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 Posted: Sat Jul 25, 2009 1:52 am
Hope you like it, I will try and update this weekly if possible, unless something horrible happens with my internet connection again. 10/23/09 Edit: Now with Synopsis! Nicolas is a young aristocrat from the Empire of Magna who has just discovered his own magical abilities. To save the family from the humiliation of this fact his father, Lord Decameron, has sent him away to the nation of Gallia, Magna’s rival and neighbor, to learn to control his powers until he comes of age. There Nicolas befriends a boy destined to save Gallia from evil and pledges fights along side him. But after he is suddenly killed Nicolas taught a secret that could make his dreams come true. With his life heading off in two directions and threatening to collide, Nicolas is fighting a desperate battle for time as he decides which one is worth saving.Quote: Through the window of his stagecoach, Nicolas watched the thick greenery of the forest pass by without really taking in any of what he was seeing. In the past months, he had seen much of the countryside of Magna and Gallia and much of the boarder land between them, and though it was his first excursion away from the home where he was born, he had already grown bored of the scenery. In part it was probably because of the speed at the trip was going at, the caravan could spend weeks traversing a region at a time. Or, as it was more likely, it was probably because Nicolas was only twelve years old and had yet to develop an appreciation for anything, let alone nature.
He was a small boy, thin, with pale skin, short, dark brown hair and cold gray eyed. He wore black trousers, a frilly white shirt, a black vest, and loafers with a white tie. On the seat next to him was a black jacket he had taken off earlier due to the heat of summer. All of his clothes were made of rich material from the silk of his tie to the leather of his loafers and carried an ample amount of flair and embroidery. His expression was passive, though there was something inherently gloomy about it when taken in with the whole of his appearance. In a way he looked like a porcelain doll, sitting perfectly still, the only movement across his body came from the shadows of the trees as they rolled across him.
Sitting across from Nicolas, and watching him with an appraising look was an old, but imposing looking man in a dark navy suit, receding gray hair and friendly blue eyes. He leaned back in his seat to get a better view of the Nicolas, and rubbed the stubble in his chin in a reflective sort of way,
“What are you thinking about, Nicolas?” he asked in a dry, but strong and appealing voice that reminded Nicolas oddly of a red wine.
Nicolas did not look away from the window, but simply shifted slightly in his direction, and said in a small voice,
“Nothing sir, I am just enjoying the view…”
“Nothing? Why aren’t you thinking about Scholair? We will be there very soon, need I remind you.”
“I just don’t want to think about it, sir.”
“Anxious?”
Was he anxious? He could not tell, he was feeling numb, but that nauseating sinking feeling he associated with anxiety was absent. At the beginning of the trip, he had felt a lot of despair, that crushing dread of a seemingly inescapable fate and anguish of self-disgust. But as time drew on, he lost those feeling of despair, and of everything else, instead becoming emotionally dead, inclined to the fate that was dealt to him, though those horrid thoughts sometimes dig themselves up in quiet moments despite Nicolas’s attempts to keep them buried. Of The Scholair where he would spend the rest of his childhood amongst monsters like himself, of his subtle exile to Gallia from his homeland of Magna, of his father’s neglectful loathing of him, and of his mother and all the other who he hurt, of being what he was, a freak, a wizard.
“No, I’m fine, but thank you for asking…” said Nicolas with a small insincere smile and a nod to the old man,
“Really?” said the old man, Nicolas got the feeling that he had seen straight through his lie, “Well nothing more can be asked for… Ah, look there Nicolas”
Nicolas followed the old man’s gaze out the window of the carriage, through the forest, and up into the distance where a castle could be seen rising above the tops of the trees and into the skyline. It was an immense building, with a lofty limestone tower rising into the distance, surrounded by a group of smaller towers, each in itself castle like with several spires, jutting balconies and separate spires connected to the hose by a ramps and bridges. What he could see through the forest was beautiful, but something about the angles and proportions that made Nicolas believe that magic was involved in making it stand, lessening the effect slightly. Magnan buildings were cold, granite and square but for state commissioned monuments, built for function and not for design, though his only experience of it would have been from his family home and the capital which he had rarely visited.
“The Scholair” Said the old man, drawing back Nicolas attention, “the construction was the first act of the Gallian alliance when it was first declared. The individual sovereignties were still hostile toward each other so the council commissioned the school so that the city-states could have a place to share their magical tradition and raise their children together. It predated even the founding of Deltalis, if you can believe that, the council choosing to build a school before the capital, but who can ever say they can understand the mind of a wizard, let alone a council of them...” He looked out at the towers with a curious look that Nicolas could not place, maybe it was respect, one which he did not share.
Magna and Gallia had never had a good relationship ever since the first Gallia-Magna war when one of The Emperors, in the tradition of his family, declared war on Gallia as to expand his sovereignty. Descending with his armies from the mountainous nation of Magna and descended into Gallian Highland, starving for conquest to add to his name. The resulting war was devastating to both sides, an immense occupying force of Magnans being pushed back by the then little understood forces of Gallia wizardry to foothills that formed the borderlands. The Gallia Council was formed in the aftermath, with the leaders of each of the Mageocratic City States at its head and began their ascent as a world power. While the Empire of Magna suffered through a period civil strife before rebuilding itself in preparation of a second invasion, see the first steps of democratization for the empire. Thus starting the long and bloody rivalry between the Empire of Magna and the Alliance of Gallia, a complex dance wars, intrigue and occasional peace times which had began long before Nicolas was born and, as he believed, would continue long after he was gone.
The last was had only taken place nearly decade before, his father Lord Decameron had served the empire, as most nobles did, as a commander, serving over a regiment of soldiers from Decas, his own province, and had survived. It had ended terribly for Magna, who had lost nearly a fourth of its land to a Gallian advance, including the Foothills, which they had never lost before and a third of its population in the violence and desertion. But the war did have its benefits, the reduction of population gave the peasantry a greater access to resources and saw rise to a first ever middle class in Magna’s history, with things such as education and ownership now becoming available to the common people. Technology was advancing at a rate never before known, with new industries developing and standard of living increasing across the empire. Politically the aristocrats were still in control, though a greater importance was placed on the imperial senate and its ministries to legislate over these changes. Meanwhile the Emperor and the Lords used their influence to channel the peoples rage at losing the war towards the Gallians and those who had defected. Even as an aristocrat Nicolas was not free of the propagandas effect and the nationalistic pride that filled the empire from its capital
“You must be excited now?” said the old man, turning to give Nicolas a questioning look, but Nicolas continued to stare up at the Towers and felt a weight press down on his stomach.
“Anxious…”
-------
The Carriage entered into the grounds through the schools outer gates of the Scholiar. Robed students were wandering amongst the ancient trees and expansive gardens, or else were sitting in groups of studying alone under the shade of the trees. The Spires of the Scholair were ever present over the heights of the trees, looming ever larger as they approached until the Carriage entered into a clearing where its full form came into view. The Sholair was stood on a height point upon a hill, its many towers surrounded by a wall encircling at the base like the band of a crown. From what he could guess the largest of the towers stood at the epicenter of the circle that the wall formed, with the other towers sitting around in some pattern, at equal distance from each other, the wall and the center spire. Everything made from a smooth, tan colored limestone and contained intricate stained glass windows imbedded into the walls. The whole of the thing reminded Nicolas of something organic, with its curvature, arches and a noticeable lack of linear angles.
As they came closer to the tower Nicolas could see a black robed figure standing on the top of the stairway who strode slowly down the side of the castle at their approach. It was a woman with long brown hair pulled into a ponytail that extended down to her shoulders. As they came closer she held out an arm to the air to draw the carriage drivers to a stop, which they did only a few feet away from her. The tired looking old man got up from his seat and gestured to Nicolas to join him, and said,
“Ready?”
“Not really.” said Nicolas with a shrug and, to his own surprise, the old man chuckled lightly,
“Well that is unfortunate.” he said, patting Nicolas on the shoulder, though missing the look of frown Nicolas then game him.
Saying nothing more, Nicolas stood still as one of the drivers walked round the side of the carriage to open the door for Nicolas and the old man before stepping back with a bow. The old man stepped out onto the stairwell to meet the robed woman, followed by Nicolas. The robed woman, as Nicolas now noticed, was very young, his guess was that she was in her twenties, and was quite good-looking. Well shaped, with skin a shade darker than either Nicolas’s or the Old man’s, with long black lashes and full dark lips. Nicolas was taken aback, expecting to receive some wrinkled old headmaster and instead receiving this. The Woman gave the two a low bow, came up with a warm smile, and said,
“Nicolas Decameron, it is very good to finally meet you, I am Secretary Jolie, the headmasters assistant, he asked me to get you welcomed into our school.” She smiled again at Nicolas who searched his mind for something to say but found he could not come up with any appropriate greeting and simply smiled, somewhat insincerely and returned her bow, muttering as he did so,
“Um… Thank you…” He came up from the bow with the smile gone, then meeting Jolie eyes turned his gaze over to the old man and found he was also looking at him, and then realized he should introduce him,
“Miss Jolie,” He gestured to the Old Man, “This is Chekov Koch”
The Old Man held out gave Allison a short bow, held out his hand for her to take, and said,
“Ambassador Chekhov Koch, Lord Decameron requested that I see Nicolas safely to your school”
Jolie took a step back in surprise before smiling again and taking Chekov’s outstretched hand and giving it a small improper shake. Chekhov was one of the world’s most famed diplomats, the head ambassador from Magna to Gallia, one of the authors of the current peace treaty and a personal advisor and friend to some of the world’s most influential men, including the Emperor and the speaker of the Gillian Council. Nicolas’s father had made a personal request to Chekhov and had used his extensive influence within the capital to ensure that he would accompany him to Scholair during his semiannual trip to the Empire’s capital from the Magnan Embassy in Gallia.
“Well, we should get on with the tour, Ambassador are you going to be joining us?” said Allison, who was quickly starting to look as nervous as Nicolas then felt.
“I think I may,” said Chekov, clapping his hands together excitedly, and looking around at his surroundings, “I have not seen the halls of Scholair in almost a decade, and I would like to see how it has changed.”
“Ah well…” Murmured Jolie, recomposing herself, “Well then, lets begin, ah.” Her eyes fell to the carriage where the drivers were undoing Nicolas’s chest and lowering it to the ground and she pointed her hand with a slight flourish and muttered a few words underneath her breath. As soon as she had finished her spell, the chest the drivers were working on removing leaped into the air and came to float at her side. The Drivers so caught so unexpectedly by this display of magic, tumbled off the side of the carriage and only as if it was about to fall apart.
