Summary:

Struggling as a Scholar, then struggling in the Gunnery Faction. Would Makia ever amount to something, especially in the eyes of the one that matters most?

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My admiration for him was like this deep ocean.

Perhaps more than just admiration, I somehow fell in love with his charms. More than that, I fell in love with his quality, his sense of duty and his aspirations, the way he carried himself with an *explosiveness*, my cheeks flushing warm as my chest hummed a song to his every step whenever I chance upon him, my own stare dogging his every stride.

A little too dreamily perhaps that it may have been obvious. He was no ordinary man. He was nothing short of perfect.

And he would most definitely not notice me.

I always seem to remember that day with a certain beating.

Back in the King's Palace when all Scholars were called in to attend the Annual Ball of the Becoming, this certain time of the year when the Bibles were switched out to usher in a new patron for the year, the next twelve months being that of Mother Ela, the goddess of snow and ice, where after the proper ceremonies, we had all gone on to the Dance, a most attended affair that I had been curious about, everyone who was coming talking of being faultlessly dressed.

That perfect pair of shoes to match with headpieces and accessories.

While I was but a wallflower.

I was one of those who stood somewhere unseen, a soul too dreary for such a jubilation that I deemed myself worth the pillar I had decided to lean against, an onlooker as my other fellow Scholars took to the floor, itinerants touring the ballroom to the tune of the orchestra and this wonder called the Music Maker said to be able to mimic every known instrument there is, a contraption of the Bards.

Oh, it was lovely.

Even if I was not one for dancing, I was one for the sounds of it, my gaze appreciating the overall appeal of the venue, the way they made it seem like stars were falling from the ceiling as snow, a decorated moon and sun revolving at the center where most of the people had concentrated, partners in a whirl of happiness under clumps of silk and puffs made to look like clouds.

There was even one thundering somewhere. Magic maybe.

I could not partake of it. I could not dance.

That reason made me decide to spend the next hours sampling all the food there was to offer, a few of my closer friends dragging me along, them, already tipsy since early this evening.

The spread was impressive this year like it had been last I was reminded, food towers common and heaped high with delicacies from all the corners of the Realms. The best chefs were here on personal invitation.

‘I can't wait,’ said my sarcasm. Like last year this was going to be my fare of the night.

I was drifting senselessly with my plateful of shrimp and golden olives, listening to the chatter of my companions as they gossiped about their future as Scholars, about who would have the highest possibility of maybe converting to an actual Faction, our smartest in class, Sabina, already deciding to try out for the Magick Council or Alchemy.

Her future's bright.

As conflicting to my own. I wanted to make it to Monster Base, the only Faction I ever considered, but failed around creatures rather miserably.

I could not even get an Armored Horse's colt to heel, much less tame a Thundergut. I was scared of dragons and they made up most of the common species under the Monster Base's care.

I shrunk at the prospect.

Maybe I'd return to my hometown a loser. After many years studying, imagine that. All my effort would be for naught.

I had only proven I was not the smartest in the bunch. My skills were typical and mediocre. I would never fit in the league of the Factions. Better eat shrimps while I can. I might be thrust back to my disconsolate world after graduation, peddling lowly-brewed potions all the remaining of my life.

While I was contemplating these things, crossing the floor to the other side where the tables were, I hardly noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere of the ballroom, how a hush had blown in and a hand suddenly pulled me aside.

"Makia! What are you doing?!"

I could not understand the concern painting her face.

I had blankly stared at where she was pointing and simply gaped as realization finally hit me. I panicked!

Or more rightly said, I shied away and slid to hide behind at least a layer of other attendees, my plate neglected on a spot somewhere as 'they' paraded into view, everyone in awe and, admittedly, so was I.

One word: Trinity.

They were the highest form of achievement any Denizen could aspire for.

They were the most adept, the most brilliant, the most powerful combatants of the land, the post so utterly arduous to achieve that the number was exclusive to a very few, a very select few trained, raised and mentored by the Royal Highness himself.

Well according to rumors.

The path to Trinship was one full of grueling tasks and hardships they said, each of its current members tested through hell and high water just to reach this summit. Giving it their all to the point of near-death.

They were tempered as steel and sharpened by many deadly encounters in their process of learning the many secrets of the Kingdom. Afterwards, they stay on that acme for life. For no Trinity ever gets knocked off their pedestal -transformed maybe, but never replaced.

Most likely this was because of certain specializations particular only to that or this being in their circle.

The Trinity as individuals were said to be very unique from one to the other.

I admit I had gotten excited at the thought and had regretted drawing behind the crowd as we were pushed aside by an entourage, the small group of Trinity in what surely was their regal gait making their way forward along the aisle.

