Severa Book 1 (Chapter 16)

It didn’t make any sense. How come Fabrisse Kestovar, of all people, pulled her mental health out of the nadir? 

DeShawn. Explain.

DeShawn’s reply came instantaneously.

[Certain man just come with the vibe, ya get me? When you’re near, it’s like man’s aura buffs you automatically.]

How much does he buff me?

[Can only tell when I see him.]

“Aunt Merry,” Severa said, her voice steadier than she felt. “Let us get closer to the source of the sound.”

“Why?”

“I need to have a brief conversation with someone there.”

She prayed her voice carried none of the weakness trembling through her body. Out this late, no one would question her presence, as students were often scattered across the Synod grounds at every hour. But if anyone caught the way she leaned on Halveth’s warmth or the stutter in her step, the questions would come fast. 

“Who exactly do you think is worth the risk of being seen like this?” Halveth droned on.

“I will keep it brief.”

Halveth didn’t say anything more.

There were possibly four figures sitting around a campfire from afar, two of which had stood up upon seeing Severa. She slowed her steps once the two figures approaching her from the courtyard became distinct. Even at a distance she recognized the blond girl that always seemed to orbit Kestovar.

Her breath felt shallow in her chest, so she forced it deeper, lengthened each exhale until her shoulders stopped shuddering. The girl broke from the fire first. Severa marked the detail: confident, but cautious.

[That’s the guard dog, girl. Always walks before the pup.]

That was the moment that words reached her—gentle, even—but her ears caught only fragments over the buzzing in her skull. Need . . . assistance? That was what she thought she heard.

“No,” Severa answered. “That won’t be necessary. I am quite all right.”

The girl’s attribute showed up as she spoke something again. Judging from her facial expression, she was insisting on offering assistance.

??? — Preliminary Analysis (Confidence: 39% — More observation required)

Perceived Social Standing: Low ~ Moderate — 30–60%

Reliability Index: Moderate ~ High — 52–72%

Approachability Score: Low ~ Moderate — 42–79%

Attitude Toward You: Low ~ High — 38–62%

Benefits of Befriending: Low ~ Moderate — 20–48%

She seemed like a nice enough person, but that would be all she was. A nice person.

“I assure you,” Severa said again, firmer this time, “I am fine.”

Severa gazed past the girl, to the young man who lingered just behind her. At once, the numbers in her vision jumped again.

Mental Health Stability – Practical Exertion: 26% (+1%)

A thread of relief wound itself through her chest. Unacceptable, irrational—but undeniable. It was him. Her head felt lighter. The pressure behind her eyes ebbed. She could breathe again. 

“Kestovar,” she said.

But Kestovar didn’t react. His head tipped, almost as if he thought she were speaking to someone else. His eyes darted past her shoulder, then slid back to the blonde girl as though expecting her to answer instead.

Why’s he always so . . . passive? DeShawn. How is this meek little scholar-energy ever going to be of help to me?

So she tried again, sharper, “Kestovar. I need a word.”

The girl hesitated, then stepped aside. She gestured back toward the fire, murmured something to him, then she left him to her, retreating toward the warmth of the circle.

As she looked at Kestovar again, his numbers showed up in front of her.

Fabrisse Kestovar — Preliminary Analysis (Confidence: 61% — More observation required)

Perceived Social Standing: Low — 12–28%

Reliability Index: Moderate ~ High — 40–76%

Approachability Score: Low — 21–39%

Attitude Toward You: Low (Distrustful) — 18–34%

Benefits of Befriending: Moderate ~ High — 42–83%

Effect: When within a 5m radius proximity of Fabrisse Kestovar, gain +12% Mental Health Stability (Theoretical & Practical); -6% ~ +6% Empathy Quotient (Theoretical & Practical)

[Distrustful of ya. Low perceived standing. But stabilizes your mental health, yeah. Empathy swings from being close to him; sometimes up, sometimes down. Know what that means?]

