The boy’s next stop is the Whiteford Academy’s teachers’ lounge. The staff room, where the teachers of the academy have their desk and prepare their lessons, is located one floor beneath Headmaster Joss’ office. Since the room is equipped with a small kitchen, it also doubles as a faculty lounge, where teachers and/or school staff can talk to each other, discuss work, eat, drink and socialize while not in class.
In the hallway outside the teachers’ lounge, there are rows upon rows of pigeon-hole messagebox (commonly referred to as a pigeon-hole or simply as a mailbox). Almost the same length as the staff room, each pigeon-hole is marked by a teacher’s name, to designate to whom the mailbox belongs to.
The purpose for this pigeon-hole is for students to drop off any documents or messages to the required teacher. If a classroom representative is carrying her fellow classmates’ assignments or whatever homework she is tasked by her teacher to collect, the class-rep would drop them off here. She cannot enter the staff room to put the assignments on her teacher’s desk.
Students are very rarely allowed in here, and when they do, they are strictly supervised. There is generally a non-written rule that students are forbidden from entering this place except for the direst of circumstances.
If a student has an urgent business or emergency, he or she will have to knock politely on the sliding door and wait patiently until an available teacher inside the room is gracious enough to answer it. Otherwise, the student is expected to stand outside in the hallway for as long as it takes.
This unwritten rule, along with the scared tradition about how dinner at the north hall should be served and consumed peacefully, is about to be broken today when the sliding door to the staff room is abruptly opened and in comes a certain boy with a broken arm in a sling.
*exclaims loudly “Good morning teachers!”
“…”
“I hope you guys are looking forward to going into your respective classrooms and enthusiastically teaching your students the required lessons and syllabuses, molding young minds and shaping future leaders and whatnot.”
“…”
“Okay most of them won’t be leaders, and a few of the elite students are still going to be real fucking cunts when they graduate from this academy, regardless of what you try to teach them.”
“…”
“I know you're good people, well most of you anyway, some of the nobles who managed to worm their way to a teaching position here can be snobbish as hell. But for the rest of you, I know you mean well. But you just didn't think it through.”
“…”
“You assume you’re educating these elite students… these future rulers and decision-makers… on things like chivalry and justice, hoping they will return to advocate peace, order and lawfulness in their own countries. With fingers crossed, wishing they will flourish into great men who will put a stop to any tyranny or oppression that they might encounter.”
“…”
“But when you give such preferable treatment to one side, while ignoring the sufferings and mistreatments of the rest of the students, you’re just perpetuating the vicious cycle and strengthening their misconception that they’re better… that they deserve to be at the top, looking down with disdain on all the unfortunate masses beneath them.”
“…”
“Yes, I know that some of you secretly think its actually beneficial for the commoner students to be harassed by their elite counterpart, helps them become better knights you say, weeding out the unworthy, baptism by fire and all that shit.”
“…”
“I won’t deny that it’s a dog eat dog world out there, that the strong devours the weak. But maybe we've grown so used to the notion that shit rolls downhill that we assume there's no other way.”
“…”
“But I’m telling you now, ladies and gentlemen, you better find another way. Because come another 30 years (give or take a few years), there’s going to be a mother of all storm happening. And that shit is gonna hit every single one of us, no matter how big of an umbrella we hide under.”
“…”
“Okay, rant over. I’ll just let you guys carry on as you were. Let’s make today better than yesterday for a brighter tomorrow, shall we? Keep up the good work.”
“…”
The whole occupants of the staff room (well half of it anyway, the other half is occupied teaching in their respective classes or somewhere else, one in particular is busy engineering a coup) is stunned and couldn’t say anything. The silence continues for a while before a female teacher, a noble woman, finally couldn’t take it anymore and screams out in protest.
“You can’t come in here!”
The boy sighs and looks at the agitated female teacher who is standing behind her desk and glaring hatefully at the boy. Clearly she is overworked and burdened by what is happening around her the last few days. Looks like she didn’t have a restful sleep last night as well, which should explain why she is taking out her frustration on the boy.
The boy feels this is unprofessionalism and unbecoming of a teacher but he is willing to let it slide.
