Esras was already avoiding Van. He hadn’t really meant to get involved. He had misjudged Van’s enthusiasm as… well, just enthusiasm. Who didn’t like a little intimacy now and then? When you matched, you matched – surely one could be casual about it, though. He could be casual about it… couldn’t he?
He had already been too casual with it, but that was entirely different. Evenings with the lovely members of the Families were paid for, and he had paid a little too much. Or, perhaps, not paid. The mistake had been trading on his father’s credit, but that was really the only credit he had. Aunt Grainne, when making him good, had been doubly pissed to have save his father’s credit, but perhaps half as pissed as she would have been had he traded on hers. Even more embarrassing to her to have made the introductions. He was a little surprised at how angry she had been. Then again, perhaps her opinions on dalliance had changed since his troubles at Prep.
But again – that was entirely different, too. And it was easy to be casual with the Families. To pay was to pay for time, and time passed. This was a test of a new thing. He thought, it could be casual, couldn’t it?
Apparently. Because that’s all he felt about this thing with Van. It had been rather nice. It could be rather nice again, maybe. Maybe a few times. But more importantly, that was all it should be.
It should be rather nice a few times, but Van was getting… a little sticky. Not the good kind.
It made team meetings awkward. Especially now that Van seemed to have finally noticed that Esras was avoiding him. Or, again, maybe that was something else.
They met rather near the buildings, which had been Taig’s idea. He pointed out the other groups had in looking for isolation inadvertently crowded themselves together in the woods. In meeting where he proposed, they might be able to be observed, but only at a great distance, or their observer would be just as visible to them. But also, they knew the schedules of the First Years, and the only people around the part of the buildings they had chosen (nearby the library, in a disused corner where that building met the halls) wouldn’t be their opponents in Cogadh, and nobody could hear through the walls anyway.
This had thus far been Taig’s only good idea.
Though they hadn’t known it at the time, it had been a sign of the value of this idea that Ardghal had said nothing. He had slimmed down significantly with the stringent activity of the first several weeks of Academy life, but still bore himself about with a heavy resignation, the weight keeping him still and sullen-looking not his physical weight but a weighty spirit. Exceedingly clever, but seldom able to contribute cleverness without also foretelling doom, or otherwise signalling the hopelessness of their every endeavour.
Occasionally Esras wanted to fling him bodily over the walls rather than hear him discount as impossible a decent idea (even one of his own!), but he was far too valuable a contributor to dismiss or discourage (any further than he discouraged himself).
Rounding out the team were five non-Prep cadets, two of them brail-breith (Maylor and Lews), and the rest from hamlets scattered around the country (Neese, Shiel, and Tourney). None of them standouts or of any remarkable talent in any way.
Everything done was done on purpose, so Esras had spent some hours in dark of night trying to understand the possible reasons for this particular array of cadets. A number of theories seemed plausible, but the more they pleased him (maybe he had been given this set to lead in particular to see what his talented leadership could derive from such mediocre material) the less he believed them. Everything done was done for a purpose, but the First Years had hardly seen any officers of higher rank than their ollamh, and it was those officers which made the decisions which really mattered. The First Year class was still too new and untested to reach their notice.
Esras was determined to change that.
There was the lingering question of how. The twelve weeks of Cogadh would provide a few exceptional opportunities, moments to shine like sunlight through leaves, but the forest itself was gruelling and dark. Because the Second and First Year tournaments ran at the same time – the second began only a week earlier – and each week featured either three or four two-hour matches for each year, all crammed into two days, the judges would have no rest days for the next three months (nor would the cadets, truly, if they were at all ambitious, but that was a lesser concern, if it was a concern at all). The consolation, if there was any, lay in seeing admirable performances, and then from those, picking out the most talented cadets to take on as protégés. For the first two years, it was the only chance cadets had to be in direct view of the highest ranked officers, members of the Academy Council, who were the most desirable tutors. Chances multiplied in the higher years, but came at the expense both of time being tutored and sheer numbers – if an officer had already selected as many cadets as they wished to take on, there would be no room later to take on new ones, no matter their skill.
Rather than showing up to his Cogadh team’s meetings with an inspirational speech and/or domination, this situation with Van meant he often arrived on the wrong foot – almost late, or always the last to arrive, having taken circuitous routes to avoid Van catching up with him and having them arrive together.
He let that happen exactly once. Van had slung an arm over his shoulders as the group noticed them walking up, and Esras cursed himself for an absolute fool. It was all he could do not to slither out from under the touch – or worse, shove Van away – so he ended up doing nothing. Van hadn’t noticed the twitch, concerned with greeting their teammates confidently, but he did notice the frostiness that followed. It hadn’t been all bad making up afterward, but some of the heat had passed as Esras realized Van had – unless he was very sneaky indeed – not actually intended anything by the gesture, except maybe to assert an established relationship. Kiss the lips that have kissed mine and perish, and all that.
Stupid. But equally stupid on Esras’ part. The fury he felt almost frightened him, until he realized near half of it had to be frustration. Esras had broken into the top ranks with the other Prep cadets more or less by declaring himself willing and being talented enough to keep his place. He was well-regarded by his classmates and Cogadh team because he did nothing overtly offensive, unlike Maoilin, who offended as a test of the audacity of his peers. Esras was almost certain that was it.
