Shit. Am I late? Sitri cursed, he would have shouted it aloud if he wasn’t so out of breath. He was running as fast as he could, nearly tripping over his own dress shoes with each step. Normally, he would have taken his time to marvel at the masterfully crafted marble halls and pillars, lifting grand mosaic ceilings depicting the great figure of Ark dated back to the Iron War – yet now was not the time.
“Excuse me. Out of the way,” Sitri panted as he shoved aside the horde of students and teachers singing and celebrating throughout the hall – their ceremonial gowns cladded in unique colours, up to nine colours for each different teaching at this olden university. He still remembered the layout of this great keep even after so many years, but no matter how fast his mind was working to navigate his path, his body was not nearly strong enough to keep up with its demands.
A giant bell of gold rang loudly from atop a mighty tower, and its melody could be heard even deep inside the building where Sitri wandered – the chime signifying the end of the ceremony.
Oh shit… Sitri gasped for air as he recouped his breath and leaned against a wall adorned with murals and paintings depicting historical tales and bygone figures of legends. The ceremony that he had been invited to attend months before has ended without him having caught even a glimpse of it. O’ Ark, have mercy and shield me from her wrath… Or just wisp me away from here if you may. Sweat was already pouring down his pale skin and soaked his newly tailored blue suit, but it became particularly chilling at the mere thought of what was to come. Perhaps I should just leave… The risky thought crossed his mind, and for once, his body moved before that trusty mind of his as he tiredly turned around and readied his sore legs to march back down the hall.
“Leaving so soon? After just arriving?” a gentle yet commanding voice spoke out from behind Sitri – reminding him of Father, but still far less intimidating.
Damn you, Ark… Sitri grunted silently, he had prayed that at least for once, Ark would have heeded his prayers. He creakily twisted around, his silver eyes finding it hard to stare at the ruby eyes of the woman standing before him, dressed entirely in red – the colour of her Stairs. “Of course not, Lady Sarianna. I was just stretching my back. When you are stuck on a desk your whole days like me, you will find your bones to be more brittle than sand,” he chuckled awkwardly while pretending to curl his back.
“Enough of your paltry excuse, brother. Stringing long verses and offering your pleasantries wouldn’t save you from this.” As crass as ever, his older sister grinded her teeth as she marched towards him, nearly tripping over her own dresstail and high heels – it’d seem that being the Arbiter of Might has stripped her of any semblance of ladylike grace.
“My apologies, sister.” Sitri wasted no time to bow his head, ‘lest he wished to suffer another onslaught of endless nagging and pummelling that haunted his childhood.
“I’m not the one you need to apologise to,” Sarianna flicked her long blond hair back before taking a step aside for another to step forth.
Sitri could hardly believe that he hadn’t noticed him the moment he turned his head back. The once smallest of the litter has grown to become a mighty of a man – his stature nigh-rivalling even Father’s, but unlike him, his bright and soft smile hasn’t faded yet.
“It’s been so long, big bro!” the giant cladded in a red graduation gown rushed forward like a bull and wrapped his paws around Sitri like a bear.
My poor back… Sitri groaned, he felt as if he was a bug being squashed between someone’s palm. “It’s been a while, Arwyle,” he mumbled with the last bit of his strength. “Now, please let me go, ‘lest you’d fancy more for an omelette as a brother.”
The big oaf squinted his purple orbs, outwardly taking him a few seconds to realise the ensuing act of murder he was committing. “Sorry, my bad.” He promptly released his hug. Despite being a giant of a man, he still seemed to be a child at heart.
Hold yourself together, Sitri scolded himself before fixing his attire and composure. “I can’t believe that the once small trickster had grown into a man and graduated… Surely you did not bribe the Arbiters and Headmaster to earn that paper?” jested Sitri as he snatched the diploma paper off of Arwyle’s hand and examined it – after all, he too is an Arbiter, even if he does not fulfil his role often, so he would know if it was forged or not. The hard paper was gracefully inked onto by hand – declaring one Arwyle Asai, serial-name Six-Two-Eight, to have graduated from Harford University upon completing his study at the Stairs of Might, the department of study primarily focused on the arts of battle and warfare.
