Firdah, Minbasha 1, 350 AOR

He hadn’t known Cal Gray for long.

Following an unknown urge to walk into Havan’s Tavern on the last day of Asabasha, following a boring day of doing nothing around Elda’s royal palace, Toultir, Ray just so happened to come across Cal in a rather troublesome situation: a standoff with Elda’s most notorious noble whilst a man bled between them. Of course, being a prince—as well as used to Liam’s ways—Ray did his best to defuse the situation, and when he did so, he found a certain warmth, or maybe authenticity, within Cal Gray and his stoic emerald greens. He carried himself calmly and without a desire for… well, anything, and as Ray did his best to pry into Cal and his life whilst traversing the Kingdom of Elda, he only grew more fascinated.

After all, Ray was a prince, yet Cal hardly cared.

His entire life, expectations were lofty, assumptions were made, and disappointment was inevitable—from his peers, from the nobles… and from his father. That’s why he turned to the Magic Arts, spending his days training, reading, and pushing himself to seek the freedom his mother had once pushed him to find in magic. She had died four years ago—the unwanted memories still echoing in his mind—but her impact on Ray lived on.

Nonetheless, when he met Cal, who cared little for the prince’s status, and actually seemed to almost detest Ray’s cheerfulness, Ray was elated.

Who knew someone wouldn’t care about him?

If anything, it made Ray stick closer, trying to decipher Cal Gray and why he was, who he was. He didn’t get far, but he didn’t accept that, choosing to instead keep pushing until he broke down the dense, towering walls of the most despondently genuine person he’d met. It would be a challenge, but Raymond Crim was never one to back down from adversaries.

However, the duel between Cal and Liam cut his plans short.

If there was one thing that Ray picked up on rather quickly when it came to Cal, it was that he was a fighter through and through. For whatever reason, he was quick, perceptive, and good with his blades; however, he was also not afraid to fight for what he believed in—even if it bordered between right and wrong, proven in his confrontation with Annabelle Sylvest. Because of that though, Ray should have known that Cal would not bend to Liam so easily. But… Liam was exceptional in his own right… and Cal didn’t know until it was too late.

“Don’t you think this is pretty bad?”

Holding his right elbow up with his left hand, Ray nipped at his fingernails, blue eyes steely as he watched Cal blast the steam on the Arena away with Wind Magic. He glanced at the Elf Princess before looking back. The princess’ concern mirrored Grace’s worried expression—even the composed Venella’s, to a degree. And though he’d reached the same conclusion that Sylvest was rather similar to Cal in the fact that they were both rather apathetic to those around them, he did notice the subtle twitch of her fingers throughout the fight.

“Don’t worry, Violet, he’ll be fine,” Ray mumbled.

However, right as the words left his mouth, Liam caught Cal’s wrist and thrust his knee into Cal’s face before using Pillar Barrage to send Cal flying into the air. With each hit, the crowd grew more and more silent, though next to him, Grace gasped, trembling hands covering her mouth. Horror turned into paling dread, however, as Latiss summoned a spike and ball of stone.

“By the gods,” Grace whispered, voice trembling. “He’s going to kill Cal.”

Ray tried to convince himself that that wasn’t the case, but as the ball slammed into Cal, and propelled him toward the stone lance, Ray realized that she may have not been far from the truth.

Cal was going to die.

Professor Fahnlee, horror in her eyes, was frozen.

Her inability to move caused Ray to lean over the wall, shooting out, “For Lucius’ sake! Stop the fight!”

The second he did, Professor Fahnlee finally grabbed her wand and aimed it upward, but Ray knew better. She couldn’t do a thing.

Cal was descending dozens of feet per second, making him next to impossible to target and save. So as Cal plummeted hundreds of feet, and the crowd cried out in horror, Ray could do nothing but watch as Cal drove toward the spike.

It was murderous.

Not Cal’s condition, nor Liam’s intentions—it wasn’t even the explosion that rocked the Arena from atop the platform, smoke shooting into the sky—no, it was the controlled, yet immeasurable amount of bloodlust and mana that shrouded the Arena in a sense of animosity so great that Ray found it increasingly difficult to catch his breath. The pressure alone was enough for him to want to die, and as the smoke cleared, he knew why.

Julius Airetore, the Sixth Sage, Cal Gray’s mentor, their homeroom teacher, and one of Ray’s many inspirations, loomed over Liam with a glare that could kill a thousand men. Sprouting out from the professor’s back, arms of ice rose to the sky, one holding the stone ball while another held a limp Cal. Both arms slowly descended until they set both Cal and the sphere down. However, unlike the gentleness of the magic he had cast, Professor Airetore’s eyes were anything but.

He stepped toward Liam, who, beneath the Sixth Sage’s piercing blue eyes and dreadfully powerful aura, buckled and fell over. Mana surrounded the professor as he took another step forward and bent over so that he could stare right into Latiss’ trembling eyes.

“Know your place, boy,” he uttered, his words amplified by Sound Magic, making it abundantly clear to everyone in the Arena that his words were not just meant for Latiss to hear. He remained like that for just a moment longer before he rose to his full height and glanced at a trembling Professor Fahnlee. “Reflect, Professor Fahnlee, for you are a disappointment to this institute and its students.”

