Torches lined the curving stairwell leading into the monastery’s dungeon. Laura made her way down the weathered steps, uneven with centuries of use. She walked slowly. The last thing I need now is a sprained ankle, not this close to my graduation, she thought. Three revolutions around the stairwell’s core and she had reached her destination. A long, arched corridor led away into darkness, with only a small oil lamp next to a door to the right offering a smidge of illumination. She took the lamp and opened the door. Inside, she lit a three-armed candelabra. There wasn’t much to see apart from a low stool and a chest holding the equipment she would need for today’s ceremony.

The last one, Laura promised herself. Ten years of trying to find my place and what did that get me? More bruises than I can remember and still no divine inspiration. She threw open the lid of the chest and withdrew its contents. A set of training armor and a bastard sword in its scabbard, both smelling of freshly cured leather. Laura pulled a hand’s width of blade free and scowled.

Dull. Of course. No one needs to get hurt.

She donned the stiff leathers and attached the scabbard to her belt then she reclaimed the small lamp and left the room. Everything in Briou was done with purpose, even leaving most of the dungeons bereft of light. It was the Order’s mission to drive the darkness away and, even in its most mundane tasks, this mission was upheld. Using a wick, Laura lit a series of lamps along the corridor’s left side until she reached its end. She deposited the lamp in an alcove and turned to face the tall double doors leading ahead.

The stone doors rumbled inwards without her even touching them. Beyond, a large domed hall awaited. A singular shaft of daylight lanced down from the ceiling above, illuminating a sandy circle thirty feet across. The rest of the room was shrouded in shadows but she could hear whispers and shallow breathing echoing off the high walls. A lone figure waited in the circle, a tall female dark elf, wearing a similar set of combat leathers and casually hefting a twin to her own sword. Icy white hair was tied back in a firm braid and a friendly smile played around her lips as Laura came closer.

“You, Arach?”

The dark elf offered a slight bow. “No one said guest instructors are forbidden from assessing a candidate’s prowess. The headmaster approved so you’ll have to suffer me on your big day.”

Laura drew her weapon. “Alright then. Prepare for an ass-kicking of epic proportions then.” She raised her blade and cautiously advanced.

“At last!” Arach slowly circled Laura, well out of her blade’s reach. “Today will be the day Frau Stürmer will punish me for all the bruises I inflicted!”

Laura chuckled. “I hope you’ll grant me at least one clean victory. God knows I have tried to beat you, despite all your dirty tricks.”

“No one will grant you anything, neither here nor in the world outside,” Arach said, easily keeping Laura at arm’s length. “If you want your victory, you’ll have to earn it.” The dark elf changed her grip and offered a beckoning gesture.

From painful experience, Laura knew full well what would happen if she lunged at the smiling dark elf. And on cue, the moment she dashed ahead, Arach dropped one of those blasted orbs of darkness onto the arena, snuffing out Laura’s vision.

She heard Arach come closer, the soft crunch of her boots giving her away.

Laura reacted with blistering speed, her sword intercepting her opponent’s blade at the same time as she did a small side step to evade any off-hand or kick attacks Arach might launch her way. The blades rang against each other. Laura could smell the dark lavender scent Arach used to anoint her body with. She was very close by. Laura changed the grip on her sword to a one-handed one and swung her fist at gut level, grinning viciously as she made contact with her instructor’s armor. Now fully aware where Arach was, she followed up with a quick kick against her instructor’s inner calf, followed by a pommel strike from above which Arach narrowly avoided.

There was hasty movement and the scent was gone too. Laura retreated until she could see again, all the while guarding with her blade. There was a slow clap from the other side of the perfect, round globe of darkness.

“Not bad at all,” Arach said. “Apart from the fact you’re holding back. I should be on my knees, puking my guts out, not doing a little jig for the audience’s enjoyment.”

“I got your attention and your shapely ass out of that darkness,” Laura said. “Your vomit on my leathers wasn’t part of the plan.” Instead of circling around the globe, she dashed right through it, to where she had heard the dark elf’s smooth alto voice. To her own amazement, she caught Arach off-guard – the dark elf had expected her to circle the globe, as she had done so many times before.

