Things would have been going their best if I could at least play back up in the Dragonstryke match against the Voltruns. Our team record was off to a good start, and I desperately wanted to play against Houston Smith. Out of all the people I could think of, he was the one I wanted to best in Dragonstryke, especially with my newly discovered technique of throwing fire bolts.
However, when our match happened with the Voltruns, I wished I could have closed my eyes. Houston Smith flew all around us, making our whole team see stars. I tried convincing Coach Florence to put me in the game because I felt I could have been a great matchup against Houston Smith's ability, but she never let me play. She continued letting my in-team rival, Arthur, play over me.
I did hear Coach Florence mutter under her breath, "Man, there's no doubt Houston is going pro."
Hearing that almost made me sick to my stomach.
The Voltruns won.
Our first loss of the season, and they continued their undefeated streak.
The days kept coming, in the weeks flew by. I had a decent grasp of everything I was learning. My grades still weren't the caliber they could be, but I was trying my hardest and forcing myself to study at night whenever I had the motivation. Farrah always offered her help, but I felt terrible if I was to rely on it too much. She was involved on campus in extracurriculars and had a tight-knit group of friends she loved spending time with.
When spring arrived at the end of March, the Unity Statue had finished construction. I was still receiving dirty looks in the hallway, but for the most part, people ignored me. I didn't mind it much. Whenever I walked around with Farrah, people didn't really look at me too closely, except for my mohawk. That always captured attention. But whenever Farrah wasn't around, no one was ever happy to see me.
The Unity Statue was covered by a tarp, and a wooden stage was set in front of it. After the last class of the day on a Friday, Principal Pine and all the professors stood alongside Principal Pine on the stage. The Mage Force still had officers standing around, patrolling the campus, but they didn't have as many people as when the hellion attacks were happening. There were signs on campus the week leading up to the grand unveiling. Each night at dinner, Principal Pine gave a small reminder that at the end of the school week, the statue would be revealed. Everyone was invited to come see it, and everyone on campus planned on it.
If something like this happened at my old high school, half of the student body might have shown up, but it wouldn't have surprised me if no one had shown up.
But Attleton was different.
Principal Pine stood in front of an antique microphone, a metal circle holding a circular grill but it had a bronze color. Nearly the entire student body stood before the covered statue, waiting to hear Principal Pine.
"Good afternoon.” Principal Pine smiled. “All of the students here should be proud today. We overcame an attempt to divide our campus. But with perseverance and a lot of heart, we rebuilt the Unity Statue once again. Greater and more robust than before. Is it a tragedy that our old relic was destroyed? It was a piece of history, hundreds of years old. Many people believe it was indeed a tragedy. That piece of history, that piece of art, it's forever gone. Destroyed by someone heartless. I speak to you today to remind you that it isn't a travesty.”
A hushed murmur broke out among the students.
“What’s he talking about? Of course it’s a travesty!”
“I think Pine is off his rocker.”
Principal Pine held up his hand. “I refuse to give the destroyers of our old monument any respect for their crime. I refuse to recognize it as something that belongs in a history book. Was it a deplorable act? Absolutely. Will it be known about for years to come? Maybe. I hope not. These people wanted fame and notoriety, but I refused to give them any infamy they desired.”
The crowd silenced back up.
"It is just a statue. It can be rebuilt.” Pine gestured toward the covered landmark behind him. “This is living proof that it was rebuilt. We did not let the criminals take anything from us at a pivotal moment. They wanted to make us cry, they wanted to have power over us, but we will not give it to them. So what? It's just a statue. Can it hold meaning? Sure, it can, but even if it wasn't here, does it really matter that much? It can be replaced. Don't get angry or upset because that's what they want, and why should we give them that? We can build a bigger and better statue whenever we want. So, my message to the criminals, find something better to do with your time. You're obviously talented, but there's no point in recklessly destroying anything, especially here on our wonderful campus.”
The crowd went from confused to clapping. Principal Pine was one hell of a speaker.
"Without further deliberation, we shall unveil this great statue that has been rebuilt. If it gets torn down again, we will rebuild it again. I think having our campus carry a special message is important because sometimes I fear it can be lost. Even though we all might have different mage abilities, we are all still the same. Our abilities are all balanced out. One is not better or worse than the other, we can all be friends and respect each other. And with that, professors, please, help pull off the sheet."
The professors turned around, grabbed the tarp's edge, and reeled it in. Principal Pine surveyed the crowd with a smile and waved to everyone. People boomed with thunderous applause and whistling cheers.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
The Unity Statue was revealed: six mages, standing together in a circle, each with an element in their hand, joined together at the center to form the star.
It looked no different, or hardly any different from what I can tell from the last statue.
Everyone applauded. I wondered if Richmond and Patrick were in the crowd. They probably were, and it made my blood boil.
That weekend the Fyrons had a match in Dragonstryke against the Aquasos, our biggest rival.
It was the month of rivalries. Everyone played their primary rival, and then spring break would start.
I felt like we had a three-team rivalry, with Houston being a Voltrun.
We ended up playing the Glaciens and came out with a victory. We won against the Glaciens even though they were a strong team. For the playoffs, it was shaping up to be the Fyrons, the Glaciens, the Voltruns, and the Winderons. The Aquasos and Venomaus teams had the worst season records.
I was looking forward to the playoffs, and even though I had to watch the game from the bench, it was still exciting knowing I was part of the team and watching the matches from the sideline felt like the best seat in the house, aside from being on the actual field.