Arwyle effortlessly took back his parchment from Sitri’s feeble grip. “Ya’ think I’d be able to pull something like that off with that witch as my Arbiter?” whispered Arwyle as he secretly pointed his finger at Sarianna, the Arbiter of Might herself.
“That witch can hear you. And as long as you’re still in school ground, I’m still your Arbiter – so watch your tongue.” As if she had ears at the back of her head, Sarianna heard Arwyle’s remark and pinched him by the ear.
“I’m sorry, big sis,” Arwyle squirmed in pain – no matter how big he’s grown, it’d seem he still has not outgrown a lifetime of childhood trauma inflicted upon him by the overstrict Sarianna.
At the sight of siblings he had not seen for a long time, Sitri couldn’t help but smile. “Say, where are the others? Are they here as well?” asked Sitri as he twisted his head back and forth, seeking to find his remaining siblings from amidst the massive crowd.
Upon being asked, Sarianna released Arwyle’s ear from her fingers. “Stellon wasn’t able to make it – he is still stricken with sickness, it’d seem. Wylette and Tyra are visiting some of their old friends and teachers. Sygmond, too, is paying a visit to his Stairs’ Arbiter and the Headmaster himself.” For that instant, Sarianna sounded exactly like an Arbiter and recounted the events unfolding on the school grounds. “We’ll meet up with them in a moment. Those kids would not shut up about when you’d arrive.” And after a mere moment of acting primly, she reverted to her usual crass nature.
“I can’t blame them. That tends to happen when you have someone as cool as me for a brother,” Sitri goaded, nearly biting on his tongue for acting so unbecomingly smug.
“And is this cool brother in the room with us right now?” asked Sarianna with dull eyes.
The audacity! Who else but I? Sitri was flabbergasted, after all, he was by far the most accoladed amongst all of his siblings, bearing the titles of Ace, Head of Newspecs, and Arbiter of Construct – they ought to feel honoured to be adopted into the same household as his. “You think I’m cool, right, Arwyle?” he desperately asked the aloof giant.
“You’d be much cooler if you could score me a cushy job at Newspecs.” Arwyle chuckled while still caressing his sore ear and ruffled dark hair.
“You haven’t even started your career at the Sentinels, and you’re already looking into retiring? I didn’t remember raising you like that,” Sarianna scolded him as if she was his mother – though perhaps it wasn’t too far off, as they never had a mother and Father was never one to play houses, so Sarianna, being the oldest of all seven siblings, had to take on most of the caring duty.
“A joke, of course.” Arwyle chuckled nervously.
“I do not mind if you truly wish for it, though. Truth be told, I do not think it would be wise to enlist during these trying times.” Sitri warned his little brother.
“Appreciate the offer – but no can do, bro. It’s precisely because we are in trying times that I should enlist. Uncle Astra has already recommended me to the Heart Sentinel, and I’d be grouping up with Father’s force in the coming weeks.” Arwyle grinned from ear to ear, his sparkling purple eyes were so pure and oblivious.
I guess there’s no stopping him… Sitri smirked gently. “Do be careful then. And don’t make any trouble for Father.”
“Me? The old man will be weeping tears of joy to have me in his rank. With me there, I’d finish what Father and Auntie Eight couldn’t have done for almost twenty years.”
“Alright, we understand, Mister Hero. Now, how about you share some of that heroic spirit with your other friends and siblings,” Sarianna sighed. “So go on. Have some fun on your last day, brother. I have some matters to discuss with Sitri. We’ll catch up with you all later.” She smiled softly and patted Arwyle’s shoulder, having to stand on tiptoe just to reach his height.
