The revolving ceiling slowly began to come into focus. Outside the dimly lit room, Rue could hear muffled voices on the other side of the door. He cycled his magic soul a few times for comfort, then left it resting in its socket to strengthen his body. Minutes passed by while he allowed his brain and body to finish recovering, the voices becoming clearer.

“… concerned, right? He… block knocked off… ten minutes ago. Where … guardians?”

Rue shook his head to clear it, immediately regretting it.

God’s (omitted) (omitted) (omitted) (omitted). Never shake your head when you are suffering a head injury!

The room swam again, so Rue closed his eyes. Tilting his head back, he took deep breathes until he finished riding out the disorientation. Finally feeling a little better, he felt his throat first. It was sore, but not damaged. Apparently, the healer had done very rapid work as they were already gone. Though, isn’t abandoning a prince during convalescence a pretty serious offense?

Has my value plummeted so far that I can not even have a healer wait until I become lucid? Father was pretty adamant that I not make a fool of myself against the Warden’s son. Have I truly and finally been abandoned? Those idiots outside the door are right. Where are my guardians? Why did they not step in when Syron first hit me with his shoulder. Why not again, when he pressed his nose against mine and glared into my eyes? Surely, if this had been done to my elder brothers, their guardians would have immediately cut him down?

“Rue! You conscious yet?” A smiling Syron Forrester barged into the arena’s infirmary and sat down on a stool next to the sick bed Rue was laying in. Rue opened his eyes and turned his head to glare at the boy that was the same age as him, but beneath him in status.

“Do not speak to me so casually.” Rue tried to sound vicious, but actually slurred his words slightly. He had considered spitting to further display his disgust, but decided not to because it wasn’t very hygienic, nor very noble-like. Syron frowned and left the room with a casual ‘be right back’. A minute later, Rue could hear the true viciousness he had yet to perfect himself, out in the hall.

“You call that friggin’ healing!? Are you kidding me right now!? Is that supposed to be a funny joke? I very clearly asked if a healer was present before I dealt those blows to him. I ‘thought’ that would be sufficient. Clearly I was mistaken, because Rue didn’t receive the attentions of a ‘healer’. His eyes are still crossed! I expected adults to give a little more care to a kid that just got his lights turned off, but apparently, I can’t expect much of anything but hollow words and promises! Now we’re going back in there, and you are going to keep trying until you get it right! Am I making myself clear?!” Syron was full on bellowing at a cowering man garbed in a healer’s cloak, denoting him of sufficient status to not get screamed at by a child. Yet the man wasn’t scowling or arguing angrily. He looked frightened and tired.

“I apologize for my incompetence, Lord Forrester! I truly did attempt to treat his wounds properly, but I ran out of power before it could be completely healed. Your first strike had completely crushed his trachea and larynx. It was a potentially fatal blow that forced me to exert far more power for a minimal increase in efficacy!”

“What are you talking about, you ran out of power? I only hit him fifteen minutes ago! Is this really the standard of practice for healers? Dig a little deeper. Dig a lot deeper, in fact. You’re better than this. You’re blessed with such a wonderful aptitude and you waste away your potential because what, it’s good enough? Don’t be stupid. If you aren’t lying to me, you’re a joke and an insult to real healers. Now go! I can see you’re getting mad. Prove me wrong. Prove to yourself that you are better than a crushed trachea. Hmph, or do you want to forever be known as a man that runs out of steam after only a few minutes?” Syron literally dragged the man by his collar over to the stool and stood over him imperiously.

“Believe it or not, I know what healing looks like. I don’t care if this brat is the fourth born bastard of some lesser noble or the flea-bitten filthy child of a wretched beggar, I was told ‘don’t worry about injuries’, and I am not a man you get to pay with lip service to.”

* * * * *

Hahh… sorry kid. I just meant to teach you a little lesson in the hopes you shape up a bit. Didn’t expect to do this kind of damage… Seriously, where did I get the strength to put that goose egg on his forehead? Why did I punch him in the head anyway? I could have broken my hand on his skull. Ugh… Syron, you’re an idiot. It’s no joke I’m pretty pissed about his so-called ‘treatment’ though. Even I’m surprised by my inner Karen.

Syron stared down at the boy laying on the infirmary cot with tears in his eyes. Syron couldn’t tell if it was from pain or frustration, but honestly either would be sufficient for his purposes. Syron’s father had taught him when he was a child that if you are a colossal jerk to your classmates, you’ll get surrounded and beaten up in the bathrooms. Obviously, times had changed between their respective school days, but the lesson is still true in spirit, if not in precise verbiage.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Well, at least the lump is gone.

“Any pain left?” Syron said sharply. The boy flinched slightly, but then put on a resolved expression.

“None.”

“Good, you owe me a favor and I’ve already missed my first class waiting around with you. Come on.” Syron held out his hand to help the boy pull himself up, and with a look of shock, took it. Helping him stand, Syron let go and left without prompting, a conflicted Rue trailing behind him silently.

Instead of heading towards the class building like Rue expected, Syron headed back towards the main gates of the academy.

“Erm.. are we leaving? Like, into the city?” Rue asked with slight trepidation. Syron just laughed, though the laughter had an edge to it.

