Location: Eldorian Royal Manor, neutral kingdom of Azmar in the world of Aethalgard.
(1 Week After the Last Switch)
Kel caught up with the group, relieved that Lady Vivian (as Ally) was found. "I will call off the search, Your Highness."
"Wait, Kel. Would you escort her to one of the small gardens? I would like a word with Scholar Tristan," Callum said, his eyes fixed on Vivian's hold of Tristan's arm. Callum was barely containing his anger.
"But I want to stay, Cal. Please...?" Vivian whined, completely uncharacteristic of her usual measured responses.
"I need to discuss something important with Tristan. And Kel had something he wanted to tell you," Callum said as he threw Kel under the bus. Callum put his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "Kel?"
Kel walked over and picked up Vivian, tossing her over his shoulder again. Kel stared in Cyrus' direction for just a moment before Cyrus cleared his throat and muttered, "Well… yes, I suppose I should let them catch up." With Vivian thrown over Kel's left shoulder, they disappeared through the doorway, closing the heavy doors behind them.
Cyrus lingered for a moment, looking between Tristan and Callum. "You!" Callum turned to Cyrus. "Those notes were acquired without consent. Hand them over. We are burning them."
Callum switched to point at Tristan. "And you. You are not even allowed to breathe the same air as Vivian unless Kel or I are present. Understood?"
Tristan looked at Cyrus and commented on Callum's behavior, saying, "'Overprotective' does not even come close. Obsessed is more like it."
"Son, I do not believe you are helping." Cyrus put the notes on the table in front of Callum and prepared to leave, saying, "Well, yes… I have some things…" Cyrus gestured toward the door, noting that Tristan and Callum were locked in a dangerous staring contest. "Right," Cyrus muttered before hastily leaving the room.
"Before you get started, I would like to remind you that I have the discretion to call for your execution when on Eldorian soil." Callum's voice was a low, dangerous growl, his eyes fixed on Tristan's, daring him to challenge it. "Explain. Now."
Tristan stepped forward, his expression earnest, almost pleading. "Indeed, Your Highness. Lady Vivian possesses a truly extraordinary mind, a unique perspective that bridges two worlds. Our intention was purely to help her relax, to open her to the inherent energy within her. As you know, Lady Alura is a prodigy of immense power. It stands to reason that Vivian, too, holds untapped potential."
"And her world, with its 'science'," Tristan continued, "is a concept she so eloquently described as a form of non-magical manipulation of reality. It offers a fascinating parallel to how we use the energies around us. We believed that by gently guiding her, by allowing her to shed the anxieties of her current predicament, she could truly begin to grasp the intersection of these two powerful forces."
Callum stepped closer to Tristan, pausing to let his words sink in. "I have known Vivian since we were children. She is fiercely intelligent, kind, and possesses a strong sense of justice. She is also, at times, incredibly naive when it comes to the intentions of others. I will not tolerate any further attempts to manipulate her. Do you understand? If you ever try something like this again, I will ensure that your academic career, and your freedom, are forfeit. Is that clear, Scholar Tristan?"
Tristan flinched, his face paling. "Yes, Your Highness. Very."
"Good," Callum said, stepping back. "Now, get out of my sight. And remember my words."
Tristan, however, didn't move. A faint, defiant smirk touched his lips, and his gold eyes, though still wary, held a glint of something provocative. "Of course," he murmured, his voice just loud enough to carry in the sudden silence. "Prince Callum… could never be jealous that Lady Vivian finds me so fascinating; that it barely took any effort for her to open up to me completely; that we have a shared desire to know more about the things that catch our eye?"
The air in the dining room crackled. Callum's eyes narrowed into a dangerous glint that replaced cold fury. The mention of jealousy, the insinuation that another could win Vivian's attention, struck a raw nerve. It was a calculated jab, designed to provoke, and it hit its mark perfectly.
"You are an arrogant fool," Callum snarled, his voice a low, guttural sound that vibrated with suppressed rage. His hand instinctively clenched into a fist.
Tristan's smirk widened, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. He had pushed the prince too far, and he knew it. "Is the mighty prince truly so insecure? So threatened by a little intellectual curiosity?"
That was all it took. The accusation, delivered with such casual insolence, was the final spark. Callum moved with the swift, deadly precision of a trained warrior. His fist, propelled by a surge of raw, unbridled fury, connected squarely with Tristan's jaw.
