“Quite an honour indeed,” One of the three upperclassmen nodded. Her lips curled up as she turned her gaze to Willow. “And you are Lady Aulorn if I’m not mistaken. We would like to invite you both to our lounge.”
Willow’s eyes lit up. “I would love to come!” She exclaimed, jumping back on her feet. “Alistair, M-“
“No,” Alistair curtly said. “I’m preoccupied, as you can see.” He tilted his head towards Midhir, then peered out the window again. “Now, if you will excuse us.”
“I see,” The upperclassman pursed her lips. “Then, perhaps at a later time, Lord Orlein.” She shot Willow a glance. “Lady Aulorn, are you still coming with us?”
Willow hesitated. “Oh, uh…” She muttered, her gaze turned from Midhir to Alistair, then to the upperclassmen. “Of course.” She took her plate and hurried after them. As they left for the upper floor of the cafeteria, Alistair finally looked away from the window.
“You should stay away from the likes of them.” Alistair coldly stated before finally taking a bite from his food.
His words came as a surprise. Midhir raised his eyebrows. The young noble seemed annoyed, angry even. “Is that why you didn’t go with them?”
Alistair shrugged. “Partly, yes.” He finished eating the small mince pie on his plate, then carefully wiped his hands to his handkerchief. “Nobility is important, noble blood is vital – it carries with it the power of our ancestors.” He explained as his gaze turned to the window again. “But such power is only relevant if its owner is strong.”
Seeing Midhir’s raised eyebrows, he explained further. “Remember who Willow’s father is. The Luminous Blademaster is a newly appointed noble – his blood doesn’t give him power, he earned it by himself, through effort and vigorous training. Willow, on the other hand, inherited some of his power. But more importantly, her name carries weight. She has power, just because of who she is,” He paused. “Whose daughter she is.” He corrected himself.
“I would never associate with leeches who would only approach me out of selfish interests – all they wished was to get on my good side, so they would have the Orlein family’s favour.”
Midhir nodded. He wasn’t wrong, those upperclassmen were all nobles, but they weren’t from particularly powerful or wealthy families. Small baronies and dukedoms were all they had in their names. In contrast, Willow’s father was one of the most powerful people in the empire when it came to combat prowess, and Alistair was the heir of the most influential noble family in the empire.
“You should stay away from them too.” Alistair repeated. “I apologize for using you as an excuse, since this might draw their ire to you. I will make sure they don’t try and cause you indirect harm.”
Midhir couldn’t help but smile at what his classmate was insinuating. “You don’t need to worry about that.”
Alistair raised an eyebrow, but then nodded. “If you say so. Do tell me if they bother you though.” He took a deep breath, then stood up. “Class will begin soon, and I’d like to get as much practice in before it as I can. I will meet you at the courtyard.”
Midhir turned his gaze out the window. The view was breathtaking – he could see the eastern half of the crater, and the forests that surround it. The skies were a clear blue with not a single cloud in sight, and the snowy mountaintops glistened white.
He stood up and headed out. The golden rays of sunlight beaming in through the wide, tall windows reminded him of Arwen. He couldn’t help but wonder why she seemed so serious and concerned before she left for the library. Was Eldoria’s history not taught where she was from? Or was it taught differently perhaps?
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That line of thought summoned another – he still hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her where she was from. She lacked the features of the people of Calador, and she didn’t have the darker skin the southern city-states had. That didn’t leave too many possibilities – she either was from the northern city-states, or she was from beyond the desert. He chuckled to himself as he walked down the hallway – the desert had been impassable for so long, of course she wasn’t from there.
His steps carried him outside through a side entrance, and soon he found himself walking on a wide walkway passing over a raging river. He paused for a moment and leaned over the battlements. The smell of fresh water, wet earth and moss reached his nostrils. The underside of the walkway was probably completely covered in moss.
The river’s waters were a frothy torrent of white, teeming with cascading bubbles. It carved a path through the rocky terrain of the crater, flowing down from the snow covered mountaintops, all the way to the lake at the foot of the castle.
Midhir watched the waters for a while – there were no mountains in An’Larion, and the lake around the imperial palace was always calm. It was impossible to find such an untamed force of nature near the Chalk Capital. He wondered whether Arwen’s home had such beautiful places as well – was this all mundane to her, or was she as amazed as he was?
He stepped away from the battlements of the walkway and walked on, towards the large, old building on the other side of the raging river, constructed on a platform held up by tall pillars.
What was clearly once a church of the Old Faith had been turned into the library of Solas Military Academy. The standalone building had been restored to its former glory. Statues of gargoyles watched over from its pointed roof, intricately carved corbels supported the two balconies, and reliefs decorated every flat surface around its walls.
Midhir paused once again to admire the building. The remnants of the Old Faith were always stunning works of art, or beautiful shrines of nature. The Empire had been careful to preserve these places, though most had been repurposed, like Solas Military Academy’s library.
He stepped through the pair or large, open doors.
The air was dusty and dry in the old church, filled with the calming scent of old pages and dried leather. Rows of bookshelves reaching the ceiling took up most of the space inside the building’s first floor. The hanging floor above also had bookshelves, though they lined the walls, leaving space for comfortable seats dotted around.
The library wasn’t particularly crowded. It wasn’t too surprising, since there weren’t too many students in the academy to begin with. The library could probably easily fit twice the number of students, and still not seem too crowded.
Once again amazed by how intricately decorated the interior was, Midhir made his way to the history section of the library. It didn’t take long for him to find the book he was looking for; there were several copies of ‘The Fall of The Rose Capital’ sitting on the shelf. He took one of them and placed it in his holding gem. The book vanished from his hand as the light around it shifted and changed.
Despite being familiar with holding gems, the odd visuals while objects disappeared into a spiritual pocket within the crystal kept surprising him. It almost look like reality was breaking apart in front of him, and he was controlling it. Just like how he stared when Alistair summoned his weapon, Midhir stared at the disappearing book until reality returned to normal.
“Now then…” he whispered as he turned his gaze upstairs. Instructor Soraya’s class would begin in less than an hour. He didn’t have too much time. He almost absentmindedly paced the library, looking between the rows of bookshelves as he made his way to the stairs leading to the second floor. His gaze scoured his surroundings, and he only realised he was looking for someone when he failed to find her.
As he didn’t spot Arwen, his shoulders dropped. A tinge of disappointment clouded his heart as he slowly went down the stairs, and out the building. It would be best if he made his way to the courtyard behind the castle – maybe Arwen had gone there already.
He walked to the edge of the platform the church was built on and leaned on the marble parapets. He could see the lake from here, as well as the corner of the courtyard Instructor Soraya’s class would take place at. Something glimmered there, though it was far too small for him to see clearly.
He stepped back from the parapets, and as he was about to head to the walkway, a golden glimmer caught his eye. His gaze snapped to his right, lifting the clouds over his heart.
Arwen was sitting on a bench put up against the side wall of the library. There was thick, leatherbound tome on her lap, it seemed comically large and thick, and was probably way too heavy to be practical in any sense or form.
“Arw-“ He called out, but a loud caw drowned his voice, startling both him, and Arwen who was lost in thought. He heard the sound of flapping wings behind him, then a storm of black feathers and sharp claws descended on him.