“Seriously, Teach? You’ve just heard me gave what is probably the most inspirational speech a student can make but instead of lauding me, you’re criticizing the platform from which I had delivered it?”
“…”
“Fine, whatever. I’m just here to see Master Cahris for a bit. Then I’ll be out of your hair and you can go back to writing that love letter you have on your desk. You misspelled love by the way, in the third line.”
“…”
“No wait, I’m sorry. It seems to be intentional. You knowingly replaced the letter ‘o’ in the word ‘love’ with a ♥ symbol."
“…”
"L♥ve... Cute. A bit redundant, but still cute. I’m sure your fiancé will appreciate the gestu-”
“…”
“Oh my. The letter is not for him?” *feigns shock “The betrayal…”
“…”
“Whelp, the heart wants what it wants. Although I got to tell you Teach, there’s a long line waiting in front of you. You do know that he’s married, right?”
“…”
“Anywho… is there anyone else who wishes to object to my presence here?”
“…”
“No one? Oh well. A bit disappointing but I am pressed for time anyway. Can’t stay too long to chat.”
The boy strides over into the middle of the staff room, followed closely by a pigtails maid. He is no longer unimpeded or obstructed by anyone, not that there is anyone here who is willing to challenge him or stand in his way. The boy’s legs carry him to Master Alyx Cahris’ desk. The male teacher knows it’s no use to duck his head under there, the boy has seen him.
But deep down, Master Cahris has a feeling that no matter where he hides, the boy would still find him.
The boy smiles as he looks upon the frowning face of the older man sitting in front of him. The last time the boy saw the male teacher, he was laying unconscious face down in the dirt after being knocked a few yards away, the result of bearing the full brunt of Rolfe Primero’s killing intent.
Looks like Master Cahris faired none the worst, he can keep officiating duels in the future, is what the boy is thinking.
“Good morning Master Cahris. Please don’t get up. I know you have a lesson with Class 7C in another five minutes so I’ll make this quick.”
“…”
“And no, Rolfe Primero is not waiting outside. He’s been suspended, remember? So stop your worrying.”
“…”
“Anyway, I’m here because I need to borrow a sample of Joviel Gladwin’s work, preferably the essay he wrote for you last year.”
“…”
“I know you keep it in the second drawer of your desk for sentimental reasons. You would read it from time to time, whenever you’re feeling down and needed some cheering up. That usually happens after you’re done teaching a class of elite students.”
“…”
“It’s okay. I understand. Some of their behaviors towards a commoner teacher could range from mildly condescending to downright rude, even though you are their teacher as well as a knight in the Order of Enahel.”
“…”
“Don’t worry, you won’t need to read it today. After recent events, the students of Class 7C have a lot to digest. I’m sure aggravating one of their teachers will be the last thing on their mind. Who knows? Maybe in their solemn mood they will allow you to teach them a thing or two today to distract them from their current predicament.”
“…”
*sighs “Fine. In order facilitate the handing over of Joviel’s essay paper, and to put your restless mind at ease, I promise you I will return the essay in one piece. I can also give you my personal assurance that the worst of the worst troublemakers in Class 7C have been sent to sent to the infirmary by yours truly…” *gives a small bow “…while the rest is not so bad once you know their weaknesses get to know them.”
The male teacher eyes the smiling boy silently before sighing and reaching over to a nearby drawer and taking out a piece of paper. He wordlessly passes it to the boy who studies the paper briefly.
“Hmmm, close enough. The handwriting is almost similar. Should pass any test without close scrutiny. They probably need to bring in a handwriting expert just to be sure, but I doubt they are willing to go that far.”
“He really was special.” murmurs Master Cahris absentmindedly, finally breaking his silence.
“I know.” the boy answers him without looking up from the essay he is still reading.
“If he was still alive this year, he would have gone up from Class 4D to Class 4C…”
“I have doubts the elite students in Class 4C would welcome a commoner student moving up the ranks with open arms. I mean, they feel they have already suffered enough of an insult as it is with having to tolerate Rolfe Primero’s presence in their midst. But maybe for Joviel, they would have made an exception.”
“He could have been a champion. He could have gone all the way...”