“Stop it. I’m not a kid anymore,” Arwyle blushed as he chucked her hand off of him.
“Then get on out of here and become a man,” Sarianna smiled and slapped his back instead.
“Fine. But you better be quick about it, else we’ll celebrate without you both,” the lively lad – soon to become a man – ambled away down the hallway, with students and teachers alike laughing and cheering him as he passed.
“He’s quite well-liked, it’d seem.” Sitri chortled as he stared at Arwyle’s departing figure.
“He sure is – unlike someone I know.” Sarianna gave him a side-eye.
“Your words wound me, dear sister. I suppose I just take it after Father.” Sitri made a jest, yet his jest received no laughter.
As crass as she was, Sarianna was ever cheery – yet her perky smile was dispelled briefly at the mere mention of Father. “So he couldn’t make it this time either, huh?” sighed Sarianna, as her ruby eyes fell down to the red carpeted floor.
“Father is a busy man. You’d have to excuse him.” Sitri tried to console her as if he was the older sibling instead.
“I find you far busier than him, yet you still came.”
“My burdens pale when placed next to his. He has to work hard because of us, so please understand.”
“Don’t worry. After the sixth time, we were already used to it. Even Arwyle had made his peace long before he even knew he’d graduate.” Her smile returned feebly, yet its shine had already faded.
Sitri could not deny it. Father had never attended even a single graduation of all seven of his kids, not as though Sitri deemed he had to. An Archetype such as him was kind enough to adopt them all into a household that many ecliants could only dream of. I owe my life to him… Sitri pondered, that pledge had stayed true to him ever since he met Father.
“You mentioned that you have some matters to discuss with me, right? What was that about?” he tried to change the topic.
“Oh right, about that. First, let me ask – why were you so late anyway?” asked Sarianna as she began to walk down the marble and glossy aisle, with Sitri following by her side, trying his best not to fall enamoured by the brilliant architectural marvels that lay abundant in this great institute.
“A headache it was. Dozens upon dozens of Heart Sentinels stopped me at every step to question me as if I were a common crook. I can’t believe the Headmaster would allow for so many of them to roam the school grounds unattended.” Sitri whinged.
“Lord Doorn didn’t have much choice in that matter, I’m afraid.”
Ever since its foundation, Harford had remained a largely independent patch of land in Xearth, governed by the esteemed scholars of Harford University while operating in alliance with the Centum Order instead of directly under its rule – yet that acclaim seemed to have dwindled in time, with many teaching and Arbiter positions being occupied by members of the Centum Order. Until this day, Sitri still had not fully understood why the Prophet had allowed Harford to linger untouched for so long. Until then, their flag depicting a half-burned tome would remain to be hoisted.
“The City of Knowledge has no master besides knowledge itself – such lofty words from puppets still blind to the strings hung over their heads. Even their titles are lofty – Arbiters, they say, bestowed upon folks who are essentially lionised teachers.” Sitri scoffed.
“Rather condemning words from the Arbiter of Construct himself. Abandoning your students and Stairs to stand-ins – all so you may play lords in Sentry seems to be doing just fine for you.”
Way to make it sting, Sitri mumbled. Despite being the Arbiter of Construct, Sitri was hardly ever at Harford to fulfil his teaching duties. Therefore, his role would have to be delegated to any substitutes that the university could find – this, too, held true for the Prophet and Bao, who were both Arbiters of their respective Stairs.
“I was the Head of Newspecs before I was the Arbiter of Construct. My allegiance had never changed once.”
“Well, you better keep that sentiment to yourself when at Harford. Need I remind you that folks here much prefer you as an Arbiter of Harford rather than a pawn of the Order.”
“That’s the last thing I need to be reminded of,” Sitri sighed. For the many goods that his inventions in Newspecs have brought to Xearth, there were equally as many mishaps that his company has committed. Many still often protest afront Newspecs’ headquarters, demanding retribution for creating the meterases and bringing forth the Hoary Woe – a period of unrest throughout the realm, filled with beastly threats, economic collapse, and rebellious efforts. I was just following the Centum’s orders, Sitri convinced himself.
