HOME | DD

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Chapter Three

One thing I should probably get out of the way: Crowley University is huge.

I had a rough idea that I could get lost in this place when I first saw the pictures on the school website and brochures back in high school, but even now, when I’ve been living on campus for a whole month, I could still easily get lost in this place. I remember reading Harry Potter as a kid (and as an adult… okay, I read one of the books yesterday) and how labyrinthine and impossible to navigate Hogwarts was described as in the first book. But now, I can say with full confidence that Hogwarts has nothing on Crowley U.

They just couldn’t stop at building a school campus extending well over a mile, couldn’t they? No, obviously building a university for supernatural studies was the perfect opportunity to test out non-Euclidian architecture! This has the happy result of making the school a complete labyrinth of corridors and stairwells that look like something out of an M.C. Escher painting thanks to not having to worry about piddly little things like gravity or three-dimensional space, and with fewer direct routes between any given two points than the city of London. Sure, having architecture that shits on everything we know about space and time means taking the right corridor at the right time would let you get to a class at the opposite end of the building in mere seconds (provided you could avoid getting disoriented by seeing fellow students and school faculty walking down the walls and ceiling), but figuring out which turns and corridors to take without winding up on the wrong part of campus can be as challenging as the school courses themselves.

For this reason, it is near-universally common practice among Crowley U’s students, and even quite a few professors, to get ready for one’s day at least an hour before one with the same scheduled classes at any other school would, in case one loses time trying to navigate the eldritch labyrinth that is Aleister Crowley University for Supernatural Studies. There’s even a school legend about one student who took the wrong turn on his way to class and ended up in an Oregon Wal-Mart, but I’ve personally never found myself off campus via any of these hallways, or met anyone who has, so I’ve always taken that particular rumour with a grain of salt.

Turns out I was lucky this particular morning. I only had to take two detours courtesy of winding up at a destination distantly removed of my intended one, and managed to reach the school dining hall only half an hour later than I had hoped to arrive, the most punctual I’d been to anything thus far.

I suppose one should suspect that one of the world’s leading magic schools may have been built by fantasy nerds, but I swear the architects that made this place had Hogwarts in mind when they designed our school dining hall. The hall itself stretches half the length of a high school football field, with a stretching hardwood floor and walls of brick (really magnetite walls lined with a layer of brick for aesthetic reasons; naturally magnetic materials have a high degree of magic resistance and are thus commonly used for building any facilities where haywire spellwork is expected to occur). Each wall sported a long row of various stained glass windows depicting notable magical achievements throughout history, from those as ancient as the prophecies of Merlin to those as recent as the creation of the Pan-Global Portal Network that revolutionized global transit after the Awakening.

The arched ceiling, supported by wooden hammerbeam trusses and from which hangs the electric chandeliers illuminating the hall, stands at a height normally reserved for that of famous chapels and is enchanted to look like the sky, but not necessarily what the sky may look like outside on a given day; the school staff usually keep the illusory sky sunny on those dreary, cloudy days, because let’s face it, who wants to be reminded of the crappy weather outside when they’re having their breakfast? The east end of the dining hall leads to a sequence of staircases leading the meeting rooms of the adjacent towers, one of the few school passageways in the school that directly leads to an adjacent location. The zigzagging pattern of these staircases works with the ceiling trusses and the brickwork of the walls to create a plethora of geometric shapes.

Having to accommodate the dietary needs of a myriad of different species, the hall’s serving counters stretch across each wall, serving all kinds of food items ranging from the soup and sandwiches one would expect to find on an ordinary university dining area’s menu, to those most humans would find bizarre or downright inedible.

Even the various sizes of students’ bodies are accounted for, large and small alike. The first few rows at the front of the hall consists of tables and counters seemingly designed with human children in mind; in reality meant for dwarves, gnomes and goblins and other people of such a size. Hell, there’s even a cubby hole seemingly scaled for children’s dolls carved into the hall’s west wall to serve as a dining area for students even smaller than that (for safety reasons, of course; accidentally stepping on someone when they’re trying to have breakfast is kind of a bummer for everyone involved). One has to pass about four rows of seating before getting to tables and serving counters meant for people of average human size (i.e. a good majority of the student body), but a few dozen rows beyond that you could find seating for people up to ten feet in height, and a few rows beyond that were tables for students up to twenty feet tall (there are species even larger than that, but most of them are either non-sapient, or are too ancient and powerful to be bothered with anything taught at this school to begin with).

