… maybe not. A wave of agonizing need surged through her whole body, and Priscilla dropped her scythe and stood knock-kneed and trembling with both hands pressing her dress into her crotch as tightly as possible, whimpering as she felt one heavy spurt break free, then another, then a stream that lasted for a whole second before she took control back for only an instant. She groaned and fell to her knees, still pressing hard between her legs as one last leak started and didn’t stop, spilling out directly from her nethers and soaking into the fluff she was holding in place, before eventually seeping through and dripping from between her fingers while a yellow stain spread across the front of her dress.
“Ahh… But, why…?” Priscilla whimpered, refusing to fully give in but also partially acknowledging that there was nothing more she could do to take back control. She was wetting herself, sitting on the ground and peeing through her dress, down her legs, and onto the floor. After a little while she resigned herself to the reality of the situation, allowing herself to relax but staying positioned as she was; her dress no longer being pressed into her crotch meant her urine could now flow a little more freely down her legs, focusing on spreading the puddle beneath her instead.
Her stream continued for some time, and eventually Priscilla found the strength to move her hands so that she could wrap her tail around herself and hug it while she continued wetting herself, clinging tightly to the fluffy appendage and letting it supply at least a little comfort.
She didn’t notice anything other than her own accident until well after the hissing coming from within her dress had stopped, eventually looking away from her tail when the moisture on her legs started to cool. The first thing she saw was the human standing nearby, awkwardly trying to decide what to look at and eventually meeting Priscilla’s gaze with a sympathetic look on her face.
“Uh, so,” she said to the Crossbreed, “I don’t, uh… I mean, if I had known that, uh…” Rubbing the back of her head, she continued, “So, well, I kinda get why you were, y’know… in a rush to get me out of here, but… You’re pretty interesting. I’ll, uh… I’ll leave now, but… Would you mind, particularly, if I were to come back so we can talk some more?”
Priscilla looked over at her, blinking a few times to clear the tears from her eyes. “But this is not thy place. Thou should not return here.”
“Well, based on the little bit you said… I think this might actually be more like where I’m supposed to be. I’d, uh, like to come back and discuss it, try to figure it out.”
“If thou doth insist,” Priscilla muttered.
“Great,” the human said, picking up her gear and putting her helmet back on. “I’ll be back later, then, I guess. Just, uh… You know, you could just… Whatever, I’ll just leave.” Then she simply ran off over to the balcony, threw herself from it, and a moment later Priscilla could hear the giant raven coming by to grab her and carry her out of the painting.
Then, with a great sigh, Priscilla took a moment to look around, trying to ignore the rapidly-cooling moisture that she was sitting in and had covering her lower half. She had to admit – it felt kind of good that the first foreigner to come into the painting in however-long was someone so friendly. Next time, she would be able to get a little more comfortable, and if her bladder should become a problem again, she knew that she didn’t have to worry about making herself vulnerable around that particular human. She couldn’t totally trust her just yet, not after just one meeting, but even so, she at least found comfort in the fact that she could share the beauty of the cold and lonely painted world with someone else.
- 30
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Latest Entry
Juniper Triplets - Hold (in) the line!
An all-too-familiar sight of several people standing outside the toilet door greeted the trio as they left the screen room. A varied number of mixed responses, ranging from despair to annoyance preluded their eventual resignation to bring the number of waiting people up to eight.
"Can't say I didn't expect this." Carrie sighed.
"I'd say we should just ditch the line and head home, but I don't think that's an option," Casey interjected with a shrug.
"This isn't fair! I told you we should've gotten an aisle seat," Cleo complained with a whimper as she squeezed her legs together tighter.
"Didn't you get up halfway through the movie?" Carrie questioned. "A teacup can hold more than you."
"I think you're being generous there. A thimble's probably a more accurate estimate." Casey joined in the teasing with a chuckle.Cleo didn't even both responding to the baiting of her sisters and instead focused on making sure she wouldn't leave a puddle for the cleaners to have to mop up. Sure, maybe an Extra-Large drink wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but it was justified! The movie was three hours long, and that's not including the advertisements that always happened before them. Besides, it's not like the others were much better off than her, or at least she hoped so. The location itself was at fault as well! Who's bright idea was it to only have six stalls in a place where loads of people are likely going to be spending a lot of time? Maybe she should complain...
... Or maybe not. It'd be too embarrassing to.
"Stand up straight. You're embarrassing yourself, and us," Carrie quietly ordered Cleo, who was presently hunched over with both her hands squeezing at her denim shorts.
"B-but-!" The girl in question tried to protest when she noticed that the younger members of the line ahead of them weren't even as fidgety as she was. With a whine, she slowly stood up straight. Her legs remained crossed as she gently swayed her hips side to side.For all of Carrie's insistence, even she wasn't exactly being as composed as one might expect. The quiet tapping of her feet attested to this. Out of all of them, only Casey looked to be mostly unaffected by their current predicament. Thankfully, the line reduced by two after a couple of minutes waiting. Just the mother and her daughters ahead of them and then at least one of them could go in.
"Can't I go first? Please?" Cleo pleaded.
"No. You can wait," Came the curt response from Carrie.
"But I don't think I can wait!"
"It's your own fault, so you can deal with the consequences."Cleo attempted to express her disapproval with a glare, coupled with folding her arms across her chest, but that was cut short as she let out a quiet yelp. Removing her hands from their defensive position was pretty dumb of her. Back there they go, and there goes the belt buckle, the button and the zipper on her shorts. A little better, but still far from good enough. It's not like she could hide how full she was at present, since her top didn't even cover her midriff. Another poor idea, in hindsight, since the exposure made it harder to maintain control.
"If you keep squirming around like that your shorts will fall down." Casey cautioned.
"If I stand still there'd be much bigger problems," Cleo countered. The minor embarrassment from having the waistband of her underwear seen was nothing compared to sporting wet shorts, and having to call for a lift home rather than taking the bus.The next couple of minutes felt like hours to Cleo as she frantically tried to keep her tides at bay. Squirming lost its effect, so she changed to hopping from foot to foot, leading to quiet squeaks from her trainers. Carrie still fared slightly better than her, even if her posture had become more stiff and her glances towards the toilet door became more frequent. Casey mostly managed to maintain her composure, but even the position of her legs had shifted to being a good deal closer together. Finally, the line went down some more and the three of them were next up. Although none of them voiced their opinion, it was clear from the looks on their faces that they hoped it wouldn't be a much longer wait, for various reasons.
"Please...I'm at my limit." A teary eyed Cleo begged to be moved up in line.
Carrie considered her options before giving a response. It's not like Cleo was the only one of them that had to go badly.
"Fine...but I'm not moving just yet," She eventually responded, leading to a look of relief washing over Cleo's face. She silently hoped that the pair who went in earlier would leave at the same time so technically there wouldn't even be a need to switch places.
Time felt like it was passing at a snail's pace as the triplets eagerly watched in anticipation for the door to open. So close, so very close...
Why was it taking so long? Hurry up!
Did the door just-!? No, probably not...
Wait...YES!A single person left the toilet and Cleo's glance immediately shot towards Carrie, who reluctantly kept to her agreement earlier and gave a nod towards he expectant onlooker. She didn't need telling twice as Carrie only just managed to step out of the way before being barrelled over by a rogue Cleo-shaped missile. A flash of pink decorated by purple hearts could faintly be seen above the dark blue of her shorts as she disappeared into the toilets. In an almost taunting way, a pair of women left the toilets shorty after Cleo dashed in, leading to a much more normal (if slightly quicker) entrance from the two left waiting. Finally, it was over, and it looked like everyone got off pretty well, considering. No puddles to report... maybe.
All the waiting just made the outcome even better and, despite how Cleo had a jump start on the others, there wasn't much time between each of them finishing.