“Although I‘ve never met Joviel personally, I have enough insight in me to gauge his potential and to predict what could have been. Seriously, this guy would have given Athorius a run for his money in the hero-ing department. Athorius’ rise to stardom wouldn’t have been so meteoric if Joviel was still around to pull some of the spotlight away from him.”
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“He had something in him, a fire that draws people to him from all walks of life, regardless of their differences…”
“A light in the middle of the darkness that could attract preys and predators alike. Which would explain why Master Haithur had tried initiating him into Ouroboros.”
*shouts “What!”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down, Master Cahris. You’re going to alert every Ouroboros members in this room.”
“!!!!”
“Haha, just kidding. There are no active followers of Master Haithur’s super secret club present with us right now.”
“…”
“But I can’t say the same about his many admirers. Seriously Teach, what’s up with half of your female colleagues here? They all want to be with Master Haithur even though he already has a wife. And I’m not even getting into the roving band of love-struck female students who are willing to follow him around like a lost puppy.”
*in a hushed, serious voice “Is what you said true?”
“Yes. They are either in their classes daydreaming about being married to him or patrolling the hallways, hoping for a chance encounter with their most favorite/admired male teacher. Said teacher who is currently missing and not there to brighten up their life.”
“You son of a- I meant about Master Haithur trying to recruit Joviel into Ouroboros!”
“Oh that? Of course it’s true.”
“But the three requirements of joining Ouroboros…”
*refer to chapter 12
“Like I’ve said before, some of the rules had been loosen over the years and exemptions were sometimes made for special cases. They had even initiated some very exceptional girls a few times in the past, imagine that.”
“But still, why a commoner student like Joviel... He-”
“Has the potential to be extremely good, or to be extremely good at being bad if he can be turned.” says the boy impatiently as he cuts the male teacher off.
“…”
“Look, I love nothing more than to stand here all day debating the aesthetic of Ouroboros’ recruitment drive but I have some other places I have to go to and more preparations to make. You could accept that even Ouroboros has the capabilities to evolve out of your seemingly limited views or you can choose to continue thinking of Ouroboros as the unchanging and ageless boogeyman.”
“…”
*sighs “You’re still unconvinced. Fine. I’ll put it in terms that you can understand. With Ouroboros, there’s generally two ways of dealing with things. The first one, every person in the Grandiel Continent, doesn’t matter whether they’re in the organization or not, they are just cogs in a well-oiled machine. We either get with the program or get replaced.”
“…and what’s the second one?”
“'The nail that sticks out gets hammered down.” answers the boy as he turns and leaves.
The boy and his pigtails maid are halfway walking through the staff room, heading for exit (much to the relief of rest of the teachers) when Master Cahris suddenly stands up and calls out to him, not caring about the dirty looks he’s getting from some of his female colleagues.
“About Joviel…”
“What about him?”
“Did Joviel accept his invitation to join…”
“Well, he’s dead, isn’t he? That should have been a clear indication of what Joviel’s answer was.” the boy is about to chide Master Cahris for his inability to draw obvious conclusion when he notices the male teacher’s face turning into ashes.
Rebuke gives way to sympathy and the boy tries his best to console the grieving male teacher.
“Don’t be too sad. Just rest now and be at peace knowing that I am setting out to make right all the wrongdoings and restore balance to the world. This…”
The boy holds up the essay paper he has in his left hand.
“…is one of the nails that’s going into that guy’s coffin and I am the hammer that’s going to hammer it in- Fuck… that doesn’t sound right. Synnove, what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“May I suggest the word ‘strike’, Master?” says the pigtails maid for the first time since she entered this room.
“Good choice, Synnove. What would I do without you? Nope, don’t answer that. We’re in polite company. Anyway…”
The boy turns to look at the male teacher who is still standing, waiting for the boy to finish his line.
“…Master Cahris, you heard the lady.”
With that, the boy continues on his journey to exit the teachers'/faculty lounge, his pigtails maid closing the sliding door behind them. The sounds of fading footsteps walking away and the silence that follows afterwards signals to the occupants in the room that they can resume breathing normally again.