Given the size of the dining hall and the massive amount of people that can occupy it at a given moment, it can take a while to find people you’re trying to meet in there. It took about a minute of scanning the multiple rows of seating before I noticed a certain green-tinged muscular arm waving at me from the second row.

“Friend Victoria Cross! We feared you may not have made it back to us!”

Smiling at the comment, I said, “I almost feared that myself, to be honest.”

The arm and the voice belonged to a very well-built orc woman named Hillevi Boarhide, a friend I had met through Eva, as they were classmates in a few Political Science courses. Hill was well over six feet tall (the bare minimum average height for an orc her age), and built like an MMA fighter. Her skin was a dull olive green and sported quite a few noticeable scars from the various fights she’d been through over the years. Two boar-like tusks protruded from her jovial grin, the left of which had broken in the past and was now kept in place with a metal ring. Hill tended put a bit more modern style into her personal appearance than most orcs; her pointed, almost wolf-like ears sported several studded piercings, and her bristly black hair was styled in a layered punk hairstyle with dark purple streaks dyed in. Her usual wardrobe consisted of modern athletic wear and today she wore a form-fitting tank top and gym shorts, as well as a few pieces of armour few orcish warriors were seen without, namely a metal shoulder guard kept in place by a leather harness, and the leather greaves protecting her shins.

Between her battle-hardened Amazonian build, her armoured attire and of course the two-handed greataxe slung across her back, you’d think she’d be grim and foul-tempered, right? Nope! She’s one of the most amiable and cheerful people you’ll ever meet, if aggressively enthusiastic (or enthusiastically aggressive, given the right occasion).

“I trust you guys saved me a spot?” I asked.

Hillevi grinned and patted the seat right at the edge of the table and happily proclaimed, “I swore an oath to myself to defend your seat to the death if need be!”

One could never be sure whether Hill was joking or completely earnest when it came to comments like that, so I just smiled and took a seat.

“How’d that all-nighter with Gorgophone go last night?” a soft, accented voice asked me from across the table. Sitting across from me was Chinese fox spirit Fu Meihui, a friend I had met in the school library one day while she was studying for her Esoteric Literature course.

“I’m surprised you already figured out it was an all-nighter,” I told her.

For the most part, Mei looked like an ordinary mousy twentysomething Chinese girl, with a heart-shaped face, dark brown hair and eyes and a pair of narrow framed glasses, but the fox ears sticking out of the top of her head and the dull red fox tail coming out the rear hem of her shirt were unmistakeable. Contrary to the usual reputation most fox spirits (especially the vixens) have, Mei rarely showed a lot of skin in her style of dress, with the hooded sweatshirt and track pants she was wearing this morning proving no exception. Her hair was cut in a bob cut only just passing the nape of her neck. She looked absolutely miniscule with Hillevi as a basis for comparison, but I just barely break 5’5’’ and the top of Mei’s head only just reaches the bridge of my nose when we’re both standing (not counting her ears, of course), and had the petite build one would expect for someone of that height.

Chewing on a piece of roast chicken she held in one hand, in the other she held a textbook entitled, A Beginner’s Guide to Eldritch Tome Safety open, her eyes not even straying from it as she carried on our conversation. That textbook was only one of many she had brought to the table, the rest neatly stacked up to her side. Mei likes to maintain a bit of distance between people even when hanging out, so sat at the end of her side of the table, setting a large backpack in the spot right next to her. Most people in my circle have accepted that at as a part of who she is, but it didn’t stop some passing students looking for a seat from looking at her funny before moving on.

Oh, and word of warning, don't call her a kitsune. She's a huli jing, she'll have you know, and will be more than happy to tell you the difference. Trust me, it's a wonder we ended up becoming friends at all after that earful I got when, thanks to my Korean background, I called her a kumiho when we first met.

