Mia had been, to a certain extent, disconcerted with the order that he'd given her and thus Lock had left her alone. He hoped for her sake that she was bothered by the difficulty of the venture, rather than the morality. If it was the latter, he sadly did not see them collaborating in the future. Something that she still seemed to want, going by the fact that she'd appeared here.

Originally he hadn't wanted to spring anything on her, slowly easing her into the mission he'd devised for her. However the admission to the military academy that was now at stake complicated things.

Lock saw great potential in having an inside man inside of the military, and this meant that if Harald lost against William, it would be better for William to die. The way that the situation should develop afterwards, with some prodding, should go along the lines of Ino surrendering to Harald in the fight for third, now second place, and Mia saying she would prefer the admission rather than the military, thusly granting Harald his officer fast-track. The possibility of his student losing against his cousin never entered his mind.

As he was about to leave for the stands however, all matters worthy of discussion being done with, he was accosted by William, who must have remembered him.

“You're one of those peasants we met on the road aren't you?” He asked in lieu of a proper greeting as he blocked his path.

At least he extended a hand, the un-armoured one. Lock shook it and used the opportunity to gauge for strength by gripping as hard as he could. William returned the gesture, and they met somewhere in the middle. The knight was about as strong as him though, or maybe he was holding back.

“I wouldn't dare say that we met, but rather that we were forcibly acquainted with a pair of... impressive... personalities.” Lock returned in his best aristocratic drawl while upturning his nose at the slightly taller man and letting the hints of a sneer appear on his face.

Instead of being offended William simply laughed it off. “You a noble or something?” He asked, prompting Lock to shrug.

“Or something.”

“Well whatever.” The man said unfazed by his words. “I wanted to ask you another question. Am I right in assuming that you want something from this tournament? You talked with three competitors, two of whom I know you're acquainted with.”

“I wouldn't say no to some of the prizes offered.” Lock admitted.

William nodded and continued speaking. “But you're not participating, even while dressed like a fighter. Considering that your friends aren't too shabby, I'd say that you're probably too high level, rather than the opposite.”

As much as Lock liked getting his ego stroked, there was a limit to his patience. “Get to the point within a minute, or I'm leaving.” He said.

“We 'Curadors' always need some strong people to form a symbiosis with our healers. You've probably heard of the bond, what you probably don't know is that it's a form of marriage really. Legally speaking, you become a quasi-noble, albeit only for one generation. All you gotta do in return is protect the healer, which naturally includes a certain preferential treatment when it comes to getting healed.” William quickly explained, probably vexed that he was being forced to get on with it this quickly.

Lock noticed the slip of the tongue. “Preferential treatment when it comes to getting healed. I hardly see why you need such a thing, you seem perfectly capable yourself.” He said and nodded at the man's fully healed and bare arm.

A pause occurred in the conversation before William eventually spoke. “I didn't say you couldn't learn a thing or two.” He said. “Contact me or the house if you're willing to consider the offer. You'll have to pass some tests, but we're creating a lot of new healers due the possibility of future conflict and that means lots of spots for new defenders. Maybe you'll even snag a girl.” He added saucily at the end, and Lock just imagine the wink even through the helmet.

Giving the man an up and down look Lock made to leave. “I'll think about it, good luck with your match.” He said.

William bid him farewell and let him leave.

The magical academy was a place that Lock needed so that he could finally determine the extent of his magical potential, and if he had any, fully concentrate on learning how to heal. However the Curadors were the leaders of the field for a reason, and might even offer better tutelage...

The only thing they'd ask in return would be servitude and likely a vow, of the unbreakable variety.

Lock shook his head as he ascended the stairs to the stands, chiding himself for even thinking about it. Non serviam. He tried to put the conversation out of his mind as he rejoined Kamin in the stands, glad to see that she'd remained unmolested while he'd been gone. He chatted with her a bit and then turned back towards the arena once the break ended, fully expecting to be capable of concentrating on the fight.

Some of the phrasing that William had used stuck with him however.

He'd clearly said, 'we're creating a lot of new healers', which implied that healers were not taught, but made. At least in the Curador sense. The thoughts sprang around in the back of his mind as the beginning of the fight was announced and Kalen dramatically pointed his spear at William.

Now that he was paying attention, and expecting the silence skill to be used, Lock was able to glimpse a small distortion of air travel from the spear-man to the knight, where it dissipated, seemingly harmlessly.

However from the arrogant charge that Kalen initiated immediately after, that was how the skill was supposed to behave and there was nothing to worry about.

The two men entered a fast pace melee. William indeed acting like he did not want to be injured, avoiding all of the spear strikes while only attempting a few dubious retaliations.

The knight had also said that if one entered the Curador household as a defender, then one could learn a thing or two. However Lock had the sense that the man had been lying.

William deflected another strike from the spear, which for most of the fight had been aimed directly at his unarmoured arm. He was getting pushed back and would likely lose soon.

There was another thing that had been said, that had to Lock's ears, sounded like it was laden with implications. Defenders got preferential treatment when it came to healing. Now either William was a terrible conversationalist. Or there was something else hidden behind that statement. Hadn't he also mentioned a symbiosis? Hardly a word that was used very often and the very appearance of it made him wonder what that symbiosis entailed.

The crowd gasped and Lock immediately turned his attention back to the field. William upper arm had been stabbed clear through, in a manner that would have been impossible to achieve without the use of some sort of skill. There was bone there. However William's hand, despite the pain that he was probably in, rose and grasped the spear by its shaft.

He stepped forward, the spear entering him even more deeply, Kalen, foolishly enough choose not to let go, but to instead tug on his weapon. William's sword flashed up, and was stopped by a white string right before it would have slashed fully into Kalen's head.

The match was called to an end, but instead of bothering with the gasps from the crowd, the excited chatter, and the naming of the victor, Lock was looking at the Cur-Curador. The healer to William's defender. The man who he'd, by his own inadvertent admission, formed a symbiosis with. The cur was still moving his lips. He was far away on one of the other sides of the stands, but this much, Lock could tell.

Looking back to the arena Lock saw that the wound William had taken was bleeding a lot less than it should be. It was healing, probably, despite the silence likely still being in effect. It could hardly last less than three minutes could it?

Perhaps William was getting his healing from another source?

There was no harm in testing his hypothesis... Lock turned to the cur in the stands, and sent a sharp spike of killing intent towards him. He felt the willpower travel around the barrier until it reached the boy, who, upon its arrival, jolted and almost feel down.

Not that Lock could see, he was focused entirely on William. William who'd been walking upright and proudly, despite being helped off the platform by the Legil. William who stumbled the second that Lock's killing intent reached its recipient.

A smile came unbidden to Lock's face. He continued sending killing intent to the cur. A continuous stream of murderous intentions. Lock hoped the boy choked on them. And by the shaking, it was looking like he would get his wish.