Limbs snagged onto Taní, drawing his unwilling form into the roaring rapids. He clawed at the nearby uniforms, hoping they save him from being flattened into a spotted tortilla, but his would-be saviors flashed him a sneer before shrugging him off.
Some were barely taller than him, whiles others were nearly six-foot tall. Concealing the too-white, lemon-scented walls with their adult bodies.
Summoning his every ounce of strength, Taní pushed past the wall of students, but the moment he pierced the veil, a stray elbow crashed into him. Returning him to the turbulent tide of bored-looking boys and girls.
A barrage of limbs struck him with ruthless efficiency. Scraping his guard, breaking it, yet ultimately striking him everywhere else but the point he once defended. Their every jab delivering a spike of heat that tunneled to the bone.
Taní yelped as the tide tossed him to the side in a tangle of arms and legs, eliciting a series of curses before they tossed him back, the faux ceiling light flickering as towering figures drowned him in darkness. He wrestled away from them, until, finally, one struck out.
Their arm flashed forward, grabbed him by the shoulder cape, and with a quick, clean shove, propelled him through the flood of people.
The students toppled like dominos as he crashed into them, unable to stop himself. Then, and only after accepting his death in this stuffy place of learning, he pierced through the prison of Juneacão and crashed onto the floor. His shoulder capes nearly strangling him.
Heat resonated from Taní’s tender hips and shoulders, and though he wanted to power through the discomfort, their echoes transformed into a needle of skin-prickling agony that coaxed a soft groan from his lips. They certainly weren’t happy to see a new face, that much was certain…
A ragged breath slipped past his lips as he pushed himself off the floor. At least the day couldn’t get worse. He still had his breakfast despite the whirlwind. If he continued traveling downstream, he’d eventually come across—
“D’Histell?” came a gruff voice as unwelcoming as a Frostfall’s gale.
Taní lifted his head and found an entire classroom of students staring at him. Worse than their looks was the owner of the voice. A man who appeared like he could split a door in two with a single swing of an axe.
Broad, tall, and with a thin, dark beard that emphasized his unsettling hazel-blueberry eyes, the man stood as a testament to the woodsman ways. He even had that infamous dead “I haven’t experienced joy since the day I was born” glint in his gradient pools. That, or he had lost a poor bet. Lots of Grazers had that persistent sour frown on their face after their jouster got downed.
Then again, Taní always warned them they would lose.
“I-I…uh…wrong class?” Taní said with a smile.
The man marched over to him, his boots clicking against the tiled floor. Taní shrank, hoping the tide would sweep him back up. Unfortunately, the man plucked him by the vest before he could escape.
“You’re late,” the sour-faced Juneacão chastised.
“I’m not, I was just—”
“There’s no excuse for being late.”
“But—”
The instructor held up a hand large enough to mask Taní’s face. “You came to receive the finest instruction a Juneacão could ask for, yet you’d rather waste my time—and by extension, your classmates—by denying your blame? Do you fashion yourself a rogue?”
An overwhelming urge to melt into the background filled every ounce of Taní’s being.
“See that you’re never late again.” The man set him down. “Now, introduce yourself.”
Taní nodded so hard he got dizzy. After gathering his wits, he faced the class, vision tilted. Students sat upon an ascending row of desks that touched either wall with a slim path down the middle to travel. Judging by a brief sweep of their faces, none of them were the children he’d met at port.
Swallowing his nerves, he waved. “Morning. My name’s Tanão. I’m new here.”
A dry cough broke the newborn silence. His (reluctant) listeners rested their heads on their desk, or if they had enough energy, toyed with their Brands. Some of them even tried spinning them like tops, and though partially successful, most flew off of their desks with a silent zip before smacking the back of another student’s head.
“Tell us your master’s name and specialization,” the Sour-faced Juneacão pressed. Good blood, his voice weighed on Taní like gravity.
“My Master’s name is Danza.” Taní paused, thoughtful. “He doesn’t really specialize in much…but he’s good at everything. Oh! He really likes horses. And guessing the time! He’s really good at that. Even if it’s late at night, he always knows when it is!”
“Tell us three interesting things about yourself.”