Blushing at the look the drivers were giving her, the small chuckle of Chekov and seeing Nicolas pretending not to have seen, Jolie smiled at her own mistake and whispered, “Sorry” to the drivers before taking a step back up the Stairwell.
“Um… Well, you please follow me.” Said Jolie, leading the group up the tall stairway up and into Scholair, Chekhov and Nicolas following slowly behind her along with Nicolas’s trunk that bobbed along at the same pace as Jolie.
The group entered into the large entry courtyard, a large space lined with covered in a complex web of limestone walkways leading around vibrant inner gardens and walls, which cut across the space from the ring wall, dividing, as Nicolas could guess, the inner section of the Scholair. The Walkway that Nicolas now seemed to be standing on leading towards a second rounded faced wall, leading to the inner most part of the Scholair and the center spire. Except for a number of statues and a unmanned guard post at the gate they just walked, this section of the Scholair seemed devoid of any notable structured and seemed devoted instead to the inner gardens. Students were everywhere, going about their business in preparation for the school year or else wandering the like those out on the grounds.
“This is the Courtyard, from here anyone can find their way anywhere within our grounds…”
She looked at the chest of Nicolas and gave a wave of her hand, causing the chest to soar off into the air, around the central spire, then out of view. Turning back to smile at Nicolas, Jolie said,
“You things will be by you’re the foot of your bed in the dorms, don’t worry…”
-------
From there Nicolas and the others moved through the Scholair, through the main tower, through the grounds, subject towers and secondary structures. The first thing that Nicolas realized about the school is that travelling through it was completely nonlinear. You could be in the Tower of Masters, and if you weren’t’ paying attention about the doors you were going through could end up in the Library building without even having to go through the grounds. Other times you could enter a tower, then without even taking a single step on a stair, you could end up on the top of the tower looking over the grounds with a churning stomach. But Jolie knew exactly where she was taking Nicolas and Checkov throughout the grounds. She brought them through the labyrinth of the school, through stairwells, walkways, archways, chambers, classrooms, across the grounds and through hallway after unending hallway in a path so twisted that Nicolas could barely wrap his head around let alone estimated the distance travelled.
Finally, after a journey that took a better part of two hours, the trio finally found walking along the inner part of the ring, where most of the smaller buildings were made part of the wall. Most of these reminded Nicolas of the high-class apartments he had seen in Ernstadt, Magna’s Capital City, except for the distinct lack of windows in all but a few of them. Between these were larger cylindrical buildings, spaced, like guard barracks, where the inner walls and outer walls met and gave off the same feeling of a living structure. Jolie led Nicolas and Checkov around one of these buildings to a archway separating two of the Scholairs sections where its main door was located
“This is will be your Dormitory, Nicolas, the Broadley house” she said, and the door open with a wave of her hand. She led him and Chekov into a large, circular living space, filled with chairs, couches, tables and countless other pieces of antique furniture. These were gathered in arrangements around greater set pieces, including a impressive fireplace on the wall opposite to the door, some wide ornate looking out onto the grounds and a wall of bookshelves filled to the ends with books and nick knacks. A tall board sat by the door which was barren except for a single banner which said, ‘Welcome Broadleys, Newcomers and Old!’ above the room was a sort of metal catwalk that ran around the circumference of the space which could be reached by two spiraling metal stairs sitting on ether side of the fireplace. No one else was in the room but for Nicolas, Chekov and Jolie, who strode into the center of the room and spun to face Nicolas and the ambassador with the blissful look of reminiscence,
“Broadley is a great place, Nicolas, I am sure you will be able to make plenty of friends here, but make sure you remember how it looks now. It’s a boy’s dorm and I am quite sure you will never again see it so clean as after this point. Ah.” She strode to one of the spiraling stairs and climbed up it to the floor above and prompted Nicolas and Chekov to follow, though neither of them seemed happy at having to clime any more stairs. Following her lead they came to the second floor and strode around the a number of doors with a plank engraved with the words ‘First Year’ and the students living in that dorm. Until they came to one which included Nicolas name written in small gold letters under the sign.
“This will be the end of our tour here, make yourself at home and enjoy your rest, classes should be beginning next week. That will give you plenty of time to get adjusted” Said Jolie, with another smile and a bow. Nicolas now too tired from the tour to be nervous, returned the bow and muttered,
“Thank you Miss Jolie” She returned this with a glowing smile
“Well, it seems I have seen you safely to your place and beyond that Mister Decameron, I hope its won’t be too long until I see you again. Don’t be too afraid to write me, and if you are ever in the capitol stop by the embassy, I’m sure I could give you a unique tour of the city. Now…” He turned his attention to Jolie and said in a passing tone, “Is there any way to get around without having run through this labyrinth, I am not young man miss Jolie, and I don’t even think I could survive a second trip if I were in my prime…”
Nicolas, finally happy to get some respite to himself, it had been weeks since he had had some time to himself. Turning away from the two adults, he pulled open the door to the Dorm, slipped inside, sighing in relief. It was a small rectangular room with a slight curve to its walls to accommodate the circular design of the and had a number of four poster beds on either side all facing a small wood stove with the trunks and chests of the occupying student placed at the end of each bed. At the far end of the opposite end of the room facing away from Nicolas was a window looking out onto the forest with a large desk and several chairs set under it. But Nicolas noticed none of these things at first, instead noticing a group of three boys, all his age and all dressed in black robes, crowded around the furthest bed of the right, rummaging through what he recognized as his own trunk.
“Look at these clothes, they foreign don’t you think? Everything looks like its been cut short eh, I mean, look at this?” said untidy looking boy with wavy light brown hair, wrinkled robes and pale, freckled skin as he pulled one of Nicolas’s vests out from the trunk and held it for the group to see.
“Must be foreign… Hm, what you two think?”
“I think you shouldn’t be going through his things,” said a noble looking boy with curly dark brown hair watching as the untidy boy going through his things, “If he realized we did any of his stuff we could all get into trouble”
“He’ll get in trouble, were aren’t the ones looking through someone else things…” said a lanky boy with short brown hair and spectacles scornfully, “And I wouldn’t let them push the blame on me, anyway…”
“You know,” cut in the untidy boy in a relaxed tone, “I think I should take a few of these, I don’t have any books of my own.”
The Noble boy half glanced back to the untidy boy, “Don’t have any books?”
The Untidy boy, shrugged a little and opened Nicolas’s brand new book of spells and flipped through the pages, “Mother bought them for me but I traded a few of them in for some art books”
The Lanky looking boy, looked over to Untidy looking boy with a raised eyebrow, “What did your mom do when she found out?”
“She hasn’t” said the untidy boy in a matter of fact tone, “I wonder when he’s going to get here, the owner of the trunk I mean. You think its going to take long for him to figure out we went through is things?”
“Not long I would assume,” said Nicolas in his small cold voice.
At that point, all the boys turned their attention over to Nicolas who had remained unnoticed and almost at once, they all jumped in surprise, and took a step away from Nicolas and his trunk.
“Who are you!” said the Untidy boy, abandoning his calm tone
“Nicolas, Decameron…” he paused, then added, “I believe the name is printed on the chest…”
“Oh…” muttered the Untidy boy, frowning slightly and looking away from Nicolas in an obvious signal of guilt, then said, “We didn’t take anything you know”
“A kind gesture, I am sure…” said Nicolas, sarcastically, “So, who are all of you?”
The Lanky boy chuckled in a satisfied way to himself, the Untidy boy looked nervously at Nicolas and the Noble boy a little looked worried,
“You aren’t going to tell the Prefect are you?” Said the noble looking boy, raising an eyebrow,
“No,” muttered Nicolas, I just want to know who I am going to be living with.”
The Noble boy and the Untidy boy still looked unconvinced, but The Lanky boy shrugged took a step forward and extended a hand to Nicolas, “I’m Michael Stone, and I can give you their names if you want.” Nicolas took his hand and gave it a firm shake while keeping his eyes on the other boys
“Um…” said Nicolas, looked at the other two, who were looking reproachfully at Michael, “I’m fine with having them tell me their own names Michael, thank you…” Michaels frowned slightly but went to stand off to Nicolas side to watch the others with a hawk like expression of stern focus.
“Well since that’s the case…” said the untidy looking boy, standing up and striding over casually with one hand in the pocket of his robe and with his other extended for Nicolas,
“I’m Paul Timild, sorry about that trouble before, wont happen again…” Something in his voice seemed unconvincing, but as Nicolas looked into his wonderfully blue eyes, he realized it was a joke and shook his hand,
“You aren’t going to say anything to the Prefect?” he then whispered
“No, I don’t think so…” said Nicolas, Paul smiled then took a step away. Then, the noble looking boy, who had a flickering frown on his calm face, came over and with
“I’m Richard.” He said in a clear, kind voice with his hand outstretched,
“Richard Tresses.” Nicolas extended his own hand forward, but just as he took it he looked around and noticed that all the other two boys were looking at him expectantly, and muttered,
“What?" Michael perked up with a curious and surprised expression,
"Aren’t going to say something?”
“Should I?” Said Nicolas, a little confused as he looked around to see
Michaels surprised expression echoed on the face of all the other boys in the room exept for Richard, who was still smiling happily.
“He’s Richard Tresses…” said Michael smiling incredulously and waving his arm at Richard, sighed, half smiling to before slinking away towards another bunk
“Should I know who that is?”
“Of course you should have, its Richard Tresses!” said Michael, smiling
“You aren’t from around here are you?” said Paul in a tone of sudden understanding. Nicolas raised his eyebrow at the question and said,
“Yeah, I’m Magnan” All the boys but gave a sudden start
“I didn’t know Magnans were allowed into the Scholiar?” exclaimed Michael,
“I’m the first one I believe, actually” said Nicolas, noting how all the boys were suddenly very still
“That explains the lock,” said the Richard, “Magic isn’t very common in Magna is it?”
“No, it isn’t” said Michael, before Nicolas could answer, still looking a little stunned, “Its frowned upon actually.”
Paul walked around the stove at the center of the room and kicked open a trunk at the front of another bed and began rummaging around in it.
“Are you sure you just aren’t one of those boys who likes to get peoples attention by saying shocking things?” said Michael, raising his eyebrow at Nicolas
“I wouldn’t say so” came the voice of Paul from out of Nicolas’s sight who suddenly came running around them with a large book, “Look at this picture, painting of Magnan royalty, he looks just like them!”