The sound was a sharp crack that echoed through the room. Tristan's head snapped back and he fell to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. His body landed with a heavy thud, scattering delicate pastries and sending a chalice skittering across the floor. A thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Callum stood over him, chest heaving, his knuckles aching. The rage, momentarily sated, left behind a cold, hard satisfaction. He looked down at the disheveled form of Scholar Tristan, then slowly, deliberately, wiped his knuckles on the pristine white tablecloth.
"Vivian is not a prize for you to win," Callum said, his voice low and dangerous, addressing the form on the floor. "And her trust is not a game to be played." He then turned and strode out of the dining room.
Tristan chuckled as he sat up and wiped his lip with his thumb, looking at the blood smeared on its tip. He remained on the floor, the lingering scent of Moonwhisper and blood hanging in the air. "I guess that answers that question."
Despite his perceptive humor, Tristan's inner monologue was slightly different. How am I going to fix this with Vivian?
—————————————————————————————————————
Callum tried to calm himself before dealing with the next issue: Vivian.
Continuing down the hall, he spotted Kel standing by the arches that opened into one of the property's gardens. In true Eldorian style, it managed to resemble the sylvan landscape of the home kingdom with a grove of viridian heartwoods, each with a fain glow and impossibly vibrant green leaves.
Callum took a moment to look at Vivian from a distance. She was seated on a bench made from solaris bloomwoods, adding a warm glow under the heartwood canopy. She leaned forward with her head in her hands. Callum suspected the fog of Tristan's charm manipulation was lifting with distance and fresh air. Callum looked down at his bloodied knuckles and decided to pull on his leather gloves to conceal them, silently deciding to keep the violence of this world away from her big green eyes as long as possible.
He took a deep breath to steel himself and stepped into the garden—the anger in his face replaced with concern. As he approached, Vivian looked up. She stood but waited until he reached her before speaking. "Cal, I… " Her mind was blank. "I guess my head is still foggy."
Callum gave her a warm smile. "Would you sit with me for a bit?" He gestured to the bloomwood bench.
Vivian nodded and sat back down. "Did I drink Moonwhisper Mead again?"
Callum chuckled softly. "Something like that." He looked forward, wondering how much to tell her.
"You want to tell me something, but you are not sure if you should, right?" Vivian asked, recognizing the look on his face.
Callum nodded and muttered, "How is it you are so perceptive about these things and not the ones you should be?"
"That was an excellent Ben impression, Cal," Vivian said, hoping to interject some levity.
"Ahh… I think I understand him a little better. He must be constantly worried."
Vivian bit her bottom lip, then responded, "So he often says."
Callum nodded again and leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. "Vivian…" he hesitated, then said, "Viv…"
"Uh oh. I haven't heard that tone since we were teenagers and I decided to do a science experiment comparing flora from this world with what I knew from mine and… you know… melted some stuff." Vivian looked at him as he turned his head toward her. "I am not fragile. Tell me what you want to tell me."
"This Switch with Ally... We know it is different. But we do not know how long you will be in this world. That is why we came here. You need to learn to defend yourself against magical attacks." Callum spoke slowly and deliberately. "You understand that your defense is a priority, right?"
Vivian nodded in understanding.
Callum continued, "You have told me some of the dangers in your world over the years, hoping I would pass it along to Ally and help her prepare. But… our world. The powerful prey on the weak and the savvy exploit the naive."
"Oh, I see. This is a 'stranger danger' talk." Vivian responded, almost happy that she called it out.
"Exactly. Strangers can be a danger." Callum sighed in relief and sat back up. "But sometimes people we do not think are strangers are also predatory."
Vivian nodded. "Tristan did something?"
"Yes. A manipulation that is similar to the effects of the sounds from Kel's toast you felt on the way here."
"I see." Vivian stood abruptly and brushed off her pared-down dress.
"Vivian?" Callum watched her walk away and gestured to Kel with his head to follow her.
Vivian, still seething from the humiliation of being charmed, wandered the manor grounds for a while. Callum's lecture about her trusting nature echoed in her ears, mingling with the mortifying snippets of memories about her eager confessions to Cyrus and Tristan. She needed to do something to regain a sense of control.