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“As long as you remember, that’s good. We do not need further trouble at school these days,” Sarianna groaned, it was rare for such a spirited woman like her, let alone the Arbiter of Might herself, to sound so drained.
“Is that what you wished to discuss about?” asked Sitri, though he had already more or less deduced the answer.
They’ve reached the end of the corridor, where a giant window with marble rims was opened, allowing for the fair breeze and the bustling festive clamour to flow into the olden keep – yet it too brought along raucous profanities and gripes delivered by wind. Sitri loomed his head over the window, his golden head turning dishevelled from the breeze as he glanced down from the short tower and directly onto the grand courtyard – where an assembly of students and teachers were shouting in unison, yet not out of celebration, but protest.
“Liberate Xearth! Justice for all! Humans and steelborns are Xearthers too! Down with the Order! The Automatons will make Xearth great again!” The gathering of zealous ecliants preached to other passing ecliants, all while waving besmirched flags of the Centum Order and adorning their purposely-torn uniforms. A wall of Heart Sentinels encircled the protest to ensure that they may not harm any passers-by, yet they could not lay a finger onto them either as long as the protesters remained within the circle, ‘lest they wished for the Centum Order to earn the ire of the Headmaster and the Arbiters.
“A lot of more drogues nowadays, it’d seem.” It pained Sitri to see the place he once held so dear to his heart be spoiled by so many ecliants who had risen against the Centum Order. However, protests had never been that rare of sight in Harford, especially after the incident with the previous Headmaster that resulted in her death and the Arklympics being moved from Harford to Eden.
“And it has only risen throughout the years, ever since this group called the Automatons sprung forth out of nowhere and charmed wide-eyed students and teachers with promises of greatness and heroism,” Sarianna said while pressing down her long golden hair and fancy scarlet dress as to not let them be ruffled by the prankful wind.
“They must be over the moon to find that the Firstkind has returned.” Sitri couldn’t take his eyes off of the ensuing protest on the ground; they looked like a swarm of ants from where he stood.
Sarianna snorted at the remark. “You seriously think these lots would care for them? They want to depose the Order and install their own. As far as they are concerned, the Firstkind is just another rival to that position.”
“And the fools would pick Harford out of place to host their protests. The futility of it all.” Sitri shook his head in disappointment.
“I wouldn’t go that far, brother. To bring down a nation, you must first conquer the learned portion.”
“Do you teach your students that at the Stairs of Might?”
“Nah, I just made that up.”
Figured, Sitri rolled his eyes. “So is this why there have been so many Heart Sentinels stationed here recently? The university has fallen so low to rebellious plagues that they’d beg for the Order’s men to subdue their own students and teachers turned drogues?” jeered Sitri, though he was not against arresting the drogues.
“That isn’t the only reason. I take it you’ve heard what happened to the Arbiter of Justice?” asked Sarianna.
“I’ve heard. Burnt to death, a terrible way to go.” Sitri winced at just the thought. He was not present in Sentry when Lady Brooks succumbed to her untimely faith, but it didn’t take long for the Daily Centum to publish hundreds of rumours and theories surrounding her death.
“Many are blaming the Order for her death. Claiming it was an assassination.”
“I wouldn’t put it past some of the folks I know there.” Sitri nodded his head.
“Tch… It’s not as though it’s the first arson that has happened. There have been quite a few of them throughout the Albion Region lately,” Sarianna sighed. “Regardless of what really transpired, things have become far more dire than usual. Brooks was well-liked by most, but more so by a particular group of cohort – the student drogues. Some are taking it upon themselves to enact justice upon the Order’s representatives, but most are still turning a blind eye to it all.”
“So the Sentinels are here to protect them while they’re at it?”