The three boys crowded around Paul as he showed them the book as Nicolas stood and watched them,
“He doesn’t look like these people, in the way he’s dressed maybe, but that can be imitated,” said Richard
“You aren’t looking at it right then…” said Paul, “Imagine if you were to paint these people and then paint him, he has the similar stance, a similar structure if adjusted for age.” He pointed at whatever was on the page, obviously unaware that he was going over the heads of his friends, “I would say he’s a Magnan, anyway, what parent would allow his kid to go to school pretending to be one?”
Nicolas rolled his eyes, walked around to the side of his bed, and sat down without taking his shoes off, crossing his hands behind his head to watch the others argue.
“If you’re supposed to be a Magnan, then why don’t you have an accent?” said Michael, frowning over the book in Pauls hand at Nicolas, still looking unconvinced
“Sorry?” said Nicolas, raising en eyebrow at the question
“You just don’t sound like a Magnan, I have met a few and they have harsh accent’s, but you speak Gallian like you were raised here”
Nicolas frowned, slightly, then said, “Probably because I was tutored to speak Gallian, by a Gallian, since I started speaking anything at all…” Then he said, switching to Magnan, “But if you need further proof.” The boys looked taken aback, except for Michael
“He could just be saying random nonsense in Magnan…” he said, though he did not looked convinced in his own argument
“At the least it is very convincing nonsense,” said Richard, who then responded to Michael’s stare with an innocent grin.
“You could just wait a see,” said Nicolas in an offhand way,
“What do you mean?” said Richard
“Start of term,” said Michael before Nicolas could speak, “You think they will announce you being here?”
“Why not,” said Paul, “I mean, if he is telling the truth and he is the first Magnan to be allowed into Scholair that would be something to commemorate.”
“Give the class something to feel special about.” Muttered Richard, more to himself than the rest of the group,
“Give them a target…” Said Michael, “How many of them you think lost relatives to the Magnans? Tons of kids here had to grow up without mother and fathers or even siblings because of the war and its aftermath, how many do you think are going to live that down?” Everyone gave him a worrying looks that Nicolas could not help but notice with some discomfort, though by the far off look in Michael’s face he doubted he had noticed at all
“You’re going to have spells coming at you from all directions as soon as the news gets out, you’ll have to be careful, but even if you were a veteran Spellsword I wouldn’t give you a week…” hummed a little at his own thought then glanced around at the looks the others were giving him,
“What?”
Paul rolled his eyes, but still looked as perturbed as the others then met Nicolas gaze with a small frown,
“He just got here and you tell him he’s going to be cursed within the week,” said Richard, smiling slightly, “You could give a lesson in charm Michael…”
An uncomfortable silence filled the air, everyone stuck for things to say after this grim foresight provided by Michael. Nicolas had not considered the prejudice he may face at the hands of his fellow students, he had been more concerned with other issues during his travels, but now that the thought presented itself, it seemed almost inconceivable that the Gallian students would simply accept him with open arms. They were the children of men who had fought in the war, told stories of atrocities committed at the hands of the Magnans. Not that he expected to be outright assaulted as if he were in some lower class school, Scholair was the greatest school of magic in the enlightened world and had a tuition to match, but he would not put backstabbing, literal or otherwise, past the student’s here.
“So…” said Richard in falsely cheery voice, breaking the awkward silence like a glass pane, “Anyone care for a bit of dinner?”
-------
“I’m sorry, I just can’t get over how nauseating that is” said Nicolas, hunched over at a small round table at the back of the dining hall as the other boys of his dorm sat eating beside him. The building, like so many large chambers in the Scholair, was tall, supported by arches and wide pillars and rounded in its edges in a way that reminded Nicolas of some sort of organic grace in its design. Many thick wooden tables were scattered around the room, and a massive curved table, raised on a dais, on the other side of the room that the teachers sat at on regular days. Light poured into the room from stained glass windows placed between the arches of the roof, depicting figures Nicolas could not recognize. Currently the room was empty but for a few students other than Nicolas and the other boys.
“The Way Doors? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it after a few full days here,” said Paul, taking a small sandwich off of a platter and taking a bit out of it.
“Yeah, you just have to think a little bit less about what you are doing” said Michael, sagely between bites of his sandwich, “Think too much about the nonlinear distance you traveled compared to the linear distance and you’ll get nauseous, same thing for teleportation, the two different sets of information clashing against each other…”
“Or you could just drink this…” said Richard, offering Nicolas his cup from across the table, it was full of some white, cloudy liquid that bubbled and stung Nicolas’s nose as he smelt it,
“What is this?” he asked,
“Ginger Beer, helps with nausea, my granddad suggested it to me before I left, said drinking it helps get you used to travelling around the school, I also have some Candied Ginger if you like.” Nicolas took a few sips of the stuff and found it too his taste, though it had not yet started working on his stomach. The boys had taken a Nicolas through a complex set of doors from within the Dorm, which had ended up taking them to the Dining hall within the Main Tower almost half the distance of the grounds away, the realization causing Nicolas some discomfort
“Thanks Richard...” murmured Nicolas, sipping at his glass. He wasn’t too hungry at the moment, but felt he would be later, so reached for a sandwich on the large plate that sat at the center of the table which the other boys had summoned up using a set of runes imbedded into the tables face.
“So…” said Richard, “What part of Magna are you from?”
“If you are from Magna.” Said Michael between bites of his own food,
“Didn’t we go over this already?” said Paul exasperated,
“I’m from Decas Provence,” said Nicolas towards Richard, “Its in the south near the Sternguard Mountains”
“Oh,” said Richard before glancing over at Michael who shrugged, he guessed neither of them knew what he was talking about, “What’s it like over there?”
“Compared to here, oh…” Nicolas, glancing around for some inspiration on what to say, “its cold most of the year, the forests are a lot less dense, and it takes weeks to get anywhere through the mountains, but it can be nice. My family manor sits high on the foothills by the mountains and from there you could look out and see the whole of the Provence. Which is great, and useful, considering that my dad rules over all of it…”
“Wait… You dad rules over all of what?” questioned Michael,
“The province,” said Nicolas. He was raised learning of the achievements of his family and found them rather disinteresting, “my family has governed over Decas for generations. It was actually renamed after and given to one of my ancestor after they helped the Emperor conquer it…” the boys looked around at each other
“Come on, you must have stories like that in your families, every aristocrat I have ever known has had a few…”
“Uh, my father’s a artificer,” said Paul smiling,
“And my mother’s a clerk,” said Michael, “We aren’t aristocrats.”
“Right…” muttered looking around at the other boys expecting them to laugh at their own joke, but instead saw them all looking back at him with serious expressions, “Then how did you get accepted here?”
“Your only accepted if you show exceptional magical skill” said Michael
“So none of you are aristocracy?”
“Uh… No.” said Ricahrd
“Then how are you able to pay tuition?,” said Nicolas, feeling a little stunned,
“I got a scholarship” said Paul, smiling,
“Really?” said Michael, “I have one too, what did you do?”
“Set my house of fire.” Said Paul with a shrug, “you?”
“Muted a whole city block for a few hours.” Said Michael with a grin
“Huh…” muttered Nicolas, his head spinning
“Is this the first time you have ever lived with a lower class?” asked Paul, “or spoken to one?”
“No, no, of course not, I have known plenty of Commoners, its… Well, they were always servants or soldiers or tutors, never my equals, and never my age…” He leaned forward and took a large swig of ginger beer as if it would help his reaction.
“You didn’t know anyone your own age?” asked Richard,
“No, not really, but what do you expect when you’re living in a far off manor? There are a lot of tutors”
“At least you had your family.” said Richard
“Not really, I have a brother but he’s four years older than me and has his own life, my father is too busy raising him to take the lordship and running the province to bother with me”
“That must have been rough”
“It wasn’t bad …” said Nicolas, taking a sip of his drink, there was a moment pause.
“Odd isn’t it?” said Paul, “A Renowned Hero, a Foreign Royalty and two full Scholarship earners all living in one room, do you think this is coincidental?”
“I wouldn’t say so” said Nicolas, not fully absorbing what was said for a moment, “Wait, a Renowned Hero?”
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Posted: Sun Jul 26, 2009 11:03 pm
who's joseph? i count three boys, kolbe, richard and micheal. neutral
is pretty good but for a few words misspelled in the way they create a different word. Spellcheck doesn't catch those...
and then a few like :
"The old man stepped out onto the stairwell to meet the robed woman, followed by Nicolas who went to stand beside the old man."
its redundant to say 'the old man' twice. you would know who you were talking about if you replace the second old man with him, as there are only two people present and only one is a man. pirate
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Adorkable Monster Captain
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2009 11:22 pm
Ah, refugee from the Editing process.
Thank you Neko
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Posted: Tue Aug 04, 2009 2:25 pm
ya. I can't find the spot where The update continues. sweatdrop Confuzzles my brain....maybe bold the first sentence or something? I'll find a spot i have read move a bit and find one I haven't, move more and lose how sure I am of my previous statements.
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Adorkable Monster Captain
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 12:13 pm
When you list clothing at such a fast pace, it destroys your sentence entirely. If you want to be more dramatic, explain what each piece is made out of, or perhaps add the character's feelings in the mix. i.e my example.
He wore a hat, not just any particular hat, but the one his father had given him the day he had become a man. A silken ribbon rounded the dark ebony piece and almost every day it had adorned his head like a monument to his own manhood. Coupled with his silk gloves, slacks, eye piece and shoes.
You know, something cheezy and stupid like that. But at least, you don't have this hurried list of stuff that makes it hard for the reader to smooth out when reading into the next paragraph.
Making mental note of this, "Break Break Break!" Its really uhh... annoying to try to read everything as one giant paragraph. Separate speech, thought and action by hitting enter TWICE. ^^
Other than that, you are a great story teller. Good job. ^^
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 1:55 pm
Hitting enter twice may look nicer, but it is a bad habit to get into, since it will cost you points on any sort of essay or research paper. I know I get stuck in writing styles, so I just stick with M.L.A. At least then it is proper, and constructive, so that when I do work on actual school work, I write or type in the correct format out of instinct.
Aside from all of that, though, amazing work, man. I definitely like the story, although I have to admit that it seemed very Harry Potter for a few paragraphs, and I almost stopped reading right there. Glad I didn't, though.
