“Master Haithur, do you understand this decree as it is being read to you.”
“Yes…”
“Do you wish to appeal against it or say anything in your defense?”
“No…”
“Then this hearing is…”
Ser Firenzo Rayze seems to be saying something, but Master Haithur has stop listening all together. The male ex-teacher is busy deep in thought. The gears in his mind are working hard in overdrive mode. Shifting… Grinding… Furiously trying to find a way out of the deep shit quicksand he has found himself in.
Even though Master Haithur has put up an impassive front right now, inside is a different story. If the silent man’s rage could be measured, it would be off the scale. A level of angriness so high, it would have been categorized as volcanic of the highest proportion if it was analyzed by psychologists. If a priest could peek inside Master Haithur’s mind, he would have declared it a small miracle that the male ex-teacher has managed to keep it bottled in. The priest would also take a few steps back as he recoils in horror, his mouth wouldn’t stop praying to the Gods for protection against Master Haithur’s wrath.
It has taken every last shred of the male ex-teacher’s will to stop his anger from boiling over, to keep his fury at bay, to prevent his rage from exploding and destroying everything he has worked hard to achieve. Years of efforts and sacrifices, immeasurable amount of time and energy he had spent to get to where he is, even marrying Ser Gilbert Faerwald’s toad of a daughter so he can gain that extra edge against his competitors for the seat in the Ouroboros’ inner circle.
Saying that he took a hit today would be a severe understatement. The fallout from this incident is extremely damaging and far more severe than what Master Haithur dared to calculate at the moment. Losing his teaching position at the Whiteford Academy is the least of his worries. Heck, even facing a murder charge wouldn’t have fazed Master Haithur. I mean, which nobleman hasn’t caused the death of a commoner before, either accidental or intentional?
All Master Haithur has to do is contact the right people to make it go away. Maybe pay a little blood money to Joviel’s family to compensate them for their loss and keep them quiet. Gold coins can buy a man’s silence and conformity. And if that’s not enough, a slit across his throat should work just as well.
No, what the male ex-teacher is most worried about currently is his position as the Master and leader of Ouroboros. He could probably kiss his chair goodbye right now. The fiasco today virtually guarantees his fall from it. Forget about damage control, Master Haithur has no doubt he will be fighting for his life the next few weeks. Heck, they would probably be coming for him in the next few days, maybe even hours based on the bad luck he’s been cursed lately. The Ouroboros’ Grandmasters/Elders does not take kindly one of its members failing the way he did, more so if it’s someone of his stature.
The only sliver of hope Master Haithur have left is he could probably count on his father-in-law and his old mentor for help… probably. There is almost a certainty that he had lost Ser Faerwald and Ser Rayze’s faith in him today, he would have to work his hands to the bone and cry tears of blood to regain their trust.
Ser Faerwald and Ser Rayze are sure to assault him with an avalanche of questions once they have some privacy to themselves with no else around to eavesdrop on them. Master Haithur is confident that as long as he could get them into a secure room far from prying eyes, it is only a matter of time before he is successful in convincing them there is someone behind the scene, pulling the strings to orchestrate his downfall.
Although Ouroboros was born in the shadows and has managed to successfully keep its existence hushed throughout the years, the organization has always had a long line of enemies and the list is very extensive. You don’t become one of the most prominent secret society in the Grandiel Continent without stepping on a few toes along the way.
Other lesser secret societies who are envious of their achievements and influence, a few mercenary groups and merchant guilds that have been railroaded because they were competing for the same business or had a conflict of interest, a couple of intelligence organization from the neighboring kingdoms that holds a grudge because they got their operatives or leaders taken out, consequence for sticking their noses in something they shouldn’t have.
It could even be the work of one or two disgruntled former key members of Ouroboros that the organization has disavowed in the past because they broke a major commandment... Now those are rare because such people are not allowed to leave with their lives intact, not unless they possessed something that makes Ouroboros hesitate to touch them.
Master Haithur is sure he could convince Ser Faerwald and Ser Rayze that whoever it is behind the boy, they are sure to be after the two Elders as well. After all, Master Haithur is their prized pupil, someone they groomed together as a successor and a joint heir to their legacy. What guarantee do they have that the attacks would stop with him? For all they know, the two Elders could be next since it was Ser Faerwald and Ser Rayze who recommended and supported Master Haithur to become the next Master and leader of Ouroboros.
Heck, the one who ordered the attacks could even come from within the organization. One or maybe several fellow Elders could be the perpetrators, jealous of his meteoric rise up the ranks of Ouroboros, afraid that the male ex-teacher would replace them and ascend to become one of the Grandmaster.
Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, Master Haithur will convince them that he is not to be blamed for today’s debacle. He has to, his life depends on it. It would require every last inch of his people skills and silver tongue to make it work. All he needs is some more time and space, a little bit of peace and quiet, to rearrange his thoughts which are currently in shambles, all thanks to the boy.
