The library was designed to look ancient. Old architecture. Cold, grey brick. High arches and a vaulted, domed ceiling. Wrought-iron sconces hang from the walls to provide light, flickering with real flames. It had all been crafted to hide the fact that the Academy was less than two decades old. The lower level is rectangular, twice as long as it is wide. The middle is filled with chairs and tables, where students study. On either side, large wooden bookshelves hold tomes of knowledge accessible to all members of the Brotherhood. In the center of the floor stands a monument to Jedgar Octavius Paladin, the founder of the first Shadow Academy.

By taking one of the two main staircases on the North and South sides of the library, one can access the second floor. The two sides of the upper level are connected by stone pathways, and the first floor was completely visible below. The upper level held fewer tomes, but contained more advanced knowledge. Often, it's used by students who required silence and introspection for their studies.

Despite the solemn purpose of the library, fights still break out between the students, who always seek to prove themselves against their peers. Punishment awaits those who damage the library, but rarely do instructors step in to stop the fights. Students usually watch in interest, or place bets on the combatants, glad for the show to break up the monotony of their studies

You know you will have to answer for your transgressions, but you can no longer contain the desire to fight. You listen to the whispers as the other students place bets, but you can also sense those who might ally with or against you. The Academy may be a place of neutrality, but it was hard to leave loyalty to your House at the door. You brush your thumb over your weapon, focusing on your opponent as tables clear around you. There is no turning back now…

"Well, well, well," Keirdagh said warily. "If it isn't the little up and comer from Ektrosis." He looked over his challenger with the well practiced eye of a man who had seen it all, and done even more. The kid was ready, that's for sure, and he was up for a tussle. But if he was going to grow to be the leader Keirdagh hoped, he didn't need to get his ass handed to him by his sour old Proconsul. "No," thought Keirdagh, "he needs another lesson entirely."

Kenath Zoron stood bristling at the words of his Proconsul. He'd fought hard to reclaim his place in the Brotherhood since his master had recalled him, and he did not like having his efforts belittled, even by one such as Cantor. "Age is no guarantee of wisdom, old man."

Keirdagh could see how easily his offhanded comment had gotten to the man, and recognized exactly how he was going to teach the pup a lesson. Not everything was about violence, and so very little actually revolved around your pride... and if the irascible old man had to embarrass himself to do it, then so be it.

"You're damned skippy, youngen. It ain't. But I know something you don't." The old man let the words hang there. The silence that grew between the two was deafening. Even the onlookers around the pair seemed to be holding their breath. Right when the tension grew to it's peak, Cantor continued. "What I know!" he boomed, "is that..."

"ROCK ALWAYS WINS!"

The anticlimax of the statement rocked everyone back on their heels. Zoron was apoplectic with confusion. The onlookers were sniggering and making comments bringing into question the levels of the old man's remaining sanity, and it was exactly what he's planned. "So, whippersnapper, what do you say?! Shall we have an old fashioned duel of rock, flimsi and scissors?!"

The violence of the situation had been diffused, and Keirdagh could see Zoron coming to the same realization. Whatever the younger man had hoped to gain from the fight was now stripped of him, and he was left to deal with whatever eccentric scenario his Proconsul could come up with. Sighing rather audibly, he realized he had nothing left to do, except to steer into the skid.

"You're on old man. Best of three?"

---

It was a game known to every human child, and almost every other child throughout the galaxy. It's origins were ancient, and nobody was even really sure where it began, or how the use of it was still societally relevant.. but it clung on like only traditions do, and still solved any number of conflicts large and small. In this case, it was deciding nothing, and at the same time, everything.

Keirdagh kept his eyes steadily on his opponent, betraying no hint of what he was about to do. Had he not just declared that rock always wins? Was there any question as to whether or not he'd throw it? Surely Zoron would believe it to be a bluff, but was it a double bluff?

One

The questions alight in Zoron's eyes made Keirdagh smile internally, knowing that the lessons learned from playing such a simple game were not vital in any sense, but at the same time, did teach comrades in arms how to predict the others thoughts. In the climate of the Brotherhood today? That knowledge between them may save one of their lives one day.

Two

There were only three possible outcomes. Keirdagh could pick three things, but in that space of time, he knew which one it was. Doing everything he could to block out his thoughts, he closed his eyes and waited for the last nano-second before flicking his hand over to the universally accepted fist gesture that signified rock.