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Adorkable Monster Captain
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 7:09 pm
The crammed together paragraph does make it hard to focus on without segmenting my focus with the highlighter, but *looks at legion as well* if you TAB indent it using the color=white WWWWW or something it can fix most of that effect and make it still look essay --who said this was an essay? Creative writing can be done in anyway the other so choses-- appropriate.
and hm...harry potter... cedric is a sparkly fairy!!! burning_eyes
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Posted: Wed Sep 02, 2009 11:03 pm
Not to be intolerable, but M.L.A format has nothing to do with creative writing. No writer, Stephen King, Clive Barker, you know, they do not write books in M.L.A format... ^^ But I know what you are saying, but that need to apply here...
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Posted: Thu Sep 03, 2009 6:11 pm
Thank you to all those who have posted your advice, I will try to break up the description on clothing and add a more breaks within the speech portions. Next update should be on later tonight, its about double the size of what's already up, but it has yet to hit the incline
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 12:43 am
Because for some reason it won't let me put it all into one post. Quote:
Two days later, Nicolas, Richard, Paul and Michael were sitting in the common room of Broadley house at a small group of chairs facing the large round window overlooking the grounds next to common room’s largest bookshelf. They were all wearing the schools customary black robes, though Nicolas found them uncomfortable. All the boys of Broadley House were in their common room behind them, waiting for their prefect to lead them to the Start of Term Banquet, he was late, but they could not go without him. The noise they made it almost impossible for Nicolas’s small voice to speak over as they shouted greetings to each other and told of their summer holidays. Nicolas and his roommates were the youngest and smallest of the boys in the room, aside from a few other first years, with some of the oldest boys towering nearly twice their height.
“What is taking the Prefect so long? I’m starving” shouted Michael over the din of the boys,
“Prefect stuff? How we supposed to know, its not like he is late” said Paul
“Your not, you’re just supposed to humor me…” said Michael, “and I you, unless you aren’t hungry?”
“Of course I’m hungry…” said Paul rolling his eyes
“Were all hungry” cut in Richard, “And talking about it is not going to help”
“Which brings me back to my original point, where in the lights grace is the prefect!” said Paul
“Broadleys!” boomed an abnormally loud voice from the catwalk above. All eyes were drawn up to a big smiling teenaged boy, several years older than Nicolas, with short black hair that came down in a widow’s peak, a flat face and the slightly darker skin tone that Nicolas had come to connect with most Gallians. Next to him, leaning against the wall, was a tall boy with messy blond hair, a long face and a similar dark skin tone who smiled somewhat unenthusiastically. The black haired boy looked down at the assembly with a big friendly smile that light up his face and leaned over the railings to get a clear view of everyone in the common room then shouted, his voice the same from before but normal in volume,
“Welcome and welcome back, I’m Brandon, I’m going to be your prefect for this year. Now, for those of you who don’t know me, I only have a few rules, but those rules I do have I live by. First, if you have a serious problem, don’t make it mine, I have spent enough time in detention that I don’t want to relive. Next, if you are going to have people in the house make sure you give everyone sufficient notice ahead of time, and if your wondering what counts as sufficient, check the board, we have a scale. Finally, if you have need to know anything that won’t get the teachers involved, talk to me or my deputy Andy here, we’ll get your sorted out…”
He nodded to the blond haired boy standing next to him who gave the assembled crowd a small nod then went back to looking apathetic.
“Now,” continued Brandon, walking around the catwalk to one of the spiraling stairs, “Unless you guys are feeling reserved on having some actual good food before the yearlong string of the usual crap, you can stay behind, the rest of you can follow me to the dining hall. First years with me, I don’t want to repeat the fiasco from last year, remember that Andy?”
For the first time since Nicolas had seen him Andy cracked a genuine smile and said, “Yeah, didn’t they find that kid in pieces all over the school?”
“That they did!” said Brandon, now cutting his way through the crowd towards the main doorway while Andy stayed on the stairs to, as Nicolas guessed, follow behind the crowd. The din of speech that had filled the room before was back again, but on a much quieter tone now that everyone was filing out the door into the inner grounds. Nicolas started to get out of his seat when he caught Richard looking at him curiously.
“What?”
“Nothing, do you still think the headmaster is going to announce your being here?”
“I hope not” said Nicolas frowning at the thought, “Do you think they are going to announce you being here?”
“Word will get around either way” said Richard with a shrug, “just a matter of what people will believe I guess.”
“You know it is possible to walk and talk at the same time, do you?” said Michael, standing up in front of them and gesturing to the leaving crowd
“Sorry Mike” said Richard, getting up from his seat and following him out the door with Paul and Nicolas following behind. Outside the boys of Broadley House stood on a walkway as Brandon, who stood at the front, shouted, “Come on first years up here, your holding up the group!” Nicolas followed behind Paul, who followed behind Michael, who followed Richard who was pushing his way forward through the crowd of older boys. Around Brandon a group of a dozen or more first years were already gathered, and when they joined them Brandon gave them all a smile and said, “Alright, looks like everyone is here, lets get going, remember to stay close and unless you want Andy to teach you his runt punting spell”
With that Brandon set off with the rest of the Broadleys following behind him over the walkways and through the inner gardens of the Scholair towards the Dining Hall. The sun was falling, and though he could not see it or the horizon itself beyond the limestone walls and the tops of trees Nicolas could see the sky painted orange by its setting. A weak light began to pour from the nearby windows as the darkness fell, growing slowly stronger as was needed. The effect was nice, the light from the windows was tinted a yellow that blended well with the color of the sky in a way that Nicolas thought could only ever be achieved by classical painting and not nature.
The group was led toward the center of the Scholair where the tallest tower, or the Masters Tower as it was formally called, stood, through the inner gates into the grounds surrounding the Masters Tower. There was depression that sat between each walkway where the inner gardens sat was nearly a foot deeper than in the rest o the Scholair
A tall chapel like building attached to the spire that Nicolas estimated was the dining hall. Many robed figures in long lines were visible in the half-light filing their way through the open doors of the hall, but out in the gardens the Broadley line was the only one that could be seen.
“Ah, Damn!” muttered Brandon to himself, though in a voice that was clear to the group around him, “We’re late, but not late enough to be humorous or late enough to excuse not showing up altogether. We’re only just late enough to look like idiots showing up a second after we were originally expected.”
“And that’s a problem?” asked Richard, perplexed
“When you’re a Broadley you always have to make an entrance.” said Brandon solemnly, “But what can we do, no point in waiting out there, lets go.”
The boys continued forward to the Dining hall, continuing down a walkway leading to the base of the Masters Tower and turned around its base towards the Dining Halls entranceway. Walking through the doorway to the Dining hall just then was a line the same length and age arrangement of the Broadley’s, but was made up of girls, some of whom turned at their presence and waved, smiled or gave some other of greeting. Most of boys around Nicolas in returned these gestures, but Nicolas stood rooted to the spot, until an older boy ran into him behind, forcing him forward again.
“Something wrong Nicolas?” asked Paul, causing some of the other boys, including Richard and Michel, to turn around at the question. Nicolas gulped and shrugged off the question,
“Oh, its nothing, just a little hungry that’s all” Most of the other boys turned back, but Paul, Michael and Richard continued staring, “What?” said Nicolas
“You aren’t telling the truth” said Richard
“How can you tell?”
“You blush when you lie,” said Paul in an matter of fact tone
“Hm… Well, I am going to have to work on that”
“Just tell us what’s wrong already” said Michael as they turned into the
Dining Hall doorway. Once inside they were hit by the low murmur of many voices and the strange light emanating out of the glass plates and windows in the walls and ceiling. Nicolas saw Brandon smiling, giving a little nod to a teenaged girl at the head of her line, surrounded by bunch of nervous looking girls around their own age the Archway, who unmistakably a fellow prefect. Nicolas’s eyes lingered a little on the group of girls as they passed each other, each walking down the Dining hall, with tables arranged on rows on either side, until Paul nudged him back to reality.
“What’s wrong?” he repeated, a little impatience seeping into his tone.
“Its nothing,” repeated Nicolas, this time being stared at with a considerable annoyance by the others. Sighing he turned again to look to the girls, who he now noticed were being seated at tables on the right side of the hall, which was filled up entirely with school aged girls. He frowned then turned back to the annoyed looks the others were giving him then finally submitted and said,
“I didn’t know girls went to this school…” He grimaced at his own words and looked away to the left side of the hall, and realized that the line he was in was shorter, the older boys in the back of the line splitting off and taking seats at a row of tables directly to the left beyond which were a few similar rows already seated with boys. His roommates said nothing for a moment after he spoke, then Michael chuckled, drawing back Nicolas attention, and said
“How could we not be going to school with girls?” Nicolas opened his mouth to speak, but before he could their group reached the front of the hall to the table closest to the Teachers and Brandon turned to them
“Alright first years, here is your table” he gestured to the empty table to their left, “Take a seat and relax, the feast should start very soon. Remember not to leave until I come to collect you when everything is over. I’ll be in the back with the rest of the seniors if you need me, and don’t make trouble in front of the teachers. Remember that Broadleys work hard and party hard, but were always classy doing both.” He, smiled again, snapped his fingers and walked around the group toward the very back of the hall where the senior students sat. Nicolas and the rest of the first years took a seat at the circular table, Richard and Michael sat at his side with Paul to Richard’s left. A bit of food was on the talbe, some sliced loafs of bread with some assorted meats and cheeses and a two Jugs of water with a set of glasses.
“So, tell us again why you thought girls wouldn’t be going to this school?” said Michael.
“I just didn’t. Its another difference between things here and Magna I think.”
“And how do they do things in Magna?”
Nicolas shrugged and thought about the question for a moment before saying “Traditionally, women in Magna are expected to get married so they take care of family, so its not often they go to school, if at all.”
“So you thought women would not be coming here, because you didn’t think women went to school at all here?” said Richard,
“Right,” said Nicolas leaning forward to pour himself a glass of water, realizing only after a second that Richard was exchanging a concerned look with Michael. Leaning into their line of sight Nicolas looked at from one to the other and said,
“What is it?” at Nicolas’s gaze Richard looked away flushed and Michael frowned a little defensively, but after a few moments passed in awkward silence Paul leaned forward and said indifferently
“They think your prejudice”
“Prejudice?” said Nicolas
“We don’t think your prejudice” said Richard waving his hands in front of him defensively, “Its just what seem to seem believe the Scholair is isn’t, and its kind of distressing.”