"Next time we're definitely getting an aisle seat," Carrie insisted as she washed her hands. "And you're banned from getting Extra-Large drink sizes, Cleo."
"It wouldn't have been so bad if I was allowed to go during the credits," Cleo retorted from her position over at the dryer.
"Any Superhero fan knows that there're always after credit scenes," Casey cut in as she dried her hands as well.
"Yeah, all of about five seconds or something. That's what the Blu-Rays or at-home streaming is for."The debate about the benefits of home viewing continued even as the trio finished up in the toilets and left the cinema. Carrie remained uninvolved as her sisters voiced their respective views on the way to the bus stop.
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Latest Entry
Masterful
The crowds packing the halls of Medru Dalach dispersed instinctively at Cel’s approach, first-years who didn’t know any better being dragged aside by upperclassmen. Nobody made eye contact with her – they had enough problems already without provoking her one way or another. Of course, it wasn’t like she went around trying to pick fights, but even so, by now people knew better than to disturb her without good reason. It wasn’t all that easy to socialize with her anyways, and while she did have a handful of close friends (hardly any of whom she’d met at the Academy) she’d made it clear that the distractions from her studies were not appreciated.
So she walked in silence, with the confidence of someone who’d committed a map of the grounds and halls to memory. This was Cel’s seventh year at Medru Dalach, of course, and while it was quite large it was very intuitively designed; not at all hard to navigate. Most of the difficulty in getting around was that there were so many people, but that had long since stopped applying to Cel. She walked into a room without even looking at the signage to confirm which room it was, and moved directly to take a seat at what would be her desk the entire year.
This room was something of a laboratory, large with one wall covered entirely in windows, and filled with a sprinkling of large tables that could easily seat a dozen people each. Shelves full of books and assorted magical and miscellaneous items lined the wall opposite the windows and in the middle of the room was a furnace and a handful of anvils. Cel’s seat was at a desk on the far side of the room from where she’d entered, beneath a large chalkboard with a handful of old paper diagrams stuck to it. She was the first to arrive – well before anyone else would even consider showing up – and as someone had already come in to light all the lanterns in the room she had plenty of time to look over her notes. It may have been her first day back this year, but that didn’t mean she had any excuse to be unprepared.
Come to think of it, it was her first day for a lot of things. As with most other members of her Order, she’d normally wear loose-fitting golden robes, but now Cel adjusted the collar of her new white shirt, undoing the top button so it didn’t feel like she was being choked by her own clothes. Her pants weren’t much better – they weren’t too bad, but they were tight and always seemed to be in an uncomfortable position. She really wasn’t used to wearing stuff like that, since beyond her armor which she’d maybe only wear for an hour or two at a time once a month, she’d always worn robes and skirts with nothing under them except the minimum required to maintain decency. But now she had an appearance to maintain, and this was the way to do it – even if it meant she’d have to stuff herself into constricting garments and show off a little more of her modest figure than she would have liked.
For an hour the only sound in the room was that of papers being moved as Cel consulted her notes, checking over diagrams to ensure they and the descriptions of them were accurate. The first few students to arrive didn’t even seem to notice her presence as they found seats at the large tables and similarly looked over whatever important documents they had with them. But as the room filled, they started talking to each other, and the few times Cel looked up to survey the room she could see one or two of them pointing in her direction and talking in hushed tones. Whatever they were talking about, though, she didn’t care. It was probably true anyways, and either way she was well aware of all the rumors about her that had been circulating for the past few years. No need to waste her time trying to suppress them when they weren’t doing her any harm.
The room had filled well before the bell in the Council tower rang out – these were seventh-year students, and by now they had no excuse to be late to the first class of the year. When it stopped ringing, she stood up and moved out from behind her desk, all eyes now on her and the room dead silent.
Cel spread her arms and gave a little bow of her head before breaking the silence. “Well,” she said. “Here we are again, huh?” Then her arms folded and she continued. “I already know all of you and you already know me. And you know that I don’t want to waste any time here. Whatever you’ve heard, you heard right. Especially –“ She tugged lightly at the blue sash she was wearing. “If you’ve heard about this. Now, my status may have changed but my expectations haven’t. You show me respect, do what you’re here to do, we’ll get along fine like always. You make trouble…” Cel gave a little chuckle. “Well, you already know how that would turn out, don’t you? Anyways, all you need to know is that this is not going to be an easy class, but we’re gonna do a lot more practical work than theory, so we’ll have a bit of fun with it. But that’s enough talking. Let’s get right into it, unless someone has questions…?”
A single hand went up near the front of the room, and the person to whom it was attached stood up when Cel pointed at her. Cel was familiar with her – they’d had adjacent dorm rooms for the past six years. “Well, uh, excuse me Ce- er, Councillor, but…” The woman was a good eight years older than Cel and was tripping over her own words. “Uh… don’t you think it, eh, it’s a bit… weird… that you took our class specifically?”
Cel shook her head before answering. “Of course not. Nobody else – not the other eight, not any of the professors – knows you guys as well as I do. I’m sure it’ll be a little uncomfortable for a little while, but trust me, it’ll be worth it. Who better to teach you than someone who was, hardly four months ago, your peer? I know what’ll work, what won’t, so we won’t have to waste any time figuring it all out. And speaking of wasting time…”
The Councillor’s eyes scanned the room for a moment. The woman whose question she’d answered had sat back down and nobody else seemed to have anything to say, so Cel turned around and picked up a piece of chalk. For the next couple of minutes the only sound was of the chalk rubbing against the board, until finally Cel turned around again, now standing in front of a complicated diagram and a few unusual equations.
“This should be a good place to start,” she said, pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. “Divine alloy, mystic alloy, whatever name you’ve heard for it. We’re gonna make some. I’ll show you how to do it and then, well, you do it. I’ll need, uh…” Cel looked around for only a moment and pointed at two different people. “You, and you. Get over there.” She waved a hand in the direction of the forges, and the two elves she’d chosen hurried over without a word. Cel herself took a moment to browse the shelves for a handful of different metals before joining her two assistants and laying out the metal bars on an anvil.
Cel lit one of the forges and got to work immediately. For ten minutes, she worked with the bars she’d brought, running her hands across them and moving them into and out of the forge, all the while narrating her process. Her assistants added their magic on her orders, and eventually Cel was magically pulling a blob of liquid metal with a peculiar bronze color.
“Now, you’re supposed to be able to do this regardless of what sort of magic you’ve got. If you can’t, you did it wrong. But if you did it right, you should be able to…” The metal gradually took on a more corporeal shape as Cel’s hands moved about, eventually settling into the form of a razor-sharp dagger which Cel grabbed out of the air. “… give it whatever shape you want. Once you’re satisfied with its shape,” she said, stuffing the knife into some compartment in her new robes. “You can solidify it, and you’ve got yourself a more or less indestructible whatever-you-made. You can’t reshape it once you’ve locked its form, though. Nobody’s figured out how to do that, so… Well, if you somehow manage to do that I’ll definitely need to know about it.” Then she clapped her hands together once and said, “Now go ahead, sort yourselves out, and get to work. There’s… a good forty minutes left to this class. Should be plenty of time.”
Cel spent the rest of the class at her desk, carefully watching over her students to ensure nothing was getting out of hand. It was a bit disorderly, as she’d expected – only one of the groups had no more than the minimum six people, and all the others had an extra mage of one element or another helping out. None of the groups had gotten it quite right, but everyone was talking to each other trying to figure out what went wrong, so as far as Cel was concerned the lesson was working.