She found Tristan in a quiet green space, poring over one of the texts, his jaw visibly bruised from Callum's punch. He winced as he moved, clearly not at his best. He looked up as she approached, a faint, wary curiosity in his gold eyes.
"Lady Vivian," Tristan said as he stood, a hint of his usual charm attempting to surface, though it was strained. "Recovering from your... nap, I presume? The Prince can be rather heavy-handed. I think he was feeling possessive." He smirked, the bruised side of his face pulling uncomfortably.
Vivian stopped a few feet from him, her posture radiating a quiet intensity that belied her recent vulnerability. Her green eyes, clear and sharp now, fixed on his. "You think this is about Callum, Tristan?" Her voice was low, devoid of the charm's previous softness.
Tristan's smirk faltered. "I merely observed how easily we are able to enjoy each other's company, Lady Vivian. A natural consequence of intellectual rapport, perhaps."
"Intellectual rapport?" Vivian scoffed, a flicker of cold anger in her eyes. "You exploited my trust. You violated my autonomy. And you thought I was just some naive woman to be manipulated."
Tristan closed the book. "That was not…"
"But Tristan, you have underestimated the consequences of those actions." She took a slow step closer.
Tristan chuckled, a dry, dismissive sound tinged with concern. "And what, pray tell, will you do? Lecture me on the ethics of magical research?" Tristan couldn't hide the patronizing way his words landed, even if he was attempting to lighten the mood. But inside, he felt incredibly guilty and deserving of punishment.
Vivian's eyes narrowed. "No. I'm going to teach you a lesson about those very consequences."
Before Tristan could react, Vivian moved. She closed the distance in a single, fluid step, her hand shooting out to seize his wrist. Tristan, caught off guard, instinctively tried to pull back, but Vivian's grip was iron.
She twisted, using his own momentum against him, pulling him off balance. Her other hand found his elbow, applying precise pressure. Tristan gasped as a sharp pain shot through his arm, his magical aura flaring uselessly around him. He tried to brace himself, to push back with a surge of energy, but Vivian was too fast, too grounded.
With a pivot, she swept her leg behind his, completing a textbook judo throw. Tristan yelped as he toppled, landing with a jarring thud on his back on the soft grass of the training yard. The wind was knocked out of him. For a moment, he just lay there, stunned, staring up at the sky.
Vivian knelt beside him. Her hand, still gripping his wrist, twisted his arm across his body, forcing his shoulder to roll. With some effort in Ally's body, she used her weight and his own resistance to smoothly turn him onto his stomach. Now, with Tristan face down and struggling, she secured his arm behind his back in a painful lock. He grunted, struggling against the unbreakable hold. But his efforts were futile.
Her face, so recently flushed with charmed compliance, was now a mask of cool determination. Her green eyes were alert and unwavering. "Listen very closely, Scholar Tristan," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I am not a toy. I am not a research subject. If you do anything without my consent again, this will seem like a tickle."
She leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. "In my world, I run into burning buildings. I carry grown men out of collapsed structures. I know how to break things, Tristan. And I know exactly how to put people where I want them to be." She applied a fraction more pressure to his arm, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from him.
Tristan, pale and breathless, his gold eyes wide with dawning fear and a grudging respect, could only manage a choked, "I apologize, Lady Vivian. And I understand."
Vivian held him there for another long moment, her gaze unwavering, ensuring the message had truly sunk in. Then, with a final, deliberate twist that left him gasping, she released him, rising smoothly to her feet. She dusted off her hands and dress, her movements precise and unhurried.
Tristan rolled over onto his back again but stayed on the ground, rubbing his bruised jaw and his now-aching arm, staring up at her with a completely new expression. The charm was gone, replaced by a very real, very physical lesson.
"Good talk. Now, let's get back to work," Vivian said, her voice returning to its normal tone, though it still held an edge of steel. She turned and walked away, leaving Tristan to contemplate the unexpected strength of the woman he had so foolishly underestimated.
Watching from a distance, Kel and Prince Callum stood with their mouths agape.
Callum, in particular, was thinking, I know she mentioned her defensive arts before, but seeing it in person… "Kel? Remind me to never make that woman truly angry," Callum said, unable to take his eyes off of Vivian as she left the training area.
"Same," agreed Kel.