Taní’s mind blanked. How was he supposed to know that? He’s done nothing noteworthy except learn the ways of the Juneacão. Wasn’t that interesting enough?
He cobbled together some manner of response. Or he would have if something actually came to mind!
So many faces. What would happen if he said the wrong thing? Would they treat him like the other squires? Would they continue to ignore him like they always did?
“Well?” the man pressed.
“I…” Taní’s eyes darted to the hall. Countless students. All of them rushing to class, their tomes held close to their hips. “Uh…”
“We’ve no patience for moonrays, D’Histell.”
Something interesting. Something that’d impress even these stuck-up scions. Nothing simple like a shiny pebble from Godsfield. He needed a treasure to prove that he was their equal.
“My master entrusted his family heirloom to me!” Taní blurted.
Half the students ceased their idling and snapped their heads to face him, their eyes curious.
“What is it?” a boy asked.
Taní puffed out his chest. “It’s a sword.”
“Is it a blood-stained relic?” a dark-haired girl questioned.
“…Yes. Yes, it is.”
The sleepy students lifted their heads off the desk, their blurry eyes sharp. Murmurs spilled from their lips, flooding the room with sound as students chatted among themselves. He couldn’t quite catch what they were saying, but he didn’t have to hear to know what they were discussing. Why gift a commoner with a blood-stained relic?
The rumble softened as a head of short, blonde, parted hair peeked out from the very back. It was him. The boy with lavender-yellow eyes.
“You? The same fry that couldn’t even alight from his pony, granted a blood-stained relic? I’d sooner believe Tygenna awakening.”
A low “oo” arose from the students.
“But he did!” Taní argued. “He gave me it before he left!”
“What does it do then?”
Taní stopped. “What?”
“You heard me.” The boy leaned forward on his desk. “What. Does. It. Do.”
Taní swallowed the lump in his throat. “It uh…” He looked around, hoping inspiration would strike him. He had any number of blood-stained relics to pull from. One was enough. God, why couldn’t he think of one?
“You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?” The boy said with such faux concern that it physically pained Taní to hear it. “Well, no matter. I believe you. Your hesitance says it all.”
Taní straightened. “Really?”
“But of course. Blood-stained relics unleash their true potential when wielded by those with strong ties. It’s why House relics often only respond to their respective champions.” He brushed several stray locks into place. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah…uh…?”
“Innes. Heir to the Aqhelles cadet branch of Coratão, and 4th in line for the throne should my dear relatives give out. Remember that commoner,” Innes said with a slight, if somewhat arrogant, smile.
Taní wrestled with his annoyance, but after subduing the deathly viper, he pushed out a question. “I thought the king only had a daughter.”
“Yes, but this is the royal line of succession, fry. Do you truly think our king an only child? Remiss as he was to not produce more heirs while his wife was alive, he was but the eldest of five.”
“Oh…so you’re his nephew?”
“Literature is hardly a place to discuss genealogy, but yes. I am of relation to the current heir.”
Taní jumped as a deafening boom sounded from behind him. It was the instructor’s cough.
“Innes, though I appreciate your support, I’d suggest you not hold up the class.”
Innes sat. “Of course, master Yedevar, but before we continue, might I request that Tanão over there bring his blood-stained relic for tomorrow’s presentation? I’m certain the class is dying to see it.”
Taní froze. Things were bad, but the instructor didn’t seem like the type to entertain stupid ide—
“Very well.”
Son of a—
“D’Histell!” thundered master Yedevar. “You will present your master’s relic at tomorrow’s show-and-tell. No if’s, and’s, or but’s. Have I made myself clear?”
Taní’s heart dropped. “But—”
His voice failed him as an unspoken sentiment flashed in master Yedevar’s eyes. It was like every sword in the world was being aimed at Taní, and he could do nothing but kneel, lest they pierce him.
“Y-Yes, master Yedevar…”
“Good.” The man patted Taní on the back with such a wicked blow that it sent him stumbling forward. “Now take a spare tome from my desk, and a reedprinter if you must. There is no assigned seating, so sit where you please.”
Taní took his supplies, grunted at the weight of the mighty tome, then started up the stairs. His selection of seating didn’t appear all too inviting. Not when the students would throw their Blood-Loaders and Brands over the spot.