She took a drink from the waterskin she’d had hanging by her hip, attached to a piece of her robe that served as a belt. It was almost entertaining watching people who just last year were her fellow students now running around following her orders. Councillors didn’t have to teach classes, but Cel was very much enjoying her decision to do so. This was what she’d been working towards for twenty years. She raised her waterskin in a little toast to herself, and took another drink. Having this sort of power was fun, and it was power she’d damn well earned. Though, more importantly, of course, was the responsibility of being part of the joint leadership of the Academy, and Cel certainly wasn’t about to let that get the better of her after everything she’d done to get there. It would be a bit of a learning experience, but then again, what wasn’t?
Cel stood up at the exact moment the Council tower bell started ringing. The class, which would have normally been prepared to leave ten minutes ago after becoming so familiar with the Academy’s schedule, seemed to be taken by surprise and rushed to clean up after themselves. They hesitated to leave, though, only hurrying out the door once Cel gave a little dismissive wave of her hand. She stayed behind until the last of them had left, giving the room a quick last survey to ensure it was clean enough for whomever would have it next before she left as well.
She took her sweet time in the halls, not having anywhere in particular she needed to be. She’d decided to work her way over to the Council tower, but there wasn’t any pressing need for her to be there just yet. Soon enough Cel was the only one in the halls, the tower bell signaling the start of the next class. Nobody wanted to be late, after all, especially not with her prowling around. And with nowhere to be and no truants to chase down, Cel now had an opportunity to admire the architecture of the place. She’d never really gotten a good look at anything before, always in a hurry to get to one place or another, but now she was looking at every little detail while she wandered along in whatever direction she was headed.
For a bunch of five-thousand-year-old buildings, Medru Dalach sure did look nice. A glance out one of the hallway windows gave a view of the marble outer walls of the other buildings, and inside the walls were a beautiful light bluish-gray stone with some intricate designs carved in where they met the dark wooden floor. Bright lanterns hung from the ceiling and were mounted on the walls in places.
Cel made her way down a flight of stairs made of the same stone as the walls, down a short hallway and through some large doors leading to a mess hall. It was quiet this time of day, with only a handful of students and possibly even a professor or two hanging around with nothing better to do. None of them gave Cel any more attention than a quick glance in her direction, and she didn’t pay them any heed either, making her way over to a counter set up with various drinks. Having already had breakfast, Cel simply made herself a cup of tea and walked right back out into the halls with it in hand. Her slow walk continued, and she stopped every so often to take a sip or two of her tea, working her way to the Council tower.
She eventually got to the plaza that connected all the buildings on campus, taking one last break on a bench near the Academy’s central lodestone, an obelisk taller than some of the buildings around it, to finish off her tea. Once that was done, Cel decided to skip the rest of the walk and a great deal of stairs – primarily the excessive amount of stairs – and simply touched the lodestone, closing her eyes for a moment. There was a brief sensation of wind rushing past her, then Cel found herself standing near a little shrine on one of the tower’s higher levels.
Across the room there was a desk, at which was seated a silver-haired elf wearing the same robes as Cel. He was hunched over what seemed to be papers of some kind, only looking up once Cel reached the desk.
“Ah, there you are,” he said, standing and offering a handshake which Cel readily accepted. “There’s a lot to show you. Would have done it earlier, of course, but you’ve thrown that off a little by taking a class already.”
“Was that not what you were expecting?”
“Not particularly,” the other Councillor said. “But it’s not an issue really. Come, I’ll… show you to the proper offices. Just up these stairs here.” He passed through a doorway to a staircase, Cel following close behind, and the two continued to talk on the way. “I must say, Cel,” he said. “You seem to have adjusted quite well to your new station. Many of us never teach classes, never mind that being the first thing we do when we get here. Seems we were right about you.”
Cel stopped briefly to give a deep bow of her head. “Why, thank you, Master.”
The response was a light chuckle. “Oh, but it seems it’s not so easy for you to drop the formal tone with us, is it, Maestress?” The last word had a teasing emphasis on it.
“Old habits, Varassus,” Cel said, mimicking his tone. “How long did it take you to start calling Theryl or Sentagon by their names, hm?”
“Sure, fair enough. Though in my defense, they’re forty years older than me, and it’s very hard to act like people so senior to you are your equals. Ah, but, here we are.” Varassus stopped to hold a door open for Cel and followed her into the room. Aside from the space occupied by the stairwell and what seemed to be a handful of closets, the room took up the entirety of this floor of the tower and as such was a massive circle. Some desks were scattered around, organized into strange shapes with many of them piled high with any number of things. One of the desks was occupied, and four more Councillors stood over a small table at which the last two were seated. Varassus went directly to this table, and Cel followed quietly.
Cel recognized the two seated Councillors as Esgobion and Teragon. Esgobion had been the sole vote against offering her a Council seat, and Teragon had said only a single word during Cel’s trials – he had a bit of a reputation for saying as little as possible, a trait Cel could sympathize with.
The two were playing a game with which Cel was not particularly familiar, and though she’d seen it played at the Academy from time to time she didn’t know its name or its rules. All she knew about it was that a square board was laid out on the table, and had a grid of squares that alternated between light and dark painted onto it. The two Councillors were each moving a little army around, one black and one white.
Varassus leaned in close to Esgobion, and Cel could hear him quietly say “Ng5,” whatever that meant, to the other elf.
Apparently, it didn’t mean anything of value, as in response Esgobion shoved Varassus aside with one hand. “What? Why would I do that? Do you see his queen? Get out of here.”
“Bah, you never take my advice.” Varassus turned back to Cel and vaguely gestured out towards the rest of the room. “Well, you can go ahead and find an empty desk or two or ten. Get yourself set up however you like. Not too much work to do just yet, so relax for a bit, then when you’re ready one of us has to show you how to set up the trials.” And with a curt nod, he headed back downstairs, leaving Cel to wander the office on her own.
She headed first for the only occupied desk, where a Councillor was busy studying what seemed to be essays of some variety. “How’d you end up stuck with paperwork on the first day, Madrelos?” She was looking over his shoulder has she spoke, and though he seemed to jump a little in his seat he was mostly unphased, only giving a brief glance back at Cel.
“Council applicants,” he said with his impatience clear in his voice. “We get a good few during the off-season, and we’ve got to sort through them all, toss the ones we don’t want to bother with, and set up the interviews for the ones we do want.” Then he shrugged. “Pain in the ass, but someone has to do it.”
“Couldn’t we just stop taking applications for a while?” Cel folded her arms. “There’s a mile-long list of people who already passed the trials, isn’t there?”
Madrelos sighed. “Sure is. Consider yourself lucky you got an invitation and skipped the line. You and Theryl are the only ones here who managed that. The rest of us had to wait a good three years or so.” He dropped his pen and turned around to face Cel properly. “And we were lucky to wait any less than fifteen. There are people on that list who’ve been on it longer than you’ve been alive. But, we close off applications, we’re blinded to new talent. Sure, some people will die waiting to get in, but I’m sure you’re well aware of how high our standards are. It’s one thing to be good enough to get our attention and pass the trials, but if someone better comes along afterwards, we’re taking them first.” Another sigh and he turned around again. “But we’d never know if someone better might come along later if we close applications. Nobody likes sorting through them, but sometimes you strike gold and that’s what makes it worth it. Now, uh, I’d like to get through at least a tenth of this before the day is out.”
“Yeah, have fun there.” Cel took only a few steps away from Madrelos and examined the room. Things seemed to be strewn about at random – the desks that had anything on them didn’t have any logical placement in the room, and most seemed to be two or three separate desks all pushed together. The unoccupied desks were almost as bad, relegated to the edges of the room but still positioned without any care.
Though the edges of the room also featured some very nice, if unremarkable, windows. It wasn’t so much the windows themselves that were impressive, of course – sure, they were made of flat, clear glass, which even a King would consider a luxury anywhere else, but that was standard at the Academy. And those simple blue curtains pulled out of the way of the sun’s light weren’t anything to write home about either. But that view…
Cel grabbed one of the free desks and dragged it over to a nearby window, shoving the desk right up against the wall below the window. Then she found a chair and brought that over, and sat down to watch the outside world. This side of the tower looked out on the bulk of the campus, and at this height any observer would have the perfect angle just far enough above all the buildings to properly admire the size of Medru Dalach. It could be a perfectly functional city if it really wanted to, and from here it was easy to see why.