Three!

Laughter erupted around the room, and Keirdagh opened his eyes smiling. No matter what happened, he was already enjoying the diversion. When he focused his green eyes on the split fingered symbol for scissors that Zoron was holding out though, he joined into the cacophony.

"What did I say?" roared the Proconsul of Taldryan. "Rock ALWAYS wins!"

"I just didn't think you'd be stubborn enough to actually throw rock." Zoron grumbled and rolled out his shoulders. "Alright old man. Another. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Keirdagh smiled and opened his left palm, face up. He rested his closed right fist on top before nodding to Zoron. "Oh, you will. Don't worry about that. I'll even give you the advantage. I'm going to throw rock again."

That lying fool. Of course he isn't going rock again. Zoron's mind raced through the possibilities. He's trying to make me throw flimsi. Which means he'll go scissors. Which means I should go rock. Zoron mimicked Keirdagh's starting position and nodded back.

"One. Two. Three!" Both men's hands rose and fell in unison, striking into their palms as each number was announced. On the final beat, they revealed their chosen play.

"Oh ho ho! You saw through that, did you now?" Keirdagh laughed as he looked down at their hands, each showing the gesture for rock.

Zoron, though, was not as pleased. He did go rock. That arrogant son of a mynock!

"Two rocks. A draw." Keirdagh's smile twisted up further into a teeth-baring grin. "Still one victory to none for me. Again."

They took their positions and once again their hands rose and fell in a steady cadence.

"One. Two..."

During the count, Zoron tried to figure out what to do next. Two rocks. He's going to change. So either scissors or flimsi. The old man won't go flimsi, that's just not his style. Scissors for him. Which means rock for me.

"... Three!"

Again they revealed their play. Again they both showed rock. Zoron's mouth twitched as a glimmer of a smile began to form in response to the absurdity of the draw.

"I told you. Rock always wins." Keirdagh's voice rolled smoothly into Zoron's ears.

Zoron's smile grew. "How do you figure? We're drawn, again. That's not a win in my books."

"Ah, you're right." Keirdagh inclined his head in concession of the point. "But it's not a loss. Which is close enough to a win for me."

Zoron's foul mood had dissipated, and he laughed while shaking his head. "Ok, let's do this again. I think I've got the hang of this now."

Once in their positions, Zoron decided he'd try a different tactic. The old man played mind games with me earlier. I wonder if I can return the favour.

"One. Two..."

As their hands rose and fell through the now-familiar pattern, he briefly "flashed" his hand as if he'd miscounted. He subtly showed the sign for flimsi before squeezing into a fist again to finish the count.

"Three!"

Zoron looked down, expecting to see that his fake flimsi had drawn Keirdagh into a trap. Instead, Keirdagh had thrown rock again! And to make matters worse, so had he!

"This is ridiculous!" Zoron exclaimed with a burst of laughter. "You should have gone scissors!"

"Oh?" Keirdagh arched an eyebrow. "Should I have? I told you: Rock always wins."

"Fine. Another."

Blast it. He's going rock again. Enough of this. Flimsi time.

"One. Two. Three!"

"YES!" Zoron shouted excitedly. "See! Rock doesn't always win!" He jumped up and down in celebration of his victory. The stubborn old man had played rock again. Zoron's flimsi had won, finally.

"It's even now. This is for all the marbles now. Are you ready, young man?" Keirdagh's voice cut through Zoron's jubilations and brought him back to reality.

Somehow, the ludicrous display of the two men playing rock, flimsi, scissors had captivated the entire room. Supposedly this was one of the venerable old men, a man who members actually learned about as the progenitor of the new Chamber of Justice, and here he was dueling a lowly Knight in a child's game, as though it were the most important of rituals.

"Have you learned yet, Zoron?" asked Keirdagh in an intense and frankly unnerving voice. "Have you felt the power of the rock side?"

The horrible play on words caused the room to gasp, some younger students choking on their beverages. All of this earned a harsh scolding from the matronly librarian who had been trying to restore order to the room.

"For that, you old creep, I'm going to finish you off, using your own weapons against you."

One..

Two..

Three..

