The Ascendancy
7
“You know you are still a beginner with training. I do not want you fighting someone five years older than you.” Jordan reminds his younger sister as they walk up the spiral marble staircase of the London Ascendancy.
The building itself possesses a reserved and beautiful stature. Deep green ivy vines wrap around white pillars and spider up walls with tiny wilting white petals. It’s larger than the surrounding buildings, four stories tall, with an unusual domed glass roof and large windows gaping out onto the street. The Seraphim emblem proudly embossed on the doors-a golden halo with a blade piercing through the centre.
Inside, pieces of gold, white marble, and fine silk lavishly decorate the place. Chandeliers of glass and candles hang low from ceilings, throwing gleaming shatters of light in every direction. Golden Victorian wallpaper with leaves and cherubs covers the walls and heavy, dark-stained furniture fills each of the rooms. It’s luxurious and far nicer than the Oxford Ascendancy, which looks to be one hundred years outdated in comparison.
“Yes, I am aware of that.” Valarie drawls in response.
Jordan looks sideways at his younger sister. “Very well. Matthew and Lewis should be here already.”
He watches her cheeks flush with colour like blooming roses. “I hope Alice is here. I need someone to practice with who will not make me look like a fool. ”
“You are not a fool, Valarie.” Jordan says bluntly.
“I know that.” She pipes out. “I said like a fool. I never said I was the fool.”
She hears him groan lowly. “You can practise with Daisy as well. I’m sure she will be here soon.”
Feeling his stiffness from where she’s walking, Valarie glances up at Jordan. She knows her brother better than anyone else in the world and can tell when something is bothering him. “What’s wrong Jordan?”
“Nothing for you to worry about, Val.” He says shortly, not wanting to speak about his internal problems with her. He’s never been one to share his issues with anyone else, including his sister. He likes being reserved in that way.
Valarie sighs louder than necessary, not bothering to push him anymore on what he’s so worried about. She already knows he’s not going to explain it to her, no matter how hard she presses him for it.
Matthew and Lewis stand at the top of the stairs on the third floor-the training and education level. Matthew’s familiar brown hair and wide grin is what Jordan first sees. Then Lewis. His black-framed glasses that somehow always look askew on his nose and thinner frame. He’s not skinny by any means, just a bit leaner than Matthew and Jordan. He’s more of the academic type, although he still knows his way around a dagger.
Valarie sucks in a breath when she sees the two of them in conversation. They turn their attention onto the two of them as his sister takes off, almost springing into Lewis’ outstretched arms. It’s quite improper for a young girl to embrace a male out of a social gathering when they aren’t courting, but Jordan can’t help but smile at his sister’s happiness.
“I missed you, Lewis.” Valarie gushes out loud enough for all of them to hear, but she doesn’t care. She’s been waiting to see Lewis again for months now. Missing the feeling of his body against hers, of his deep scent of parchment and ink. She’s missed feeling the heat that radiates from his flesh against her own.
A small noise of contentment escapes his throat as Lewis pulls her tighter into his embrace, arms fully enveloping her as if he’s wrapping her up like a parcel. “I missed you too, Val.” He murmurs quietly for only her to hear.
She vibrates inside with pure bliss.
Matthew sniffs in amusement as his grin grows into something mischievous. “Ain’t that the truth.” His voice is loud, interrupting their moment together. “Valarie, you should have seen how much he missed you last night. Now that was a sight to see.”
The glare he receives from Lewis is glacial. His jaw locked with tightness and mouth pinched firmly, his expression shouting don’t you dare tell her, and Matthew just gives him an innocent wink in return.
“Why? What happened last night?” Valarie asks innocently, pulling herself from Lewis’ grip, waiting for Matthew to continue. Her innocent enlarged eyes are now more curious.
“Nothing!” Lewis shouts quickly before Matthew even has the chance to fill them in on his excessive drinking before he was sick all over Matthew on the walk home. Matthew visited Lewis on his way to the Ascendancy, forcing Lewis to scrub clean his favourite coat, which reeked of his sickness. Lewis gagged the whole time as Matthew hovered and waited until he deemed the coat clean again.
Valarie and Jordan both eye Lewis for some sort of explanation. Matthew grins widely, holding in a chuckle by biting the inside of his cheek. “It’s nothing. Nothing happened.” Lewis’ words directed more at Valarie than Jordan.
“Fine.” Valarie groans slowly, turning to her brother. “This Ascendancy makes the Oxford one look so… ordinary.”
“It does.” Agreeing with her. He’s still amazed at how much wealthier this place appears in comparison. Then again, London is much bigger than Oxford .