But Cel couldn’t just sit around staring out a window all day – her body had other plans, for one, and while it currently seemed to only be making a suggestion and not a demand, it would be wise to take care of that little problem before it became an actual issue. She’d still have business to take care of afterwards, of course, and it wouldn’t make much sense to add unnecessary distractions.
So she got up, calmly smoothed out her robe, and went on a bit of an adventure to see what was in all the side rooms on this floor of the tower. Most of them were storage space, as was expected, but one was exactly what Cel was looking for. It was a small room, with little in it beyond what was necessary – though it was a little ostentatious for just the bare minimum. The Academy, after all, made unique use of running water indoors, thanks to some sort of ingenuous use of magic that allowed fresh water to be carried around through pipes in the walls. A marked improvement over having a bench with a hole in it that led who-knows-where.
Cel’s hands found their way under her robe to drop what was there to the ground, then she took her seat. She couldn’t help but think that the whole setup was a bit strange, even if she did know it helped keep things around the Academy a lot cleaner and healthier. There was just something inherently not right about the muted sound of her urine striking water beneath her even if only for a few seconds, and the cold ceramic seat wasn’t exactly comfortable either. But then, comfort wasn’t the primary purpose here, was it?
When she finished, Cel stood up and negotiated her clothes into a position where she could return her pants and underwear to where they were meant to be and drop the blue robe to cover them again. A few steps over to another wall and she was standing before a mirror hung over a stone counter – the counter had a bit of a bowl-shape carved into the middle, and a pipe came from the wall and aimed directly at the hole in the center of the recession. Cel turned a knob on the pipe, causing it to issue cold water in a manner not at all dissimilar to what she herself had done seconds before. A moment to wash her hands, turn the water off again, and straighten out her short black hair, then Cel left the little room behind.
Then she went straight back to her desk – her own desk, in the Council tower! – and stood by it, leaning a little over it with both hands planted flat on top. More to stop them from shaking than anything else. The feeling struck her almost out of nowhere that this must have been a dream; a dream that she would have wet herself out of by now with her little bathroom trip, but a dream nonetheless. But no, it was real. Surely it was. Wasn’t it?
‘Deep breaths,’ Cel told herself, looking straight at her hands for some anchor in something she could be sure was true. After all, how could everything around her be real? Six years. That was it. How could all this happen in six years? Seven years ago, she was celebrating becoming a proper adult, going off into the world on her own as an absolute nobody. Two years ago, she had respect. She had a name; not a big shot by any means, but she’d made a name for herself. And then… last year. That sixth year. That was it. The year that took this nobody girl from nowhere and ensured the entire world would know her name.
Cel brought up one arm and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She was proud of herself, and she damn well had every right to be. She’d worked hard, not just for the six years she was a student at the Academy, for her entire damn life, all twenty-two years of it. And this was her reward. She hadn’t thought about exactly what that meant before now, and it was all a bit overwhelming. Years’ worth of sweat and blood and now suddenly Cel was one of the nine most powerful people on the planet. The youngest person to ever be one of the nine most powerful people on the planet. Just a few years at Medru Dalach and she’d made history all on her own.
‘But it’s not over yet, is it?’ Cel answered her own question with a little shake of her head. She couldn’t afford to have people start second-guessing her reputation – her life’s work – when it was all she had. ‘No… No, this is where it starts.’ She may have already proven herself, but now she had to fight to keep everything she’d already fought so hard to get. ‘Because, if I don’t-‘
“Cel?”
The young Maestress was pulled from her thoughts by a familiar voice off to her side, and she turned her head to find its source.
“You alright?” Sentagon spoke calmly, his concern obvious in his tone and the creases of his aged face.
Cel nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. Just… Just, uh, haven’t quite totally accepted that, eh… that this is real, y’know?”
Sentagon raised an eyebrow, and watched Cel search his eyes for some hint that he knew what she wouldn’t say – but if he did, he wasn’t saying anything about it either. “Yeah, it is a bit overwhelming at first,” he said, offering up a cup of tea he’d carried over – Cel took it with a quiet word of thanks and took a few sips while the elder Councillor continued speaking. “But, here we are. We dedicated our lives to magic, and this is where we ended up. It’s always hard to understand that we really have done it. You just need a little help adjusting.”
“Thanks, but, uh… I don’t need help. What I need is to get to work. Soooo,” Cel dragged out the last word before cutting it off with another sip of tea. “If you really want to help, you think you could show me how to get the arena set up?”
“Hah, I should have expected as much from you,” Sentagon said, putting a hand on Cel’s nearest shoulder. “Just follow me, I’ll show you everything.” Then he left, and Cel followed, still working on the tea she’d been given.
They passed by the board game again – this time it was the unparalleled strategist Renagor who was sat across from Teragon – and went back down the stairs without a word. Cel didn’t mind being left to her thoughts, so long as she could avoid the darkness Sentagon had stopped her from falling into again. She didn’t like that part of herself, but it had a point. Cel’s name was everything to her, and if anything should change to make people think less of her, her life would be ruined. It was a terrifying concept, a dreaded future Cel had worked hard to avoid. That darkness had driven her ambitions, led her to Medru Dalach, to the Council. But it wasn’t welcome – fear was no true motivator.
Sentagon was one of a rare few who Cel trusted completely, one of the few she could be her real self around, and perhaps the only person outside of her own kin she could turn to when the darkness resurfaced. The two had stopped in a side-room near Varassus’s desk so Sentagon could make more tea, and while Cel leaned against a wall by the door she considered voicing her concerns and asking for advice. But she couldn’t find the right words, and in any case she really did mean it when she said she wanted to just get right to work – work would help her. It would be something to do, something to focus on. Even better, it would be difficult, and that sort of pressure would keep Cel occupied and happy. Sentagon would teach her how to handle that pressure and ensure she knew what to do, and she would do as he showed her even when he was no longer there to see or care.
But for now Sentagon was here with her, ready to teach her the ways of the Council, with cups of tea in hand for the both of them. Cel had already finished the first one she’d been given – it hadn’t been full when she got it, so overall it went by faster, but it was still gone either way – so she took the second with a quiet nod. She wasn’t really thirsty, but this tea was special and reminded her of home. And, well, of course it did, because this tea was from home. Though Cel had been there just last week, and she was by now used to home being halfway across the world, the taste of something made by the priests of the Celestial Order was deeply comforting. Sentagon clearly thought so, too – a brief search of the room while the two spent some time quietly drinking revealed he had a lot more stuff from home stored here. Cel helped herself to some of his bread, absentmindedly working on a slice while her tea gradually disappeared.
“Oh, uh, I should probably mention…” Sentagon spoke without the conviction Cel had come to expect from his ancient voice. “We’ll actually be having a brief meeting today, right after lunch. It’s nothing terribly important but if you’d like to get a handle on things around here you’ll want to get yourself ready for that.”
“Whah? A meeting?” Cel’s voice was muffled by the bread she was trying to speak around, until she swallowed it, followed up with some tea, and continued. “A meeting on the first day? That never happens.”
“Not normally, no, but, eh… Like I said it won’t be anything major, nothing we’d need to get too involved in, so it’s better if we get that out of the way first so it doesn’t keep us from real business later in the year.”
“Huh. Well, it’s something, right? Nothing interesting, then?” Cel looked into her cup and finished off the rest of her tea all at once.