***
On my way to my grandpa's house for spring break, I went on my own since I knew which boat transfers to take. Although my grandpa thought it would be best to meet at Port Harbor. He wrote me in a letter a week before to meet me there, near the Englaria building which reminded me of a smaller Windsor Castle. I told my grandpa I would meet him there and that it wouldn't be an issue. Although when I got to Port Harbor, I had arrived at first.
Port Harbor was crowded, and many people were taking transfers and walking across the tiny island. Since I had time to kill before my grandpa arrived, I decided to walk around the park at the center. I was quickly able to get lost in my own part of the green space, many trees created a barrier around the edge, and it managed to absorb much of the sounds of people walking, ships coming in, and the general busyness of the streets. Although I could still hear a bell chime whenever a boat made it to the dock.
Walking along the smooth stone path, taking in the fresh air of trees, plants, grass, and bushes around me, I almost forgot that I was in Port Harbor. Other people walked along the path, reading a book on a bench or playing a board game I didn't recognize at a table.
Following the winding path, I came up to a fountain area that had a bunch of tables and stands filled with people. It was a little market, and there were also some food vendors. It was tough being an outsider to the world and figuring out what the people were selling at a quick glance, but something caught my eye. In big letters, it was a newspaper headline on a table poster board.
THE MASKED ROBBER WILL NOT BE STOPPED
A gargoyle sat behind the stand with a stack of newspapers. The gargoyle wore a suit and large rectangular glasses that appeared frameless.
I approached his table, and the gargoyle bowed his head at me.
"Hello," he said in a deep voice. His skin looked rubbery and tough, and it was mint green.
"Hello, I was just curious about what newspapers you were selling?” I asked.
"Indubitably. Allow me to inform you that this newspaper has been authored by a collective of gargoyles. Ordinarily, individuals of your ilk do not peruse our literature. Nonetheless, you strike me as a youthful and broad-minded gentleman, and I admire your inquisitiveness. Should you desire, I would be pleased to provide you with a complimentary copy of our publication.” He grabbed a paper from the stack.
"What do you mean by my ilk?”
"It is understandable that humans may not find our news content to their liking. Our primary focus is on gargoyle-centric narratives, which may not always be relevant to the human experience. However, we also publish a comprehensive periodical that covers international affairs. While our readership among human magicians is modest, it is unlikely that we will achieve widespread popularity among the human population."
"Well, that's weird. I've got time to burn before I have to leave, so sure, I'll read a paper, I guess."
"Splendid! I shall not take offense if you happen to discard it shortly thereafter. I understand that our publication may not appeal to all, but the pursuit of knowledge holds paramount importance to me. Therefore, I am genuinely grateful to you for expressing an interest in our work." The gargoyle's lips curled up.
"Sure thing. I'm surprised more people wouldn't be interested in reading about the masked bank robber."
"In my opinion, the aversion to our reporting stems from a generally pessimistic outlook we hold towards the present circumstances. Many readers shy away from accounts that dwell on the negative, erroneously believing that we amplify facts beyond their veracity. However, I speak with conviction when I say that this masked assailant poses a significant threat to our world as gargoyles perceive it. Unfortunately, it may take an actual tragedy for people to realize the gravity of the situation, which could prove to be a lamentable consequence."
"Why is the masked robber a danger to our world? You see, I'm from the Nomagi world with no magic, elemental abilities, or gargoyles, at least I'm aware of."
The gargoyle's eyes widened. "Ah, that would account for your distinct coiffure.” He pointed to my hair with his black claws. “Nonetheless, it is a distinct pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Ronoke, and I am a gargoyle employed at the Global Gargoyle Editorial."
"My name is Rollie." I reached my hand out, and we shook hands. "But anyways, there are criminals in my world, and they always rob banks. Doesn't Lementum have bank robbers?"
"No, we do not.” Ronoke shook his head. “As far as my knowledge extends, this appears to be the initial instance of a successful endeavor in countless, long-drawn-out years. To put it into perspective, I would venture to say that it dates back to a period antecedent to the institution of contemporary banking norms, which came into effect millennia ago."
"Wow. That's pretty wild."
"Believe me, my dear sir, the subject is undeniably petrifying. However, I do not wish to cause any undue distress, particularly since you are currently on a respite from academic pursuits. Forgive me if our discussion has been overly distressing."
"No, that's quite okay. I'm interested in learning more about this story. It hasn't really been talked about on campus at Attleton."
"Hm. Not even among your professors?"
I shrugged. "It was a few months ago, so if they did talk about it, they didn't talk about it long enough or spend any time on it. I can't remember."
"Curious. I would anticipate, at the very minimum, some rumblings within your recollection. However, it is plausible that your capacity for memorization is currently underdeveloped."
"Are you calling me dumb?" I raised an eyebrow.
The gargoyle laughed to himself. "Certainly not. It is not in the nature of my kind to disparage others. As beings of candor, our straightforwardness can occasionally be perceived as discourteous. However, I assure you that I had no intention of undermining your intellectual prowess. If, perchance, my words may have been construed as such, then I humbly apologize."
"I'm going to read this paper, though, over here. I'll let you know what I think." I wandered to a bench nearby and held out the square booklet in front of me. The first cover had the same title as the tabloid on his stand.
THE MASKED ROBBER WILL NOT BE STOPPED.