We all sat in silence around the cafeteria meal, a rather uninspired and frankly undercooked pasta dish. All I could bring myself to do was poke at it, my rage ruining my appetite.

  "You don't think Kugarth did it, do you?" Myth broke the awkward silence finally.

  "He wouldn't do that. He takes great care of the simulation hall, and he's very protective of us students. He maybe should have been double-checking, but so should we. I didn't even look at the difficulty when I signed off on it. I feel so gods damned stupid!" I slammed my fist onto the table.

  Cori looked deep in thought. "There are several unanswered questions about all this that bother me. Who manipulated your request form? Who even had access? Why would they do this? But there is one thing that bothers me even more than that."

  We all looked at her expectantly but she just sat there in her contemplative silence.

  "Well?" I asked sharply.

  "Oh, right, sorry. The thing that bothers me is, what was that shadow with the blade we saw around the corner? None of the wraiths had blades, and the dullahan thing didn't activate until we were in the spiral dungeon's center. What was it, and why didn't we encounter it?" She explained.

  "It didn't smell like anything either. Just like the rest of the illusion monsters." Smitty added.

  We descended deeper into silence. I sighed, putting my fork down and pushing the plate away.

  "Yes, we got royally screwed on that one, but I feel we should look for the positives before we dig too deep into what went wrong. Smitty, your defense was amazing! You held that monster off incredibly well, and you used your new spike shield to great effect!" I told her. Her tail wagged excitedly.

  "Cori! Your room clearing was very good! Efficient, quick, and got the job done. Very professional! Your bolt shots were effective and probably were what kept us going for so long in that fight." Cori smiled at my assessment with perhaps a soft blush peeking out. I got the feeling she didn't get compliments much, and I felt like she could use some.

  "And Myth! I'm proud of you! You didn't freeze up, you kept your spells going, and you kept your head in the game, despite everything going wrong! You faced your fear, and I'm proud of you for that!" I could see Myth's dour expression brighten at my words.

  I found that starting assessments like this with compliments, especially after a defeat, helped. At least it helped with me. My sister was nothing but harsh words and punishments, but my brothers were the opposite. They encouraged me even when I failed, and it inspired me to keep trying. Spite was a good motivator and made your motivation burn hot, but encouragement kept that fire going.

  We all took turns given compliments to each other, talking about what went right in the dungeon.

  Then it came time to hand out the hard truths. While we had improved in many ways, even despite going into a dungeon beyond our capabilities, there were things we needed to work on. Namely, technique, equipment, and spell arsenals.

  I needed to learn more spells in general, and I needed to learn how to cast without my spell poems, which was difficult for me. Myth agreed to spend time outside class to work with me on casting.

  Cori admitted she needed to come up with more of a toolkit for her weaponry than just the crossbow with standard bolts. She would do some research and get back to us.

  Myth admitted that she needed to continue to work on her nerves in dungeons, and likewise work on her spell arsenal. As it was, she admitted, she knew Fireball and a few different healing and bolstering spells, but the training taught her that she needed more. She needed to figure out ways to help with actual fighting and not just sit in the back.

  Smitty simply said she needed to be stronger and get better with more weapons. She had focused on the spear and shield for so long, she wasn't sure how else to fight. If she learned how to fight with other weapons, she might be able to learn how to counter them as well.

  We all agreed to check up on each other in the coming weeks and to keep each other accountable. After all, we had to watch each other's backs, so this was the absolute least we could do for each other.

  Everyone finished up their dinners, except for me, my appetite improving from my mood, but still not wanting to deal with the insult to pasta on the plate. Pasta was a local specialty back in my home country, and it made me feel rather particular. I picked it today as I missed it, but all it did was make me miss a proper pasta even more.

  My family was, in a few words, a nightmare. Some of them tried to help me, others treated me harshly, and a few treated me with outright disgust. It all happened before my little prank that got me tossed out. It had been that way since I had been little, as far as I could remember.