Sentagon shrugged. “Eh, it rarely is anything interesting. Today it’s just some people looking for funding for their research…” He put a hand on his chin and pointed vaguely as he spoke. “And we’re also meant to see High King…. whatshisname… Ontarius. He’s bringing his sons to… Ah, well, I don’t remember what he said they’re coming along for, but it’s just a routine visit, nothing special.”
“Uh…” Cel raised an eyebrow and set down her teacup. “Sorry, I got a bit lost when you said ‘High King’. I’m not quite understanding how a visit from the man on the Bleeding Throne could be called routine.”
“Hah, yes, I suppose you wouldn’t be used to things like that yet, would you?” The elder Councillor crossed his arms. “It’s pretty simple. A High King shows up around here about every fifteen years to get up to speed on things we’ve decided in the time since the last visit. They like to adjust their laws to stay in line with our rules, and it’s not rare for leaders to do things like that. Used to see the same thing with the Cysgod Emperors, but they’ve not come in person since Renagor joined the Council. Not much reason to come all the way out here when you’re related to one of the Nine, I suppose.”
Cel nodded slowly and quietly. “That… Yeah, that makes sense, I suppose. But, um…” She motioned with her hand towards the door. “Trial caves?”
“Right, right. Just come with me, then. We’ll get this wrapped up real quick for you.” Sentagon left the room when he finished, and Cel followed closely. The two went directly to the shrine Cel had teleported to earlier, Varassus paying them no mind as they passed him.
Cel stood back for a moment while Sentagon went first, walking directly towards the shrine and sticking his arm out in front of him so his hand brushed against it, never slowing down. He seemed to dissolve into dust and then vanish completely as soon as his hand touched the shrine. Cel waited a bit before approaching more carefully, stopping when she got within arm’s reach of the shrine and only then laying a hand on it. A moment passed where nothing happened, then her vision faded and she could hear the roaring of intense wind, and when her vision returned she was clearly underground.
Her surroundings were familiar, though she didn’t remember them as well as she did the rest of the Academy – she’d only been down here once before, for this was not a place to which one came often. Still, it was perfectly recognizable as the trial cavern, or at least its entry hall – the arena itself was beyond a few rooms carved from the underground. In front of Cel was a gate she couldn’t see past, but knew blocked off a little residential area with all the necessities for a single person to spend a few days living in. Past that was the simple preparation area that had little more than a bench and a table in it, and farther still ahead was the great arena, a large empty circle with an observation room somewhere far above. But the gate was sealed, and nothing beyond it was of any use just now.
Sentagon spoke from somewhere behind Cel, and she turned to see him sitting cross-legged against a wall. “Figured you’d be down here,” he said. “You’re going to have to get used to teleporting into the box, you know. But for now here’s as good a place as any to explain how this works.”
The young Maestress took a seat next to her elder, and looked over at him. “I’m listening.”
“Well,” Sentagon started, taking a deep breath. “It’s simple, theoretically. You’re familiar with soulbinding. It’s the same concept, except instead of binding clothes or armor or a weapon, you bind the entire arena so you can call on it again later. Which, unfortunately, means anything you need for any trials you set up you need to bring with you all the way down here, or else set up some teleportation network for them. I’m sure you’ve seen it doesn’t do much to limit our creativity, but it does get rather inconvenient.”
Cel nodded. “Right. But if that’s how it works, where did stuff like Attraeon’s lodestone come from, or the obelisk Teragon had for me?”
“I’m not entirely sure where Attraeon got the lodestone from. You’d have to track him down and ask him. As for Teragon, though, I’d imagine what he made for you was made from the arena itself. Use the cave’s stone to build whatever you need. And I know what you’re going to ask, yes, you can use earth magic on the arena. Teragon was blocking it during your test for him but that’s not something that happens often and there’s nobody to stop you if you’re here alone anyways.”
“Makes sense. And I’d have complete control over what I put in the arena?” Cel shifted around a little bit to get more comfortable while she spoke.
“Wiiiithin reason. You can’t, of course, design a trial for someone that they’d never be able to pass. If they fail, it has to be because of their own shortcomings, not the test itself. And you can’t do anything that’s particularly likely to kill the applicant either. What Renagor did for you is basically as far as you can go with putting people in danger, and that was really only acceptable to begin with because you’d have failed and ended the test if you couldn’t pull up some bound armor. If things get too dangerous, we have to intervene and that just doesn’t end well for anyone. So… just don’t be an idiot.”
He got a chuckle in response. “Ah, geez, I’ll have to try really hard then.”
Sentagon wasn’t laughing. “Please don’t joke about this. You’re a smart woman. You know how serious this is.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. Now, um, is there anything else I need to know?”
“Actually, yes.” Sentagon reached into his robes and procured a small, simple gemstone. “The arena configurations are too complicated to soulbind to yourself. Back in the early days, the Council came up with these things to channel the binding through. These stones will keep track of everything as long as you know how to work the magic that way. It does get a little more complicated, however...”
“How much more?”
“Do you know how to associate binds with words, or images, or something like that?”
Cel shrugged. “Probably. Never had to do it, but I bet I could. That’s how those work?”
“In a way. You know hard it is to unbind something. These stones remember a lot of trials and with how many applicants will actually take the trials each year it gets very hard to keep track of them. So the most common thing to do is to associate a particular arena setup with the applicant’s name. Makes it very easy to recall. If we were up in the box I’d show you the test I had for you right now.”
“And all I’ve got to do besides that is keep that thing in my pocket?”
“That’s… an option.” Sentagon handed the stone to Cel. “Most Councillors have theirs made into jewelry. The magic on the stones doesn’t weaken if the stone is cut, so it’s perfect for rings or amulets. Of course though, neither of us are very comfortable wearing jewelry, are we?” When Cel gave a light shake of her head, he continued. “So I just had mine fitted into my belt. I’d recommend you do the same, or find some other article of clothing you always wear that you can keep it on.”
“Okay, yeah, that all makes sense. But there’s gotta be more, right?”
Sentagon stood and extended a hand to help Cel up. “Eh, no, that’s about it. There’s just a little bit to explain with the enchantments up in observation but you can figure that out when you’re actually overseeing a trial. Until then you just have to familiarize yourself with the stone and practice binding things to it. You’re already teaching classes, and you’ll see how to handle our meetings soon enough. I’d say you just have to find a way to kill some time before lunch.”
“I suppose I’ll get this stone figured out then,” Cel said, rolling the magical gem around in one hand before eventually shaking Sentagon’s hand with the other.
“That would be wise. If you need anything, I’ll be in the tower.” Then he disappeared in a cloud of dust, and Cel turned to the arena gate.
An hour or two past noon, Cel found herself sitting at an elevated crescent table with the other eight while they all listened to some windbag researcher beg them for a sizeable loan to fund his studies. Something about an explosive powder that he thought could be used to launch projectiles more efficiently than any siege engine. While the concept was rather interesting, Cel couldn’t bring herself to pay attention to his droning explanations about what he would do with their gold. It didn’t sound very practical, especially not when mages could already do far better than what this scientist was describing.
And she had more important things to focus on anyways. She’d stayed in the arena until noon learning how to use her new binding stone – which for now was tucked away in a pocket – and all the tea she’d been drinking meant she’d needed to make a detour to relieve herself beforehand, but that was hours ago now. It probably wasn’t helping that she drank quite a lot while she practiced, and went directly from the arena to lunch without stopping anywhere. At the time she didn’t think it necessary, and though she was aware of her need by the time she’d finished her meal – which she’d paired with just a touch more beer than normal – it didn’t concern her enough to bother standing in any lines. Returning to the tower wasn’t much better of an option at the time considering she’d then have to lurk around doing nothing of value until the meeting started.