The boy… Master Haithur has run out of curse words to describe him and the woman that gave birth to him. The boy… Master Haithur decided to stop wasting his energy and attention on him (for now) and to step back and focus instead on the bigger picture, his survival.
The worst of the worst has already passed, and Master Haithur has managed to get through it intact although barely. The boy didn’t reveal his most vulnerable sin to Ser Faerwald and Ser Rayze, and in the end that is all that matters. If Master Haithur’s secret was made known to them, it would automatically spell a death sentence for the male ex-teacher. Master Haithur might as well take out the poisonous dagger he has hidden within the sleeve of his robe and plunged it deep into his own heart. But maybe not before making sure the boy will be joining him in death.
If I’m going to go down, then I’m dragging you down with me. No, wait… the male ex-teacher becomes a bit apprehensive when he rethinks his choice of a partner to accompany him on his journey into the afterlife.
Curiously, the boy did not mention Ouroboros to the Disciplinary Committee… or the fact that Master Haithur is its current leader. The male ex-teacher is a bit disappointed that the boy didn’t blab his mouth regarding that matter. It would probably seal the boy’s fate for uttering such secret out in the open, particularly to a crowd like this. Ouroboros isn’t a fan of anyone mentioning its existence to the general public.
Master Haithur inwardly sighs. If the boy had done so, it would have been what was needed to get Ser Faerwald and Ser Rayze on his side. The male ex-teacher needs for his father-in-law and his old mentor to view the boy (and whoever it is behind him) as the real enemy today.
Never mind, the male ex-teacher thinks. There will be other opportunity. Tomorrow will always come, as long as you get through today.
Sometimes, you need to grit your teeth and take one in the chin.
I will endure this humiliation today.
I will persevere.
I will be patient.
I will regain what I have lost.
I will climb back up again.
I will stand once more at the very top.
I will repay the disgrace I’ve suffered tenfold.
I will burn you for this.
I will have you vomiting blood and watch the lights die out from your eyes.
Doesn’t matter how many years it would take me.
No amount of swords, fire, men or beasts could stand in my way.
There is nothing anyone can say or do to stop me from taking back what is rightfully mine.
I will ascend for a second time, more glorious than ever, like a phoenix rising-
“It’s true… This man fucks snake in his spare time.”
from its ashes...
*snapped “…”
********************
The most curious of things is currently happening to Master Haithur. It wasn’t that the male ex-teacher felt something inside him broke just now. No, not that.
Right now, Master Haithur is currently experiencing what could only be described as an out-of-body experience. The male ex-teacher has heard stories about this. Tales of men who managed to achieve great enlightenment (or was it verging on the brink of death?) and felt their souls leaving their bodies and witnessing it from another perspective.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Master Haithur would normally dismiss such tales as hogwash. Those are just stories people tell themselves to comfort them from the unknown. But now that the male ex-teacher is experiencing it firsthand, the man could do nothing but swallow his saliva in disbelief.
He could see the man sitting alone behind the table getting up from his chair slowly… No, actually the man is rising faster than ever. It’s just that time has slowed down to a crawl.
He could see the man reaching deep into the sleeve of his robe and taking out something.
“No!” Master Haithur screams at the top of his lungs to the man. “It’s just a normal insult! A lie! Why are you getting mad about something like that? Stop what you’re doing and sit back down! It’s not too late!”
But the man in front of Master Haithur doesn’t pay heed to what the male ex-teacher is saying. The man’s face is fascinatingly contorted. One side is pure unadulterated rage. The other side is kind of droopy, the type of face you would usually see on someone who has just suffered a stroke.
The man’s weird face is making it hard for Master Haithur to recognize him, even though the male ex-teacher should be familiar with the man since they’ve been greeting each other in the mirror for as long as they could have remembered.
Master Haithur watches helpless as the man draws the dagger from his robe, and in one swift motion, launches it towards the boy. The male ex-teacher tries to intercept it mid-air but the blade sails right through his phantom hands and body unimpeded.
“Catch the knife!” scream Master Haithur as he turns around to face the boy who is standing right behind him. “You told me you were fast enough and skillful enough to do so! Do it and we’ll laugh it off as just one big misunderstanding! Please... I'M BEGGING YOU!”
Then it happened for the briefest of moment. The event is so tiny and so fast it could hardly be said to have occurred at all. The only one in the room who noticed it was phantom Master Haithur…
The boy had wink at him just as the dagger is in the process of imbedding itself into the middle of the boy's chest.
********************
Time is frozen inside town hall. Everyone could only watch in silent horror as Master Haithur draws his knife and sends it sailing towards the boy. There is a moment of shock as the boy is lifted from the floor due to the impact of the blade connecting to his body. The boy floats in the air for a second while his body is doing a 360° spin, probably the result of trying to dodge Master Haithur’s dagger and failing. He comes crashing to the floor on his left side first, limbs flailing all over the place. There is a crunch and the people could hear the sound of glass breaking.