Her sword weaved a curtain of steel in front as she battered Arach back, step by step. The duel would end if one of them yielded or left the ring for whatever reason. Her attack pressured Arach straight back to the edge of the circle.

Panting and covered in a light sweat, Arach dug her heels in. She shook out her left wrist and a gleaming dagger appeared in her hand which she used to parry Laura’s incoming attack. A brutal headbutt stopped Laura’s advance in its tracks.

Blinking away tears, Laura retreated two steps. “You and your dirty tricks!” she spat, nodding at the dagger.

“As if the monsters out there will ever offer you a fair fight,” Arach calmly explained. “From now on, the time for dull blades is over.”

“No one told the Quartermaster. Mine’s dull.”

“If you want a sharp blade, you’ll have to earn it.” Arach flourished with hers. “All you have to do is take mine.”

“Maybe I will. Or I could simply batter you into submission with my dull length of steel,” Laura said, launching into a quick series of two-handed slashes and stabs. Arach was forced back onto the defensive, much too busy parrying Laura’s vicious attacks with both of her weapons. Still, Laura failed to land that one decisive strike which would shatter Arach’s seemingly impenetrable defense.

If brute strength won’t work, maybe some fancy footwork will, Laura thought, carving her foot in a sharp angle forward and kicking up a wall of sand. Arach had no choice but to avert her gaze or risk eyes full of sand. A moment later, Laura was through. She swatted Arach’s sword aside with her blade and followed up with a hard wrench on that pesky dagger’s cross guard. To her own surprise, Laura ended up with the weapon

“Oh, the Paladin’s daughter has teeth,” Arach laughed, jumping into the air. Again calling on her dark elven heritage, she levitated upwards and lashed out with her boot, missing Laura’s face by a hair.

“Must be my witch mother’s blood talking then,” Laura snarled, dropping both weapons and grabbing the dark elf’s foot, now at eye level. One hand around the booted ankle, she brutally twisted the foot, hoping to break whatever spell was holding Arach a good six feet off the ground. A pained grunt from above was warning enough. Twisting at the hip, Laura slammed Arach into the sand. Not waiting if the move had stunned her victim, Laura pounced, pinning Arach’s arms to the sand with her knees. Draping her forearm across the writhing dark elf’s neck, she exerted enough pressure to get her point across.

“Yield!” she ordered. A small shake of the head - and a knee to her back – was all the answer she needed. Laura gritted her teeth and pushed down harder, locking in the choke. Arach’s gaze was locked with hers until she fell unconscious. Laura immediately lifted her arm and checked Arach’s vitals.

She’ll be okay ... I hope.

“The fight has concluded. Winner: Laura Stürmer!” a hollow, ghostly voice announced. There was a soft murmuring, a hint of applause. A shadowy figure wrapped in a monk’s robe entered the circle and gestured imperiously. Laura slid off the unconscious instructor. The robed figure knelt down next to Arach and touched her forehead with a silver cross, chanting softly. With a gasp, Arach sat up, clutching her throat.

“Ow,” she rasped.

“Are you okay?” Laura asked, relief filling her voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Being choked never is much fun, not even in bed,” Arach croaked. “Still, as far as fight finishes went, you got me good.” Taking the monk’s hand, she got to her feet.

“Nonsense. You let me win,” Laura insisted. “I can’t believe you had no counter to a simple bodyslam and choke combo.”

Arach coughed. “I had no idea you’d slam me out of my Levitate spell. Everything went to Hell after that. You beat me and I have the splitting headache to show for it.” She closed the distance and hugged Laura emphatically. “Congratulations. The Order of Martinius welcomes you.”

Laura hugged her back. “Thank you, I guess.”

The dark elf took a step back and pulled a silver necklace from a belt pouch. A slender cross dangled from it, the edges picked out in blue. “Let me be the one to bestow the Order’s badge of office upon you.”

Laura took the necklace from her, somehow expecting the item to crumble to dust upon touching it. But nothing like that happened. It was a simple silver cross, imbued with a wisp of holy magic to turn away low-level undead even in the hands of a non-cleric. She donned the necklace and met Arach’s gaze.

“I will do everything in my power to honor the Order and the trust it placed in me.” Laura said with much more conviction than she felt.