Why are you listing what I can already see?

[Girl, you bullied him.]

I didn’t bully him. I was harsh on him sometimes, but I said nothing the Magister would not have said to me. I even tutored him last week and I’m tutoring him again this week.

[Relax. I’m not the moral police. I ain’t no Saint when I was around.]

[But whatever you were doing with him before? It wasn’t working. Think of this as Social Engineering 101. I’ll give ya a few options.]

Response Option:

“Good evening.”
 Estimated Attitude Toward You change: 0% ~ 0%

“I will be unable to conduct our tutoring sessions this week. I do hope you will understand.”
 Estimated Attitude Toward You change: +0.3% ~ +0.6%

“It is quite late. You should be more mindful of your health, Kestovar. Staying out in the cold will do you no favors.”
 Estimated Attitude Toward You change: -0.7% ~ +0.3% (might backfire due to distrust)

“Back to your dilly-dallying, I see. It seems even a week of effort cannot persuade you to take your studies in earnest.”
 Estimated Attitude Toward You change: -1.2% ~ -0.4%

[If you want the buff, be nice to him. It’s that simple. Tutorial level type shi.]

Halveth lightly touched her arm; a cue that they’d better leave. Severa looked away, feigning disinterest as the faint projections hovered in her periphery. She did not care for DeShawn’s running commentary. She did not care for its so-called options.

Unfortunately, she’d memorized all the options.

Her gaze slipped, unbidden, to the supposed best choice, and she whispered it into words, “I will be unable to conduct our tutoring sessions this week. I do hope you will understand.”

“Of course,” Kestovar nodded. It didn’t seem as though there was any change within him. Yet, DeShawn notified her anyway.

Estimated Attitude Toward You change: +0.3%

[See? You’re learning already. Salvage your relationship and you can use him as a lifeline before you go cray-cray.]

I don’t subscribe to your numbers. 

He smelled faintly of pie, and that activated the only part of her body that seemed to be working properly: her stomach. She wanted merryberry pie. The very idea made her knees want to abandon her noble stance immediately. She hadn’t had anything in her stomach all day. She must leave now before she started salivating and he realized she also consumed food like a normal person and not bags of blood.

Severa said with as much cordiality as possible, “Please, I would ask that you pretend you did not see me here tonight. I trust that is something you can do, Kestovar?”

“Yes,” he said carefully as he nodded again. “I can do that.”

A neat, carefully wrapped package tucked against one of the possibly dozen of his robe pockets. Her gaze traveled past it, taking in the circle of figures gathered by the fire, their faces lit with anticipation and quiet warmth. 

Ah. It’s his birthday.

Her lips almost curved into a smile.

The date was impossible to forget. Her own birthday tomorrow made this one memorable by default.

“On an unrelated note . . . Happy birthday, Kestovar,” she said, taking in his stunned face.

Estimated Attitude Toward You change: +0.4%

Social Aptitude Practical Exertion: Extremely Low — 28% (+1%)

Mental Health Stability Practical Exertion: Extremely Low — 28% (+2%) [12% Temp]

As she stepped back, letting Halveth guide her away from the fire, a quiet satisfaction settled in her chest. I remembered his birthday. On my own accord.

The Drip Core artifact hadn’t even registered this information. She had wished him happy birthday purely from the kindness of her heart, and somehow, that simple, unforced act felt heavier than any calculated spell or social maneuver she had mastered.

You didn’t think of this, did you, DeShawn?

[How could I have thought of a piece of information you didn’t provide me, girl?]

[This ain’t the win you think it is.]

Severa lifted her chin and began striding forward, the measured gait of a noble young woman. Almost immediately, the internal injury bit her from inside. Her legs quivered, and she found herself shortening her stride, forcing smaller, more controlled movements to compensate for the internal weakness.

Just don’t trip in front of witnesses, she told herself. She didn’t trip.