“I ran into Gorgo on my way here,” she explained. “She was slithering away from your dormitory room at a surprising speed garbed in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday, with her book bag in tow, she I put two and two together. She seemed to have quite the embarrassed expression and was making a mad dash back to her dorm room…”

“Long story short,” I began, “Eva hadn’t had breakfast and isn’t too shabby at putting on a more masculine form.”

“I see,” she said. “So did the two actually…”

“No, she left at the offer. It looks like Gorgo’s not all that comfortable with people being that forward. I made a point once she took off to tell Eva to tone it down in the future. Guess we’ll see in the future if that talk did any good.”

“Should this become a larger dispute, know that I will always be willing to fight as your champion in a duel against the Dread Roommate!” Hillevi offered, giving a fist pump in solidarity.

“Um, thanks for the offer Hill, but I’m pretty sure it won’t come to that.”

Yeah, Hillevi was a great friend to have around, but occasionally she needed a few reminders that certain orcish traditions and customs, like say, resolving quarrels in single combat, were not shared by every society.

“Ah,” she said understandingly. “Sorry for assuming you wanted to settle things the orcish way. Still, I thought I could offer the help, since you probably wouldn’t last ten seconds in battle.”

Yeah, there’s another thing about orcish society that Hillevi hadn’t learned to leave at the door just yet. You see, orcs see it as a sign of respect to bluntly tell someone exactly what you think about them, while flattery is actually seen as an insult, since in their eyes it means you do not respect them enough to tell the truth. Fortunately, by this point Hill had learned not to take offense from others’ attempts at diplomacy, but she still had a bit to learn about the concept herself.

Suddenly, it appeared she realized what she had said and remorsefully told me, “By my ancestors, I’m being insulting again, aren’t I? My apologies, Victoria! I am sure…” she paused for a few seconds to work out the right thing to say, “that you are not as weak as you look and you could fare passably in single combat.”

“Don’t worry, I knew what you meant.”

“Well, as much as I enjoy a good dispute regarding sexual boundaries being settled by mortal combat,” Mei said snidely, “I hope Eva got the message and this won’t become a problem.”

That last comment was met with an equine snort from right next to me at the end of the table, courtesy of Hillevi’s roommate, Khulan, a centaur exchange student from Mongolia.

Even with the stocky Przewalski’s horse body below her waist sitting on the dining hall floor to lower her upper body closer to the height of our table, Khulan still approached even Hillevi’s impressive height. Her dun coloured coat of hair did not stop at her equine body, covering every inch of her skin, including her stocky, compact and sturdily built upper body. Her face was that of an attractive Central Asian woman, but often harshened by a haughty expression, and now was no different. With only a few braided bangs breaching her hairline close to her horse-like ears, her jet black hair was bound in a shoulder length ponytail, which was also braided, albeit in a more ornate fashion. Khulan’s attire tended to eschew Western trappings, as seen this day by the ornately patterned, long-sleeved silk deel tunic that reached down to her haunches, and the pointed, fur-trimmed hat adorning her head.

Our friendship with Khulan was… unusual, to say the least. Being the firstborn daughter of her herd’s khan, it was not surprising she carried herself with the air of confidence and superiority. Furthermore, herd hierarchy is an important aspect of centaur society, and it just so happened she saw our circle of friends as a new herd, with herself as the dominant mare. Granted, the rest of us tended to make a point to make clear that a few of her assertions of authority weren’t going to fly, and she could be somewhat accommodating of what she called “human herd dynamics,” but you also had to be a bit careful about what you let slide. I don’t know who came up with the phrase, “give an inch and they’ll take a mile,” but I can’t help but think they knew Khulan, linear passage of time be damned. Still, you would be hard pressed to find anyone with a stronger work ethic, and if she sees you as part of the herd, she will always help you when you’re in trouble. Shame she’s still a total control freak.

I sighed, bracing myself for the incoming lecture about herd dominance or whatever. That’s another thing about Khulan. Once she’s got something to say on a matter, she will not shut up. Ever.

“Fine,” I sighed. “What’s your take on the dispute? It’s not like I was planning on doing anything for the next decade…”

“Clearly,” she began, with all the pomp and grandeur of a speech from royalty, “you are seeing the consequences of your failure to establish your dominance over Miss Naamahspawn. She sees herself as the dominant mare of the herd, as it were, so sees fit to flout social boundaries she would otherwise be expected to follow.”