Natural arrogance and superiority aside, Maolin very quickly sorted potential rivals and saved himself confrontation by immediately antagonizing whoever he met. Those who felt they shouldn’t have to take such treatment, and could afford to, walked away. Those who felt they shouldn’t have to take such treatment, but were too weak or vulnerable to oppose him, either stayed or stayed out of his notice. He knew the coalition he had built was based on self-interest, but had through this sorting assured he was only surrounded by powerful, clever allies, whose interests allied with his, or toadies who would sacrifice themselves to stay in his protection and good graces.
Every time he did nothing, Esras felt more like a toady.
Fuck Maoilin.
Esras hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t formed a plan. He had slid by, and while it felt right, without a rationale behind it, it also felt impotent. Idiotic. Weak.
Like he had been weak to give in to the urge to be close to someone, despite all the trouble it promised to give him.
Maybe Maoilin was right about that, too.
“I didn’t think it was that bad of an idea,” Ardghal said, and Esras nearly started.
Van’s hand landed on his shoulder with a few massaging squeezes. “You all right?”
Esras surveyed his Cogadh team, who were looking at him with a mixture of concern and uncertainty, and he tried to work away his expression without the effort being too obvious.
“My apologies,” he said, “I was thinking of something else entirely.”
“Hopefully it was some new ideas,” Ardghal said, causing Taig most prominently to roll both his eyes and his head back in frustration, though all gave sighs and expressions of similar sentiment.
There was no way Esras would or could share his thoughts, but he wanted desperately to get Van’s hand off his shoulder, and rid himself of the submissive possession it implied, so he pushed himself away from the low wall on which had been half-sitting, half-leaning to walk towards the centre of the group, and made something up.
“I’ve been thinking about why they’ve laid things out the way they have.”
“We’re not that bad a team,” Maylor muttered.
“Yeah, but none of us are anywhere near the top performers in our classes,” Neese replied, his eyes fixed on Esras as the significant exception.
“I don’t think that matters,” Esras said, even though it very much did.
“What do you mean?” Taig asked, before Ardghal could add anything depressing.
“They simply don’t know enough about all two-hundred and fifty or so First Year cadets to have been very careful in arranging the teams. There is no deliberate mixing and matching going on.”
“Sure,” Taig said flatly. “How’s that better?”
“Well,” Esras said, as if he didn’t kind of want to throttle Taig for being just a little too smart, “we know what’s going to happen on the other teams, don’t we?”
He knew what he was going to say, but had asked, in case any weren’t following along. Now all eyes were on him. He made sure of it. Then he looked at Ardghal. “You know the Prep cadets.”
Ardghal snorted. “I guess. I guess they’ll all be top their teams. They’re not going to let anyone else lead, anyway.”
Esras looked at Taig, who caught on quickly.
“They’ll fight about it. Or for it,” Taig said.
“That wastes time,” Tourney said.
“We’ve wasted time,” Ardghal added, dismally.
“Not really,” Esras said. “Or, at least, not time we’re not in better position to make up than they are.”
They all looked to him again.
“Fighting causes resentment. Establishes the right of challenge. Get in the way of working together.”
Taig raised his chin, eyes narrowed. “We, at least, haven’t fought.”
They had probably all thought about it, though.
“And there’s no real reason to start,” Esras said. He had paced very slowly, in the centre of the circle, tracing it with a circle of his own, “as long as we can agree that ultimately, it’s the team above all.”
“What does that mean?” Neese asked, accusingly.
“I don’t think we have to win,” Esras said, stopping his circle to survey them.
As expected, glances were exchanged, scoffs voices, disbelief muttered.
“Right,” Van said, watching Esras curiously. “What does not winning get us?”
“Nothing,” Esras said, more than little to be provokingly obtuse. But he went on, for the sake of the rest of the team. “But winning is a distraction. I don’t think we can cogently plan for winning. Kind of like how they set up the teams. There are too many variables unknown to do so with any deliberateness. We don’t know what the field will look like, we don’t know what the other team will look like, we don’t know each other very well…”
At this, he very pointedly looked at Taig, and not Van, who he could hear shift his weight in response.
Taig saw no subterfuge in this, or at least, didn’t reveal it, if he did. But also didn’t have a good response. Ardghal did, though.
“We should focus on what we know.”
“And add to our knowledge what is within our reach,” Esras added, seeing, despite himself, the little light rise in Ardghal’s eyes at being supported, despite himself.
“What does that mean,” Maylor asked, something of a whine in his voice.
Esras let there be silence, but only for a second – “Well, I have a plan.”
Silence followed that, too, until Taig said, “Mercy’s sake, tell us what it is, then!”
“I don’t know how well it will work,” Esras said, deferentially, but hardened his voice in what followed, “and it will require some sacrifice, and if we aren’t all completely committed, it won’t work at all and it will waste all of our time.”
This caused some mumbling, a few side conversations as those who knew each other better consulted with grunts and glances. Again, Esras didn’t look at Van, but at Ardghal, who would not admit to great familiarity with anyone, but who reluctantly lifted his eyes to meet Esras’ own.
“I mean,” said Maylor, surprisingly ready to throw himself forward as he stepped towards Cole in the centre of the circle, “it’s not like I have a better idea. And it seems promising.”
“Based on what?” Neese objected, but he also stepped forward, arms folded, to stand beside Maylor.
Now Esras looked at Van, whose suspicious hurt eased as he stepped in only to rise again when the next person Esras laid eyes on was Taig, who gamely jumped forward as well. The others closed, and Esras cast a glance around at each of them, before he smiled and pushed for space between two of them (across from Van) so that he was no longer in the centre. All eyes fixed on him the same.
“We are going to become a very good team,” Esras said.