Battle Schooled! Read online

  "By the way, that's one heck of a scar between your breasts. What did you get it from?"

  "Having a huge javelin hurled through my chest. I have a matching scar on my back... but still killed the man who did it right afterward."

  He patted her head with a smile, making her playfully slap his hand away. "You little monster. Now I see why the axe scar I gave you doesn't bother you much."

  After Patrick arrived, they revisited the locations where the person responsible for them hadn't been present before and confirmed whether or not they'd be open to letting them be used for the tournament. In the end, it looked like they would have a good variety of locales to choose from for their matches.

  A few days later, Rupert awakened to multiple hands grabbing hold of him, dragging him roughly out of bed. "What's going on?" he demanded as he opened his eyes to see a pair of beefy guards had him by the arms and pulled him towards the door leading out of the dorm. "Let go of me, I haven't done anything wrong."

  Elliot followed as they forced him into the hall, struggling to resist but not trying to inflict harm in fear that he might lose control. "Yeah, where are you taking Rupert and why?"

  A tall woman in a jacket with padded shoulders stood just outside, who must be the guards' superior. Though she looked to be in her thirties facially, she had gray hair—or so he thought until he realized it to be silver. In a cool voice, she replied, "Even the lifelong loner has a friend by now? I suppose that is the way of school, after all. But don't think any innocent act will save you if you indeed have guilt. You're to be questioned under suspicion for the murder of another student."

  Chapter 5

  Elliot gaped. "Murder? Who are you accusing him of murdering?" He continued to tail them as Rupert was dragged through the halls by the guards, who didn't bother to stop him.

  The silver-haired woman looked wearily at Rupert. He noticed a long saber at her belt, its scabbard covered in countless shallow nicks. "Avery Teython. I trust you know the name?"

  He honestly didn't pay much attention to the surnames of his classmates, the esteemed Miss Lyonesse aside. But sadly, he did remember the first name. It was one of the three bullies who had harassed Elliot, the lazy-eyed boy he recalled elbowing the wind from before tossing to the ground. "You're telling me that ugly ass is dead?"

  "Maybe you should try blunting your tongue a bit," Elliot whispered.

  He grunted. "I'll admit to beating some humility into him, but I didn't kill him." He could recall even his wildest moments clearly, so he was certain enough of that.

  "No need to outright deny your charge," the female officer said in a disinterested tone, "most everybody does that so it scarcely carries weight. We'll simply hear your testimony and that of any witnesses, look at the physical evidence and draw a conclusion."

  After pulling him for a ways, Rupert's captors shoved him into a room which turned out to be a small, neatly organized office. It belonged to the woman, he figured as she reclined comfortably in the plush chair behind the desk. "Should we keep this one outside," one guard asked as he held Elliot back from the door, "while you question the so-called 'Breastslayer' privately?"

  She waved a dismissive hand. "No need to be so formal, this is only preliminary questioning after all." The man let Elliot in, and he hastened to Rupert's side before the desk. "You're a loyal friend, standing beside him even in the face of us terrifying guards." Terrifying seemed an exaggeration, but this would be intimidating enough for the average student. "Anyway, might as well give you a name since I already know yours. I am Sabina Ravensgrave, commander of the Universal Guard."

  "Ravensgrave? Is that your real name, and 'Universal Guard...' are you serious?"

  "Don't antagonize her, Rupert!"

  Sabina leaned back with hands behind her head. "It's true I was blessed with a name that lent itself particularly to certain lines of work. As for the Universal Guard, I take no credit for that. Early in this school's history, apparently someone noted the similarity between 'university' and 'universal' and thought it might be amusing to name its security force so. The official name has not been commonly used in a long time, to be fair, but I'm of a mind to spread historical knowledge now and then."

  "Do you really take this murder accusation seriously, talking blithely like this?"