Finally, Taní reached the back row where Innes sat. The royal blood flashed him a friendly grin, making no effort to cover the empty spot beside him. Instead, he scooted away. Patting the spot affectionately as if to say it’s warm.
What a great invitation for harassment.
Just as he prepared to sit on the floor, his eyes flickered to the figure opposite Innes. The only other student here.
Taní sidled through the gap, and once he reached the raven-haired boy with tousled hair, waved at him. He didn’t respond. Despite leaning back with his arms crossed and eyes glued on the board, he never once stirred.
Realizing he preferred the silent treatment, Taní made his spot next to him. That is until he caught a deep rumble followed by a flicker of darkness. His eyes darted to the shadows, but they faded before he could make sense of them.
Master Yedevar lectured them on some “great” author and their influence. Several students took notes, though most whispered to each other about Dragonfang this or Dragonfang that. Along with the rare, though unsettling “heh-heh-heh” several students would emit.
Taní wrote as best he could despite the distractions, pressing his reedprinter against sheets of thick paper. Once he grew tired of writing (really, just three words), he zoned out. A torturous hour later, he came to. At last, freedom.
Or so he thought. The class wasn’t for an hour. It was three.
And he couldn’t properly READ.
He did put on a show whenever Yedevar came around, and when the time came for a discussion, students turned to their neighbors. Taní’s never said anything. He just kept staring at the board as if his life depended on it.
When class finally (somehow) ended, Taní shambled through the roaring halls like a corpse. His brain fried from the overstimulation of words. The rest of the day passed as one would expect it to. Collapse into a new room, gasp for air, and have a new teacher scold him. Taní wouldn’t have minded if it was only that, but no. Innes just had to be there. Probing at Taní like it was his God-given right.
Even when Taní could squirm away with his pride intact, the prince would ALWAYS remind him of the presentation tomorrow. Now Taní had to figure out a way to cancel every class. What could he do that would (safely) throw the school into chaos?
During his fourth period class, he finally decided on a course of action. He would just not show up the following day. Everyone would forget with time. Plus, a day off after the agony that was school sounded like a fair reward. He could go into town and buy something with all his SG. Whenever he figured out how to use the Brand.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
A sonorous chime threaded the air, summoning the students to their feet. They surged towards the exit with their tomes in hand, ignoring the mathematics instructor’s meek goodbyes as the students muttered about food.
Taní, confused, sat staring in his seat.
“Ah…young D’Histell… Forgive me, but…” The instructor’s smile vanished, and with it, so did the welcoming lilt in her voice. “What’re you still doing here?”
Taní glanced at the door. “Waiting for you to dismiss me?”
“That was dismissal.”
“Huh?”
“It’s lunchtime, D’Histell. Leave.”
Frowning, Taní packed up his belongings and made his way to the cafeteria. When he neared the entrance of the mess hall, he spotted several clusters of students idling, including Innes. A veritable harem of girls glued to his side. And they were laughing a bit too loudly whenever he uttered something “witty.”
Taní slinked by with the aid of an airheaded trio and made his way towards the serving area. Students packed the tables throughout the cafeteria, chatting, and sometimes not even sharing the same House cape. Well, everyone except the birds. And that scent! The savory weight of butter fried rice, and honey glazed chicken.
The chefs served him his fair share, and though they’d already stacked his plate full, he smiled and asked for extra. And the cooks—the kind, moon-blessed beings they were—loaded him up with an extra spoon and a half.
As for finding a spot… He had no such luck. Students filled the spare seats quicker than he could walk. Other times, they tossed tomes, sketches, and even Blood-loaders atop the vacant seats. As was to be expected, those with nothing still asked him to kindly leave.
Taní’s travels took him to a section of students wearing the fiery emblem of Fadénix. Several seats had yet to be claimed, and though he was a stranger to them, they shared a House. That had to count for something.