Sarianna nodded her head tiredly – Sitri seemed to have understood why she had been looking so dreary. As the Arbiter of Might, no doubt she’d have to coordinate extensively with the Sentinel’s surveying efforts.
“Instead of putting efforts into quelling actual rebels, the Sentinels have to waste their time and men to deal with these meddling pests. Father is a stronger man than I,” Sitri’s face winced from just staring at these invasive vermin who have sided with the humans.
“These pests may very well soon become a thorn on your side if it’s not pruned at its roots.”
Why would I care about them? Sitri pondered, yet he did not have the heart to outrightly ask it. “The Centum Order really seems to have their work cut out for them these days, then,” Sitri remarked. Aside from having to host the Centum Tourney, quelling the Firstkind’s rebellious effort, preventing barbaric invasion from the Wasteland, and exterminating meteras and dragon threats – they now have to expend their manpower to subdue some far-reaching scholars as well. What has this world come to? Sitri moaned.
“Such is the burden of men in your vests. Perhaps you ought to abandon it all and commit fully to your duty here as the Arbiter of Construct instead?”
“I’m not planning on retiring from my seat at the Order anytime soon. Certainly not after beholding such an unsightly sight besmirching the garden I once called home.” Sitri quelled her swaying efforts as he slammed the window closed – shutting away the noise of those detestable fiends plaguing the outside of the keep.
“A home that you abandoned and left to be occupied by strangers whose names you don’t even know,” Sarianna said coldly.
“You speak as if I’m the king of this castle.”
“To these studious bores, the king falls short of the erudite one.”
This is seriously going nowhere… Sitri rubbed his creased forehead. “You sent our dear brother away and brought me to this far-off corner of the keep just so you may offer me words of compliment? Such decorum is unbecoming of you, sister.”
“I wanted to speak with you – yes. But I didn’t send Arwyle away for my sake,” Sarianna rolled her eyes before tapping Sitri’s shoulder, wrinkling his blue vest. “Now, c’mon. What are you hiding behind that pensive smile? Such a troubled grin that no doubt holds untold trickery behind its peel.”
“You speak as if I am no more than a common jester.” Sitri chucked her hand aside, though, for a lady, her arm was quite heavy and coarse. He was unsure whether she was strong due to being the Arbiter of Might or just because he was weak due to him finding more joy in books rather than swords.
“Well, perhaps the Sentinels were right to inspect you,” she sighed. “Be honest with your sister. What could you need so desperately that you’d travel all the way across the Centum Alps just so you may attend some trivial graduation ceremony?”
“Your words wound me, dear sister. Could a man not be there for his youngest brother’s joyous celebration of finally becoming a man?” wept Sitri, but no tears dripped out of his lids.
“My words intended not to wound your frail ego. A man can accomplish more than one purpose in one journey. So what is your other purpose?”
Guess there’s no hiding anything from her, Sitri chuckled, he should have anticipated so from the woman who raised Sitri and her other siblings as if she was their mother. “Just like you, I, too, had some matter I’d wish to confide in with you,” Sitri said, his voice turned from familial to formal. “I need you to get me something from the Ironmount Institution.”
“The Ironmount? If you need something from that accursed prison, why not just get it yourself? You’d have a far better chance at getting whatever you need with all those titles of yours.”
“I, too, had hope that the accolades I’ve earned over my years would have served me well in that regard – but the new Watch Warden has proven to be a rather obstinate man,” Sitri grumbled. The newly appointed Watch Warden, Ronquiotte Dovanka, was a terribly stubborn man who refused to honour the promises made between Newspecs and his forebearer – he was the type of folk that Sitri detested the most.
“I’ve met him once. An admirable man to his post, but very unpleasant indeed.”
“With that one meeting, you are most likely already more favoured in his eyes than me,” Sitri admitted. “That dutiful fool hates my guts.”
“I can’t seem to see why,” Sarianna sneered.