“You did what?” Victoria asked.

Laura stopped toweling her wet hair and giggled. “I tore her out of her Levitation spell, bodyslammed her into the sand and finished her off with a choke. I can’t believe you missed that.”

Vicky scoffed. “It’s not like I did it on purpose! I had my own graduation to attend to. Sorry I missed the epic thrashing you gave our lovely combat instructor.”

Like Arach, Victoria was a dark elf, although where Arach was all long limbs and taut muscles, Vicky was soft, smooth coal-black skin and curves. She and Laura had been roommates for the past two years and best friends not long after. Freshly bathed, Laura found Vicky lounging on her bed, silvery robes loosely draped around her shoulders. A silver necklace dangled between Victoria’s breasts. A slender sword amulet declared her a priestess of the Moon Maiden.

“That’s impossible,” the dark elf snorted. “Levitating and tossing dark orbs is to us dark elves what walking and breathing is to you humans. Watch.” She closed her eyes and, still on her back, hovered upwards. Her robe rustled off her shapely body, leaving Victoria grinning and naked on her back in mid air as she caressed over her breasts and towards her shaven mound. “I could get myself off and not fall down. Wanna see?”

Laura shook her head, laughing. “I’m not making this up. Let me show you.”

“Hmmm, yes, touch me,” Vicky purred, curling a leg inwards. “Right there.”

Laura closed the distance and grabbed Vicky by the ankle and wrist. She pulled and levered but the grinning dark elf didn’t budge. At her wit’s end, Laura bent over her roommate and planted a kiss onto Vicky’s lips. Squealing happily, the dark elf snaked an arm around Laura’s naked shoulders and pulled her down onto the mattress, kissing her back hungrily.

“See? Now you went down,” Laura gasped when they broke their kiss. Vicky’s fingers caressed the inside of her thighs.

“Because I wanted to, not because you broke my concentration or anything,” Vicky said softly.

Laura threw up her hands. “So she did let me win? Gods be damned, how will I ever be my own person when all I get is special treatment from everyone?” She crumpled onto the edge of the bed, sighing.

Vicky sat up and draped an arm around Laura’s shoulders. “You did choke her and the Arbiter said the match was decided, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“So why beat yourself up over this? You’ve got your cross,” Vicky’s free hand caressed up between Laura’s firm breasts, causing the holy symbol of the Order to tinkle against her finely inlaid fingernail, “and a very horny dark elf to celebrate with.” She placed two fingers under Laura’s chin and claimed a gentle kiss.

“Because I feel like they gave me a pass because of my whole fucking ancestry,” Laura complained. “Generations of monster hunters are staring down my back and I feel everyone down to Decima Tempesta Magica wrinkling their noses at how easy I have it, despite not a single spark of magic in my blood.”

Victoria shook her head, sighing softly. “If you call spending every single waking moment either in the armory, the sparring chambers or the infirmary ‘easy’ then we both have wildly varying ideas on what ‘easy’ is. Girl, all I had to do to finish my graduation was cast three healing spells and banish a combat circle full of skeletons. You, sweet boobs, just went full throttle with one of the best sword swingers in the whole Order and won.”

“Speaking of which, how did it go for you?” Laura asked, her own distress forgotten for a moment.

Vicky leaned sideways and grabbed something from her nightstand, a small box containing a silver signet ring on blue velvet. “Ta-dah!” she said. “Since I already have a holy symbol, I asked if I could get a ring instead. The Arbiter was more than happy to oblige.”

“That’s fantastic!” Laura threw her arms around Vicky’s neck and kissed her on the lips. Moaning softly, Vicky replied in kind. Both girls sank onto the bed, their hands roaming over their bodies while their kisses grew ever wilder.

Vicky kissed her way down Laura’s body, flicking first one then the other nipple with her tongue. Lower she went, zeroing in on Laura’s shaved pelvis. Laura pulled in a leg to allow Vicky easy access but at that exact moment her cell phone rang, making an ungodly racket on the marble top of her nightstand.

“Seriously? Now?” Vicky complained, falling back onto her mattress.

Laura picked up her phone and checked the display. “Shit,” she muttered. “It’s Mr. Aulin.”