Remembering his mother’s words, Taní put on his friendliest smile and approached a table filled with taller (certainly older) members of House Fadénix. He ran through dozens of greetings in his mind, half of them being jokes, the other half being niche facts he learned in today’s classes. “Hey, did you know the nomads from the Three Nations’ War were a bunch of cannibals?” “Don’t you think it’s weird we’ve got tomb cities everywhere? The Sesão barely buried their dead.” “What do you think the author meant when he mentioned the colors of his drapes? Do you think he was being specific about their make, or was this a reflection of his melancholic state during his midlife crisis?”
Yeah. Those were definitely good ones. He just had to keep smiling.
The moment Taní stepped within whispering range of the table, everyone stopped eating. As slow and observant as the drakes of legend, they twisted around to see him. Their expressions etched with such indifference that it caused him to forget the greetings he’d tirelessly recited in his mind.
“Who are you?” a boy with red hair asked.
“O-Oh…uh…”
“Wait…” A dark-skinned girl with black hair and crimson-green eyes peered at him. “You’re the fry that destroyed our gardens yesterday!”
Taní lowered his tray. “I am?”
The table shuddered as the blonde boy next to her—a tall, fair-skinned upperclassman with the same crimson-green eyes—slammed his hands on the table, his eyes ablaze with molten fury. “YOU’RE the murderer that trampled the Fadenician corner?”
“Uhhhhhh.”
“You thin-blooded MORON. Do you even know how long they took to grow in this dreary soil? Now we’ve nothing to show for inspection, and all that pretty little SG we’ve saved our the vaults is going to be wasted because some stupid first-year couldn’t keep his sword down. Do you know what that means?”
“I—”
“That means no stocks, no cans, limited club funding, and restricted access to our relic. Did you hear that? RELIC. We only have the one. Not two, and do you know why? Because we’re Fadénix.” He fell back into his seat, face in his hands. “Great. GREAT. I’m so happy I spent last semester wasting everyone’s time with this stupid idea. Thanks for proving me wrong…”
The girl’s crimson-green eyes softened as she drew the student into a half-hug. She murmured something underneath her breath. An “it’s alright” maybe? Taní couldn’t quite catch it, but it sounded genuine. As she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, her eyes darted to Taní’s. And they smoldered with all the wrath of the Desolator.
“What’re you still doing here?” Her voice dripped with a venom so thick it made Taní’s blood run cold. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
“But I didn’t mean to—”
“And yet you’ve already been here for a day and a half! Wow! Congratulations on contributing absolutely nothing! You not only wasted our House’s meager reserves, but now you have the audacity to stand before us in peace? You, an unwashed, despicable, mouth-breathing peasant?”
“I told you gambling on this garden business was daft,” a member on the far end of the table muttered.
The girl paid them no mind as she gently drew the blonde boy’s head to her shoulder. “Now leave,” she ordered, her anger replaced by an unsettling, cool tone. “You aren’t welcomed here. Not unless you find some way to fully reimburse us.”
Taní’s gaze fell to his tray. “I—I don’t know how.”
“Neither do I.”
“Can’t we talk about this? Like…I dunno, maybe we could brainstorm or something.” He ordered himself to look up, but the immense burning in his chest kept his gaze down. “Please?”
The girl’s response was as cutting as it was immediate. “I’d rather drink a Lunarkin’s phial than spend another moment wasting my breath with you. All you talking does is make my brother cry.”
“I’m not crying,” came her brother’s muffled response. “I’m mourning.”
“See?”
Taní bit back a plea. He could fix this. They only needed to give him a chance, but he could fix this. They couldn’t be like them; they were supposed to be comrades. Friends. Yet now…
He drew away from the table, his stiff legs carrying him towards the northern edge of the cafeteria. The moment he left earshot, he risked one last glance.
The venomous girl pried her brother’s hands away from his face, and though his brow knit with anguish, he managed a small, shaky smile. Her response? A quick peck upon his cheek. Judging by the great red flush staining his cheeks, he was doing better. Noticing this, his friends whistled and made little gestures, further reddening his blush.
Without Taní, they were loud.
Pleasant.
Maybe he didn’t belong there. Just like in all those classes.
As the deafening chattering faded and the tables meshed into an incoherent streak of colors in his peripheral, Taní caught a familiar flash of strawberry-blonde hair.
It was her. That girl from the ship.
She sat alone at a table meant for two, her meal that of the deluxe lunch Eleanor had purchased him the other day. God, he could go for some of that steak again.