“Why, you owe someone money? Yeah, I’m in a pretty foul mood, as it turns out, so I’m not exactly in the mind set to learn anyway. I have no idea which class to attend anyhow, as there was little to no direction given to me in the first place.” Syron just kept walking forward, his stride exuding an intimidation that Rue had only experienced one other time. He felt his legs weaken from the memory, but he forced himself to ignore the feeling and keep pace.

“Seriously though, is there some inconvenient reason you can’t be seen out in public?” Syron asked. Rue blanched, but nodded uncomfortably. Syron sighed heavily like it couldn’t be helped.

“Alright, you’re good now. No one should recognize you.” Rue wasn’t quite sure what Syron meant, as they hadn’t stopped walking or even looked at Rue. The confidence that no one would recognize him was a little… and then Rue remembered what Syron’s aptitudes were and felt at his throat subconsciously.

“What do I look like?” Rue asked as he looked down at his hands. They looked the same, so he assumed it was only his face that had changed. He tried looking at his own hair to see if the color had changed, but it was too short to see properly. In front of him, a floating head appeared, showing a boy’s face.

“Like this. It’s the first face I thought up.” Rue looked at the black haired and emerald eyed boy.

Ah… the Forrester’s colors… though is that lightning bolt shaped scar over his right eye supposed to be where he punched me?

When the pair made it to the guard at the gate, they gave a confused look at both of them, but allowed the boys to pass without issue. Syron thought it unlikely that every guard could recognize every single student in this huge academy… but maybe they could? He had no idea how many students there actually were. Come to think of it, he knew next to nothing about the academy. Just how did he get so focused on everything else in his life that he ‘drifted’ so… mindlessly?

“Ah, perfect. There is a café right outside the gate. I bet that place is popular once lessons end. We should go now while they are slow. Oh! I can’t let you be the only one in disguise… and done.

Before Rue’s eyes, Syron changed to a pale faced, sneering boy with platinum blond hair.

“It seemed fitting, given our current relationship. Anyway, it turns out I’m loaded, so feel free to order whatever you like. I’ll pay.” Syron said, confusing Rue.

How does your look ‘fit’ our relationship? I don’t get it…

Rue was also relieved, however, as he had never once carried money on him in his life, and didn’t know how to use it even if he did have it. He’d seen these businesses from the windows of his carriages, but he’d never been allowed to sit down and enjoy one before. A smiling and plump elderly woman hobbled to the table. She was wearing an apron that was covered in flour dust and held a small slate for writing.

“How surprising! It’s not very often I have two boys come to my establishment together! I understand why you came while your peers are in class, but you should know this granny has your back!” The lady gave a toothy grin. Syron’s eyes darted around the café for a moment before they widened and a twisted smile adorned his pointed face.

“Thank you, ma’am. We’ve never gone out like this before, so we were wondering if you had any recommendations?” He asked with a pleasantness that Rue hadn’t witnessed before. Syron had always just been overbearing and dickish, even when he was the so-called ‘event master’ during the…

Nope. Forbidden memories. Think happy thoughts…

The pair ordered some juice and croissants before the kindly old lady hobbled off, not even bothering to write down the simple order. Syron put his elbows down on the table and stared at Rue.

“So. You owe me a favor. Before we get to that, I need to make sure you are even any help. I assume you have at least some political clout, given you partook in my game so many kilometers away. Now here we are. Can I safely assume you have some measure of power here in the capital?” Syron asked, his eyes focused harshly into Rue’s own. Rue forced himself to stare at him back, refusing to back down.

”Yes, I have some power here. Actually, I am the third son of…” Rue tried to explain his own standing.

“Nope. Don’t care. Maybe I would if you hadn’t proven to be the type to flaunt your own misguided sense of self-importance, but as I find that whole ‘impertinence!’ shtick to be exhausting, I don’t. I’m Syron. You are Rue. If there needs to be a pecking order, I’m the one on top. Anything beyond that isn’t really important. You pull a stunt like that again, I pop you again. Good to know you aren’t useless to me though.” Syron said, cutting off a flustered Rue.

“Understood… Syron.” Rue said, his eyes still staring straight into Syron’s own.

“Wonderful. Now for the favor… as you probably recall in your darkest nightmares, my previous ‘event’ did not go over so well. Sorry about that, by the way. My mother can be a little… well, you were there. Anyway, she isn’t here. That means the odds of her going berserk and inadvertently murdering everyone is much lower this time around. So… what do you say? Want to help me put on another game?”

“What choice do I have? I do owe you a favor.”

“Yeah… but I feel pretty strongly that if someone doesn’t want to be there, I don’t want them there either. I was hoping that you would be interested since you bothered to attend the first event to begin with… but if you aren’t then I can think of some other favor. I don’t need an unwilling slave, I need a partner.”

Rue couldn’t stop himself from smiling brightly.

“Yes. I think we can work out something spectacular. Partner.”

Syron mirrored Rue’s smile.

Nearby, the old lady was watching the couple of boys staring into each other’s eyes and smiling, her heart throbbing with the pleasant atmosphere.