I do not know their faces, the Senior Scholars however do, debating about who was the more impressive, those who had the chance to encounter them getting into the competitive mood of wording as many facts as they could about these Beasts of the Battlefield. I was all ears…

"The Clergy Judas Cain Killian Luther Arthforth. Son of the late Saint Rochis and the demoness Mistress Smith of the Iron Towers. Nephew to the King.

“He might as well be a prince and, true enough, here he is, a Trinity like his family. He's just a kid but let not his looks deceive you. He's anything but ordinary."

I turned my blue eyes towards this said being.

As awesome as it already is, he now holds the status of Head for the Legion Church, a small nipper of four or five, pale silvery golden hair, fiery red eyes and a set of short horns in similar color protruding from his head in betrayal of the other half of his origins.

I heard them talk of being at High Mass before, something which I should consider attending now. This Clergy they spoke of was able to change form into a teen our age, mature enough to carry his many roles for the Faction although for now he was a footling doing his best to stray ahead from the rest of the cortege.

Being cute at that.

Unbelievable how someone of that age was already a Trinity.

"Who's that one?"

"Trinity Vance Kial Simeon. The Weather Beast. He could have decided to pick any Faction to Head himself but he stays without affiliation to any even to this day. He wished to be directly under the King's command alone and obviously listens to no one else."

"Why'd they call him the Weather Beast?"

The man in question suddenly turned to us, hearing the whispers and I froze.

He had such a strong set of features, sharp like lightning and even under robes you could tell how toned his muscles were. Mind you, he looked godly with his height, the pride in his stance.

And those eyes!

They were gray and shifting! Like clouds in the sky impending rain. Storm eyes!

It scared and awed me at the same time. I don't know why I was unable to look away. Thinking about it now, I suppose this was the same feeling the other Seniors felt at the moment. The swallowing at the throat. This cold sweaty sense of foreboding.

It's never nice to speak about someone behind their back, in this case, while they were passing by.

"Vancey, what are you doing?"

And just as abruptly, there was a break in the atmosphere.

Just as I thought there would be a confrontation, this gentle voice broke through the tension, like a smooth song drifting past, a cool breeze during an early morning.

A shower of petals accompanied the said voice. Smoother than the snow outside, their feel like velvet.

I cupped my hands together and with held breath watched it unfold with wonder, catching one of these pinkish folds in the palm of my hands.

So…beautiful.

"Flower. Good evening."

The Weather Beast turned to extend his hand, a movement everyone followed towards the receiver of the invitation, and there she was, the source of all this, a lady I had not seen nor heard of until now.

With as much warmth in her smile, she beamed her rosy glance at him, pressing her smaller palm unto the male Trinity's while gracefully gathering at her dress which was peppered with its colored diamonds from the waist down.

She made an equally gracile curtsy, her hair suddenly coming to life.

Flowers!

Scores and layers of them in varied sizes with their creeping tendrils and coils dancing in her tresses, blooming orchidias that made for her a wondrous crown, a few pearls strung to her locks catching them in reflection.

I heard but only one whispered name after, "Iron Chrysanthemum" which made me gape after the image they presented now.

The Weather Beast began walking her away, a lord hooking her arm around his own in a gentlemanly fashion, fragile as she looked yet all the more defined beside him.

She could tame his personality and the slightest of gestures from her made the crowd nod and heed, the petals still trailing from her as she moved along, myself just noticing that the blooms in her hair actually ran a cycle.

Buds, flowers, those falling and then new buds springing forth in repeat.

"How. Does she do that?" I whispered in question to myself.

"Chrysanthemum. The only female in the Trinity.

“She is also what they call a Fighting Muse. Lovely as she appears, she is known to have taken on many opponents twice or more her size, constantly sparring with the males of their Class and is as vicious a battler as any Man in the group. It would be bad to assume her the weakest.

“That is no delicate flower."

A smallish form taking on the likes of gods like the male counterpart who had tarried her away.

Difficult to imagine how something so beautiful is someone so dangerous as well.

She was both breathtaking and powerful, the reserved flame in her beating throughout like the flowers shifting in her hair and mystifying everyone.

A Female Trinity. The only one. Amazing...

The lines broke.

The ballroom after their entrance fell to an organized disorder again, its occupants now taking to the song as the orchestra began a new note, livelier than earlier to perhaps indulge the hype the arrival of these wonders had inspired.

I was left there watching, eyes not moving from where they had fastened on the two prominent figures, the little Clergy joining them next and pulling at the Muse's hand with his wee ones to lead her up the privileged balconies, the Weather Beast following with a shake of his head.

They would sit with the hierarchy, far from the reach of the common folk like I. To be them. It's all a fantasy.