With that, Professor Airetore grabbed his pupil, and, in the blink of an eye, disappeared.

----------------------------------------

“That was utterly insane!” Violet cried out as she matched Ray’s brisk pace. “Why would he try and kill Mr. Gray? No one even tried to stop him! Are all humans like that? What’s going to happen now?”

“You’re asking questions that I can’t answer, Vio,” Ray grumbled, climbing the steps to the third floor with Grace and Venella close behind.

“There are going to be repercussions, right?” Grace questioned.

“Probably not,” Ray responded.

“We’re not going to talk about our homeroom teacher? Who the hell is he?” Venella questioned.

“There’s not much to know,” said Ray. “Aside from reaching the highest Mastery Rank in the current age, he’s an enigma.”

“You sure have all the answers,” Violet said.

“Should I not respond then?”

“I didn’t say that, Raymond,” the princess huffed. “You’re moving very fast, you know?”

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“Well I’m worried about my teammate,” Ray said once they reached the top of the steps and walked through a lofty hallway that overlooked the courtyard through a wall full of windows.

He stopped then, turning to a pair of large double doors. Above it, a sign read: Infirmary. He smacked his teeth and sighed before the four approached the door; however, they paused as a shout traveled through it.

“I told you to keep yourself out of trouble, you damn brat!”

“Professor Airetore?” Violet mouthed to Ray.

The prince looked at her as he and the rest placed their ears against the door.

“It’s ridiculous! I know we don’t see eye to eye, and I know you’re as stubborn as a Besha, but I had a stern lecture from your mother and Lord Meld about taking care of you. Luckily for you, I respect them enough since they allowed you to come with me, but if you’re going to keep ignoring me and doing Lucius’ knows what, I have half a mind to send you back to Markstead with my boot up your ass! So get your head out of the fucking ditch and quit complicating things for me, understand?” When there was no response, the professor’s voice rose louder. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes! Dammit, I do! Now get the hell off my back!” Cal shouted too, causing everyone’s eyes to widen.

“Good. Now get some rest and be ready for tomorrow. I’m training you until you’re pleading with me to send you back to your mother’s arms.” The sound of boots tapping against the floor grew closer, causing the four to panic; however, they were too slow to react, resulting in Airetore opening the infirmary doors and looking down at his sheepishly apologetic students. “Eavesdropping is rather frowned upon. You should know that especially as children of royalty, yes?”

“We apologize, Professor Airetore,” Violet said, gathering herself faster than the rest. “We were simply worried about our classmate.”

The hum Airetore expelled told Ray that he didn’t buy Violet’s excuse. Still, the professor stepped aside and let the four walk in, though he looked down the hall toward the stairwell.

“There’s no need to be a shadow, Ms. Sylvest,” he called out.

Ray paused and backed his head up to look to where Professor Airetore was looking, and sure enough, Sylvest stood at the top of the stairwell, expression unreadable.

“You’re here?” Ray asked.

She made her way toward him. “That bastard lost us one hundred points. I’m going to make sure he knows it.”

“Do not cause any more trouble, Ms. Sylvest,” Professor Airetore said. “I’m aware of yours and Cal’s little scuffle before the fight, you know?”

Sylvest passed Ray and Airetore, scoffing as she did. “How observant. You want a cookie or something?”

Airetore’s lips pressed together, but he nodded his head in mute acceptance and walked off. Without a moment to waste, Sylvest walked in, brushing past Squad Seventeen and approaching Cal, who looked considerably well despite the pummeling he suffered. Ray followed after Sylvest, trying to slow her down.

“He’s not completely healed, you know? Nurse Leafa never does, something about building character,” Ray hurriedly explained. “Don’t be too hard on him, Annabel—”

She whipped around, a finger just an inch from Ray’s nose. “Don’t call me that! No one calls me that! And don’t tell me what to do, Your Highness.”

Ray’s hands shot up in surrender, voice meek. “Okay… Anna…”

His teammate glared at him, scowled, and then whipped her head back around, resuming her path of destruction. Ray still followed, acting more so as a mediator if needed. Squad Seventeen was on his heels.

“What the hell was—”

Sylvest paused—as did everyone else, nearly running into one another—when they truly looked at Cal from where he sat on the side of his bed. Past the fading bruises along his body, and then the bandages that wrapped around his ribs, right arm, and forehead, several varying scars ran the length of Cal’s muscular build. There were stabs, lacerations, and even burns—wounds that not a single eighteen-year-old should have. Behind him, Grace and Violet gasped. Even Anna’s mouth had fallen open just a bit, seemingly without words as the six stood in a tense silence. However, that silence was cut short by the door at the other end of the hall-like infirmary opening, where Nurse Leafa came out with a roll of bandages.

She hardly seemed to pick up on the room’s atmosphere as she stopped a dozen feet away and held up the bandages. “These are laced with Healing Mana; they’ll ease any pain and discomfort until the minor wounds I left behind heal up. You should be good in the next few days.”