So now she found herself surrounded by her Council peers, conducting mind-numbing standard business, with a decidedly full bladder. It still wasn’t quite uncomfortable yet, but it was enough to give Cel another reason to want to get out of the meeting as soon as possible. These researchers never seemed to shut up…
This one eventually did, though, and when her turn came Cel gave a little wave of her hand and said “No”, though she seemed to be outvoted and not long afterwards the researcher left the room to go find whomever would give him his money. Cel could hear Varassus sorting through papers to her left, and to her right Theryl had stood up for a moment to stretch. She didn’t pay either of them much heed, instead just absentmindedly chewing her fingernails while she waited for someone else to come into the room. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many more and they’d all get right to the point.
“One more for today…” Cel heard Varassus muttering as he looked over his papers. Soon enough everyone else settled down and Cel folded her hands in her lap and tried to make herself look like she wasn’t about to fall asleep.
Varassus called for the next person, and Cel watched the door. When it opened, three men walked in, one clearly older than the other two, and all of them dressed up to look important. The eldest wore a long red coat trimmed with white fur, and his brown hair was marked with streaks of gray that matched the color of the silver coronet on his brow. The other two men bore a remarkable resemblance to him, and must have been his sons – they were dressed like their father, only their coats had less fur and were a slightly darker red.
Cel watched the three of them settle in before the Council, and briefly looked one of the sons dead in the eye. He turned away with a red face as soon as he noticed she was looking at him.
She leaned back as Varassus spoke, no longer paying much attention as he described what the meeting would entail and the High King introduced himself and his sons. Cel settled in with her elbow on the arm of her chair and her hand holding up her head while Varassus rattled off a list of Academy policies that had changed recently. Once again, she was barely paying attention, listening only enough to understand what the First Councillor was saying while waiting for the meeting to end.
High King Ontarius would interrupt every so often with questions, and one of the Councillors would waste yet more time answering him. Cel, fortunately, was not expected to actually speak here – questions seemed to be answered by the Councillor with the greatest expertise in the relevant area, and Varassus was as much of an expert enchanter as she was. She could sit back and let him answer any questions that she would otherwise have needed to speak up on, leaving her free to ignore the discussion and look around for something interesting or some other such distraction.
This meeting certainly had dragged on for quite a while though, and while Cel was still certain she had everything under control, she knew she definitely needed to leave soon. And not just because she needed to pee, either – that prince kept looking at her, and as amusing as it was to give him a death glare and have him hurry to look elsewhere, she really didn’t like being gawked at like that. Cel didn’t much appreciate being stared at by some royal as if she were an exotic novelty. It was like he’d never seen a woman before.
Nor did she appreciate how long and uneventful all this was. Perhaps if it were something entertaining she’d be able to keep her mind off her bladder for a while, but it was the only company she had while time dragged on. If she’d known the meeting would take this long, she’d have gone beforehand just to be safe, but she had made her choice and had to live with it, as annoying as the results were. It wouldn’t be a problem if they’d just wrap up soon…
Eventually they did, after who-knows-how-long, just as Cel was starting to believe it to be impossible. Varassus said something that sounded pretty final, and all the Councillors stood up. Cel followed along with them as they worked their way around the table to get down to where the royals were still hanging around.
Ontarius greeted the Masters one by one, introducing each of them to his sons, but for one of the Nine he reserved a special greeting. The High King approached Renagor, and gave him an awkward hug – awkward only because Ontarius, who was not by any means a small man, stood at eye-level with the Councillor’s chest. “Renagor,” he said afterwards. “It’s good to see you! I think I may have missed our last family reunion. How’s your nephew?”
“Arianwyn is doing well,” was the response. “Or, Tywyll now, I suppose. Even after nine years I still haven’t quite gotten used to calling him that.” Renagor gave a half-hearted chuckle. “He’s doing his best to live up to his father’s name, but, you know, he’s just not the man my brother was. He’s not the Emperor my brother was, but I can at least hope that he’s taking his job as seriously as Tywyll did.”
“I’m sure he’ll be great. And you’ve been well yourself, then?” Renagor gave an affirmative answer, then Ontarius turned to look at Cel, who had approached while the two were speaking. “Oh, and is this the new Maestress I’ve heard about?”
“Cel of Korohn,” the young Councillor introduced herself, extending a hand. She almost recoiled in surprise when the High King took the hand, bowed, and kissed it as one of his vassals might do to him. “Er, right,” she said when he’d finished, wiping that hand on her robes. “And I take it you are Ontarius Variisar.”
“Indeed I am, Maestress,” the High King said, bowing his head. “And these are my sons, Orelion…” This prince performed a similar bow when his father motioned to him. “…and Zacarius.” Zacarius gave a nervous salute – he was the one who kept looking at Cel, and his face was as red as his coat now. Then he quickly straightened up and attempted to put on a formal look.
“Right.” Cel paid Zacarius no mind, focusing on Ontarius… and her body’s calls to leave, which had become quite loud. She couldn’t get caught up in a conversation now, and though she’d heard the High King say something to Renagor that had piqued her interest, she reluctantly had to let it go and deal with more immediate concerns. Renagor himself could explain later, anyways. “Good to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should be going…”
Ontarius gave Cel a quick look up and down, hopefully not noticing the very slight fidgeting she was now doing. “Of course, Councillor. I won’t keep you.” He stepped aside, clearing Cel’s path to the door. “Enjoy your day.”
Cel gave a little wave as she left, moving directly for the stairs to get back down to the offices. Sure, she could just teleport down to that floor, even directly into the bathroom, but overreliance on magic like that was lazy and irresponsible and possibly even a serious invasion of privacy. Plus, it wasn’t that far down anyways, and the exercise would be good for her.
So, a quick jog down the stairs and… Cel was slammed into by some student who nearly tumbled back downstairs, grabbing the railing to keep from falling while Cel found her own footing again.
“Are you blind?” The Councillor composed herself and tried to step around the reckless student and get on her way again, the sudden shove of a whole person colliding with her not doing her any favors, but before she could the student’s voice stopped her.
“Ah, sorry, Maestress,” she said, quickly, Cel just now noticing that she looked out of breath, her eyes wide and hands trembling as she held onto the railing. “But there’s… uh…” She stood panting, trying to say something, but Cel interrupted her attempts to make sense.
“Calm down,” she said, as if it were an order. The other woman – probably no higher than a fourth-year, considering she looked to be around Cel’s age – nodded and tried to force her breathing to slow down enough to speak properly. Cel followed up with another order. “Now, tell me what’s so important.”
The student stammered for a bit before she could finally say something coherent. “Um, there, uh… some girls got into a fight in the dorms, and… it got a little out of hand, and…”
“Out of hand? Was anyone seriously hurt?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see anything. I was just told to get a Councillor.”
Cel nodded. “Right. I’ll go take care of it. Go tell the others what I’m doing, then get yourself a cup of tea or something. You need to relax.” Then she disappeared, magically jumping to the little shrine below the offices, then from there to the plaza lodestone, and then from there straight to the entrance to the women’s dorms. ‘How does this shit happen,’ Cel thought while she ran in the direction a passing student had pointed her towards. ‘On the first fucking day?’ Her full bladder reminded her that it needed attention, but she forced herself to ignore it for now, despite each step jolting the organ and sending even louder signals that it needed to be dealt with. But it had to wait. This was more important.
Slowing down when she reached a crowd, Cel pushed her way through, occasionally giving orders for people to move, until she reached the front, where a professor was trying to keep the crowd in check while doing damage control at the same time. Cel couldn’t see much other than a charred door lying in the hallway.
“Professor,” she said, sharp and loud enough to get his attention. “What happened here?”
He looked at her quizzically for a moment, muttering “Cel? Okay,” before clearing his throat and answering the question. “Well, uh, Councillor, what we have here is… I don’t know exactly what happened, but I am told a relationship… fell apart, let’s say, and one of the girls involved went to cry to someone else about it, so she went to go confront the ex-girlfriend, and then nobody seems to have seen what happened, but, long story short, there’s extensive damage to those two rooms, and we’ve got one in the infirmary burned pretty badly. I have been told that she will be fine.”