Then everything exploded at the same time.
********************
The boy is monitoring the situation while lying on the floor in a fetal position, both his eyes are closed tightly.
Master Haithur lets out a blood-curling scream as he bolts to his right and immediately flees through one of the town hall’s windows located to the side.
Someone from the Disciplinary Committee, probably one of the knights from the Order of Enahal, chases after him, trying and failing to catch the fleeing male ex-teacher who is still screaming incoherently at the top of his lungs as he continues running down the street.
One person has run over to the boy’s side and is cradling him while crying like a little girl. Stop that, Headmaster Joss. The behavior is unbecoming of an adult. Nope, scratch that. It's not Headmaster Joss. The headmaster is currently throwing up on the table in front of him. Puking on an empty stomach? Not a very wonderful sight…
“No one directly touches that blade, it’s poisonous!” a booming voice can be heard. “Make sure Master Haithur is captured and brought back here immediately. The antidote should still be on him.” declares the chairman of the Disciplinary Committee in a loud and clear voice, like a general giving out orders on a battlefield.
“Save your concern, Ser Rayze. I’m actually perfectly fine.” a soft voice can be heard, making everyone in the room turn their heads in amazement. “And Synnove, can you stop crying? You’re going to ruin my makeup.” the boy looks up to the teary face of the person who is currently giving him a lap pillow.
“How…” a visibly shocked Ser Faerwald asks, scarcely believing his eyes as he watches the boy gets up and begins to stand albeit unsteadily with a knife sticking out of his chest.
“You know as well as I do, Ser Faerwald…” smiles the boy as he pulls Master Haithur’s dagger from his chest and hides it in his sling, this action doesn’t go unnoticed by some of the people watching. “Nothing in this world is what it seems.”
The boy reaches into his shirt and takes out a black small-sized journal which he had placed there earlier when he was running towards the town hall. He had borrowed the black notebook earlier from Rolfe Primero’s study desk this morning, along with the brown notebook which he used as a prop, claiming that it belongs to the late Joviel Gladwin and the contents inside it was solely written by the now deceased student.
“Looks like it can still be used, even though there’s a big knife hole right in the middle of it.” murmurs the boy as he flips fluidly through pages of the black notebook using only his left hand.
“Waste not, want not.” smiles the boy at the crowd of onlookers who still haven’t recovered from their initial shock. Most of them are unaware that they have their mouths opened for a while now.
“Master…”
“What is it Synnove?”
“You’re bleeding…”
“Of course I’m bleeding. Did you see how long that dagger was? This little black notebook can’t hope to stop all of it from entering my body. By the way, that reminds me. Synnove, never trust a guy when he says it will just be the tip.”
“That’s sound advice and all, Master, but I’m actually referring to your left hip.”
“Wha…” the boy looks down and stares at the location where his pigtails maid has indicated. It seems he has finally noticed what the crowd of onlookers has been staring at for the past few minutes.
There, around the area of the boy’s outer left hip, something seems to be squirting out like a mini geyser, spreading blood everywhere. It looks like the vial that he had kept in the left pocket of his black trouser… the very same vial that contains an extremely expensive form of antidote the boy received from Mistress Ricon this morning… has been broken during his previous fall.
The vial’s valuable purple content, a powerful antidote against any known and unknown types of poison, has trickled to the floor and is currently forming a small puddle along with the boy’s own blood from the injuries he sustained to his hip.
“I think Master really should have given that vial to me for safekeeping.”
“Synnove.”
“Yes Master?”
“Shut up… and bring me my brown pants.”
********************************************************************************************
*clears throat
Ahem.
WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45!
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WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45! WE'RE #45!
Yay! We’ve jumped 5 places to number #45. This ff is going places, slowly but surely. Free blueberry muffins for everyone!
We are currently tied in a neck-and-neck race with Re:Hamster and A Dragon Gnawing Its Tail. Both are very good stories which I’ve enjoyed reading, you guys should check them out if you haven’t.
This chapter is dedicated to readers shot4213, Maobeelzebub, Auron.Frost as well as the countless others who are kind enough to leave a review. I thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart for carrying this fiction across the finish line and beyond.
My original goal was for this ff to be in the Top 50 in the Best Rated category. Now that that’s achieved, I wanna see how far we could run with this.
So is this the last time we will see Master Haithur? Did the boy really break the vial by accident or was it all just part of the plan? Will the author finish this story before any of its readers die from old age? Find out next week on Demon Hero Reaper Saviour So I’ve Run Out of Gag Titles Why Don’t You Guys Suggest Some And I’ll Use Them In Later Chapters...
Leave a review if you wanna help me break the hundredth votes tier (we’ve received 97 votes, three more left before we’ve reached 100) or a comment if you see any plot-holes, glaring grammar mistakes or just wanted to show your appreciation.