"Is this uhm… your first Command class?" Aime asked amiably, now that she'd made eye contact with him, it would have been awkward to continue without making conversation.
"It is indeed," Oliver said.
"Ah, then, I think you'll be surprised by it. I was the first the time I saw it," she said.
Oliver had no idea what 'it' was referring to, nor did he have time to ask, for the professor was already marching into the room, with a book clutched tightly to his chest.
His long black tailcoat trailed behind him. The man seemed to exude elegance. He was an old man, and Oliver wondered from the look on his face if he was the first man to ever master the snooty noble look.
Professor Wyndon he introduced himself as, and the man spoke every bit as snootily as he looked. He clutched his book as he spoke, but made no effort to reference it. It seemed he held it more as a fashion statement than an actual object of utility.
He began referencing the things that they'd done in the class in the past, in the most grandiose way possible. Oliver began zoning out halfway through it. There was simply too much information to filter through, and he didn't even have a puzzle piece to begin with.
It wasn't until the professor moved towards a chest and began drawing out large boards that Oliver finally started paying attention again.
"I feel, the best way to start today – given the addition of a new member to our class – is with a demonstration."
He placed the board on the table with an audible slam. It sounded incredibly heavy. Oliver realized, as the light caught the edge of the dull grey, that it was actually solid metal. A quick reappraisal of Professor Wyndon – the man must have had muscles hidden somewhere, for his arms appeared stick-thin, even beneath that coat of his.
With the board settled on the table, he began setting pieces on it. Pieces that Oliver recognized – Battle pieces. Yet these pieces were each the size of a fist. The man placed each with an audible click on the board. There was weight to them… and more than weight. Oliver could see a purple crystal embedded in the bottom.
"Mana…" He murmured to himself, feeling his fingers tense. Those were mana crystals, weren't they? They were the same things that he had seen back in the village, on the collars of the captured children. He knew nothing of magic, but he was sure they were the same. And yet, magic was meant to be an occult art. It wasn't meant to be something that could be used.
"Lady Blackthorn, your assistance?" The professor asked. Oliver did wonder why she'd been picked, when the professor had already placed the board on a table full of other eligible students, though he had the sense to keep quiet and not to ask.
Lasha arose gracefully. She did graceful well, when she wanted to. She began setting up her pieces on the other side of the board, opposite the professor.
Oliver leaned back, pleased for the extra space that he'd been given, now that Lasha's chair was free. Before long, the large board – almost as large as the table – was set up identical to how a battle board would be set up.
Oliver found himself recalling the strategies that he'd practised with Dominus… They'd touched on Battle strategies in his Advanced Strategy class, but it was more focused on real-life battle situations. As such, it had been a long time since he'd played a game of Battle himself.
He wondered what the catch was. Both he and Lasha had chosen to field identical armies within their deployment zone. He remembered all the time he'd spent trying to find the right combination to beat Dominus. But something told him that such a thing wasn't the point here, there was something else that they were testing. The clue seemed to be in the name of the class, but how would that translate…?
"First rank spearmen, march 4 leagues," the professor said. Immediately Oliver found himself frowning. For one, why was the professor speaking his moves aloud, and two, weren't spearmen only meant to be able to move two squares?
"Woah!" He couldn't hold back his reaction, even if it risked revealing him as the country bumpkin that he was. He saw Aime stifle a giggle.
But it was just sooo strange. A moment after the professor had given the command, the entire front row of spear infantry marched forward. The whole row together, at a reasonably fast pace, covered that four square distance.
Lasha did the same in response. "Spearmen, front row, forward – as far as you can go."
She said it confidently, clearly. Was it Oliver's imagination, or were they taking longer to respond for her? Even when they started moving, they seemed more sluggish. Not only that – it was not the entire front row that had obeyed, but only three units.
"Now we see the difference between Lady Blackthorn's grasp of Command and my own. The Gods hear our ability to command, and respond accordingly," the professor said, reaffirming information that the students had not likely heard themselves already. "It is the same mechanism through which Generals command their soldiers on the battlefield, though through different Gods.
Leadership is present in many different professions, and different Gods retain the ability to deliver it."
Oliver was transfixed now. Not magic, but Blessings. Something of the same sort. Yet, they'd been activated according to those same mana crystals, hadn't they? There was a puzzle there, but it wasn't one that he couldn't necessarily solve for himself. For now, he sparkled with interest.
This was the Blessing of Command that Blackwell had spoken of.
Blackwell had mentioned Varsharn, Goddess of War. He'd explained that the Stormfront men knew the Goddess of War in a certain capacity. She would praise their unity as they went into battle. It was a different sort of Blessing to the one that he had received from Claudia. This was a relative Blessing, increased by the more troops that he was able to command.