Taní arrived at the table without meaning to, glanced at her, then pulled the chair back by hooking the tip of his boot around the leg. She paid him no mind as she thoroughly chewed on her food; her gaze set on her luxurious tray—
The world flickered, reducing the clean-white hall into a prism paradise with a light greener than the heavens. She was there again. That woman with heavenly-earthly jewels for eyes.
She hunched over a table as thin as paper, a tool the color of obsidian clenched tightly in her dominant hand. A white-black light erupted from the tip of her antediluvian device, melting a plate of shimmering mornlight onto the Heart.
Its façade bore countless pits of golden-speckled rings, and though he had believed it beyond repair, she, a mortal, had salvaged the remnants. Promising its reinforcement to surpass that of their Mother’s make. How childish.
The white-black light shimmered, eliciting a crackling-whine from the Firmament as the godly sheet seamlessly blended with the Heart. ---------- paused, extinguishing the annihilating flame as she regarded him with a smile as tender as the first rays of moonlight. For a Cycle-thinning minute, she said nothing. Not that they had a need for words. Her eyes…those pools of such unimaginable wisdom that they would make God shudder…they knew just what to convey.
“Is something the matter?”
Taní’s world came crumbling down in a heap of flickering white-black blocks. The maybe-but-probably not doll tilted her head, brow delicately cocked in mild concern. Good blood, had he been staring at her this entire time? Now he really wanted to die…
“Is this seat taken?” he asked in a whisper.
“No,” she answered in that too-perfect voice of hers. “Be my guest.”
Taní almost stopped. He was so used to hearing “no” that he was already in the middle of turning around. Uncertain if what he had heard was real, he continued standing.
The girl gestured to him with her utensil. “Aren’t you going to sit?”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
He plopped his tray down and ate. Perhaps a bit too fast as the girl stared at him, halfway leaned in her seat.
“Have you no need to chew?” she asked, sounding more fascinated than concerned.
Taní chewed twice before swallowing, though even then it felt like shoving a handful of dirt down his throat. “I do. I just…you know. Missed breakfast.”
The girl tilted her head ever so slightly, nodded, then brought another forkful to her mouth. She chewed thoroughly; her eyes closed as if to savor the flavors.
Taní mimicked her approach, and tempted though he was to devour his meal until nothing remained, restrained himself. His gaze drifted, noting her uniform and shoulder cape. A black serpent. Vlasalisk.
Was she as good of a duelist?
“How has your first day treated you?” she asked between bites.
“Fine enough, I guess. I just wasn’t aware that classes could be so…” He sighed. “Long.”
“Yes, I can imagine it's difficult acclimating to their length. An hour is the standard, as you’ve no doubt discovered, but two-to-three? Anyone would have trouble preserving their sanity.”
“You’re used to them, aren’t you?”
“I do what I must for our nation’s future.”
Taní frowned. That wasn’t a very telling answer. He took another forkful. “You like it then? School, I mean.”
She chewed for a second longer before responding. “Education is a vital foundation for the future we’ve yet to build. Our discomfort is of no importance. That is why we must strive to endure.”
“Right…”
Her dazzling lavender-sapphire eyes flickered to his shoulder cape. “Fadénix?”
Taní turned so that she wouldn’t get a good look at it. “Yeah, not my first choice…”
“You’ve no choice in the matter. Where you go is based on chance, as well as your most defining attributes.”
Taní leaned forward, interested to know what she thought. “And those are…?”
The girl lifted another small bite of food. “You should know.”
Of course, another non-answer. Taní ate away at his pile of food until a sudden thought prodded at him. “Hey…I never asked, but back on the ship… We never exchanged.” He leaned back into his chair and swallowed his current mouthful. “My name’s Tanão, but everyone calls me Taní.” He pointed his fork at her. “What about you?”
At that, she straightened. Her exceptional posture, perfect. With a raised chin evocative of a royal portrait, she spoke in a practiced, authoritative voice. “Lavisa; third of Voen, true relation to the Açino trading company, sole child of his Majesty Bastino João Tanísa de Coratão V, and heir to the throne of Coratão.” She dipped her head. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Tanão.”