“And what do you mean by that?” said Nicolas, raising his eyebrow
“Well…” said Richard, lowering his hands to the table, “Why don’t you tell us what you believed the Scholair would be like? Then we can go from there”
“Hm…” murmured Nicolas, thinking over the question, “Honestly I thought it was going to be like one of the lords schools I was meant to go to if I weren’t a wizard. You know a private place where spoiled sons of nobles are sent to make connections and do something other than spend their fathers earnings…” He paused to take a sip of water, then added, “Expect in Gallia, and with Magic.”
“Heh.” chuckled Michael, “Sounds like you didn’t have too high of an opinion of the Scholair.”
Nicolas rolled his eyes, “I don’t have a high opinion on anything, and I don’t need to, anyway…”
“So,” said Richard, pressing the original point, “You though that the Scholair would be just some school for spoiled boys?”
“All the best ones are” said Nicolas in a matter of fact way,
“Not the Scholair…” continued Richard, “This place is for anyone who earns the right to learn here”
“But wouldn’t you say that’s a waste?” all three boys around Nicolas paused and twisted to give him a puzzled look
“Why would you say that’s a waste?” said Richard,
“Well, most of these women are going to go off into the world, get married and have children, what’s going to become of their education then. Knowing how to read or do mathematics or use magic isn’t going to help them raise children or keep a home. At least at a school for spoiled rich boys you know that what they are learning will actually be going somewhere.” The boys said nothing but continued to stare at Nicolas
There was a moment of silence, then Michael took a breath in to speak, but was again cut off when a massive, booming voice shot out from the side that cut over all the voices in the hall to very back from the teachers table. The boys turned around in their seats to see a tall old man standing at the center of the teacher’s table, at a small podium, overlooking the students in the hall. He was an imposing figure, though that could have been him being the only standing man in the room, with a long white beard, straight white hair and a noticeable widows peak. He wore long set of light blue robes trimmed with pale silver, adorned with a set of cloth Pauldrons that hung with long streams of cloth and a belt that crossed his waist, both of which shared the same coloring of his robes. He carried a staff that was almost as tall as he was, made from a pale wood that, from what Nicolas could see, twisted and intertwined in a way that seemed artistic, but looked natural, and carried large, mercurial stone in its head held by the weave of the wood. The wizard seemed to glow with a light all his own, shining down from the whites of his robes and beard and from the head of his staff in a way that was friendly instead of imposing to the eye. He smiled and held out his arms in an inviting way to the assembly and said, his voice carrying powerfully across the crowd,
“Welcome, students, teachers, and friends new and old, welcome again to the Scholair, I am Evidi Plagart, your headmaster. I am happy to see you all for another year of life and learning in our exalted halls. For some of you this will be your first step on the journey to adulthood while for others it will be you final step, but for all of you I hope it will be satisfying one. Now, before we begin the feast, I have some reminders and announcements to make. First, the grounds outside our walls is forbidden to all students after sunset and all student’s are to be in their dorms two hours before midnight. All students above the age of sixteen can leave the grounds unaccompanied on weekends and on holidays while all others will need to have an adult escort. Magic is only to be used when supervised and is never to be used on ones self or fellows unless approved and supervise by a member of staff. These rules are to be followed stringently for your own safety of those around you as for your own and their importance cannot be stressed. Finally, I am happy to announce that this year, for the first time in our history, our school shall be playing host to new students from outside our Alliance”
There were a few murmurs at before the hall was filled with sound of applause at the announcement, even Nicolas managed a few half-hearted claps. Plagart smiled down at the audience and continued with his speech
“On that point I would like to remind you all that we should all put out best efforts to make those individuals feel welcome. They are far from their homelands, surrounded by an unfamiliar culture and customs, with only stories and rumor serving as their guide. For their sakes as much as our own should not seek to open old wounds or continue rivalries, but to seek to foster peace, friendship and understanding in the way that only youth are capable of achieving.” He paused, presumably for dramatic effect, then raised himself to his full height, lifted his staff and said, “Now, let the feast begin.”
Plagart tapped the point of his staff on the ground twice, with an immense light flashing out of its head to engulf the student’s for a split second on its second tap. Nicolas raised his hand to shield his eyes and let out a cry of shock that was echoed by those around him. After a moments silence he lowed his hand again and gazed around to see that the few plates of appetizers on the table in front of him had been replaced by a mountain of food. Large hunks of preserved meats and roasts of game and poultry with brilliantly colored sauces, a collection of breads of various size and rigidity, many vegetable dishes and plates of fruits that Nicolas could not recognize. All were arranged carefully on a set of large silver platters, floating in mid air, slowly rotating around their table in a pattern with similarly floating silver jugs of drink. Nicolas knew this cuisine as the typical Gallian fair that he had been eating since he crossed the boarder. Foods here were considered art, a concept that puzzled Nicolas, and were treated as such with intricate preparation techniques, a variety of sauces and flavorings he had never seen before, and garish presentations. This stood in contrast to the food he had eaten in Magna, simply prepared foods with no presentation or flair, with Snef, the Empire’s choice condiment, being the only flavoring anyone ever needed. Nicolas missed the food of his homeland, and would kill anyone at the table without thinking if a good-sized jar of Decas made Snef was the reward.
The boys at the first year’s table looked out, as Nicolas did, from behind their hands beheld the food in front of them with some and, after shrugging off the shock of Plagarts spell, began to eat. Michael stood, with his plate in one hand and his other piling slices of meats and rolls onto his plate, with a hungry smile on his face, whatever anger he had from before the speech apparently forgotten. Richard and Paul, also looking much less worried as they were before the speech, began taking food onto their plates, a little less ravenously than Michael, but still taking as much onto their plates. Nicolas remained seated, looking around at the plates in front of him and found a small round bowl filled with clean water and a small porous stone for hand washing, but there was no cutlery. He quickly cleaned of his fingers, looking around to see he was the only one at the table doing so, and then stood to take some food. Sitting down last, with only very little food on his plate, Nicolas gave a final gaze around the table to see that, unsurprisingly, the boys around him were using their hands and nothing that he would consider table manners. He poured himself a glass of some red stuff that smelled good then started eating slowly with his own hands. The food was unsavory to Nicolas’s taste, as he knew it would be. For several moments there was nothing but silence as the boys at the table all ate, then a burly boy with thick arms from the far side of the table spoke out to the rest at large in a husky voice,
“So, Forigners in the Scholair, who’d ever thought?” A few of the boys laughed and muttered of agreement
“Yeah, I know, I’m kina exited about it” said a small, grubby looking boy sitting next to him,
“You are?” said the Burly boy, “Personally, I can’t stand the thought”
“Why’s that?” said Richard
“Why? Just look at our history” Said the burly boy, leaning on the table with his elbows, “Outsiders have only ever meant trouble for Gallia, from the Magnan who tried to conquer us to those damn Chitauri, Gallia should be for Gallians only, the Scholair especially. Just thinking about anyone getting away with out secrets makes my sick.” There were a few murmurs of agreement from some of the boys around the table while others who looked enraged, Michael most of all, and a few who looked either unconvinced, or uncaring, Paul chief among them.
“That’s a narrow way of looking at things,” said Richard, looking concerned at what the Burly boy was saying, “You make it sound like all foreigners are naturally evil.”
The Burly boy curled his upper lip, “I’m not saying they’re evil, I’m just saying we can’t trust them.”
“Have you ever even met a foreigner?” said Michael in a condescending tone
“No,” said the Burly boy, suddenly defensive, “but my dad and granddad fought in the army, and they told me all I need to know.” Michael snorted to himself and smiled.
“What about you two, I bet have you ever met a foreigner.” Said the burly boy aggressively. Nicolas half glanced toward Richard, who half glanced toward him, and suddenly found himself wondering if was still offended over what he had said before the speech and what he would tell them based on that. But before he could come up with any sort of conclusion Michael said,
“Yeah, for example this guy here.” He reached over and wrapped his arm around Nicolas’s shoulder, “He’s from Magna” A sudden silence fell around the table, all the boys stopping their small conversations to turn and stare in their direction. Nicolas felt stunned, both by having the rest of the Broadly first years staring him down and by the fact that Michaels arm was still around his shoulder, he had never been touched without giving permission.
“He’s a Magnan?” said the Burly boy, staring at Nicolas in an appraising way, then, his eyes furrowed in confusion he said again with a mote of fury in his voice.
“They allow Magnans in the Scholair?” The other boys at the table whispered to each other and shot Nicolas various looks that all seemed to reflect the Burly boys surprise and anger. Nicolas pushed off Michaels arm, opened his mouth to retort, but found he couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Those questions have already been answered,” said Paul, looking away from his food for the first time since receiving it, “if you think about what’s been said” The Burly boy stared down Paul and snarled,
“And who are you?”
“Paul, you?” The two stared at each other for several moments, the Burly boy giving Paul a look of tense consideration while Paul looked back into his eyes unflinchingly. After a while the Burly boy tilted his head to the side and said in a much calmer voice
“Joseph,” there was a moment of silence. Nicolas looked from him to Paul, wondering what had been done to calm down the situation so much, and watched Paul continued to look passively into Joseph’s eyes, then after a moment, look back down at his food and continued eating. Nicolas gazed back at Joseph who continued to look at Paul for a moment before meeting his gaze, he seemed remarkably calmer then after a moment said,
“So, you are a Magnan then?” Nicolas was amazed to hear his tone was calm
“Yes, born and raised” They stared at each other for a moment, then Joseph simply shrugged and said,
“You don’t have much of an accent.”
“I’ve been told that, I was taught to speak both languages since I was born” They looked at each other for a moment, and Nicolas tried to follow Pauls example by not flinching under Joseph’s gaze. Joseph considered him for a moment, then nodded and muttered,
“Alright.” then turned away to speak again with the boys around him on his side of the table. The tension at the table suddenly gone Nicolas glanced to either side of him at Richard and Michael and saw his feeling of relief and amazement reflected on their faces, then Richard turned over to Paul to grab his shoulder
“What in did you just do?” Paul looked up, a little bit of food hanging in his mouth and gulping it down in a way that made Nicolas cringe he said in a his indifferent tone,
“I come from a mining village that’s full of guys like that, I know how to deal with them.” He grabbed his glass and took a sip of whatever he was drinking. Richard turned back to smile and shrug at Nicolas and Michael then continued to eat. Nicolas watched for a moment as his then gazed down at his own food in distaste then looked up to find something to eat. A small platter of soft rolls passed just across his sight and he stood to catch it before it passed out of his sight, grabbing a roll and catching the eye of a black haired boy, with sickly tan skin staring at him with an appraising look. Their eyes met and the boy’s expression changed to a friendly one with a deviant little smile,
“What’s you name?” His voice was deep, and oddly breathy, which sounded to Nicolas like he was holding back a laugh.