“The headmaster?” Vicky raised a snowy eyebrow. “You’d better take it then. Damn, just when things got going...”

Laura tapped the screen and took the call. A cool, male voice was on the other end.

“Laura. See me in my office at the earliest convenience please.” The line clicked shut.

Vicky draped her crumpled robe around her shoulders. “I guess that was important?”

“You know him,” Laura sighed. “‘At your earliest convenience.’ He probably wants to scold me for nearly killing Arach.”

“Ugh. So much for our victory celebration. You know what? You go talk to Mr. Reginald, I’ll have a look around in the Common Room, see if anyone can spare some soft drinks or gummy goblins for when you come back. And once we’re high on sugar and caffeine, we’ll finish what we just started, even if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.”

Despite her mood, Laura laughed. “It’s nigh impossible to stay pissed around you for long.” She fished a change of clothes from her wardrobe and struggled into it. “I don’t know how you managed to stay around me so long.”

Vicky rolled onto her back and pulled up a leg, invitingly caressing herself. “That’s easy. Even if your hero’s blood hasn’t manifested in spell casting ability or crazy holy powers, you have the goddamn best tongue in this place. I bet even a succubus can learn a thing or two from you, honey lips.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Laura sputtered. “I never thought I’d ever go down on a girl. But who didn’t let up until I tried?”

“I did!” Vicky exclaimed. “Do you regret your widened horizon?” She stopped playing with herself and looked rather sober all of a sudden.

Laura tightened her belt and bent down to place another gentle kiss onto Vicky’s lips. “No. If there’s one thing I haven’t second-guessed during all of my time in Briou, it’s ending up in bed with you. After my eighteenth birthday party no less. I hardly knew you!”

“Which made it all the sweeter. Strangers in the night, exchanging ... hm...”

Laura slipped into a pair of running shoes. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“I damn well hope so!”

The monastery was housed in an ancient castle, with most of the upper-floor rooms occupied by students. Below the main entrance, on the ground floor, were the main faculty offices, dark, windowless rooms only illuminated by torches and strange glowing balls of magic.

I mean, we’re in the twenty-first century, why not simply use discreet electrical lights? No, it has to be done in accordance with Order tradition, especially in this tiny French backwater village!

Tradition was a big part of the Order of Martinius and nowhere was it more obvious than in the approach to the headmaster’s office. The whole corridor was filled with portraits of Briou alumni, some little bigger than a stamp, others near life-size. Every single one was a masterpiece though, capturing even tiny details like the faint scar under the left eye of Camilla Stürmer she allegedly got during her first brawl with her soon-to-be husband when his signet ring clipped her cheek bone. Laura sighed and left the portrait of her raven-haired mother behind. Whenever she saw it, she wondered what her mother had done to get slapped by a goddamn paladin!

Gathering her courage, Laura knocked at Reginald Aulin’s door.

“Come!”

She entered the dimly lit office, half expecting to catch a whiff of spilled blood. But, as always, the room was immaculate, despite belonging to a vampire.

Reginald Aulin was a tall, slender man seemingly in his late thirties. He had long, auburn hair he wore in a loose ponytail, along with clothing which made him look like a cross between a renaissance fop and something out of a vampire fangirl’s wet dreams, complete with ruffled shirt and a rapier always in reach.

She still couldn’t comprehend how a vampire had managed to become headmaster of a school for monster hunters. There were wild rumors involving everything from ancient binding spells to blackmail which were passed down from senior student to neophyte or – in Laura’s case – from her parents. There were only two people who knew the truth: Reginald himself and Mother Rachel, the current head of the Order. The only thing Laura knew for certain was that Headmaster Aulin took his job very seriously and that no one had ever seen him feast on one of the students. In fact, he was like an old lioness, fiercely protective of anyone under his roof.

Still, there were some hints of modern times in the vampire’s office, right in the open. A high end tablet PC rested atop a stack of binders to Reginald’s right and two telephones stood on a side desk.

Laura offered a small bow. “You wanted to see me, sir?” With students from around the globe, everybody in Briou spoke English, alongside their own native tongues. During the evenings, when lessons were over, the Common Rooms were abuzz with students talking Elven, German, Orc, French or Dwarven. Some of the Mages in her year had begun to use Latin as a kind of secret language which Laura found hilarious.

