Bent World: Chapter 23 Reenacting History

Chapter 23

Reenacting History

(Two Months Later).

“Now class, as you all are no doubt aware, we are in the year when you all will commence your Profiling Ceremony, but can anyone tell me what that means?” Our Third-Year teacher, Ms. Striker asked.

There was a pause, before Brittica’s eyes went wide with understanding as she blurted out, “isn’t that where our powers get activated?”

Hearing the response Ms. Striker realized that she might have asked the wrong question, “yes that is what happens with the Profiling Ceremony. But does anyone know about the Cultural Heritage Festival?”

GASPS!

At that, so many of the students all began to get excited as they nervously stomped their little feet below their desks. Of all the students, I was the only one who did not move, as I just stayed completely still, wondering what new form of torture I would be expected to put up with, now.

“Wait, you mean the Renaissance Fair?” Chymilla the dark-haired girl with green and purple flecked eyes asked excitedly. While I had once again grown to be the tallest student in class, even amongst the females, Chymilla was a close third, following only a few centimeters short of Brittica. Meanwhile, I had apparently hit another growth spurt over the summer putting me at half a head taller and easily one stone heavier than the other females of the class. Though one couldn’t tell that I weighed more just by looking at me, as I had dense lean muscle that coiled in among itself for precision and power. Versus the larger muscles that many of the other females of my class seemed to have. Muscles that denoted training, but also showed a bit of baby fat that had not been purged from the body.

“Yes, it seems that the entire Kingdom has worked together with members of the historical society to reimplement the Renaissance Fair. This will be open to everyone from third grade and above, though we will be in the pre-profiled category” the teacher continued.

From there, multiple questions were all asked in rapid succession.

“Will there be costumes?”

“Of course, while you can get by with modern clothing, you must still wear gloves, even if they are not period appropriate.”

“Will there be duels?”

“Yes, there will be duels for war maidens of each age and affinity to pit themselves up against, with rewards going out to each member who wins. Then a Pathfinder will be crowned from each grade, who will all receive a kiss from the prince of the Fair.”

While I was still reeling from the fact that each grade would have a Pathfinder crowned. And the idea that I would actually get to see awakened affinity users cast their magics at each other. I was in the middle of evaluating these ideas and concerns, when I felt like I was blindsided by the worst question possible.

“Will Missala be the prince for our grade?”

I was disgusted at the idea of people fighting for my affection, fortunately before I could refuse to even go, Ms. Striker replied for me.

“No, this is a far bigger production than just our little territory here. As this will be an awakening of arms and traditions, meaning our regional Pathfinder will compete for a kiss from the actual prince of our kingdom Prince Jaupry.”

Ohhs.

At the announcement that I would not be the Prince offering their kiss to the noted winner of the tournament. From my understanding Prince Jaupry was a teenager of some sort, both being a few years older than Lady Juniper Jaupry, one of the five Wayfarers of my group, and a sign that this was themed towards older participants. Also with the actual prince being involved, I began to realize just how large this event would be. No longer were we talking about a few hundred participants, but possibly close to a few thousand, at the very least.

“When will this be held?”

“Good question, this will be held at the start of the Spring Equinox and go up until the time of our Profiling Ceremony,” Ms. Striker noted.

“Wait, how long?”

“This is going to be a continental event, where the Pathfinders from each tournament will get to travel from place to place, gathering kisses from the prince of each region they enter.”

Tingle.

Hearing that, I began to feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise up in warning as I felt there was something not quite right with this limited level of information being shared. Fortunately, I was not alone in this assessment, for Brittica harped on the confusion.

“Wait, I’m confused, it’s a traveling Renaissance Fair?”

“Yes, following the tradition of the first Pathfinders of this continent, we will begin at the Norther Monolith, where you can either awaken your power as a Pathfinder by placing your hand on the sacred stone, or you can compete in the duels to try to prove your worth as a Pathfinder candidate. From there, you will travel west, to the Western Monolith, then South to the southern Monolith, then east, and finally to our very own Central Monolith.”

With that rotation, I could swear I almost felt Auntie’s ever present force behind these actions.

“Will it be dangerous?” Calen, the only other male to survive to this point asked. Of all the people in our class, it was obvious that he would be the most affected by this event.

“Good question, while the Monoliths are all dormant and do not radiate energy, we will still need you all to sign transportation waivers,” Ms. Striker declared as she went over to her desk and handed out parchment that seemed to faintly glow with a magical gleam. A sign that there were binding parts of this document that could not be avoided. Apparently even in this world, the threat of being held liable is a threat that schoolteachers must adhere to.