“Gee, I give her bit of leeway, and now she thinks she’s in charge?” I asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I just cannot imagine what that’s like! And could you please not mention Eva and ‘dominance’ in the same sentence? That word takes on a whole new meaning when she’s involved.”

Seemingly ignorant of the puddle formed from the sarcasm dripping off of the first part of my response or any part of the second; Khulan gave a satisfied grin and said, “I am always glad to educate my subordinates in such matters.”

Yeah, this pretty much demonstrated how we deal with Khulan’s “leadership.” She tries to take charge, we ignore it, and she ignores us ignoring it, wash rinse repeat.

“Should she fail to conduct herself and respect your attempts to enforce the proper hierarchy, I would suggest temporary or permanent expulsion from the herd,” she continued, still blissfully unaware of her advice not being applicable here.

“They don’t have sarcasm where they come from, do you?” Mei asked.

“Actually, the centaurs herds of my homeland do indulge in it occasionally, but we do not employ as liberally as those over here do,” Khulan stated matter-of-factly without so much as a hint of self-awareness.

Hill then broke out into a belly laugh, prompting Khulan to give an annoyed glare and steely ask, “Care to inform us what you find so amusing, Hillevi?”

“Sorry, but your total inability to divine the futility at your attempts at asserting authority is hilarious!”

Oh boy, here we go.

Khulan’s face twisted with anger. “You dare question your superior, Boarhide? Need I show your place by force?”

Hoo boy, she mentioned fighting to Hillevi. This was not going to have the effect she intended.

Hill’s face immediately brightened up and she said, “Really? You wish to face me in combat? Excellent! The duelling club’s arena should be opened after morning classes, shall we meet there?”

“Do not treat this matter lightly! I shall face you on the field of battle, and you will learn how to treat your superiors in this herd!”

The two continued to banter back and forth, with each response going in one ear and out the other on both accounts, so I decided to get up and head for the serving counters to grab breakfast and some coffee. I loved my friends, but there were times when it was best to mingle with them after one had caffeine in their system.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

Chapter Three

One thing I should probably get out of the way: Crowley University is huge.

I had a rough idea that I could get lost in this place when I first saw the pictures on the school website and brochures back in high school, but even now, when I’ve been living on campus for a whole month, I could still easily get lost in this place. I remember reading Harry Potter as a kid (and as an adult… okay, I read one of the books yesterday) and how labyrinthine and impossible to navigate Hogwarts was described as in the first book. But now, I can say with full confidence that Hogwarts has nothing on Crowley U.

They just couldn’t stop at building a school campus extending well over a mile, couldn’t they? No, obviously building a university for supernatural studies was the perfect opportunity to test out non-Euclidian architecture! This has the happy result of making the school a complete labyrinth of corridors and stairwells that look like something out of an M.C. Escher painting thanks to not having to worry about piddly little things like gravity or three-dimensional space, and with fewer direct routes between any given two points than the city of London. Sure, having architecture that shits on everything we know about space and time means taking the right corridor at the right time would let you get to a class at the opposite end of the building in mere seconds (provided you could avoid getting disoriented by seeing fellow students and school faculty walking down the walls and ceiling), but figuring out which turns and corridors to take without winding up on the wrong part of campus can be as challenging as the school courses themselves.

For this reason, it is near-universally common practice among Crowley U’s students, and even quite a few professors, to get ready for one’s day at least an hour before one with the same scheduled classes at any other school would, in case one loses time trying to navigate the eldritch labyrinth that is Aleister Crowley University for Supernatural Studies. There’s even a school legend about one student who took the wrong turn on his way to class and ended up in an Oregon Wal-Mart, but I’ve personally never found myself off campus via any of these hallways, or met anyone who has, so I’ve always taken that particular rumour with a grain of salt.

Turns out I was lucky this particular morning. I only had to take two detours courtesy of winding up at a destination distantly removed of my intended one, and managed to reach the school dining hall only half an hour later than I had hoped to arrive, the most punctual I’d been to anything thus far.

