The group navigated their way across the sprawling courtyard, their footsteps echoing against the stone, until they arrived at an arched timber doorway. This threshold marked their transition into a new realm of learning. Gabriel quickened his pace, buoyed by a sense of anticipation. History, unlike physical combat, was a domain where his intellect, rather than muscle, could truly shine.
Crossing into the classroom, he was greeted by a sight that was nothing short of a temple to knowledge. The walls of the classroom were lined with towering bookshelves that reached up to the high, vaulted ceiling. Each shelf cradled an eclectic trove of scrolls and parchments, arranged with meticulous care yet exuding an air of organized chaos. Gabriel's gaze lingered on the shelves, pondering the depth of wisdom they might hold. He questioned whether these texts were mere decorative artifacts or reservoirs of invaluable information. Now that he was immersed in this bastion of learning, a fervent desire to absorb its riches ignited within him.
Gabriel found his way to a desk and was immediately drawn to the inscriptions carved into its wood. 'Honor is all,' it read, each letter a whisper from history echoing the values that had shaped countless generations. Running his fingers over the grooves, he felt a connection to the lineage that preceded him, a lineage steeped in tradition and honor. The room itself was an amalgamation of the ancient and the new, its air carrying both the weight of history and the promise of the future.
On the far right of the room hung a large, ornate map, a hand-painted depiction of the known world. His eyes were drawn to Galatia in the north, bordered by his homeland in the east and Eldoria in the west. Balatia, represented in a striking royal blue, dominated the map both in size and the elaboration detailed over its territories. Beyond the seas were a group of islands called Malvoda, a small area full of traders that were more akin to pirates. Even further away was the barely discernible outline of the Eastern Continent. Gabriel doubted the outline itself was accurate, given that none from Valandor had ever seen its shores and returned. The thought sent a shiver down his spine; it was the unknown that often bred the deepest fears.
His contemplation was interrupted as the classroom door opened and a tall, wiry figure entered. The master, clothed in a flowing black robe and sporting a long, chest-reaching beard, had eyes that seemed to twinkle with wisdom. He gestured for everyone to take their seats.
The master’s eyes roamed the classroom before settling on Gabriel’s form. “Ah, you must be the new student, Orion?”
Gabriel nodded affirmatively. “Yes, Master.”
“I’m Berand. Welcome to the class,” the master introduced himself with a gentle smile. Then, with no further preambles, he turned his gaze on the class and spoke. “Today, we’ll discuss some of our most recent battles with Accamania.”
Gabriel gulped. Just my luck.
“The Battle of Amrellis, who knows about it?” Berand asked.
The class all raised their hands, many with grins spreading across their faces. Gabriel reluctantly followed suit and raised his own tentatively. Seeing the class’s reaction, Berand nodded again. “Good. I won’t rehash all the details then.”
Berand started pacing the room. “It was a significant conflict that erupted four decades ago between Accamania and Balatia. This pivotal battle took place in the city of Amrellis, a Riverland city positioned at the boundary of both kingdoms. Throughout history, the city has changed hands multiple times. We have obviously held it longer.”
The master paused, and a boy seated next to Velor shouted out, “That’s because they’re weak.” The boys in the class all started to bang their fists against their tables in coordination as if it was a choreography they had practiced. Gabriel looked upon them askance. He didn’t want to single himself out, but he refused to join in. Ryn locked eyes with him, and Gabriel just smiled, hoping he could feign that it was purely because he was new that he didn’t contribute to the cacophony of sound.
As the boys settled, the master spoke up. “We are stronger, but it is good to remember what we have lost and gained. The power dynamics of this region are always in flux, and Accamanians will always try to take what they have no right to. It matters not, for we have held Amrellis since the last battle.” The students let out a cheer.
Berand waited for the students to calm. “The Accamanians launched a brutal and unprovoked assault on the city. Their actions were deplorable, showing scant regard for the innocent lives that called Amrellis home. They employed siege tactics, indiscriminately starving all those inside. Their callousness towards civilians makes it one of the darkest chapters in our shared history.”
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Curses of Accamania flew across the classroom. Gabriel knew in that moment, if anyone knew who he was, they’d kill him. Maybe Velor was right. Maybe I am more likely to have a blade through my heart.
Gabriel felt himself unconsciously slinking lower in his chair. He felt a growing unease. The details, the perspectives, the heroes and villains — this version of the story was dramatically different from what he'd grown up hearing in Accamania. It reminded him of something Tunklard had once said to him. ‘History is a tale. And the tale is spoken differently by different people. Eventually, that tale then becomes our history. There is little regard for the truth. Agenda and motive make history.’