“What?” said Nicolas
“What’s your name, we never caught it”
“Its Nicolas.”
“Nice to meet you Nicolas, I’m Tyler!” He held out his hand for Nicolas to shake, which Nicolas stared at for a moment, before dropping the roll on his plate and taking the boy’s hand. This all seemed a little too friendly to him, especially with the smile that Tyler was giving him, smiles weren’t supposed to look so strained. They broke off and Nicolas took his seat again, keeping his eye on Tyler as Tyler kept an eye on him.
“So…” Tyler began, as if casting around for a topic, “Was your Family involved in the Purge of Glindas?”
There the sudden sound of wrenching and choking from those who heard the question. Michael seemed to have a particular fit as he coughed up everything he was eating into a napkin.
“The Purge of what?” said Nicolas, taking little attention to the choking
“The Purge of Glindas” said Tyler, this time with a genuine smile. The name sparked a little memory in the back of Nicolas’s mind
“Glindas… Isn’t that one of your City States or something? Near the border?”
“It was.”
“Don’t know why my family would have been there then, I’m one of the few to ever go to Gallia.” Said Nicolas, taking a sip from the drink he had poured himself and found it surprisingly good, it was warm with a strong hint of cinnamon
“What about the wars?”
“How can you even ask a question like that!” said Michael, standing up to stare down Tyler, who gave an innocent smile and said in a sarcastic tone,
“What? I am just asking a question, there is nothing wrong with that?”
Michael was about to say something more, but Nicolas held up a hand and asked,
“What is wrong with it?” Michael looked from Tyler to Nicolas and Nicolas could see worry behind the anger in his eyes,
“The Purge of Glindas was something that happened during the last war…”
“Just something?” said Tyler, “It was a campaign of slaughter, Magnan soldiers walking into villages on their retreat, killing anyone with connection to Gallia and destroying or stealing anything of value along the way. Guess they didn’t want anything nice to go over to our side?”
“Which war was this?” said Nicolas, feeling taken aback, he had never heard of anything like this in Magnan history.
“Last one, final action of your side before they crossed over that damn wall, left up with a good sized bill to pay.” He smiled again, this time barely concealing the contempt that lived behind it.
“What, and you hope to blame Nicolas? All of us were infants during the war” said Michael
“No, no, of course not, anyway I that’s not what I am asking, I was asking if his family was involved in the war!”
“We were.” Muttered Nicolas, Tyler, Michael and everyone else who could hear turned their eyes toward Nicolas, who took another sip of his drink to compose himself then continued,
“My dad was a Cavalry Commander, fought of most of the war on the frontlines, even received a metal of Honor, but was sent back to Magna to fight a Civil Insurrection when people thought the war was taking too much food off of their tables. So I guess he wouldn’t have been involved in the Purge, as you call it.” He forced smiled at those who stared at him and then took another sip of the drink and said,
“Any other questions about my Families history?” All eyes bounced back to Tyler, who sat up under the attention and said haughty voice,
“Not for the moment, no.” The two continued to stare at each other for a moment until the Platters at the center of the table began to change, this time presenting the boys at the first year table a selection of desserts, including pastries filled with cream and sugar, and bowls overflowing with pudding.
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Posted: Sun Sep 06, 2009 2:17 pm
Wow. Definitely like this story, but there are quite a few similarities to Harry Potter that you might want to work on. Loved the confrontations in this part, though. Also, you should start a new paragraph when a new line of dialogue starts. I think you only forgot to do that once, though.
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Posted: Mon Sep 14, 2009 2:05 pm
Ok, another update, this one half silly, half serious, but neither sections are finallized, hope you enjoy. Quote: It took several minuets for Nicolas to acknowledge the fact that he was awake, he knew it was morning, he could hear the sounds of his roommates about their business and see the morning light shining through the window, but he could not bring himself to get up. His head felt like it had a hatchet stuck in it, and he was all twisted up in his sheets, with his face down on his pillow covered in his own spit. All the Hyocras he drank that night before did not help, he didn’t drink often, and it was the only thing that was served a he could stand. Everything after the conversation with Tyler was a blur, with his few memories of the night intertwining with his drunken dreams into a disturbing recollection. He groaned and shifted envisioning himself sitting stone still in his seat as the dining hall around him moved at a speed beyond comprehension, seeing it clearer than he could see the bed around him Richard pulled aside the curtains of his four-poster bed to shower in some of the brightest light he had ever seen in his life. With a loud cry he pushed out with his legs and forced his face harder into his pillow, Richard saying that sounded as if it where echoing a long distant to reach him, “You shou… in an hour an… Wake Up!” The final two words were shouted, finally bringing Nicolas back to reality. He rolled over to look at Richard, who was in his full students robes, and soon joined by Paul who was pulling on a shirt. “How much did he drink last night?” asked Richard “About three glasses” said Paul indifferently, “Of what?” “Red wine.” “They must not drink as much in Magna” Nicolas tried to speak, but it felt as if his gorge was trying to force its way out of his mouth. Richard smiled, though the concern in his eyes was obvious, “Class starts in a hour and a half, you should hurry up and get ready, good thing you thought to wake us up early Michael” he said before turning to go back to his preparations. Nicolas rolled onto his back and pulled at the ropes of sheets that twisted themselves around him and began to untie himself. Once that was over with, he crawled over to the side of the bed and threw his legs over but felt too woozy to try to stand. Michael was at the foot of his bed, going through his chest for his school things and putting them into a pack at his side, he turned at one of Nicolas louder groans and said, “If you think your going to vomit go to the bathroom, I don’t want to get sick too.” Nicolas nodded slowly and stood up, stumbling over on to stand by the post of Paul’s bed then towards the door. Outside he walked around the Iron Railings that made the top of the Broadly house towards the nearest bathroom where a small line of boys stood cued for occupancy. He sighed, then, as if at the sight of the cue, something rose in his stomach, his knees buckled and his head began to spin. He lurched around the group of boys, through the door into the crowded bathroom and vomited in the nearest water basin, where a large boy stood washing his face. Nicolas slumped to the floor heard the laughter and disgusted cries of the other student’s, and turned to see who he had vomited on and saw that it was Joseph from the night before. He was only wearing a pair of linen pajama pants, the effect was quite terrifying, his physical build larger than any student he knew. He looked from him to the Basin then back and quickly tired to think of a way out of this situation, but all he could manage with Joseph looming over him was a small “Oh…” Joseph took a step toward him his face a stern stony mask and reached down to pick Nicolas up by the shoulder, dragging him to his feet and staring him in the eye for a moment while the rest of the bathroom behind them fell silent. After a moment or two of silence, Joseph’s face twisted into a smile, then he began to chuckle and then began to laugh wildly. Nicolas looked from this to the students around them, seeing them smiling and going back to washing themselves. He looked around at the other boys in the room and saw most of them were laughing or going about their own business. Nicolas forced a chuckle and edged slowly towards the door, lifting the handle, pulling the door inward, and turning to leave. Just as he was in the threshold of the door a thick arm passed around his neck and dragged him back into the bathroom, Joseph put him into a headlock, his arm was like a heavy stone vice. He didn’t saying anything, though he was still chuckling softly to himself, but dragged Nicolas along as he went back to the basin to wash his face. “What are you doing!” muttered Nicolas from under his arm. Joseph looked up into the Mirror above the basin to meet Nicolas’s eyes and said, “I’m finishing up washing, what are you doing?” There was laughter from around the Bathroom and Joseph put some more pressure on Nicolas’s neck, cutting off all but his hardest breaths. The door to the bathroom opened and Andy, the assistant prefect, stuck his head in and shouted, “Hey! I heard a first year cut in line! Fess up!” He gazed around quickly and did a double take when Joseph with Nicolas in the headlock. He raised his eyebrow and said, “Ah, I can see you are already taking care of it… That is him right?” “I think so.” said Joseph, now rubbing water into his chest and shoulders. Nicolas tried to speak, but was only able to manage a choking noise, his head was starting to spin again, but this time he thought it was more because he was having trouble breathing than anything else. “Good enough.” Continued Andy with a little grin, “So, why’d you cut in front of the line kid? Let him go a little, so he can speak.” The pressure released a little on Nicolas’s neck, but he still couldn’t get out of Josephs grip, so he took a deep breath and said “I drank a little too much last Night, got a bit woozy and, Egh…” before he could finish speaking Joseph bent over to splash some more water on his chest, tightening his grip on Nicolas. Andy hummed in comprehension and said, “Ah, that always happens after the feast with one or two kids your year, you don’t have to worry too much about it.” Just as he finished the door burst in next too him and a thin, sickly looking boy who Nicolas recognized from the first year table burst in and vomited in the same water basin that Joseph was using before falling to his knees. “See!” said Andy, “that just goes to prove my point. Now, You” he pointed at Joseph, “splash some water in his face then let him go,” he pointed to Nicolas, “And then put him in a Headlock” then he pointed at the small boy on the ground “What? Why?” Said the sickly looking boy, turning, still looking a bit woozy “If we don’t give everyone the same punishments then we are going to have anarchy aren’t we?” said Andy. Nicolas was able to manage a chuckle at this, but then had a handful of water thrown in his face Joseph’s free hand and was let go to fall back to the floor with a loud thump and a splutter. Wiping the water out of his eyes he saw Andy leave and Joseph putting the thin looking boy into a headlock and turning again to face him, the thin boy making a hard, but useless, effort to get out of the hold “So, who’s your mentor for the Year?” said Joseph in a suddenly friendly tone, as if Andy had only interrupted a casual conversation. “Uh…” muttered Nicolas, unsure on how to answer, until he looked at the boy he had in a headlock, that Joseph could probably still put him into the same hold with only one arm and decided to pay along, “Master Levefleur” said Nicolas recalling the name he was Assignment paper he received the day of the start of term feast, “My whole room is assigned to him” “Ah, I don’t have him, that’s too bad…” he passed into silent thought, prompting Nicolas to slowly stand, and tightening his grip on the boy in his arm, “You leaving?” said Joseph after he got to his feet “Yeah, I need to get ready for class.” Said Nicolas, suddenly uneasy, “Alright, see you later then.” Joseph smiled warmly and gave him a nod and he skirted passed, giving one last look to see the sickly looking boys face slowly turning a purple color. Outside the boys in the cue shouted at Nicolas to get out of the way of the door, which he did, making his way slowly back to his dorm room along the walkway. He headed through the door to his room and found they were still getting ready, Richard was the one nearest to him when he walked for his trunk to get changed and said in a cheerily, “You look better.” “I just got humiliated in front of most of the house.” There was a bit of silence after Nicolas said this, allowing him to pull of his pajamas and put on his socks and trousers. “What? What happened?” said Richard, “Skipped to the front of the line to vomit in the water basin of that Joseph guy, he put me in a grab and kept me there until the prefect came. It was all rather emasculating, I don’t really want to talk about.” “Oh…” said Richard, behind him there was a little chuckle from someone in the room, Nicolas ignored it, put on his shirt and pulled out his student’s robe. “Is he getting a detention?” said Michael, his voice shaking to hold back laughter, “No, but he was made to put another kid in a headlock who had done the same thing as me” said Nicolas, throwing on his robe and smoothing down its edges as he spoke, “Well, at least they are being fair?” said Richard as Nicolas turned to face them, frowning as he put the last touches on his uniform, “That’s why the Prefect made him do it, but the strange thing is that after he let me go he acted as if he didn't do anything!” “He did.” said Paul, who was laying fully clothed on his bed reading a book, “at least in his eyes it was… Didn’t you ever rough house as a kid?” “I’m a Aristocrat.” “Point taken.” muttered Paul, flipping a page of his book “Well did he have to do it in front of everyone else?” “No point in showing off if no one is going to see it.” Said Michael “Unless you’re that insecure.” said Paul. There was the sound of ringing from somewhere out in the school and Richard jumped, “Damn, that’s the hour bell, we got to go if we want to eat”