“Well, you are a Londinium now. You belong here,” Lewis says, taking her hand into his and squeezing it tightly, “come on, Alice is waiting to train with you.”
Valarie gives a noise of excitement as Lewis leads her away towards the training rooms set up along one side of the floor.
Matthew turns to Jordan, whose eyes are following his sister and Lewis like a hawk. Shining brightly like a calm summer ocean. “You know Lewis was so nervous about your sister coming to town, he got drunk last night.” Matthew tells him as soon as Lewis and Valarie are far enough away.
Jordan gives a small chuckle. “His is very smitten with my sister, that’s for sure.”
“That he is.” Matthew agrees with Jordan before continuing, “So, are you ready to train?”
“I hope you’ve been practising for our rematch, Matthew,” Jordan keeps a serious tone, “I won’t be going easy on you again like last time.” Mouth lifting into a half-smile.
Matthew sneers. “I think I’m still recovering from our previous training stint. You know it took me one week just to move my wrist again. You almost severed the bones. I had to keep it strapped for three days. We might heal faster than Mortals, but bones still take time to mend,” Matthew grumbles as they follow behind Valarie and Lewis.
Jordan gives a small laugh, “Well, I wasn’t the one who told you to jump off that crate. You almost broke your arm yourself. I was standing on the other side of the room when it happened, so you can’t blame me for your own stupidity.” Defending himself.
Matthew’s jaw opens, feigning offence, before patting Jordan’s shoulder. “Fine, I guess it wasn’t entirely your fault, then. But you should have stopped me.”
“You’re right,” Jordan deadpans, “next time I will read your mind like a Foreshadower, so I know what reckless move you are about to try, and stop you before you hurt yourself. ”
“See, that’s all I am asking for you to do.” Matthew tosses an arm over his friend’s shoulders.
Jordan rolls his eyes at him.
Matthew gives Jordan a brief run-down of where everything is within the Ascendancy before they train. The bottom floor consists of the kitchen area, a dining hall that can occupy three dozen at a time, drawing rooms and the marvellous ballroom.
The second floor is the spare sleeping quarters for anyone needing a place to stay temporarily, as well as the music room and the library.
Training and education fill the entire third floor, and the top floor is for the offices of the Elders and gathering rooms for any Ascendancy meetings.
There’s also a basement where the infirmary is located, and the Bastille-the holding ground for prisoners or Marked creatures awaiting trial by the Ascendancy and a Diviner.
Jordan peers around at the training level, taking in everything Matthew is pointing at. One entire side consists of glassed off rooms. Inside each individual room is an entire wall stacked with all sorts of finely polished weapons.
On the other side of the floor, overstuffed lounges face each other, and the walls are lined with books. There’s also dressing and bathing rooms are at either end. Training leathers are usually what people will choose to wear, but some stay in their usual attire. Some Seraphim choose to only wear their training leathers, but most follow the social rules of the Mortals and dress formally when out in public.
“That’s the Commons. You can study there or unwind after training.” Matthew points out to him when he sees Jordan’s eyes glancing around.
Two girls sit together on one of the dark green velvet sofas, both of them reading a book and giggling together. They seem to be around Jordan’s age. One with long blonde hair, crisp and golden, and pale skin freckled with tanned spots. The other with short brunette hair and olive-toned skin. “That’s Clara Lockewood and Mabel Sallows. ”
The two girls peer up to see who said their names and spot Jordan standing beside Matthew. The two of them are dressed in their training leathers already as they run their eyes down his front, considering Jordan with hooded, intrigued eyes.
“Who’s your friend, Matthew?” The blonde calls out across the room. She closes their book, her hand still parting the pages, so they don’t lose their spot.
Matthew jabs Jordan in the ribs, and he cuts him a glare in return. “Jordan Carter. He’s new to London, so be nice to him, girls.”
“We’re always nice.” The brunette chimes before they start giggling again.
“That you are,” Matthew agrees before turning back to Jordan, “And these are the training rooms,” he continues on, shifting to the other side of the open floor space, “created downstairs in our basement by our very own Percy and Lewis Chiswick. Robert, our Ascendancy leader, is having more made for the other Ascendancies in the region. The glass is soundproof and has some sort of illumination enchantment mixed into it. You can use it to change the scenery within the room when you’re training to make the ambience more realistic.”
He points towards the training rooms. Inside, it’s lit up to appear as though gardens of an estate are blooming inside. Tall trees projected amongst a gravel path down the centre. A fake sun shining from the top of the room, illuminating the space in summer sunshine. It’s magical and like nothing Jordan has experienced before. “How long have you had these?”