********************
As the boy is walking in the hallway outside the staff room, he stops in front of a pigeon-hole that is filled to the brim with numerous perfumed letters, countless cute satin bags tied with pretty ribbons that contains handmade chocolate and cookies, and one particularly racy female underwear (the color is red and only used once in case you’re wondering).
The boy doesn’t even need to use his power to correctly guess to whom this mailbox belongs to. The nameplate that usually designates the owner of the pigeon-hole is missing by the way. The janitorial got tired of replacing the nameplate which used to get stolen every day before they finally gave up and just wrote the initial M. J. H. at the back of the pigeon-hole (not that you can see it because the mailbox is filled to the brim with the items that had been mentioned before).
“Hold this for me Synnove.” says the boy as he passes Joviel’s essay paper to the pigtails maid before rummaging the pigeon-hole in front of him like a garden-variety raccoon going through your average trashcan.
“Burnt… burnt… extremely burnt… this one…” the boy holds up a green satin bag for his pigtails maid to see “contains liquid that originates from a human. I think we may have found a kindred spirit of yours, Synnove.”
The boy throws the green satin bag back into the mailbox and sighs dejectedly. “Why are there no blueberry muffins? Don’t these girls know how to romance a man properly? Oh well…” the boy picks up a purple satin bag.
“…I guess this will have to do.” murmurs the boy as he throws the bag in the air before catching it and putting it swiftly into his left trouser pocket.
No sooner than the boy had done so, a loud voice cracks out like a thunder to the left of him.
“That doesn’t belong to you! Put it back!”
The boy glances to his left and sees a furious girl walking towards him. The beautiful seventh year female student must have forgotten any fear she has of the boy because she looks like she was about to strike him down for committing an unforgiveable act.
“What do you think you’re doing?” bellows the fuming girl again, nearly frothing at the mouth.
“Well you see, once you’ve fallen into a Time Abyss for as long as I have, you tend to make tiny little preparations in case you have to take another trip through that hellhole again. I’m stopping by the library after this to borrow some books and later to the store to buy some knitting supplies.”
“I don’t care!” screams the girl with fury. “You do not mess with the pure hearts of maidens like that. Return Master Haithur’s gift right now!”
Anger really does give human the swiftest form of bravery, the boy thinks silently. He would have smiled at the funny spectacle in front of him but he is sure the girl would deck him if he did so.
“Hey hey, I respect the hell out of these pure” *snorts “maidens’ hearts. But the same can’t be said about Master Haithur. Did you know he told the cleaning ladies to dispose of the gifts when no one is looking? They can even take the gifts back with them to eat in their own rooms, provided they do so in secret. Not because Master Haithur wants to curry favor with the cleaning ladies mind you, but because he didn’t want the deal with hassle of cleaning out his mailbox himself, carrying the gifts to the trashcan and dirtying his hands in the process.”
“Lies! Master Haithur will never do something like that! He told us he enjoys eating the biscuits and chocolate that we made for him. He even discourages us from making too much, saying his wife will be sad if she hears her husband eating too many sweet stuff, but if we still wish for it, we can continue to do so because he appreciates and treasures our hard work and efforts."
“…”
The boy sighs. He knows he won’t be winning this argument anytime soon, not unless he is willing to resort to extreme measures in order to win. He decides to be the bigger man and walk away.
“You know what?” says the boy with all the politeness he could summoned, befitting the conduct of an officer and a gentleman. He takes out the purple satin bag he had put in his left trouser pocket earlier and throws it back curtly into Master Haithur’s pigeon-hole with much force.
“Take back your stupid cookies. They probably taste awful anyway.” the boy continues walking down the hallway towards his next destination before he suddenly stops and turns towards the seventh year student who is still standing in front of the mailbox, guarding it vigilantly.
“Yeah, well...” the boy proclaims sourly loudly, his left hand shaking several times in the air to signify his bitterness defiance. “I'm gonna go bake my own snacks, with non-burnt cookies and blueberry muffins. In fact, forget the cookies!” before resentfully bravely resuming his journey.
********************************************************************************************
As usual, any review is greatly appreciated. It would fill my heart with a special warmness if this fiction makes it to the Top 50 in the Best Rated category (Demon Hero Reaper Saviour is currently in the #56th place, just six more places before we reach that big pie in the sky).