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After a short lunch and an extensive search of the school for their classroom that took the better part of an hour despite the directions their Assignment papers, several older student’s and a few teachers, Nicolas, Richard, Paula and Michael filed into the lecture hall of Master Levefleur. It was small space, with nothing on the walls but a window that dominated most of the wall opposite the door where a warm light flowed into the room. There was a platform at the by the center of the window where a man sat on a pillow below which was a small floor space with many seating cushions. Nicolas guessed the man was Levefleur, he was a fit middle aged with medium length, graying, light brown hair and lightly tanned skin with premature wrinkles that looked the result of tension, his eyes were closed and his face had the expression of firm concentration. He wore a long, tight fitting, dark blue robes the cut short on the wrists and by the neck with a white undershirt with a few trimmings and decorations. Sitting in a stand at his side was a long wooden staff, with a simple headpiece in the shape of a cross with two horizontal bars. In a way, he looked more like a warrior than a teacher with his stern looks, broad shoulders and rough features, and though he knew this could not be the case Nicolas made a mental not to annoy him. There were only dozen or so other student’s in the class besides Nicolas and his room mates, twenty possible in total, all of them sitting in circles facing each other to speak to their friends. With Michael leading Nicolas and the others walked around the side of the room to take the seat of the four cushions at the front of the class and to the left. Once they took a seat Nicolas, at the front right pillow facing the teacher, turned to Richard to his left and whispered, “Any idea how long until class starts?” Richard glanced from him to the teacher and shrugged, “No, but it should be soon” “Are you sure we are even in the right class?” whispered Michael who sat behind him, “I still think that fifth year was lying to us” As Richard and Michael began arguing in whispers Nicolas glanced around at the other students in the room and received a shock. Directly to his right sat a group of four girls his age chatting excitedly to each other, he had not recognized them at first with all the student’s wearing similar robes, but now he could see their figures and faces it was obvious. The thought that he would be going to school with women originally did not sit well with him, but he had no idea that he was going to be sharing classes with them. He thought the women separated into their own classes to learn things that would suit their place in society while the men learnt things that suited them. He looked to see if his room mates to see how they were taking, but they hadn’t noticed, each was off in their own little world, Richard was watching the teacher, Paul was staring off into space and Michael was reading a book. Then he remembered how they had reacted when he had first brought up the issue and decided to leave it be for now and turned back to study the women. A red haired girl saw him looking and pointed in his direction to her friends, a girl with long dark brown hair, who was sitting closets to Nicolas but was turned away from him turned to look at him and their eyes met. Automatically Nicolas felt uneasy about the girl, not because the way she was looking at him, she had an innocent expression of curiosity, but because of the way she looked. It wasn’t that she was ugly, actually she was quite beautiful in a traditional way, with a pretty face, pouty lips and a curvy physique, but her complexion was unfamiliar. Her skin was a beige color he had never before seen on anyone and her eyes were a bright auburn that was hard to meet with his own gray. He could not recognize her ethnicity, though he combed all through all those he knew of none of them seemed to fit her appearance, he continued to study her face. The girl looked down at the ground between them then looked back up to give him a little smile. At that very moment, it came to him, Nicolas realized what she was and he felt his insides twist in revulsion. It was the first time he had ever met anyone of her kind, and that’s why he did not see it right away, but now he knew it was impossible not to see. She was Chitauri. Her kind had come into the Enlightened World from the deserts of the south hundreds of years ago, and a rot spread across all the lands. In Magna they refused to sign oaths loyalty to the empire, or to pay the taxes to the lords of the lands they lived on, or to take any law into consideration, especially magic restrictions. They lived as vagrants, travelling from province to province, looting what they could off the lands and leaving before they were to justice. Some provinces, in the south and the east, refused to tolerate this and exiled them from entering their lands, or arrested them and forced them into serfdom if they refused to respect the laws of the empire or, as was in the case of Decas, executed any male Chitauri found in their lands. This however only caused a Chitauri to fight back in the only way they knew how, to hide and to strike out at them like snakes, finding shelter in tolerant provinces to launch attacks against those who hunted them, using terrorism and magic against Magnans on their own soil. Finally, it went up to the senate, legislations were enacted, officially expelling all Chitauri from the land, with all those who stayed subject to forced labor and execution, and legalizing Chitauri murder. Within ten years of the signing of those laws there were no more Chitauri living free in the empire. Nicolas had grown up with this story and several others telling of the guile and the stubborn irrationality of their kind as all in Magan did and despised them as much as any citizen of the empire. They did not simply represent the complete antithesis of the industrious and noble Magnan, but they had nearly brought about civil war with the controversy they caused, and that was forever unforgiveable Someone tapped on his shoulder and Nicolas turned from the girl to see Richard nodding towards the front of the class. He followed his gaze and saw that Levefleur had opened his eyes and was now scanning the classroom. A silence filled the room as all the students came to realize this until all were sitting at attention, facing the teacher, waiting for him to begin the class. For a long while he just sat there and watched the student’s, his face passive, then, just as Nicolas went to see how the other boys were taking this he spoke in a weary voice, “It seems like everyone is here.” He bowed down to pick up his staff then stood slowly up with a grunt look over the class, slowly pacing on the podium in front of them as he looked over each and every row. After one rotation in front of the class he stopped at the center of the podium, “I know what you all must believe, you believe that now you are students of the Scholair that the world will just open up to you, don’t you?” He gave the class a passive look then began to pace in front of them, “That the secrets of Magic are simply going to open up to you. That now you are here that you will just become like the heroes and the leaders who once walked these halls. All without effort, all with only the ‘natural talent’ you all possess, just sitting like a piece of clay to be molded by the likes of me. Am I correct?” He stopped again in front of the room again and gave the class a sweeping look that told them not to answer, “I am sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not going to be that simple.” He took a step towards the very edge of his podium and gazed at the student’s of the front row with little reaction, “My name is Jacques Levefleur, I will be your Instructor, and since we will all be getting to know each other very well over this year I won’t bother saying more about myself or ask who any of you are. Now I expect all of you want to know what we shall be learning this year, and I can explain that simply.” He raised his staff as he said this to point at the center of the room. A flock of small sparks twirled around its head like a whirlwind with a twinkle like bells, slowly growing brighter and more numerous the longer he held it before it burst into an intensity that dimmed the outside sunlight by comparison. Nicolas found himself transfixed on the light, which seemed not to harm his eyes no matter how bright it got, and then looked to Levefleur’s face and saw he was barely concentrating on the action. “Control.” Muttered Levefleur, causing the light to die away, he lowered the staff to his side and looked out over the faces of the class, “As they are now you powers are raw and untrained, and will become very dangerous if left that way. That is why it is my job and your responsibility to ensure that you all gain discipline over your abilities by the end of this term. Is that understood?” The class gave a general murmur of agreement from the class and Levefleur frowned, but seemed satisfied and muttered, “Good. Now we can start with the lesson, you may all stand!” Nicolas felt some confusion the order but dismissed it and moved to stand with the rest of the class. Levefleur looked over them again and said, “For today your goal is to find the materials necessary for the creation of your staffs, the instrument through which you will channel your magic, and the symbol of your progress. To do this you shall all venture into the forest surrounding our grounds and find a proper piece of oak with which to make your staff, the best of which will be found in the deeper parts of the forest. Doing so will end our lesson for today and begin the project we shall be working on for the next week. Is this understood?” Again, there was a general murmur of agreement, but it carried with it an air of unease. “Good, now get to it!” With this Levefleur raised his staff and tapped its base to the ground. At that instant there was the sound like the rush of wind, and a great gust of air shot out from Levefleur to rush over the class, Nicolas closed his eyes, instinctively bracing himself against the wind, and then felt one of the strangest feelings in his life. It was as if his whole body was reduced to dust by the wind and was now being blown with it to wherever it was going, there was no pain involved, but an awkward feeling of displacement. He could feel his fingers stretching with the wind as he brought them up to protect his face, his legs soaring away from under him, his chest and stomach caving in and becoming nauseatingly twisted as the wind pressed into it. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the sound of rushing wind subsided and Nicolas felt like himself again.