I suppose one should suspect that one of the world’s leading magic schools may have been built by fantasy nerds, but I swear the architects that made this place had Hogwarts in mind when they designed our school dining hall. The hall itself stretches half the length of a high school football field, with a stretching hardwood floor and walls of brick (really magnetite walls lined with a layer of brick for aesthetic reasons; naturally magnetic materials have a high degree of magic resistance and are thus commonly used for building any facilities where haywire spellwork is expected to occur). Each wall sported a long row of various stained glass windows depicting notable magical achievements throughout history, from those as ancient as the prophecies of Merlin to those as recent as the creation of the Pan-Global Portal Network that revolutionized global transit after the Awakening.

The arched ceiling, supported by wooden hammerbeam trusses and from which hangs the electric chandeliers illuminating the hall, stands at a height normally reserved for that of famous chapels and is enchanted to look like the sky, but not necessarily what the sky may look like outside on a given day; the school staff usually keep the illusory sky sunny on those dreary, cloudy days, because let’s face it, who wants to be reminded of the crappy weather outside when they’re having their breakfast? The east end of the dining hall leads to a sequence of staircases leading the meeting rooms of the adjacent towers, one of the few school passageways in the school that directly leads to an adjacent location. The zigzagging pattern of these staircases works with the ceiling trusses and the brickwork of the walls to create a plethora of geometric shapes.

Having to accommodate the dietary needs of a myriad of different species, the hall’s serving counters stretch across each wall, serving all kinds of food items ranging from the soup and sandwiches one would expect to find on an ordinary university dining area’s menu, to those most humans would find bizarre or downright inedible.

Even the various sizes of students’ bodies are accounted for, large and small alike. The first few rows at the front of the hall consists of tables and counters seemingly designed with human children in mind; in reality meant for dwarves, gnomes and goblins and other people of such a size. Hell, there’s even a cubby hole seemingly scaled for children’s dolls carved into the hall’s west wall to serve as a dining area for students even smaller than that (for safety reasons, of course; accidentally stepping on someone when they’re trying to have breakfast is kind of a bummer for everyone involved). One has to pass about four rows of seating before getting to tables and serving counters meant for people of average human size (i.e. a good majority of the student body), but a few dozen rows beyond that you could find seating for people up to ten feet in height, and a few rows beyond that were tables for students up to twenty feet tall (there are species even larger than that, but most of them are either non-sapient, or are too ancient and powerful to be bothered with anything taught at this school to begin with).

Given the size of the dining hall and the massive amount of people that can occupy it at a given moment, it can take a while to find people you’re trying to meet in there. It took about a minute of scanning the multiple rows of seating before I noticed a certain green-tinged muscular arm waving at me from the second row.

“Friend Victoria Cross! We feared you may not have made it back to us!”

Smiling at the comment, I said, “I almost feared that myself, to be honest.”

The arm and the voice belonged to a very well-built orc woman named Hillevi Boarhide, a friend I had met through Eva, as they were classmates in a few Political Science courses. Hill was well over six feet tall (the bare minimum average height for an orc her age), and built like an MMA fighter. Her skin was a dull olive green and sported quite a few noticeable scars from the various fights she’d been through over the years. Two boar-like tusks protruded from her jovial grin, the left of which had broken in the past and was now kept in place with a metal ring. Hill tended put a bit more modern style into her personal appearance than most orcs; her pointed, almost wolf-like ears sported several studded piercings, and her bristly black hair was styled in a layered punk hairstyle with dark purple streaks dyed in. Her usual wardrobe consisted of modern athletic wear and today she wore a form-fitting tank top and gym shorts, as well as a few pieces of armour few orcish warriors were seen without, namely a metal shoulder guard kept in place by a leather harness, and the leather greaves protecting her shins.

Between her battle-hardened Amazonian build, her armoured attire and of course the two-handed greataxe slung across her back, you’d think she’d be grim and foul-tempered, right? Nope! She’s one of the most amiable and cheerful people you’ll ever meet, if aggressively enthusiastic (or enthusiastically aggressive, given the right occasion).

“I trust you guys saved me a spot?” I asked.

Hillevi grinned and patted the seat right at the edge of the table and happily proclaimed, “I swore an oath to myself to defend your seat to the death if need be!”