“Cal…” Ray tried, but the aforesaid had already picked him and his uniform up, standing in front of his classmates.

He stopped in front of Anna, expression empty, and lifted her chin to close her mouth. “Keep your mouth shut and stay in your lane. You’re less annoying that way.”

Cal didn’t waste another second in throwing on his shirt before approaching Leafa, who handed him the bandages with one hand and grabbed his forearm with the other, expression firm. “I told you I didn’t want to see you in here for a few days. What happened to that?”

“Why should I tell you?” Cal asked bluntly, easily pulling his arm from Nurse Leafa’s grasp.

“As your nurse, your well-being is my responsibility, especially when you’re so reckless that you end up being admitted twice in less than an hour.”

“If that’s the case, then just do your job and heal me when it’s needed.”

Despite Cal’s remark, the nurse remained unphased. “I recommend you treat those around you with some respect, kid. If not, you’ll find yourself surrounded by unwanted adversaries… I’ll still heal you, just know that all healers are taught to do so to ensure there’s no pain. At its core, however, Healing Magic is simply the reversal of agony. Those broken ribs you suffered—I could have allowed you to relive the breakage. Know that now.”

Cal humphed and turned around, though he paused. “Thanks… Leafa.”

Not giving the partially annoyed nurse a second glance, Cal left, ignoring his teammates and Squad Seventeen as well. They all glanced at each other before Nurse Leafa sighed. “Stingy punk—” the nurse looked at the five and chuckled under her breath before returning to the office she came from— “Good luck with him, you five.”

The second the door to her office closed, Venella tapped her foot on the marble floor. “What the hell was that?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” Ray said with a heavy breath.

“Maybe we start with his body—I mean, scars,” Violet said, causing the prince to deadpan. The princess smiled cheekily, to which Ray rolled his eyes.

“U-Um, Your Highness, do you… not—not knowing anything about Cal?” said Grace.

Ray’s disgruntled countenance softened before he patted the top of Grace’s head. “You can just call me Ray, Grace.”

“I-I-I couldn’t possibly do that, Y-Your Highness!” she cried out, though she did grab Ray’s arm. “A-And I’m not some dog for you to pet!”

“Yes. Yes. I know. You’re just so short. It’s kind of cute,” Ray chuckled, removing his arm and laughing at Grace’s flushed features.

“Don’t tease me, R-Ray, and answer my question.”

Settling down, Ray sat on one of the infirmary beds and sighed. “I don’t know anything about him. Professor Fahnlee said he was raised in Markstead, and Professor Airetore said he had a mom, but that’s about it.”

“So then his scars…” said Violet. “Not his body.” When everyone looked at her with probing eyes, she crossed her arms. “What? Can’t a curious elf observe the human specimen?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ray said before scratching his head. “How the hell would he get those though?”

“Um… Weren’t there some problems in Eastern Wyze after the Civil War?” Grace asked as she sat next to Venella.

“And there’s also that Lord Meld person,” Venella added.

Civil War… Lord Meld…

Ray’s mind rushed, attempting to recall anything he could about Eastern Wyze, the Civil War, and then a man named Lord Meld. As a child of royalty, he was subjected to hours upon hours upon hours of history, geography, and politics. He tended to drift off during those lessons, and now, he sort of regretted doing so.

“I can’t think of anything,” Ray admitted with a bashful smile, though it fell before he laid back on the bed. “What do you know Grace?”

“Um, not much. Papa had mentioned that his supplier was failing to bring in the right amount of wheat over the last few months for his bakery—something about an influx of raids… or something.”

Ray shot up, brows crinkled. “Raids?”

Grace nodded. “Mm. Bandits raided farmsteads and the like. It made getting wheat and other products rather difficult.”

“Why purchase goods that far out?” Ray muttered.

“The Western Fields might be closer, but that makes it more expensive. Eastern Wyze’s farms are further and more isolated, so they tend to sell cheaper, even if it’s a smaller profit and longer wait time. We bought from the Holt Farmstead rather frequently, but they won’t be up and running again for another month, per the raids.”

“Wow. I’ve never seen you speak so coherently, Grace,” Venella said with a grin. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“D-Don’t tease me,” Grace whined. “You know I work at the bakery, so obviously I know how it operates. I… just get a bit overzealous because of it.”

“Don’t take it to heart, Grace,” the heiress laughed as she pulled the magess into her side with her arm. “So what about the raids?”

Grace shrugged in Venella’s embrace. “That’s all I know.”

Minus Sylvest, the group released a collective sigh. Ray stood up. “Well, there’s not much we can do then, I suppose.”

“It’s not like you people even know him. Why are you so hellbent on figuring him out? He clearly wants to be left alone.”

Ray and three pairs of eyes looked at Sylvest as she leaned against the foot of a bed’s metal frame. When they simply stared at her, Sylvest rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the bed frame.

“Ridiculous, every last one of you.”

She left then, the infirmary doors slamming shut. Ray and the members of Squad Seventeen fell silent, a sense of uncertainty in their eyes as Ray questioned what was in the store for the foreseeable future.