“Also, here are some forms for chaperones, all males that go are required to always have their own chaperone with them. While we will take a chaperone of one per five students so three additional chaperones not including ones for Missala or Calen.” The teacher noted, as she proceeded to get an additional document for Calen and me.

Looking at the document it all seemed a bit of a head scratcher, as to why we were going over a clearly Spring time related event now in October, but this world never seemed to make sense to me. Which again, led me to wonder if there was something more to this event that I was not aware of.

The flier itself denoting the document that was used to mask the severe wording of the two binding waiver contracts I was also given denoted the following information.

Behold The Rebirth Of the Old Ways with the First Annual Renaissance Fair.

Come celebrate the old ways and the old traditions.

Test your metal as a War Maiden and prove your worth to earn the title of Pathfinder.

Grade Level restriction: 3+

A noted Pathfinder of every year will be identified for each region.

Start: March 20th at the Northern Monolith. Governing Lord: Jaupry.

Second Stop: March 27th at the Western Monolith. Governing Lord: Amherst

Third Stop: April 3rd at the Southern Monolith. Governing Lord: Amherst

Fourth Stop: April 10th at the Eastern Monolith. Governing Lord: Jaupry.

Final Stop: April 17th at the Central Monolith to celebrate World’s Day. Governing Lords: Amherst and Jaupry.

Note: Pathfinders and their family will travel for free from each Monolith. All are welcome.

It was odd that the flier noted who the hosting lords for each area were, but it did seem to follow the location covered by those two Ducal families, with the Central Monolith, the one I went to a few months ago being the location where we will stop our procession.

I also noticed that this schedule seemed to follow my summer training schedule, where there would be an event and then a week off for the event. I was so focused on the similarity between this and the training I had been subjected to recently that I almost missed the bigger picture.

“Wait, there is a week off between each location?” Calen asked.

“Yes, good catch. As you might or might not be aware, the continent that we are on is huge. With the Central Monolith being the closest to our current location. But that one is still a few hours away. What this means is, that so long as you are going to each location and participating in the events, our classes will be focused on lessons learned through our travels.” Ms. Striker began, clearly not believing a word she said, but still following the idea that this would be a glorified history lesson of sorts. At least that is what I thought at first, until she continued.

“Also, this is the first time when you will get to see true experts of all magical professions gather and test their skills and combat abilities against each other. This alone is worth going to this event for, as you will get to see the best of the best in a sanitized environment. Also, for those of you who wish to grow up to be War Maidens trained to defend our land, this will be the place to see what you can ultimately become if you continue to press yourself,” Ms. Striker continued.

It was this last comment that made me think that Auntie might not be directly behind this, as this part was clearly done with the intent to safeguard the entire continent from invaders, either from other opposing continents, or from monsters beyond the rifts themselves. The history of the Renaissance was an actual rebirth of this continent, a tradition started by one of the last noted Pathfinders going around, finding the best and brightest members of a region to be part of their team and awaken their potential.

While everyone that was awoken in such a way had to be a Wayfarer, the tradition of going around to find other Pathfinders is a legend steeped in tradition. Similar to the stories of King Arthur and knights of the round table from my home world. Here, the knights are all Wayfarers. The term warrior maiden is similar to my world’s version of a ronin, or a leaderless warrior who serves to protect the state. As they traveled, only the Pathfinder and their noted coteries were allowed to travel around with masks, to help preserve their identity from foreign spies. At least that is what the myth was.

Legend has it that the first Queen eventually united the lands, before repelling all invaders both foreign and domestic rift monsters. From there she divided the land up to her most prized Pathfinders, who were all granted lands and titles to preserve their legacies. This was an interesting story, and seemed to explain a few things, while clarifying absolutely nothing. The more certain aspects of our culture were explained, the more other portions didn’t seem to make sense.

Why masks? Gloves I understand, but masks too? Was it really to keep the identifies of Pathfinders and their parties hidden, or was there more to it that history isn’t telling us? I honestly don’t know. All I do know is that I am glad I am not going to be made the sacrificial Prince of these games, as those would apparently fall to Prince Jaupry or Prince Amherst. I’m assuming the noted Pathfinders for each age would get their choice of which prince to choose from the Central Monolith, which might imply it will either be the largest of the celebrations.

There was a lot to take in, but fortunately, this meant that I would likely get to stay back and just work out on my own for five weeks. At least, that was the plan. I was so confident that I wouldn’t be going that I didn’t even bother to take my papers with me. A fact that my teacher picked up on.

“Missala,” Ms. Striker began.