One could never be sure whether Hill was joking or completely earnest when it came to comments like that, so I just smiled and took a seat.

“How’d that all-nighter with Gorgophone go last night?” a soft, accented voice asked me from across the table. Sitting across from me was Chinese fox spirit Fu Meihui, a friend I had met in the school library one day while she was studying for her Esoteric Literature course.

“I’m surprised you already figured out it was an all-nighter,” I told her.

For the most part, Mei looked like an ordinary mousy twentysomething Chinese girl, with a heart-shaped face, dark brown hair and eyes and a pair of narrow framed glasses, but the fox ears sticking out of the top of her head and the dull red fox tail coming out the rear hem of her shirt were unmistakeable. Contrary to the usual reputation most fox spirits (especially the vixens) have, Mei rarely showed a lot of skin in her style of dress, with the hooded sweatshirt and track pants she was wearing this morning proving no exception. Her hair was cut in a bob cut only just passing the nape of her neck. She looked absolutely miniscule with Hillevi as a basis for comparison, but I just barely break 5’5’’ and the top of Mei’s head only just reaches the bridge of my nose when we’re both standing (not counting her ears, of course), and had the petite build one would expect for someone of that height.

Chewing on a piece of roast chicken she held in one hand, in the other she held a textbook entitled, A Beginner’s Guide to Eldritch Tome Safety open, her eyes not even straying from it as she carried on our conversation. That textbook was only one of many she had brought to the table, the rest neatly stacked up to her side. Mei likes to maintain a bit of distance between people even when hanging out, so sat at the end of her side of the table, setting a large backpack in the spot right next to her. Most people in my circle have accepted that at as a part of who she is, but it didn’t stop some passing students looking for a seat from looking at her funny before moving on.

Oh, and word of warning, don't call her a kitsune. She's a huli jing, she'll have you know, and will be more than happy to tell you the difference. Trust me, it's a wonder we ended up becoming friends at all after that earful I got when, thanks to my Korean background, I called her a kumiho when we first met.

“I ran into Gorgo on my way here,” she explained. “She was slithering away from your dormitory room at a surprising speed garbed in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday, with her book bag in tow, she I put two and two together. She seemed to have quite the embarrassed expression and was making a mad dash back to her dorm room…”

“Long story short,” I began, “Eva hadn’t had breakfast and isn’t too shabby at putting on a more masculine form.”

“I see,” she said. “So did the two actually…”

“No, she left at the offer. It looks like Gorgo’s not all that comfortable with people being that forward. I made a point once she took off to tell Eva to tone it down in the future. Guess we’ll see in the future if that talk did any good.”

“Should this become a larger dispute, know that I will always be willing to fight as your champion in a duel against the Dread Roommate!” Hillevi offered, giving a fist pump in solidarity.

“Um, thanks for the offer Hill, but I’m pretty sure it won’t come to that.”

Yeah, Hillevi was a great friend to have around, but occasionally she needed a few reminders that certain orcish traditions and customs, like say, resolving quarrels in single combat, were not shared by every society.

“Ah,” she said understandingly. “Sorry for assuming you wanted to settle things the orcish way. Still, I thought I could offer the help, since you probably wouldn’t last ten seconds in battle.”

Yeah, there’s another thing about orcish society that Hillevi hadn’t learned to leave at the door just yet. You see, orcs see it as a sign of respect to bluntly tell someone exactly what you think about them, while flattery is actually seen as an insult, since in their eyes it means you do not respect them enough to tell the truth. Fortunately, by this point Hill had learned not to take offense from others’ attempts at diplomacy, but she still had a bit to learn about the concept herself.

Suddenly, it appeared she realized what she had said and remorsefully told me, “By my ancestors, I’m being insulting again, aren’t I? My apologies, Victoria! I am sure…” she paused for a few seconds to work out the right thing to say, “that you are not as weak as you look and you could fare passably in single combat.”

“Don’t worry, I knew what you meant.”

“Well, as much as I enjoy a good dispute regarding sexual boundaries being settled by mortal combat,” Mei said snidely, “I hope Eva got the message and this won’t become a problem.”

That last comment was met with an equine snort from right next to me at the end of the table, courtesy of Hillevi’s roommate, Khulan, a centaur exchange student from Mongolia.