“I’m sorry if I cut your victory celebration short.” Reginald offered a tight-lipped smile. “No need to blush. I’ve been doing this job for the better part of a century, I know what my wards are up to in their spare time.”

“Uhm, yes, sir. So, what is this about? Did the Arbiter-”

Headmaster Aulin shook his head. “According to the Arbiter, the duel was fought and won squarely. Is there anything you’d like to report? Just be aware that an investigation might take some time and I’m sure you’d rather be elsewhere during the holidays.”

Laura bit her lip. “If you put it like that ... no. It was an honor to fight Lady Arach for my graduation. She gave me a good thrashing.”

“Funny,” Reginald said, the tips of his fangs poking over his lower lip. “Arach said pretty much the same thing.” He took a deep breath – the first since Laura had entered his office – and reached for his tablet. “The main reason for your presence is this – someone posted a request for you.”

“I don’t quite understand, sir. Why me? I haven’t even received my graduation papers yet.”

“You already wear your cross which makes you as eligible for a request as every other Order member. In fact, this one came in a few days ago. Have a look.” He tapped the screen a couple of times and held out the device.

Hesitantly, Laura took it and read the email conversation on the screen. A certain Jenna Tallfeather had written to Reginald, asking him for a short list of candidates for a new chapter house. He had sent back only one file. Hers.

“You sent her my file even though I didn’t pass then?”

The headmaster chuckled, a low, dangerous sound more akin to a growl than an expression of humor. “She asked for a versatile, agile and powerful monster hunter, which fits your skill set nicely.”

“Sir, with all due respect – I’m nothing special. Anything my class mates can do, I have to work doubly as hard for. I have no magic-”

“Enough!” Reginald’s sharp bark stopped her harder than a slap across the face would.

“If Jenna had asked for someone with magic, I would have recommended someone with magic. She specifically asked for a fighter, a tracker, someone whose mind was as sharp as their blade.” He opened a binder. “You have graduated with top marks in all relevant areas, heck, you even outlasted both a Dwarf and a Half-Orc during the Field Trials.”

Laura snorted. “Please. If Thorin and Marox hadn’t partied so hard in the Flaming City, they would have left me in the dust during the planar excursion.”

Reginald scoffed softly. “Well, I’ll add a note citing ‘crippling humility’ to your psych exam and leave it at that. Anyway, when can you be off?”

“Sir?”

“You heard me. Jenna wants to meet you on the double. Yesterday even.”

“Ugh. I didn’t even have time to pack my bags. Or say goodbye to the others.”

“All right then. You have until tomorrow morning, eleven o’clock. Use your time wisely.” He opened a binder and checked the documents within. The audience was over.

“Um, sir?”

Headmaster Aulin raised his gaze, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Yes?”

“What about Vicky? Can she come too?”

The vampire gently shook his head. “I’m aware the two of you have grown rather fond of each other. Sadly, Miss Hralvin has her own marching orders. She will return to London, to replace her pregnant mother at the Whitechapel chapter house. Even if I could convince the higher-ups to let Victoria go with you, I’m afraid Miss Tallfeather already has a cleric on staff.” He offered a rare, warm smile. “You’d better get going then. Say goodbye as if you really mean it.”

Laura didn’t get much sleep that night. Most of the afternoon and early evening was spent celebrating the graduation of her class. Eventually she and Vicky managed to slip away from the roaring party in the Common Room, ending up entwined in Vicky’s bed until they were too exhausted to keep making love to each other.

Deathly tired due to lack of sleep, Laura entered the headmaster’s office the next morning.

“Ah, right on time despite a night of debauchery. Good morning, Laura.” The vampire rose from behind his desk, picking up a leather-bound folder.

Laura’s cell vibrated in her back pocket. She chose to ignore it for the moment.

“I guess I’m here to receive my graduation papers?” she asked, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Indeed.” He handed her the folder. “Congratulations from me as well. The Order welcomes you.” He turned to his desk and produced a robust purse. “Here are your temporary visa and other papers. You will have to make your way from Boston to Greenbury by bus. I’m certain an Order-trained young lady like you should have no problems to secure the ticket locally. I’ve had a look at an online booking service and it seems they leave only once a day, around 7 AM. You might have to spend a night in Boston to catch a bus, depending on when you leave today.”