“Alright,” Cel said. “And everyone involved was… how old?”
“All third-years, I believe, Maestress. Young. I think they’re younger than you, even.”
Cel nodded. “Okay. Anything else? Where’s the one who… did all this?” She waved in the general direction of the broken door.
“Got her under watch in that room there.”
Nodding again, Cel headed silently for the door the professor was pointing to. She stopped just before opening it, taking a deep breath and preparing herself – not for what might happen on the other side, but for the additional wait she’d need to force her bladder to endure despite its demands that it be emptied immediately.
She closed the door behind her once she entered the room, which as an office for the overseer of this part of the dorms was fitted with a desk, a few chairs, and more than enough bookshelves. The window on the opposite side of the room illuminated from behind two guards in gold-trimmed plate and a very angry-looking woman sitting unbound in a chair. ‘Tying her up wouldn’t stop her magic anyways,’ Cel mused to herself while considering the humor of keeping such a dangerous individual under watch without any restraints.
The guards bowed their heads towards Cel as she approached, stopping just outside of arm’s length of the woman in the chair. “So,” she said, crossing her arms and trying to stand still and sound serious despite her pressing need. “What made you think any of that was a good idea?”
“I’m not telling you anything, bitch.”
Cel shrugged. “Fine. You don’t have to. You can always just accept being banished from campus. Or you can explain what happened here and hope that’ll be enough to get me into a merciful mood.”
“Fuck you. You wouldn’t expel me. Do you even know who I am?”
The Councillor scoffed and rolled her eyes, discreetly pressing her legs together. “No, and I don’t care. You could be a King, and it wouldn’t change anything. All I know is,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “That someone’s recovering from major burns because… What? Because you couldn’t handle getting rejected by your girlfriend?”
“I dumped her, moron. And is it supposed to be my fault that she went crying to her dumb friend about it?”
“Uh, yeah, kind of.”
“Oh, fuck you. I’m the heir to Elien, it’s my right to keep a harem. She’s the one who thought she was special.”
“Right…” Cel’s patience was wearing thin, on two fronts. “Well, if you’d prefer to just keep digging yourself a deeper and deeper hole, be my guest. Your inheritance doesn’t give you the right to assault people and try to blow up a building, and if you think it does, you can fuck right on off out of here. You’re lucky to get away with just an expulsion after what you’ve done, you entitled little-”
Cel was cut off by a punch to the gut, leaving her bent forward cradling her stomach. It didn’t hurt that much, but she’d been hit in exactly the right place to cause her underwear to become uncomfortably damp and warm. She groaned, still feeling the impact well after she’d regained enough control to not soak herself. When she straightened up again, the ex-student was in the hands of one of the guards, her own hands forced behind her back. She just glared at Cel and struggled against the grip of the guard.
“Uh…” The young Councillor tried to sound tough again. “Ah, right. Put her on the first boat back home, and make sure her mother hears about what happened.” Giving what she thought was a wicked grin but was more likely just a strained, vaguely-angry expression, she added, “I believe attempted murder and assault are grounds for disinheritance in the Elienid Matriarchate, right?”
The ex-student’s eyes went wide and she struggled to break free as she was dragged out of the room, screaming at Cel, “You can’t do this to me! I’ll make sure you suffer for this!”
“Sure you will,” Cel said, watching the door slam as the guards left. As soon as they did, Cel sighed and crossed her legs, jamming a hand between them. The short skirt of her robe was pressed against the white fabric of her pants, now far tighter and even more uncomfortable than usual and by some miracle still white. “Oh, fuck…”
She was running out of time, there was no denying that. If she could come up with a plan, she could still make it, but she had to act fast. Was there anything in the room to help her? No, not even a potted plant. And the dorms didn’t have bathrooms like other parts of the university, since every room already had accommodations. No, wait, it did have bathrooms – bathing rooms, actually, and it was a very well-known secret that baths all over campus were often dyed yellow when lines were too long or a better solution was too far away. Yes, that was the perfect solution. The baths would recycle and clean the water on their own using old but effective technology. There wouldn’t be so much as a hint that Cel had even been there at all.
Wait, no, that wasn’t an option either. She’d never make it if she tried to run that far, and she couldn’t keep herself under control and teleport at the same time. There had to be something closer. Something private, if that was at all possible. Something like… her own room! She’d lived on campus as a student, and since she technically hadn’t reached her tenth year at the Academy, she would still own the room she lived in until then. And if Cel’s memory could be trusted in her current state, it was just down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and around a corner. She could make that. She would make that.
Giving herself one last squeeze, Cel straightened up and put her hands to her sides, then took a deep breath and walked out of the office. There was still a bit of a crowd trying to figure out what was happening, but she simply commanded “Move,” and a path was cleared for her. Some people tried to talk to her as she passed, but she ignored them. She ignored everything except her plan.
She walked slowly but confidently down the hall, careful not to spill anything but certain that she could hold on long enough, shoving people aside who wouldn’t move when she asked them to, and receiving no complaints when people realized that she was a Maestress.
Her certainty faded as she got closer to the stairs she needed to take. This hall was a lot longer than she remembered, and her bladder wasn’t letting up on its insistence to be emptied. Very much the opposite, in fact. Not too far from the staircase, Cel stopped and pressed her legs together as discreetly as she could, though it wasn’t enough to stop another leak. And then another. And then she used all that was left of her strength to stop, standing frozen with her hands trembling at her sides and her legs shaking as they refused to separate from each other.
Cel felt weak and tired. She refused to believe it was possible, but she legitimately couldn’t do anything anymore. If she so much as took a single step, she’d lose all control. Tears started to appear in her eyes and she hoped nobody was watching. She was out of options. Out of time.
She shut her eyes and felt her last ounce of control slip away from her, as her muscles failed her and left nothing stopping her bladder from draining itself into her pants. In a final, hopeless attempt to do anything, she clenched her fists tight, groaning from the effort of doing even that.
She didn’t know if it was going to work. She didn’t expect it to work. It shouldn’t have worked. But, somehow, against all odds, her magic had saved her. Her fists maintained a water spell, holding back her urine where her body wouldn’t anymore. It was dangerous. She shouldn’t have done it. She’d regret doing it later. She was probably already hurting herself. But she was dry, almost, and as long as she could keep up the magic she would remain dry.
Cel took a tentative step forward, then another, and when she realized her magic was enough to keep her flood at bay while she walked, she started moving as fast as she could to the stairs, then down. She forced herself to not start crying while she walked, trying to suppress all the thoughts about what had very nearly happened to her, and what could still happen if she should drop her magic. She was exhausted and her head was starting to hurt, but she had to dig up just a little bit of energy, enough to last the rest of the way. If she couldn’t… Then she would disgrace herself, literally pissing away twenty years of hard work as her entire reputation fell apart because she wet her pants like a child. She’d already done that once in public. People could excuse that happening once – it happens to everyone, once, after all. And she’d done it again with an unexpected audience of a single person, during the most important tests of her life. But her sole spectator swore to take the secret of what he witnessed to his grave, and he didn’t even really seem to care that it had happened in the first place.
But to have it happen in public, as a Maestress on the Council of Nine, after all that… She would be absolutely ruined. She didn’t want to think about it, and tried very hard not to, but she couldn’t help it. It was the only thing that came to her mind over her short walk to her room, because even the thought that she just wanted to get somewhere she could properly take care of her bladder just led back to those thoughts. Cel didn’t know where she was getting the energy from, but she was glad that she’d found some source somewhere to save herself from the greatest shame imaginable.