  "I take all of my work seriously," she said gazing off towards the window, "and the death of a student moreso. But whether you are the murderer or not, don't think you're anything I haven't seen a thousand times before."

  Elliot had gone pale, while Rupert just stood there in annoyed silence. This haughty security guard thought she was some big deal... he wondered if she would still think that if she stood across from him alone with blades in hand. Why, even now he could probably snatch that saber from her while she distracted herself with her self-important prattle and—he breathed in. He needed to calm himself, before he did irrevocable damage to the situation. "If you're going to question me, ask away."

  Her eyes fixed on him, perhaps slightly impressed at his inability to be cowed. "Where were you last night in the hour before bedtime?"

  "He was with me!" Elliot said before he could. "We were sparring with wooden swords after the Fighters Club meeting, I was with him since it ended so there's no way he murdered anybody."

  "And was anyone else there with you?"

  He hesitated. "Ah, no, we were alone. Why do you ask?"

  "It should be quite obvious. You appear to be good friends, and on top of that have both been in conflict with the victim. There is every possibility you would be willing to cover for him, which is why a more neutral party backing you up would add credibility to your statement. As is, I can take little from it."

  "What was he killed with?" Rupert asked. "You well know I had my axe confiscated from me, so I haven't been well equipped to murder someone for a long time aside from my bare hands."

  "He was killed with a weapon, if that is your question. But I also know it wouldn't be so difficult for you to get your hands on a new one, especially considering the crowd you run with."

  "Has the weapon been found?"

  "Who is being investigated here, me or you? Enough with the questions, refrain from speaking unless prompted to." Sabina continued asking them about other friends they had, their interactions with the deceased, their usual patterns of activity, and things Rupert thought irrelevant like whether they supported friendlier national relations with Severil. Some of these questions were probably intended to throw them off and potentially make them slip up, in case they had a plan for handling an interrogation. Eventually she sighed. "All right, that's enough. You're free to go."

  Elliot blinked. "Huh? Does this mean you believe Rupert is innocent, then?"

  "That's far from being determined. But we don't have proof he's guilty yet either, so our search continues. Don't try to leave the city. If you do it'll be considered an attempt to flee from justice, and handled accordingly." She looked meaningfully downward. "That is, the blade of Ravensgrave will not stay sheathed out of mercy." He figured the last part at least to be a bit of a hollow threat, since the guards should be expected to prioritize protecting the school over chasing people who fled outside its grounds.

  They gladly exited the office, the two guards he'd expected to be waiting outside nowhere in sight. He'd thought Sabina a bag of hot air, but maybe she had more true confidence in herself than he assumed. "She's scary," Elliot breathed. "I wonder if she was always just a school guard."

  "I don't know. But maybe those notches on her scabbard..." He left his theories unspoken.

  #

  "Sabina Ravensgrave?" Meg said after Rupert told her and Patrick what had happened. "I know her. We've crossed swords, though not very seriously, but she's at least better than the majority of warriors. She used to be a traveling mercenary like me, finding Ostuh too quiet for her liking, but returned here after her brother died and she couldn't leave her parents to fend for themselves. It's a good thing she doesn't have it in for us like anoth
er person overly proud of her last name does, since the head of the guards being that way would be inconvenient."

  "If you're on friendly terms with her, can't you vouch for me not being the murderer? I mean, I've killed and almost killed people before, but would absolutely remember if I did."

  She spread her hands. "Sorry. Sabina may not have a problem with me, but she does things by the book. The way she sees it, if you aren't guilty, the investigation will find it to be the case. I believe in your innocence, but no point trying to convince her of that through wordplay."

  "Who else do you think might have killed Avery?" Patrick asked. "I'm not saying we should take over the investigation, but just as a thought exercise."

  "Charlene might be trying to frame him."

  Rupert shook his head quickly. "That makes no sense. I doubt a highborn girl railing against the glorification of violence would murder a classmate just to impede us—and besides, this mostly affects me whereas you would surely be the target of anything extreme she did."

