On the afternoon of the following day, Isyd walked back to the Common Dorms after a stroll in the Fields. His class of History I had finished early and he had used the time to exercise. The weather was warming up, but Isyd still enjoyed walking clad in the warmth of his darkveil; it gave him a sense of comfort like few things could still do. His palcat remained in the inner folds of his cloak just in case he would come up with an idea on how to fix it or would want to study it further. More importantly, it was a matter of habit – always having his weapon at arm’s reach – that he never lost even after breaking his staff.
Despite the time of the day, his Dorms were abnormally agitated. Pupils stood around his bunks and after making his way through, Isyd soon found why. His bed had been defiled. His set of extra clothes laid there as a torn, damp mess on his sleeping pillow. His mattress had been eviscerated with a blade in such a way to spell out the word “PEASANT”. Isyd assessed the damages, calm and expressionless. He turned to the other Pupils in the room, but they all avoided his gaze and pretended to go on their business.
“I know who did it,” a voice said behind him.
Isyd turned and met Kewin Udachur.
“Olav Kazkan?” Isyd advanced.
Kewin nodded. “He didn’t do it personally though. There were three other Pupils who aren’t in our class with him. They’re the ones who destroyed the bed. Olav was just standing on the doorstep, smiling and preventing anyone from entering the room while they were busy. I tried to get in, but… well…”
He rubbed at his chest as if it was bruised. Isyd was surprised. He could guess that Kewin had tried to intervene, which was more than many others would have dared when facing someone as dominant as Olav Kazkan.
“People just let him walk in here and didn’t say a thing, I see…”
Kewin gave him a sheepish look. “He has as much right as any Pupil to walk in the Dorms, I guess. Plus, he is a Kazkan…”
“His family is that important?”
“Important?” Kewin looked at him as if he was daft. “The Kazkan own the barony of Vilriver. His father is the baron and a big donator! How did you not know that?”
“I was never really interested in who war ruling Vilriver, to be honest. I’m a simple guy.”
“Simple, huh? How did you get Olav Kazkan to hate you then?”
Isyd shrugged. “The noble little boy can’t suffer someone who does not immediately bow his head in front of him. Also, I am better at him in the Arts.”
“Having a noble as an enemy is never a good thing…” Kewin sighed.
Isyd ignored him and reached down for his damp clothes, searching for things he could salvage. Unfortunately, Olav and his cronies had been thorough: his tunic had been ripped along the mends and the fabric would never have been the same after such treatment anyway. Isyd didn’t feel particularly sad for the mattress since he’d never used it. He reached underneath the bunk for his chest. Unsurprisingly, the simplistic lock had been forced open. Except for his set of clothes, there had been nothing to destroy. Isyd had no money to his name and nothing precious except for his darkveil, his Whitewater Staff and…
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…and his knife!
Panic hit Isyd like a hammer and he began scrambling frantically inside of his chest to find his knife. He couldn’t find it.
Olav had stolen his knife.
From a painful corner of his memory came a voice. A woman’s voice, tired and pleading.
Promise me, Isyd…
“I promise…” Isyd whispered in a choked breath.
Kewin approached where Isyd was crouching. “Hmm… Did you say something? I couldn’t h—”
Kewin suddenly stumbled three steps back, eyes wide. Whatever he’d seen written on Isyd’s face in that instant awoke in him a profound sense of danger.
The air had suddenly become drier and heavy. Isyd stood there in front of his broken chest, immobile and staring without seeing. The skin of his right arm twitched, a dark fog had covered his vision and his chest felt heavy. Heavy with the weight of a hundred pains. The weight of a single promise.
“Isyd,” Naeht whispered to his ear, worried, “you must calm yourself.”
“I’m calm,” he let out through gritted teeth.
“You mustn’t lose control. Not here, not now.”
“I know…” Isyd closed his eyes and breathed out deeply. His tensed shoulders slowly relaxed and the weight on his chest faded away in the background where it usually remained. “I know.”
There. He was in control of himself again. He turned to face Kewin. “Do you know when they did this?”
“They came here after the History I class.”
“And do you know where Olav Kazkan sleeps?”
Kewin narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “What are you thinking of doing, Isyd Wybrany?”
“I do not know yet, but Kazkan stole something precious and I will have it back.”
“If you attack him one way or another, you will lose. He will just have to feign ignorance about what happened to your bed and people will believe him because he’s a Kazkan. You will appear as the aggressor.”
Isyd paused a moment, thinking. “To be honest, I do not care about what he did today. All I want is to get back what he took from me. I’m more than willing to let the rest slide.”
“Well, I heard that Kazkan often goes back home after the classes. He lives in his family mansion on the Inside, near the City Hall.”
“I guess breaking in is out of option, then…”
“B-Breaking in?” Kewin croaked.
“I’m joking.” Half-joking, actually. “It is still early in the afternoon. I bet the boy is drinking somewhere, so proud of what he did.”
“‘Boy’? Why do you call Olav Kazkan ‘boy’? You don’t seem that much older than him.”
That was true. In terms of physical appearance, Olav Kazkan and Isyd did not look that much different. Recently, as he got used to this life, Isyd tended to forget how old he actually was compared to all the Pupils who surrounded him.
“I call him ‘boy’ because he’s acting like a jealous, stupid kid,” he lied. “Anyway, I’ll look for him. Thank you for your help, Kewin Udachur.”
Kewin was about to say something when a voice came from the doorstep.
“Is the Pupil Isyd Wybrany here?” A teenage boy called out. “Isyd Wybrany?”
“Here!” Isyd answered with a wave.
“Tutor Milwyk is summoning you,” the boy said. “As soon as possible.”
Isyd exchanged with Kewin.
“Bad timing…” Kewin said. “I will let you know if Olav comes back around here.”
Isyd nodded and thanked him. He sighed and then stepped out of the room after the errand boy.