Very funny, Sitri grinned wryly. “I need you to make contact with him on my behalf, but–”
“But you don’t want him to know that, do you?” Sarianna finished his words before Sitri could.
Stop reading my mind, Sitri bleated. “Yes, if you’d be so kind, sister.”
“I’m at least willing to hear whatever sorts of tiresome task you have in store for me.”
“There’s a particular prisoner being locked away in the second level of the Ironmount. I’ve taken a great interest in their peculiar condition – but that truculent warden kept on refusing to yield that specimen over to me.” Sitri grinded his teeth, remembering the embarrassment he had to endure during his last visit to that prison.
“You’re a smart man, Sitri. But folks like you would never understand the mind of men like him who have to merchant death as if they are common trinkets.”
“I know where I stand, but then perhaps, a woman who is more akin to his field like yourself may find it easier to sway the Warden’s judgement.”
“I did not expect my brother of all man to slave me away to be wedded against my will. O’ the cruelty of it all!” Sarianna grazed the back of her hand to her head like a weeping damsel.
“Will you shut it and act like an adult for once!” Sitri screeched, his tone hadn’t gone that high since he was no more than just a kid who would constantly engage in squabbles with his siblings. “I just need you to pretend as if it was a business official conducted on behalf of Harford. That ought to be enough to quell any suspicion the Warden may have. It’s not as though he cared that much about the prisoner anyway – the bore just wanted to humiliate me.”
“If it’s that easy, surely you would find no shortage of unscrupulous fawners to do it for you. The Sentinels, your Newspecs’ staff, fellow members of the Aces – your choices number many.”
If only it was that easy, Sitri stretched out his fingers and began counting off them. “Busy folks, hated folks, and selfish folks – no one else would be able to help me with this but you, dear sister.”
“Is that so? And what would you be able to gift your dear sister back in return for sticking her neck out for you?” she smugly asked, outwardly finding amusement in Sitri’s pleading.
“My sincere love and gratitude?” shrugged Sitri while folding in his lips.
Sarianna grimaced and winced upon hearing his answer as if it was the grossest thing she had heard in a while. “Can your love and gratitude attach my head back to my neck if they were to discover our little escapade?”
“The Watch Warden may be brave, but I doubt he’s brave enough to incriminate a representative of Harford, let alone the first daughter of the Prime Sentinel himself – no matter how much unfounded hatred he may harbour for our house.” At least I hope it’s unfounded, Sitri snickered nervously.
“What are you to Father then? Chopped liver?”
“That’s all you got from what I just said?” Sitri grunted. For the love of all that is good and holy, Ark please smite her where she stands, Sitri prayed for his sister’s own downfall. “Are you willing to help me or not? Or do you mean to keep berating me for your pleasure?”
“Berating you for my pleasure is one thing I’d never give up on,” she giggled, and her mirth only grew shriller when beholding her little brother pouting like a child. “But as for your request, I’d consider it. If somehow I could receive the grant from the Headmaster for my Stairs of Might to have a department excursion to the Ironmount, I’ll have a chat with the Warden while I’m there.” Sarianna gripped Sitri’s shoulder firmly and gazed at him determinedly with her ruby eyes – and for once in a long time, she actually looked like a dependent older sister.
“Thanks, sis,” Sitri sighed, trying to hold back the edge of his lips from curving.
His sister couldn’t help but sigh softly at Sitri’s own muse – sharing in his fleeting glee. In this empty hall of Harford, with the afternoon light shining through the window and grazing their faces – Sitri felt as if his limbs were floating and his mind was dozing away. This fleeting moment of rest felt similar to times that would never return. When all seven of them lived in the great keep that Father owned in the hearth of Sentry – it was so big, so fancy, and yet so empty – they only had each other to depend on, their own kind. When was I last there? When were we last there? When was he last there? These thoughts weren’t his, a man as rational as him did not fancy pondering upon the unchangeable past.