  The house staff treated me well, though. The little old lady who was one of the chefs would make me pasta with butter and herbs when I was having a bad day. Manya, at the Jeweled Bower, could make the closest thing to it I could find, but it wasn't quite the same.

  I checked the time and saw that I didn't have many options for food this late, and I was too tired to even try wandering into town. I pushed the plate away, and decided to just steel myself for a hungry night, and just eat a bigger breakfast.

  A chair across from me was suddenly filled by a person.

  "Well, does little Miss Marchesi think she's too good for commoner food?" A snide, high-pitched, and ever so slightly nasally voice assailed my ears, souring what little of my mood I had improved after today.

  "I'm not in the mood, Togalli. Don't you have orphans to mock, or puppies to put into debt?" I glowered at the person across from me.

  Miriana Togalli was another reminder of my homeland, but one I could have lived without. She had not only been a fellow denizen of Burgotova, but we had also lived in the same town, and she had also been a part of the same social circles as my family. We had hated each other on sight, even as children, and found ourselves as rivals, always trying to outdo each other.

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  To be fair, this wasn't unusual for children in our station. Some families had their little power struggles and feuds, and the children were expected to perpetuate them. At first, I saw little point to all of it, but in Mariana's case, I just wanted to watch her squirm and cry as she failed, and I knew she wanted the same from me.

  She even mocked me on my way from the family manor, which did not improve my opinion of her. The satisfaction when I found out she had likewise been cast out was delicious, and warmed my vindictive little heart when I found out. I never found out the reason, and frankly, I didn't care to.

  "Words gotten around, you know? About your little oops in the simulator today. Some of the office staff told me about it over coffee. How typical of a Marchesi to bite off more than they can chew. Or was it your abysmal handwriting? Too bad you didn't have my calligraphy skills, or you could have saved yourself the embarrassment. Alas, seems you've got the eternal curse of chicken scratch." She tittered. I glared at her even harder.

  Even her appearance made me mad. She was almost a perfect elf. Long ears, blonde hair, green eyes, perfect cheekbones, not a blemish in sight. I hated her, I hated her face, I hated her perfect form. I wanted to take the water I had with my meal to throw into her face to see if she melted, like any proper demon would.

  "Did you come to mock me while I'm feeling down, specifically, or was there something else you needed from me? Perhaps some blood, to sustain your cursed unlife?" I sat back in my chair and continued to resist the urge to throw something in her face.

  She smirked at me before her face turned serious and distant for a moment.

  "As much as I hate to ask, I need a moment of your time, Alta. In private. We need to talk about the harvest season back home." Her look was intense.

  Harvest Season was a code amongst the nobility of Burgotova. Despite all of our issues, rivalries, and outright conflict, mentioning Harvest Season meant that whatever was going on was more important than the petty feuds we had amongst us. I wasn't part of the nobility anymore, and as far as I knew, neither was she. Which made this all much more curious, and potentially even more serious.

  I didn't like the idea of going anywhere with her, but I wasn't afraid of her. Miriana was a pain in my rear and enjoyed irritating the hells out of me, but she wasn't the type to stoop to assassination. Even when our feud got physical, the worst she ever did was slap me, and it was a pretty sad slap at that.

  "Fine, I agree. Where do you want to go?" I asked, pushing my chair back.

  "My room. 5th floor of the dorms. Room 7. I'll head out first, you follow in ten minutes." She whispered before pushing herself away from the table.

  "I'll leave you to your peasant food then! Enjoy the taste of squalor!" She laughed shrilly and walked away. That was for show, and I played along. I tossed some elven curses after her, ones questioning her parentage and virtues.

  I waited the ten minutes and added a few more purely out of spite, before getting up and heading out.

  The sun had already gone down, and the night's chill had settled in. The street lamps were li,t casting strange shadows everywhere. The day's events, plus whatever was going on with Mariana had me in a strange place, mentally, and it was making me jumpy.