When she finally got to her room, she brought one quivering hand up to grab the door handle, her other hand balling up tighter to compensate and her body pushing against the door itself, causing her to stumble into the room. The Councillor looked around through a haze of tears, recognizing vague shapes that she could identify even in the dark. Her free hand rubbed at her eyes and she took a few weak steps towards the bed, falling forward once she was close enough. Then with one hand, still trembling, she started to probe around under the bed, feeling for what she knew was there somewhere.
Her vision clouded again, this time purely because she felt like she was going to pass out if this didn’t end soon. She tried to reassure herself that it would, and actually cracked a smile when the hand under the bed felt the familiar cold metal, dragging the pot out far enough to use it.
On her right hand, Cel’s nails pressed into her palm as much as was physically possible and she forced herself to stand up. She was so close. All she needed to do was get her pants off. Her left hand shakily pulled her skirt up to her belly, and she whined a bit as she looked down at what it had previously been covering. Even after all that, her bladder was visibly bulging out, but that wasn’t the worst part. Just a bit lower, the front of her white pants had become translucent, a big wet patch extending a little bit down her thighs and leaving very little up to the imagination. Cel was even pretty sure there was a hint of what was beneath even her smallclothes, but she didn’t have the time or energy to find out for sure.
Slowly moving her right hand up to hold her skirt in place, praying that her magic would be able to hold out through the change in position, Cel slid her left hand down to do whatever it could to unbutton her pants so she could finally relieve herself. It was tough, of course, seeing as how she only had one hand to work with and that one hand couldn’t be kept still. She knew she could open a button like this with just one hand, but it definitely wasn’t going to happen if her fingers kept slipping away whenever she tried to get a grip.
Cel groaned as she tried everything she could to get her pants open. That was all she had to do. Her insides felt like they were on fire from the artificial pressure put on her bladder. She just had to get her pants open and down and she’d be fine. But why was it so damn impossible? She wished she could do something to at least alleviate the pressure while she struggled with the button, but since she’d technically lost control quite a while ago, there was nothing she could do but release her magic and wet herself. And even in private she couldn’t bring herself to do that.
Eventually, her wrestling with her pants was enough to get them unbuttoned, at which point, taking sharp breaths, Cel pushed her pants down to her knees – just as far as she could get them without bending over. Then she got into a clumsy squatting position, hoping she was over the pot, and hooked two fingers around the drenched white fabric of her panties. She didn’t stop to consider that she could already see quite clearly what was under them as they clung uncomfortably to her, instead just holding her breath as she moved the crotch of her smallclothes out of the way and opened her right hand, releasing the magic barrier between her bladder and the outside world.
She started breathing again when she heard liquid furiously striking metal below her as her torrent immediately started at full power. Her breaths came deep and through her teeth as she kept her eyes closed and let her right hand drift down to the ground so she could hold her position.
There was no doubt in Cel’s mind that she had gone well beyond all rational limits. It didn’t even feel good to finally relieve herself. No, there was just a stinging sensation and a dwindling burn within as her organs settled down from being overworked. She hoped she hadn’t caused any real damage, but even so she knew she’d have to rest for quite a while to make up for how she’d tormented her body. And she definitely couldn’t use her magic like that ever again. It had saved her from destroying her reputation, but at the same time it forced her body to do things it was never meant to, keeping her urine inside well after all her muscles decided it was time for it to come out.
Cel opened her eyes after a minute and looked down at herself. Every part of her was shaking and she was honestly surprised that she was able to maintain her position, especially considering it wasn’t even really that good of a squat. She tried to cut her stream off so she could shuffle around to get more comfortable, but her body wasn’t listening to her anymore. Instead she moved slowly, careful to make sure she didn’t accidentally aim outside of the pot she was quickly filling, and eventually worked her way into a position where she didn’t have to hold herself up with one hand. She then brought her now-free right hand up in front of her face. It was trembling of course, and like most of her body drenched in sweat. There was also a hint of blood from where her fingernails had dug into the skin, though surprisingly it didn’t hurt very much. That hand then came down to rest on her thigh and Cel sighed, trying to relax and hoping it would be over soon.
It took another minute for her stream to taper off unceremoniously, trailing off into a few final spurts and a couple of drops to indicate that she was finally empty. Cel sighed and stayed in position for a little while longer. Her bladder felt sore, and she knew it would for quite a while. At the very least, she figured, she’d actually emptied herself out completely. Though that wasn’t exactly a good thing – from her limited prior experiences, Cel knew that when she lost control, she usually only got about halfway empty before stopping again and being unable to drain any further for a while. If she’d actually fully emptied her bladder this time, that meant she’d gone even beyond her normal limits and worn out her muscles enough that they just wouldn’t shut her bladder down again until there was nothing left in it.
If nothing else, she was lucky she only felt a little sore, and not in any real pain. She’d pushed herself too hard, yes, but not hard enough to break anything. Not that she ever planned to get to that point, but still, it was a little comforting knowing she hadn’t done so yet. Now she was just more tired than anything else. The strain from holding for so long and all the energy she’d used maintaining her magic had completely exhausted her.
With a deep breath, Cel released her panties and stood up, kicking off her shoes and getting to work on fully disrobing. She pulled at the little silver clasp on her shoulder, and when it came apart the blue robe over her clothes unraveled into little more than a sheet. She tossed it onto a little side table next to her bed, then bent down to slide her pants the rest of the way down her legs, dragging her panties along with them shortly after. These she simply left on the floor – they’d need to be washed very thoroughly anyways, so it wouldn’t do them much harm. And finally she got to unbuttoning her shirt, starting from the top and working down until her shirt was open, exposing without showing any details the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it. She probably should have, but for right now she was grateful that she didn’t have anything else to take off.
The shirt came off and was laid down next to the blue cloth that went over it, and Cel stood naked while she contemplated the situation. She started to push the chamberpot back under the bed with her foot, but realizing how weak she would be for the foreseeable future, thought better of it and left it easily available. It wouldn’t be able to hold much more, but if she had to relieve herself again she wouldn’t have very much to contribute anyways.
Then the Councillor’s attention was drawn to her legs, which were still wet with her urine and still had trails running slowly to her feet. She wanted very much to just pull the moisture away with magic and toss it somewhere it wouldn’t cause problems, but she was entirely out of energy and couldn’t bring herself to do that. But she did have to dry off somehow.
Perhaps she had something lying around… Cel walked slowly towards the dresser she had against one wall, her devastated bladder leaking a few drops onto the carpet as she walked, having found a little more to let out. Cel either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and just kept walking until she got to her destination. Then she absentmindedly opened and closed drawers, looking for something helpful while she continued intermittently dripping. She didn’t have a whole lot there, perhaps as a consequence of her traditionally-ascetic lifestyle, so most of the drawers were empty and the ones that weren’t only had a spare set of underwear or two for if she ever needed them.
She was too tired to want to bother with finding a proper towel or washcloth, though, so when she found a drawer with a set of old panties she never wore anyways, she grabbed them and gave her legs a good wipe down until she was… well, she wasn’t exactly dry, but she was dry enough. So she balled up another set of wet underwear and headed back to her bed, tossing the spare panties into the same pile as what she’d just changed out of.
Then she simply fell into bed and crawled under the sheets. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she really shouldn’t just disappear into her old room, not as a Councillor who might be needed on important business. But she was too tired to care, and honestly she was already falling asleep. She’d had a long, hard day, and she’d certainly earned a little rest. So Cel got herself as comfortable as she could, pulling the sheets tight around her body and pretending she had someone else there to cuddle. She drifted off to sleep easily enough, and let herself forget about everything that had happened throughout the day.
Though perhaps it would have done her well to remember that she hadn’t shut the door... It was closed now, yes, but only because some unseen spectator wanted to cover their tracks.
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There once was an abomination who had no place in this world. She clutched this doll tightly, and eventually was drawn into a cold and lonely painted world.
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