“Are you alright, brother? Are you so frail that you’d collapse from just that much walking?” Sariann waved her palm in front of Sitri’s face.
Am I that weak? Those words weren’t his either, but he has always hated them. “I’m fine.” He smacked her hand away from his face. “I think that’s enough heavy talks for now. Check out this cool thing I’ve made,” Sitri tried to alleviate the tension. He reached his hand into the deep pocket of his vest and unveiled his newly invented relic – the flashlight.
Sarianna just stared blankly at him as if he were a child who was bragging about a cool stick that he picked up from the ground. “That’s neat.”
“That’s all you have to say? You old heads wouldn’t understand novel brilliance even if it slaps you across the face.” Sitri pressed the switch on the black rod – flickering its light on and off at his sister’s face.
“I suppose after all the absurd inventions you’ve created, I just find it rather underwhelming that your newest one would be something so… little? I expected this to be something you’d have fashioned in your youth.” Without moving her face away, Sarianna merely blinked back and forth at precise moments, outwardly unbothered by the flickering light.
“Right? My staff said the same–” The words Sitri wished to speak never came out, a spontaneous thought invaded his mind before he could – such a simple thought it was, yet it burned his mind more than any other thoughts he’s had. Why did it take me so long to create something like this? Sitri pondered as his palm holding the device turned sweaty, making him lose his grip, like he was trapped in a chamber that succumbed to flame and steam.
“Did something happen again? You’re sweating like a dog.” Sarianna awoke him from his stupor once more, with her palm pressed gently against his forehead.
“Everything’s fine…” Sitri panted. He ruined the collar of his fancy vest to wipe off his sweat. “My apologies. I was meaning to offer you this device as a token of gratitude for accepting my request.” He brandished the flashlight with both of his hands.
“I’d graciously receive it then. Though not as recompense for my help, but a gift for Arwyle’s graduation.” Sarianna snatched the artifact off of Sitri’s grasp and juggled it up and down as if it were no more than a brick.
“I doubt a blockhead like him would find much worth in such a tool,” Sitri chuckled at the thought of Arwyle wielding the flashlight as a sword.
“If he won’t, perhaps he could pass it on to someone who may – like Father.” She suggested.
“I can only hope,” Sitri said drearily, recounting the untold amount of times Father had rejected his invention proposals.
Another bell tolls from the great tower in the sky – signifying the end of the university day and for the students and teachers to return to their homes. I always hated that bell. I should’ve destroyed it when I had the chance. Its screeching chime struck Sitri’s ears like the humming of mermaids and wailing of orphans.
“The day is over. I can finally get off duty now.” Sarianna groaned as she unbuttoned her tight blouse to widely stretch her arms.
“Were you even on duty?” Sitri stared at her with eyes of doubt.
“Of course I was. Showing the Head of Newspecs around campus was as important a task as any other.” She whistled as she spoke.
“You just wanted to flake out on your–”
“Anyway, we’ve kept the others waiting for long enough. Surely all of our suppers will be paid for by the honoured Ace of the bunch, right?”
How did this woman ever become an Arbiter, Sitri sighed, fearing for the future of all youths in Xearth. “Lead the way then.” Sitri stepped to the side for the lady to march first down the aisle. As he listened to Sarianna’s heels tapping upon the draped stone floor and her lips humming to the melody of Count Yer’ Blesses, a joyous jingle regaling the mighty deeds of the Archetypes. Sitri was never so fond of such violent music – his mind preferred to wander elsewhere, where violence is held at bay. While I’m here, perhaps I should… Sitri mumbled, there was no other place on Xearth with more books and tomes than Harford and its grand libraries. Accounts of magical wands, yet not from fairy tales but scholarly tomes… Surely, I would be able to find something here, right? Sitri pondered. No matter what would say about him, he was a man of his word – just as he would hope for his sister to honour their promise, he too would honour his to Bao.