  "Of course, I'm just joking."

  "It wasn't funny."

  "Alright, it was the wrong time to take a shot at the annoying brat." She furrowed her brow. "For a more serious suggestion, what if Elliot did it?"

  "I told you he was with me when the murder supposedly happened. That alone rules him out, plus do you really think he would do something like this? The only reason you might suspect him is that he's probably capable of handling one of those bullies and had a run-in with them before... but he was with me, so no."

  "That is a pretty airtight alibi," Patrick agreed. "But it leaves us with no good leads."

  "I'll ask around and see if anybody knows anything," Meg said. "If not though, maybe we should let the peerless Universal Security Guards deal with it. We're just students right now after all, even if we were accomplished adventurers. They have more access to information than us, and should be able to find the real culprit."

  Rupert replied, "Hopefully it works out that way. But it's hard to say we can count on the ideal outcome, so let's stay on our toes at least."

  #

  Though a sense of gloom hung over school after the murder, they continued to concentrate on preparations for the upcoming tournament. Going to the music hall to take measurements for the ring they would set up, they laid eyes upon a none too pleasant scene. Charlene stood inside before the stage, talking to the professor. "For the well-being of the student body and your reputation," she was saying to the heavyset woman with thick curls, "you must not allow such a debacle to be hosted under your watch."

  "What are you doing here, windbag princess Charlona?" Meg asked.

  The noble girl twirled around to face them. "As if you could rile me up by calling me the name of a character in an improvised performance? You'll have to do better than that." She seemed a tad dense to miss being called a windbag, or maybe she just pretended to. "As for what I'm doing... tell them, Professor."

  Indecision flashed across the music teacher's broad face, but then she said, "There will be no tournament matches held in this room."

  Patrick recoiled. "But you told us just the other day we had permission."

  "I'm sorry, but circumstances have changed. With the resulting tension after the death of a student, it seems irresponsible to promote more violence even if purportedly for a good cause."

  "Did this stuck up brat make you change your mind?" Meg asked.

  "She only pointed some things out to me, but has no power to coerce me. I made the decision on my own."

  Still, it was obvious Charlene's convincing had a lot of influence as she smirked. Rupert frowned at her. "Why must you do this? What have we done to you for you to go on this crusade against us?"

  "As if I need to answer the murderer."

  "Rupert isn't a murderer!" Meg snapped. Seeming to remember the presence of the professor, she pulled back on the volume of her voice. "I don't believe he is. What reason would he have to kill the boy? Even if they butted heads before, Rupert came out easily on top and he hasn't dared to bother Elliot again. If anything it would make more sense for that boy and his friends to hold a grudge against Rupert and try to harm him, not the other way around."

  "How do we know they didn't, leading him to retaliate?"

  "You mean like in self defense? Do you think he would try to hide it in that case, and would you fault him for that matter?"

  "Maybe it wasn't in self defense. Could be they attacked him, and he retaliated by catching the victim alone and killing him."

  "That didn't happen," Rupert said.

  "How do we know it didn't?" Charlene shook her head. "Even if you aren't a murderer, what you're doing is still wrong. You think what we need is a battle tournament run by you, encouraging everyone to look to violence as an answer?"

  Patrick replied, "We already told you this won't be some kind of bloodsport—as if the faculty wouldn't shut that down in a hurry anyway—just a competitive showcase of skill. And after a frightening murder, don't you think it might make people feel safer to know there are those capable of defending themselves among them, and be encouraged to learn to fight back?"

  "You can say all the pretty words you want, but I won't be fooled. Look at the three of you—the most violent students in school, possible other murderer aside, eager to wage bloody duels in broad daylight and two of you covered in scars. From what I hear you've killed many people before, and we're supposed to trust you?"

  "I've never waged a bloody duel here..."