“It’s Sal,” I corrected.

Annoyed huff.

“Mr. Andry, you have forgotten your paperwork. If you do not take this, then you will not be able to go to the Renaissance festivals with us,” Ms. Striker began.

“That’s the point,” I replied not even looking back at the documents.

“Are you that afraid of mana poisoning? I mean even Calen seems to have been excited by this trip.”

“Can’t say that going around pretending to live without modern conveniences is particularly appealing,” I reply using an excuse, but not my full excuse for why I would not wish to continue.

“Come on, you know those that don’t study history are doomed to repeat it,” she countered. Hearing her argument I just stare at her like she is particularly daft.

“You mean, the reason why I should reenact the past is so that I prevent it from happening again, despite the fact that most people that do these sorts of reenactments secretly wish that history did repeat itself? Or at least this glamorized version of history repeated itself?”

There was a pause as Ms. Striker just stared at me for a moment, before finally coming to her senses.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are a very precocious child? That said, I could understand why a male in particular would not want to go back to the seemingly lawless time, when males couldn’t own property and were fought over by powerful maidens.”

“Yes,” was all I replied, keeping my sharper tone of knowing that I am barely seen as more than a prized horse that might or might not be worth keeping after this year is over. While I think I should do moderately well in the Profiling Ceremony, I know that if I don’t manifest, or worse if I can’t have my readings read for whatever reason, my value will be worth less than nothing. Even as a Pathfinder.

That is the other major concern of mine, will my being a Pathfinder affect my readings? Forcing me to expose myself as a Pathfinder to prove my worth? Or will there be more.

“Go on, get out of her, oh and here take these before you go,” Ms. Striker states while handing me my forms for Auntie. Realistically this should all be done through my mother, but she is out right now, leaving all of the administrative functions back on Auntie’s shoulders.

The car ride home was a bit stressful.

I sat knees and feet together, protected by not just Sarina but Pandaline’s personal guard as well. With Auntie staring straight at me.

“What do you have there?” Auntie asked, I wonder if she too can see the magical resonance that is held within these papers.

“These are liability release forms absolving the school from any injuries or accidents that might befall me should I be allowed to partake in the Renaissance Fair,” I admit, while handing over the papers.

Auntie just looks at them and seems to nod her head as she reads first the promotional page, then the follow-on pages of liability release, and needs for an assigned guardian to be monitoring my safety at all times.

“Renaissance Fair, what’s that?” Pandaline asked, a note of wonder in her voice.

“Nothing for you to worry about yet, though you will be forced to go in two years’ time due to your,” Auntie began and then made a gesture with her eyes down to her gloved right hand.

“Wha?” Pandaline began, but soon seemed to catch on, “oh that…”

“Ahem,” Auntie cut in, trying to keep Pandaline from sharing secrets, even here in the vehicle. Honestly, I think that everyone in this vehicle is aware of Pandaline’s new Wayfarer status. I am certain that Sarina now knows not just my own status, but Pandaline’s as well. And it would be hard for me to imagine that Pandaline’s own personal guard isn’t aware. Still this is good practice for her, as she will need to keep this a secret, at least until she awakens her abilities.

After the reaction by Auntie, Pandaline looks visibly cowed, at which point she nods her head in acceptance, before turning back to face me.

“Now, I have some bad news for you. I will already be in participation at these Renaissance Fair procedures, and I will have to refuse your coming as it will be too dangerous for the Andry house male to attend,” Auntie began.

I just nod in understanding. After seeing my easy acceptance, she continued. “Know that this will be a new five-week spring break that we will begin celebrating as a nation. During this time you will be forced to leave the manor house and resume your studies at the summer estates.”

Translation, I would likely be going with Auntie as the region’s new Pathfinder. Mentally I understand this to mean that this will effectively make it so Sarina will be by herself, acting as a decoy while I will be with Auntie and most likely Ceecee as well.

There is an odd silence that fills the vehicle, only then do I realize Auntie is expecting a response from me. “Understood.”

“Very good, are there any questions?” Auntie asked.

I then nod and try to get a better understanding of when the profiling ceremony will take place, which is why I ask. “Will you be able to perform the Profiling Ceremony this year?”

“Yes,” Auntie confirms with a head nod before continuing, “I have signed on to be the local Profiling Ceremony master for the next three years. Fortunately, the Profiling Ceremony happens on the first school day of May, giving me two weeks to get back and prepare.”

I nod, understanding that this will likely be a boon for whatever scheme Auntie has planned. That said, I can’t help but feel that something terrible will happen while we are enacting this scheme.