Two fists stood clenched, quivering in the excitement. Somehow, through the entire battle, Keirdagh had never thrown any other thing but rock. Gazing at his opponents face, Keirdagh could see the doubt forming there. Surely the old man would switch now, to flimsi. Surely he'd not continue this farce. Hadn't he already seen that rock didn't always win?

One..

Two..

Three..

Two rocks, again. "This is madness!" screamed the Knight. "You have to stop throwing rock! I'm going to beat you!"

"Hah, how is that possible?" asked Keirdagh incredulously. "Rock always wins."

"No it doesn't you insane fool! I feel like I'm taking crazy pills. You just lost! It's tied up! ROCK DOESN'T ALWAYS WIN. FLIMSI BEATS ROCK. THERE ARE LITERALLY THREE RULES, AND THAT IS ONE OF THEM, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

The cracks weren't hard to see anymore. They were flaring wide open, and Keirdagh could see, Zoron had finally lost all his composure. The lesson was about to be taught, and taught hard. "Last time, man, try to beat me with that weak sauce flimsi, see what happens."

There were no words left. There was just anger and confusion. Keirdagh had completely robbed the Knight of any ability to communicate beyond a primal guttural level.

One..

Two..

Three..

The Knight, against all his better judgement, had thrown flimsi, and the old crazy bastard had thrown rock again. "Ha HA—" was the exclamation that started from the Knight's lips, only to be drowned out by the loud crash of the marble ceiling caving in on his head.

Looking smug, Keirdagh nodded at the assembled masses. "What did you learn today kids?"

As one, the Journeymen piped up in an awestruck voice "Rock always wins!"

Alright. Tied up. Where’s he going to go with this now? Zoron was trying to work out the possibilities while stalling for time. “I’m ready, old timer, but have you thought this through? What happens when I inevitably win?”

Think think think! I beat him with flimsi. Which way does he go this time?

Keirdagh responded to his stall tactic. “When you win? I think you’re mistaken. I do not lose. Either I win, or I allow you to win. There is no loss for me. Let me ask you, instead, what happens when I win? Will you have gained your objective?” Keirdagh let that hang for a moment before continuing. “I took the power of your challenge away from you the moment you conceded to this whimsical game instead of the fight you irrationally sought. Do you see instead what I’ve done?”

Zoron’s concentration was broken and he lost track of the back-and-forth strategy he’d been trying to unwind. Instead, he considered Keirdagh’s words. He’s right. He’s bloody right. The old fox has gone ahead and destroyed the value of this whole fiasco. I knew I couldn’t beat him in a fight, but at the least I wanted to put on a good show to set some of the other Journeymen on notice that I wasn’t to be trifled with. Heck, I might have been good enough to earn a boost into the ranks of the Equites if the right Elder saw the fight. Now I’ve got no chance at that, and worse, I’ve probably already become a laughing stock here. Zoron’s face flushed red and his lips drew into a tight line.

Keirdagh’s mouth slipped into a crooked smile and he leaned forward. He spoke softly enough that none of the others in the room could hear. “Listen carefully. This is an important lesson for you. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re only half right. How many others in this room have had the intestinal fortitude to challenge a Master?”

Zoron’s eyes flicked around as Keirdagh carried on.

“Not many, if any. Look at their faces. They’re laughing at the absurdity of this old man, but they’re also impressed by the fact you took a chance. You’ve played along and humoured me, even when you could have stormed off when I flipped this on you. You have earned the respect of some of these men and women, don’t worry about that.” Keirdagh paused while Zoron really looked at the onlookers. “I’ve saved you a trip into a bacta tank again and I’ve still let you keep the prestige of the challenge without the ignominy of defeat.”

Zoron kept scanning the room and his outlook on the whole situation changed as he too saw the attitudes described by Keirdagh on many of the onlookers, especially the younger Journeymen. That sneaky little nerfherder! The corners of Zoron’s mouth turned up again as Keirdagh leaned back.

“On three?” Zoron nodded.

“One. Two. Three!”

Zoron looked down. He’d been so distracted by Keirdagh’s talk that he hadn’t had a chance to work out his play. He’d just panicked and thrown down scissors again like he had the very first hand.

“Rock always wins.” Keirdagh hadn’t changed his throw and now just turned away with a smirk on his face. As he left the library, most of the onlookers went back to their studies, but a small handful came by to clap Zoron on the shoulder and congratulate him on a fine loss to a master of the game.