  "It's true Pat and I have killed," Meg said, "but it was part of a job or to defend our lives. And it wasn't that many, I've killed probably less than"—she touched her lip, seeming to think about it—"fifty humans. It was mostly monsters I slew, now those I have a lot of under my belt. And even if the thought might be unsettling to some, why should this be held against us? As long as we aren't planning to harm anybody, what relevance does it have to holding this tournament?"

  "You seem a bunch of brutes inured to slaughter. It's bad enough you managed to leverage your celebrity into being voted student council president, the University certainly doesn't need you taking even more of a role in guiding it forward."

  She glared at Charlene. "So it's not necessarily even about the idea of the tourney itself, but that you don't like our backgrounds? Some objectivity from one who's supposed to be educated and reasonable."

  "Since when are nobles required to be objective or reasonable?" Patrick asked.

  "Not the best time... but you're right."

  "See, you all are disrespectful louts! I will continue to oppose you, and never allow you to have free rein over this institution." She turned and strode proudly out of the chamber.

  Meg addressed the teacher. "I don't suppose we might be able to change your mind?"

  "As much as you may disagree, I found her points sound. I doubt my stance will shift again."

  "That's fine, Professor. We'll make do without your room and prove Charlene wrong." She walked away with the boys, whispering as she did, "I hope we won't lose too many more locations to her, though. Since you're the Breastslayer, Rupert, maybe next time we see her you can just punch her in the overgrown teats."

  "I don't think that'll solve anything..."

  "Joke, though I might've done better to make it when she was here to hear. But maybe we should visit the other faculty who gave permission, and try to reiterate our purpose to stave off Charlene's attempts to undermine us."

  #

  Their war of persuasion continued, Meg's group losing a few venues but keeping enough that they could proceed with the tourney. One albeit thin silver lining was that their conflict distracted them from the grimmer problem of a murderer still on the loose. During classes, Rupert noticed Avery's two friends gazing warily at him. "They sure like you now," Elliot commented.

  "They must think I'm the murderer. Makes no sense. Why would I bother killing him off, especially since they know none of those theories Charlene came up with were true?"

  "Y
ou are the only named suspect. Even if you aren't the most plausible one, maybe they need to direct their suspicion somewhere."

  Once when he had to relieve himself at night, Rupert left for the restroom only to hear faint footsteps trail him as he headed down the hall. Was it the killer? Irritating timing given how full his bladder felt. Not wanting to scare them off by looking or warn them he knew of their presence, he maintained his steady pace. He entered the small restroom and pissed as quietly as he could into the latrine, listening carefully behind him. If the person following attacked before he finished, that'd make for a messy situation. They didn't though, and he pulled up his shorts. When he came out, he figured it likely they would make their move. He unlatched the door and eased it open. A figure stepped in front of it, glinting steel in hand. He kicked into a rounded stomach before the knife could come down, knocking the boy back. It was one of the trio of bullies, the one Elliot originally beat.

  "Why did you kill Avery, you bastard?" he snarled as he charged. Rupert ducked under a slash, grabbed him by the shirt and threw him into the latrine. He yelped in surprise and disgust, then Rupert kicked the blade from his hand. He looped an arm around the boy's neck from behind as he sat up and squeezed tight. "No, stop," he gasped out, "please don't kill me! Please!"

  "I'm not going to kill you," he said in his coldest voice, "this time. But know that you come after me again, and I will not only kill you, but slowly rip you apart piece by piece until you beg for death."

  "W-what? I swear I won't, don't hurt me! But why... why did you kill Avery?"

  "I didn't. If I was the murderer, why wouldn't I finish you now? You attacked me first, I could handily justify it as defending myself. Hell, I'm tempted to do it now."

  "No, no! All right, I believe you!"

  He grinned slightly at the smell of fresh urine, amused by the terror of the jerk in over his head. Loosening his hold on his captive's throat, he asked, "Then tell me, do you know of anyone else who might have wanted him dead?"