A get together it was called. To say it was anything else would have raised the school's prefects untoward attention. Even as we arrived at the "get together" I felt eyes watching the Wrenne Hall from dark corners and windows. It was never really stated outright but the University employs a staff of prefects, guards and watchers. When your housing the heirs and offspring of various powerful entities and individuals, it is prudent to have a sort of safety net prepared. Especially concerning youths with time and money on their hands.
Wrenne Hall was on the other side of the campus from the likes of Berwycke Hall and housed students under the courses of Applied Discipline. We arrive some time after six, the night completely befallen on us. But Wrenne Hall was not lacking in glass lanterns and festivities. There was even an ensemble to add to the liveries. An equal number of young men and women were present, though I saw much of the women were accompanied by an older woman in one form or function. Laughter filled the night air and merriment was abound. The hosts provided beverages that were in strict compliance with the school protocol; drinks with quite low alcoholic content and would make it quite difficult for anyone to be intoxicated with. Skarbitter and amberroot was served aplenty, they carried with them that slight buzz without completely impairing anyone's cognition (A challenge that Sigric wishes to undertake, he told us.)
String instruments and percussions brought out a festive mood and I could not but help be reminded of home. A pang struck me in my chest at the memory. We all arrived together; me, Sig, Bertram and Liv but a few minutes after arriving we went our separate directions. Sigric went on to greet some chaps he knows from other classes. Bertram was likewise but his circle of conversation were more dignified in their bearing. Livitha flitted from one group of friends to another, always laughing and smiling and generally welcomed by everyone.
I on the otherhand, wandered the halls and did a tour of the house myself. This would have marked my second venture into Wrenne Hall. It was far bigger in comparison to that of Berwycke Hall, more in common with that of a dormitory in design really but with the a slight hint of history. I have yet to traverse its entire expanse with its capability of housing as much as fifty people. I was fascinated by the generations of Wrenne Hallers, preserved by the various portraiture and daguerreotype hanging on the eggshell white walls. It was time distilled, history paused for all to see. The people in the portraits may well be gone but still here they are, the very light of their moment on earth forever enraptured. That thought somehow made me smile.
I wandered and watched, trying to pick up some gossip, knowledge and names. As I did so I was surprised when one I was familiar with popped up.
It was a conversation between ,what I judge to be, a group of friends who happen to be speaking loud enough for me to overhear while I had been genuinely engrossed with the various awards and medals on display on a nearby mantle.
"Well isn't this a lovely affair?" declared one student, a young woman. She was accompanied by another stern faced older girl. Maybe a sister acting as a guardian. This type of arrangement is common among young women attending university.
"A lovely affair? it's juvenile at best. I would have preferred some more class among our peers but what would you expect from a bunch of engineers and architects majors?" haughtily said by a young man with sideburns. I noticed the glint of a silver pin of a caduceus on his lapel. A student of medicine.
"Quiet! I do not want to evicted because you dare not show some respect to our hosts!" replied another. A short fellow with a much gruffier sideburns that could rival Spencer's.
"I saw Helewis van Uffel the other day. Utterly breathtaking!" cut in another young woman. She shared a semblance to the other two. Maybe a cousin? The topic was more than enough to change the subject and ease the tension caused by the haughty student. By the mere mention of the Van Uffels even mine own ears perked up.
"Did you approach her?" asked the short fellow.
"N-no...." the youngest woman replied, stuttering. That caused a short chuckle to spread from the friend group.
"Well I'd like to see you try!" She bit back at them.
"Oh no, thank you. If what even half of what I've heard is true then they are one of the more eccentric castellans in the entire school. I'm just content observing from afar."
Their conversation then diverged to topics that did not interest me further. This was not the first time I heard mention of my erstwhile flatmates that I have yet to see a shadow of. Every now and then I'd hear snippets of them from one conversation to the next. My initial thoughts had all stemmed from that brief reference from the Administration Staff. That they are polite and perfect hosts. The rest I could make out a decent picture: They are among the most popular students within the campus. Hailing from the renowned Van Uffels of Vohenrode, an elite among the elite. An ancient bloodline that could trace their lineage millennia in the past. It made me wonder of the suitability of my accommodations within Berwycke Hall.
As I wondered about Wrenne Hall, my attention was once more caught by a large gathering in one of the guest room. Almost half the guest present were inching for a view. Once I caught of what was being said by the humdrum of people, there was no need of me to see it in its entirety. There is a movement that has been gaining steady steam and popularity among high society and has yet to reach its peak. The Occult has enraptured the peerage of aristocrats and nobles all across the land by tales of the macabre and strange. Seances were a popular party event or so I have heard, along with palmistry, astrology, mediumship and table turning to name a few. It is further fueled by the scientific discoveries as well over the past couple decades. Ancient cities being uncovered in various locales across the span of the globe, which in turn made scholarly pursuits in the matter extremely profitable. I am an indirect beneficiary of such endeavors, much as I'd like to admit.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.