  The fact that rumors about the incident had already been spreading wouldn't do my reputation any credit, not to mention everyone else. Mariana helped out in the records department for extra credit, or coin more likely, and they were all gossips. Some dark part of my brain wondered if one of them had anything to do with it.

  My mood as dark as the night around me, I entered the dorm hall, and made my way up the stairs to the fifth floor. The stairway was poorly lit, less because of a lack of light, and more a lack of maintenance. The school tried its best, but it churned through cleaning and repair staff for the dorm buildings quickly. I couldn't imagine why.

  I felt a chill, and the sudden feeling of being watched once I landed on the fourth floor. I looked around for a source and couldn't find anything that could have caused it. The feeling passed as soon as I continued up the stairs.

  The fifth floor was reserved for those students who could afford private rooms. I guess when they tossed her out, they left her with more money than they left me. Or she was better with her money than I was. I'm not sure which option annoyed me more.

  I knocked softly on the door, which flew open with a pop.

  Mariana scowled at me.

  "You're late!" And with that grabbed my arm and unceremoniously dragged me inside.

  -

  I'm not entirely sure what I expected when I entered her room. I think I expected gaudy decorations, mementos covering every surface, fancy sheets on a plush bed.

  What I found was austere. No decorations, the only thing on her wall being a mirror and a calendar with assignment dates. Her bed had the same sheets and blankets as anyone else. She had a few outfits, but not any more than any lower-class girl would have. Her equipment, however, was splendid. Even I had to grudgingly admit she had great taste in gear. High quality light armor, a bow made of silver elvenwood engraved with winding vines, a pair of daggers, one steel, the other made of silver for more supernatural foes.

  I hated to admit it, but she had put whatever money her family left her to good use in the right places. I was begrudgingly starting to form the beginnings of a sense of respect for her.

  She offered me a chair and paced a bit before sitting down. She was clearly stressed about whatever news it was. Harvest season was a stressful time after all.

  Burgotova had once been an agricultural powerhouse, and as such, Harvest Season was a critical time, as the entire economy depended on it going well. Over time, more resources were found, and things such as crafted goods, magical arts, sword styles, and the like replaced crops as the most important thing. As such, nobles turned the phrase 'I need to talk about Harvest Season' into a code saying they needed to talk about something important, usually of political importance, without raising too much suspicion. Most wouldn't think much of it, as surely harvest time was still vital, but anyone in the nobility would know that no one over a certain rank even cared about vegetables and fruits anymore.

  She stopped suddenly. "Tea. Do you want some tea? I want some tea. I don't have any tea."

  She was really nervous.

  "Just sit down and tell me what's going on." I sighed, pointing at the chair in front of me at the tiny table in her room.

  She flopped in a most undignified way and put her head in her hands, and let out an exacerbated groan.

  She lifted her head, took a deep breath.

  "The problem is two-fold, but all altogether it's a bad situation," She began with a sigh. "Do you want the bad news or the worst news?"

  I shrugged. "Start with the worst. Just pull the bandage off and let me see what's festering."

  "First, gross. Second, our families, in their infinite wisdom, have decided that your elder sister and my elder brother are to be married."

  My face blanched a bit at that. Not only did that cement my sister's place as the proper heir to the Marchesi name, it also meant that I was going to be related to Mariana, and I hated that thought. It wouldn't be true, legally speaking, since we were both disowned, but in a sense, we were doomed to be semi-sisters.

  I mentally swore to never treat her as such. Our mutual hatred of each other was essential to me.

  "Okay, what's the bad news, then? After that shock, I could use some milder disaster." I put my hand on my forehead. I could feel a headache coming on.

  "Our families in the engagement announcement declared the lands of Marchesi and Togalli would be united into one territory, and then declared themselves in open rebellion against the crown. So now not only are we legally related to each other, we're associated with rebels."

  "How is the marriage the worst news?!" I shouted at her.

  "Better a traitor than your sister in law!" she sneered.