Even with the stocky Przewalski’s horse body below her waist sitting on the dining hall floor to lower her upper body closer to the height of our table, Khulan still approached even Hillevi’s impressive height. Her dun coloured coat of hair did not stop at her equine body, covering every inch of her skin, including her stocky, compact and sturdily built upper body. Her face was that of an attractive Central Asian woman, but often harshened by a haughty expression, and now was no different. With only a few braided bangs breaching her hairline close to her horse-like ears, her jet black hair was bound in a shoulder length ponytail, which was also braided, albeit in a more ornate fashion. Khulan’s attire tended to eschew Western trappings, as seen this day by the ornately patterned, long-sleeved silk deel tunic that reached down to her haunches, and the pointed, fur-trimmed hat adorning her head.

Our friendship with Khulan was… unusual, to say the least. Being the firstborn daughter of her herd’s khan, it was not surprising she carried herself with the air of confidence and superiority. Furthermore, herd hierarchy is an important aspect of centaur society, and it just so happened she saw our circle of friends as a new herd, with herself as the dominant mare. Granted, the rest of us tended to make a point to make clear that a few of her assertions of authority weren’t going to fly, and she could be somewhat accommodating of what she called “human herd dynamics,” but you also had to be a bit careful about what you let slide. I don’t know who came up with the phrase, “give an inch and they’ll take a mile,” but I can’t help but think they knew Khulan, linear passage of time be damned. Still, you would be hard pressed to find anyone with a stronger work ethic, and if she sees you as part of the herd, she will always help you when you’re in trouble. Shame she’s still a total control freak.

I sighed, bracing myself for the incoming lecture about herd dominance or whatever. That’s another thing about Khulan. Once she’s got something to say on a matter, she will not shut up. Ever.

“Fine,” I sighed. “What’s your take on the dispute? It’s not like I was planning on doing anything for the next decade…”

“Clearly,” she began, with all the pomp and grandeur of a speech from royalty, “you are seeing the consequences of your failure to establish your dominance over Miss Naamahspawn. She sees herself as the dominant mare of the herd, as it were, so sees fit to flout social boundaries she would otherwise be expected to follow.”

“Gee, I give her bit of leeway, and now she thinks she’s in charge?” I asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I just cannot imagine what that’s like! And could you please not mention Eva and ‘dominance’ in the same sentence? That word takes on a whole new meaning when she’s involved.”

Seemingly ignorant of the puddle formed from the sarcasm dripping off of the first part of my response or any part of the second; Khulan gave a satisfied grin and said, “I am always glad to educate my subordinates in such matters.”

Yeah, this pretty much demonstrated how we deal with Khulan’s “leadership.” She tries to take charge, we ignore it, and she ignores us ignoring it, wash rinse repeat.

“Should she fail to conduct herself and respect your attempts to enforce the proper hierarchy, I would suggest temporary or permanent expulsion from the herd,” she continued, still blissfully unaware of her advice not being applicable here.

“They don’t have sarcasm where they come from, do you?” Mei asked.

“Actually, the centaurs herds of my homeland do indulge in it occasionally, but we do not employ as liberally as those over here do,” Khulan stated matter-of-factly without so much as a hint of self-awareness.

Hill then broke out into a belly laugh, prompting Khulan to give an annoyed glare and steely ask, “Care to inform us what you find so amusing, Hillevi?”

“Sorry, but your total inability to divine the futility at your attempts at asserting authority is hilarious!”

Oh boy, here we go.

Khulan’s face twisted with anger. “You dare question your superior, Boarhide? Need I show your place by force?”

Hoo boy, she mentioned fighting to Hillevi. This was not going to have the effect she intended.

Hill’s face immediately brightened up and she said, “Really? You wish to face me in combat? Excellent! The duelling club’s arena should be opened after morning classes, shall we meet there?”

“Do not treat this matter lightly! I shall face you on the field of battle, and you will learn how to treat your superiors in this herd!”

The two continued to banter back and forth, with each response going in one ear and out the other on both accounts, so I decided to get up and head for the serving counters to grab breakfast and some coffee. I loved my friends, but there were times when it was best to mingle with them after one had caffeine in their system.