Laura took the purse and inspected it critically.

“That sounds rather roundabout as far as transport goes. Why not have me teleported right to Greenbury? I’m sure one of the sorcery teachers could-”

The headmaster shook his head. “Sorry. According to the archives, teleportation magic is rather hazardous in and around Greenbury. I’m afraid you’ll have to travel the conventional way, at least for the last leg of the journey.”

Laura sighed. “Hooray. By the time I’m over there, I’ll truly be a zombie.”

Reginald offered a fierce grin. “Inside the purse you’ll also find an Order debit card with a few thousand dollars on it so you can keep zombification at bay with plenty of caffeine.”

“What about my equipment?”

“Please leave your Flame Tongue and Hell Spitter with the Quartermaster. We’ll use the Order contacts to move them to Boston and from there to Greenbury but it might take a few weeks. After all, I have to organize a whole class’s worth of gear to shuffle all over. In the meantime Miss Tallfeather will most certainly have some equipment for you to use. She said she has a very capable Artificer.”

“Okay then,” Laura said. “Anything else?”

“Yes. One more thing: Good luck and may Martinius smile upon you.”

She left the office and pulled her phone free. Laura’s heart sank when she read the message on her display.

Laura,

I’m not much for long, teary good byes. I hope you’ll remember me fondly whenever you touch yourself and I’m looking forward to our inevitable reunion once you’ve climbed the ranks to where they have no choice but to allow you to be independent. Until then I’ll be dreaming of you, sweet boobs.

Kisses! V.

Laura blinked sudden tears away. She knew that Vicky could be brutally pragmatic at times but leaving without a last chance to say good bye? Gnashing her teeth against the stinging ball of pain in her guts, she climbed back up the stairs to the room she had shared with the feisty dark elf, only to find it empty save for her hastily packed bag. The beds were made, fresh linens replaced the crumpled sheets they had slept in. Nothing of Vicky remained, not even a whiff of her favorite cave moss scent. Suddenly, Laura couldn’t be gone fast enough.

With her bag over one shoulder, Laura trotted back down towards the faculty offices, wondering why Vicky had chosen to ghost her like that. Thus far, the dark elf had been open, welcoming and honest, the polar opposite to herself. Laura knew she brooded too much, no thanks to the burden of her lineage and the need to prove herself over and over again. Between nightlong whispered talks and the other things the dark elf had taught her, Vicky had helped Laura to loosen up.

And now she just up and vanished? I wouldn’t have cried, Laura thought.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re looking for a fight,” a kind voice said behind her. She turned around.

Coming down the corridor, white robes surrounding his majestic seven-foot frame was Mr. Coronaius, the monastery’s main sorcery teacher. A fierce dragon head, covered in golden scales, sat atop a long, flexible neck. Large wings, their leathery insides the color of café au lait, towered even higher. A long, spiked tail rustled over the carpet behind him as he came closer on three-toed, clawed feet. Despite his fearsome appearance, his voice was soft and gentle. Laura saw concern in his ruby-like eyes.

“Fight? Not really. If I had my way, I’d huddle in a corner and bawl my eyes out. My girlfriend just dropped me like a bad habit.”

“And yet, here you are, stalking the corridor like a vengeful tiefling looking for trouble,” Coronaius said, twirling a long, beardlike frond around a claw. “Do you hope to find her here?”

Laura sighed. “No, I’m afraid she’s already back in London. I’ll have to spam her mailbox if I hope to learn what had ridden her to vanish like that.” She shook her head like a wet, especially irritated wolf. “May I ask a favor, sir?”

Coronaius rubbed his scaly hands together. “You want me to help reunite the two of you? One teleport to London, coming right-” His voice trailed off when he saw Laura’s hand come up, waving his offer away.

“No, I’m not here for that. I mean, I’m here to find someone to teleport me somewhere but I need to be in Boston, not London.” Another sigh. “I have to go to a place called Greenbury in the USA but the headmaster told me-”