Matthew gives him an effortless shrug. “Not very long. A couple of months, perhaps. Some Seraphim are still learning how to use it properly.”
Jordan walks to the next room. Through the glass he watches a boy and girl fighting, their combat looking slack and chaotic. The boy is swinging his blade around aimlessly as the girl pulls out her dagger and races towards him without concealing herself .
Jordan shakes his head disapprovingly at the sloppiness and terrible tactics being used. Some people aren’t born with the graceful combat trait.
A sigh escapes him when the boy falls backwards and the girl tumbles over him, bringing down her knife and missing his arm, even without him flinching away.
“Daniel and Beatrice are not the best fighters we have. They will most likely be employed for finances or education.” Matthew says with a twinge of humour in his voice.
It is the duty of Seraphim to train and fight off Infernals and any other threat that Marked ones come across. Some, however, aren’t trained enough or are better suited for working within the Ascendancy, where combat is not required of them.
“Shall we train now?”
Matthew shows him to an empty room. They select their weapons of choice off of the wall at the back carrying an array of weapons. Jordan selects two fairly weighted daggers, both with white wrapped hilts and shining silver tips, while Matthew pulls off a bigger bronze blade and several pocketknives.
Positioning themselves in the middle of the room, the overhead lighting shifts to become dimmer. Jordan’s hooded eyes watch Matthew, scanning his features.
His gaze locks onto Jordan’s right arm, where he holds the dagger. Left foot forward that he’s going to use for leverage. Mouth pursed tightly together as he cocks a dark brow.
Jordan can read him like a book. His first move will be something rushed and un-calculated. He’ll take some time to warm up, might even miss on his first attempt. He will put too much weight into his swing, tilting him off balance and that’ll be the perfect time for him-
Before he can continue this thought process, Matthew charges at him, lifting his blade back and sweeping down in a graceless arch. Jordan easily ducks out of the way of his weapon .
Matthew stumbles forward and Jordan takes the moment to turn on the spot. Grabbing a hold of his shirt collar, Jordan pulls him backwards until he’s steady on his feet again. With a swing of his blade, Matthew turns, and the edge comes within inches of Jordan’s head.
Moving gracefully, Jordan avoids the blow, pivoting to pin Matthew’s arms behind him. Pushing him to the ground, Jordan’s knee leans into Matthew’s back, pressing him against the floor.
It’s even easier than Jordan anticipated.
“Again.” Matthew growls out and Jordan chuckles lightly, releasing his grip on him.
He twirls one of his daggers in his hand as Matthew gets himself up. He looks mad, but Jordan can’t tell if it’s directed at him, or if Matthew is more irritated with himself. “With pleasure.” Jordan purrs.
They set up again. This time, Jordan makes the first move. Lunging out at Matthew, Jordan swipes both daggers in front of him, and they cut through the air. The tip of the blade slices through Matthew’s clean shirt while the other just narrowly misses his thigh.
Matthew groans loudly with annoyance, “I just got this shirt.” Pulling at the torn fabric.
“It needed some improvements.” Jordan counters lightly, holding his weapons out in front of him.
Emerald eyes narrow onto his as Matthew comes at him once more. Jordan watches his steps, counting each one as he approaches. Just as Matthew pulls back his arm to strike Jordan, he crouches, flipping Matthew over his shoulder.
With a thud, Matthew lands behind him, knocking the breath from his lungs.
Jordan takes the opportunity to pin him down on the floor again. His legs retrain Matthew’s elbows as his friend thrashes underneath him .
“Fine. All right. You win, again .” Matthew grits out through clenched teeth when he stops fighting him, knowing he can’t get out of Jordan’s hold.
Jordan smiles brightly before rolling off, and Matthew cradles his arms. “Good fight.”
Matthew’s glare is like ice. Jordan laughs at him. “At least you didn’t break my wrist this time.”
“I can if you want me to?” Jordan offers.
Matthew scoffs, “Why would I want that? You’d want that just so you can go around gloating .”
Jordan’s face straightens. “I don’t gloat, Matthew.”
“No, you don’t...” Matthew winces as he gets to his feet. “But trust me, if I was one of the best fighters in London, I’d wear it like a badge of honour.”
Jordan grins once again, his dimpled cheeks beginning to hurt. He can’t remember the last time he’s smiled this much, but he’s beginning to enjoy it. “Well, thank the Angels you’re not the best then.”
That makes Matthew laugh as he stretches out his limbs. “I have to train more now. I can’t lose like that again.”
“Nobody saw at least. You can tell people you almost hit me.”
“This is why you’re my favourite,” Matthew lets out a chuckle, tossing his arm around Jordan’s shoulders, “but don’t tell Lewis that.”