The crowd finally parted, giving space for the participants at the middle. They all sat encircled, young men and women as they try to call upon a force beyond the confines of this reality. Everyone was hushed. I saw the items on the table and deduced that what they are trying to do is some sort of cross between a seance and a table turning: to reach into the Beyond and perform a show of power. I saw Livitha watching with fervent eyes, Bertram leaning against a bannister casting the entire affair with a skeptic look. I thought I saw a mop of yellow hair outside in the yard as Sigric was busy playing drinking games with his other compatriots, completely uninterested with the occultic session taking place. A grin spread to my lips and I turn to walk away.
I could feel the onlookers watch with baited breath as they waited. I took stock of the things on the table before turning my back: A Ouija board, six black candles and six red candles placed at the points of a dual hexagram, skulls of small fauna and sealed bottles of what could be oils. I shook myself in disbelief. I headed out into the mostly vacated veranda and instead enjoyed the stars twinkling in the night sky. The veranda was mostly devoid of people except for a pair of juniors hidden amongst the shade of a willow tree in questionable closeness and a bespectacled engineering major enjoying a smoke with his pipe.
I heard gasps and oohs of wonderment from the inside but paid it no heed. The Old Call did not thrum nor so much as a fluttered at the objects at the table.
The stars were out in their thousands that night. It was a sight seldom seen in an blazing-orange night at Sorez. While Lonethorn has a surprising lack of illumination in major parts of the campus. A thought occurred to me as I sat there in peace; whether the spectators within would still beheld themselves in awe should they witness a true act of the occult. I hoped, for their sake, they never have to suffer such an experience as I had.
----------------------------------------
It was past twelve of midnight when we made our way back to our respective dorm rooms. Bertram and I agreed that Livitha was the first to be dropped off. An suggestion she cast a derisive look our way, thinking probably that we coddle her like a young lady (which we did). But she made no loud protest of it and we waved her a good night. Next, was of course the worst off in our little merry band, Sigric. Who was having trouble staying upright and had to make multiple instances of relieving himself from one bush to the next. I laughed in the darkness each time and even stern Bertram couldn't help but smile. It made the journey back to the dorms longer but quite entertaining. Oh the morning after was going to be so much fun. But not for Sigric.
"How did you come by the affair at Lynden Hall?" came the sudden question from Bertram while Sigric hung limply in between us hoisted by the joined efforts of me and Bert ( which we never call him Bert aloud though, for he despises it with all his passion).
"As I've told you, I overheard it," I replied, wondering where he was going with this.
"Where precisely?" he persisted but his tone wasn't hostile. Just genuinely curious.
I shrugged, which was awkward considering there is a drunk person on your shoulders, "At the College of History and Antiquity."
"They let you in?" Bert sounded surprised.
"They didn't bar the door if that is what you are asking."
"So you just strode in and..--Wait, the office you've been task with, its of the Castle?" Bert correctly deduced, surprised and amazed at the conclusion. His reaction baffled me.
"Yes. They are also my sponsors."
"And they let you be admitted to be an abbott?" he asked.
"What? What's this I'm hearing of abbots and castellans? I've been hearing it here and there and what is it that is so fascinating?" A bit of irritation was in my voice. I sense there is some degree of tensions between the so called abbots and castellans (of which I have found myself in the former without intention.)
"Apologies," Bert sighed and explained, "It is something that came to me as a shock as well. The school takes some of its traditions and norms too seriously. Relishes in it in fact. For all intents and purposes Lonethorn's academic umbrella is separated by the abbots and the castellans. The Abbey and the Castle. Applied Sciences falls under the Abbey while Humanities and Arts belongs to the strict purview of the Castle, hence the castellans. Don't even ask me why it is the way it is. It just is." We arrived at Bert and Sig's dormitory and Bert kept on with the tale of the internal rivalry of the two factions. Navigating a staircase with a drunk person proved quite the task but Bert's explanation of the school's hierarchy made my travails not as tedious.
"I infer that at some point in the past, some hooligans from both sides took their pride a mite too far and established the so called factions of our esteemed school along with the corresponding traditions and whatnot. Stupid, yes I know. But they were young as we are now, and youth is a time of stupidity and recklessness and the consequences that follow."
"Was that a quote?"
"Yes. Killigrew. 1789 AO."
We finally reached the Sig's room, drop him off his bed like a sack of coal and hoped to Providence that he doesn't soil his bed. Bert slept down the hall and he saw me off at the doorway. Before I departed for my own trek across campus, Bert had this to say.
"Just be careful. They can be a bit....rude, especially the pompous ones. I could say the same for the abbots that have taken it like a religion of their own," he warned me. "It's nothing short of a miracle you haven't encountered any....problems going there being under an Applied Sciences major. Then again, it is the break. Not many students roaming the halls."
"Well, thank you for the advise, I'll remember it."
"Also, are you sure of going back to your Hall? It is awfully dark. And Sig's bed is exceeds far beyond University protocol. He won't mind," Bert suggested.
"No, tis no trouble. I'm used to walking in the dark back home. Good night then Bert...ram" Almost slipped my tongue at the end. Bert didn't bother to mention and waved me goodbye.
I walked back to Berwycke unheeding of the shadows. I kept saying to myself that this was not Sorez. The mist and darkness would not harm me. That there is nothing waiting there.