Suddenly, Berand posed a question directly at him. “Orion, do you know why the Battle of Amrellis started?”
Gabriel's mind raced. To voice what he had learned whilst growing up would be to risk everything. But remaining silent felt like a betrayal to his roots. Torn, he finally whispered, “I’m sorry, Master Berand. I do not know.”
“Another soldier with a sword but not the head,” the master sighed.
Gabriel gripped the table leg so hard he could feel a splinter. He stared defiantly at the master. This was not a feeling he was accustomed to. He had been laughed and mocked at before, but never regarding his intellect and knowledge.
Velor turned to him, an ugly sneer on his face. “He’s not good with a sword, either.” Those around the boy all started to point and laugh. Lakan and Ryn, who were seated next to him, stared back at Velor with their chins held high. They barely knew him and yet they were already defending him. Gabriel swallowed the insult and took a deep breath to calm himself.
The master continued, as if he didn’t hear the snide remark. “The Accamanians were fueled by greed and expansionist dreams. They sought control over the vital river routes and the fertile lands surrounding Amrellis. And the people paid the price for it.”
Gabriel had learnt a contrary tale; the city was originally held by Accamanians until the Balatians struck four decades ago. When the Balatians invaded, they killed civilians and soldiers alike. He was told how the Accamanian citizens begged King Leoman the Brave, his grandfather, whom he had never met, to save them. Gabriel’s brother carried the name to immortalize his deeds. The thought caused Gabriel’s heart to ache. The phantom pain felt like a dagger in his soul.
Gabriel didn’t know what history to trust. He resigned himself to trusting neither. Both would hold an element of truth. And both would be a lie. The rest of the lesson became a haze for Gabriel, his thoughts consumed with the clash of histories and the challenge of keeping his identity concealed. Before dismissing the class, Master Berand turned to Gabriel. “Orion, I encourage you to go to the library to learn. You need it if you have any hope of graduating.”
This may have been a rebuke, but Gabriel’s eyes lit up. He turned to Ryn. “There’s a library here?”
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The aroma of dinner still clung to Gabriel's clothes as he followed his roommates through the winding hallways. Despite the bruising from today's training and the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him, he found himself drawn to the next destination. The academy library.
The tall wooden doors creaked open to reveal a cavernous room, the walls lined with towering bookshelves, each packed with volumes of knowledge. Candle sconces dotted the room, their flickering flames casting moving shadows on the polished wooden floor. Gabriel walked in cautiously, both in anticipation of the knowledge stored and the reminder of what happened the last time he was in a library. Subconsciously he gulped. He could imagine Janus and his mother laying on the floor, blood ebbing and flowing from their wound, staining the oak timber crimson. Shaking the vision from his thoughts, he focused on what mattered. I came here Ma, just like I promised. I made it to Balatia. I will honor you.
Gabriel looked upon Jonan and Lakan, who made their way to a secluded corner, engrossed in hushed laughter and shared secrets. Then Ryn approached with a stack of books. His usual statuesque features softening to a thoughtful expression. "I'd recommend starting with these." Ryn handed him three volumes, their spines worn from frequent handling.
Taking them, Gabriel ran his fingers over the titles - histories, treatises on diplomacy, and a tome on ancient swordplay. Gratitude warmed him. "Thank you," the sincerity evident in his eyes.
Not long after, the allure of the outside world pulled Jonan and Lakan away, their chatter fading with their departure. With a sense of purpose, Gabriel pulled the weathered chair and sat. He bathed in the soft candlelight, seeking solace in stories of a new land, battles long forgotten, and versions of history that challenged his understanding.
The library's clock marked the passage of another hour. Drawing his attention away from the pages, he noticed Ryn still seated across from him, equally engrossed. Their eyes met, sharing a silent understanding. It seemed they both appreciated books and knowledge. Amidst these ancient tomes, they could take their minds off the relentless fighting.
As the evening deepened, a soft reminder from the librarian indicated it was time to depart. Ryn, already up and stretching, glanced at Gabriel sitting form. "Heading back?"
“I’ll come soon.”
After Ryn's departure, Gabriel lingered for hours. He knew he wouldn’t sleep. Those long hours when the weight of memories kept him awake, he'd often wished for something, anything, to occupy his restless mind. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling had become a torturous routine. And so, Gabriel filled his thirst for knowledge. The well that had been empty for so long was slowly starting to fill.