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Posted: Thu Oct 22, 2009 4:16 pm
Hurray, another crazy late update! Quote: It took several moments for Nicolas to move his hands away from his eyes and check his surroundings, but even before he did he knew he was no longer in the classroom. He could feel the sun against his skin, the light tingle of a cold breeze, the uneven ground under his feet and hear the quite noises of nature around him, like the chirp of birds and the rustle of leaves. Finally he brought himself to move his hands and saw that he was indeed standing in the forest with the Scholair’s towers looming over the trees far in the distance in front of him and he was alone, with no other students were visible at all. Levefleur had obviously used some sort of spell on Nicolas and the others to propel them into the forest. Though how he was allowed to this Nicolas could not guess, all of it seemed a bit like reckless endangerment to him. He looked around and thought of what to do, while in the back of his mind he took count of thing that could have gone wrong with his situation. Of course he needed to get his hands on a piece of wood that could be made into a staff, but all of these trees had branches too high for him to clime too, and he didn’t have any tools to remove the wood from the trunks of any of the trees. He would need to head deeper into the forest to find the wood necessary, though he did not like the thought of having to do so alone. Turning away from the Scholair Nicolas sighed and began walking down a small slope to the old forest. For several minuets, Nicolas slowly walked through the wood, keeping an eye out for any branches young enough and low enough for him to remove, but generally enjoying himself. The weather was cool with autumn approaching, which was fine for Nicolas this being who was used to the more temperate weather of Magna. The path ahead of him was very gentle with low hills and long planes marred only by sparce trees, making the journey smooth on his feet. And he was alone, surrounded only by the silent voice of nature, and that felt good. When he was young, there were long stretches of time where he was alone, without his caretakers around to tell him what to do, or his father to make him abhorred or servants working about, and these were the only times he really felt happy. With no one around, he could sit around and read the collection of wartime memoirs he liked, or daydream, or play with his things, or leave the house and explore the wilderness around the manor, or just do nothing, all of which he liked. Then there were those moments when he wanted to be away from people, when he could not stand the stress and the gloom and anxiety that hung around his home like a never-ending fog. He used to escape into the forest that surrounded his home from the ivy that hung outside his window. There was a tree with a large dry hollow under it that he would hide in when he needed to get away. That was probably why he felt so at home in a forest, so safe. After walking up what he thought was a small hill and around the tall Oak that stood there swaying in the wind, Nicolas found himself overlooking a tall steep hill face and the Old forest that lay beyond it. He swore silently to himself, the way looked like it was going to be much harder from here. The woods looked uncared for, the trees were closely spaced with thick patches of bracken and undergrowth between. He swung his eyes along the tree line that met the bottom of the hill for any opening to the ground, or any other sort of path, but the closest thing he saw to that was a small patch where the undergrowth would that still would reached over his ankles. Still the trees beyond the initial barrier looked like great clouds of leaves, and would undoubtedly have some branches he could remove. He started slowly down the slope, carefully choosing each step to make sure he did not lose his balance and fall. After walking a few feet down the slope, he heard the noise of a crack and a high-pitched scream from behind him. He shot around but saw there was nothing there but the tree topping the hill then, after hearing the rustle of leaves, he brought his eyes up to look into its branches. At that moment a figure in the black school robes of the Scholair and a hood came falling out of the tree to hit the ground at the decline before it came tumbling toward him. Before he could even think to move the figure crashed into his legs and sent him falling backwards to the ground to roll several feet with the figure, their limbs locked together. Something hard smacked into Nicolas’s jaw, jolting his brain for a moment and making him go limp. The next thing he knew he was sprawled, face up on the slope of the hill, with the grass tickling his ear. He slowly rolled over, got to his knees and put a hand on his sore jaw then looked down to the bottom of the hill where the robed figure lay completely still on the soft growth of the forest floor. He felt worried for a moment, then felt a short, sharp pain in his mouth, he covered his quickly and yelped, then pulled his hand away to see some blood, the fall made him bit down on his inner lip. Now he felt annoyed. He got to his feet and walked down to the figure, stumbling a little on the last few feet until he was standing over the figure. It did not move at his presence, but he could hear a soft groan of pain coming from it. He would have to help. He ducked and grabbed one of the persons arms and wrapped it arm around his neck then wrapped his free hand around the figures back under its other arm, there was something in its hands but he couldn’t make it out. In the half-light under the canopy of leafs “Come on now, lets get you standing,” he murmured, then, after settling himself in a kneeling, position pushed up with his legs. He had expected the figure’s dead weight to make it hard to stand, but it was much lighter than he had assumed, and much shorter as well. There was a small shuffle sound, and loud groan from the figure, the hood had fallen off and whoever it was under seemed to be stirring, Nicolas looked down into the face and received a shock. It was the Chitauri girl. Nicolas let go over her arms and pushed the girl away and into a nearby tree where she fell to her knees with a cry. She shot Nicolas a hurt look and moaned, “What was that for?” Nicolas didn’t know how to react, the refined side of him simply wanted to get as far away from her as quickly as possible, maybe clean himself if the chance arose. Still, the sensible side of him knew that would be in bad taste and probably would not reflect well on him with others in the school. Then he caught sight of what was in her other hand, she was holding a large branch. He stared at that for a moment until he realized that he still hadn’t responded to her question, “Sorry, I was surprised to see it was you…” he murmured, reluctantly. The Chitauri girl gave him a curious “Your that boy who was sitting next to me in the class, aren’t you?” she said her voice changing from confusion to understanding as she spoke “Yeah” he muttered, his eyes still locked onto the branch in her hands. She followed his gaze to the branch then jumped as if she were surprised to see it there. “I got it down? I got it down! Yes!” She did a jump for joy and Nicolas took a step back, stumbling slightly on the undergrowth to stand in the sunlight by the base of the hill. The girl looked at him with a delight, then held up the branch, “It took me forever to get this down, from finding this tree, to climbing it, and when I feel I thought it slipped out of my grip but I guess I just don’t know my own strength!” She giggled in an excessively cute kind of way, turning and lifting her free hand to cover her face as she did so. Nicolas took this opportunity to grimace, as she was distracted then contorted his face back to something neutral when she finished, “Huh,” hummed Nicolas, his mind working to find away out of this conversation and away from the Chitauri. Finally he clapped his hands together said, “Well I should probably go find my own branch now, see you next class…” He took a few side steps, keeping his eye on the Chitauri, who luckily seemed more interested in her new branch she had removed from the tree than him, then walked as fast as he could over the undergrowth and away from the girl to the parts of the forest ahead of him. But as he was just about to pass around the tree and out of the her sight, she turned to him and said, “Do you want any help?” Nicolas frowned and slowly turned to face the girl who was looking at him with an innocent curiosity, accented by her pouty lips in a way Nicolas did not like. This reminded him of stories he had heard when he was younger, of Chitauri trickery, of their women, who would seduce and lour men into the wilderness only to rob them and leave them for dead. He couldn’t see how, he didn’t see anything attractive in that face, he could only see the Chitauri. “No. I’ll be fine…” He forced a smile onto his face and saw a little look of surprise on her face then she gazed back in the direction of the school and slowly muttered, “Okay, good luck.” Nicolas kept his eyes on the girl and walked away from the Scholair again towards the old forest. Once she passed out of sight he turned away and sighed, relaxed now that the was alone again, then just as he slowed his pace a little he heard the ruffle of the forest floor from near the tree again and heard a voice shout, “Hey, one moment!” He turned to see that it was, unsurprisingly, the Chitauri girl again, having come around the tree to look at him with a smile, “I forgot to ask, what’s your name?” Nicholas closed his eyes, feeling a strong spike of annoyance pulse through him, then tuned to face her with as straight a face as he could make, “Nicolas.” She smiled at him and gave him a sort of curtsy that made his face twitch with annoyance. “I’m Seraph, thank you for helping me Nicolas…” She gave him another warm smile and this time Nicolas could not hold back a frown and said, “All I did was help you up.” Said Nicolas, blankly “Well thank you anyway.” His face twitched again, he forced a smile, nodded at her, then turned away and headed off into the forest. Part of him was happy that he was finally getting away from the girl, while another part was fuming that he had had a conversation with her in the first place, it made him feel a bit filthy. He took the opportunity to wipe his hands with on his robes when he was sure he was far enough from where they had met. The forest beyond that point began getting noticeably older and wilder the further he went, though from what he could see of the trees around him there were no branches that looked like they could make a staff that he could easily reach. The path too was getting harder the farther he went, with roots and foliage making it rough and the close distance between the trees covering the ground in darkness. There were also noises, loud noises aside from usual noises of nature that filled the forests. The loud cracking of forest debris that made him stop to check that he was actually alone before continuing After what seemed like an hour of wandering through the forest, the woods turning treacherously and murky despite the midday sun, Nicolas stumbled into a clearing dominated by the greatest oak he had ever seen in his life. It filled the space like a hill, reaching up and up before him higher than any tree he had yet seen in the forest bunches of branches with branches heavy with leaves shooting out in every direction giving it a complex shape like a raincloud. Very little of the soil beneath the thing was visible, lost under the wild tangle of broad roots spanning out from its mammoth trunk. He could not help standing in awe before the oak its proportions would have been unimaginable if he had not now seen it. After watching it sway for a moment in the breeze and running his eyes up the path to its trunk Nicolas started moving over entangled path toward it, stumbling here and there where larger roots rose up invisible amongst the wooden mass. There was no conscious decision making in his conclusion to clime the thing, he just knew that if there were no branches that he would remove and use on this tree then he wouldn’t ever find out here. He had to get onto his hands to crawl up to the main body of the trunk, with the base swelling slowly up to a slightly smaller trunk then up into the upper reaches of the oak. It was all very gnarled and it was not very hard to find a handhold, but he still went about climbing it carefully It took nearly half an hour to make it up into the leaves, despite the help of the engorged and twisted nature of the tree. Nicolas was no climber, he was physically weak and tired already from the walk, there were several large nooks here he could sit and rest. At one of those points he came up with the theory, looking over the forest, that magic had some effect on the woods, and on this tree in particular, making them titanic. Stories of such things were frequent wherever you went, of enchanted woods housing strange sights and beasts, though in Magna such stories usually finished with them toppled by the might of a Magnan conqueror. Maybe in Gallia they sought to preserve such things instead of destroying them. He did not know how he felt about that, yes it was an amazing sight, but such things, magical things, could not be trusted, they were dangerous. He made his way onto the lowest branch jutting off the trunk, and crawled out into the tangle of branches, twigs. The bough was thick enough and sturdy enough for him to stand and out to the furthest reaches of the tree, but Nicolas did not trust his own agility, so he kept to a crawl. After pushing his way through a few yards Nicolas caught sight of the end of the branch and saw a meter long leafless stick, several centimeters wide at its thinnest point, twisting off the end of the branch toward a hollow in the canopy where the sun shone through to hit it. It looked perfect to become a staff, the right width, the right length, even shaped already like those staffs he had seen carried by the wizards back at the school, all it needed was to be removed from the tree. Relieved by this sight, he crawled as fast as he could toward the stick, feeling the branch holding him up bending as he went further and further forward. Only when he was within arm length of the thing did he stop to consider how fortunate this was, maybe even too fortunate. Was this a trick? A Trap? Was he going to be thrown off the tree after he touched it, or summoned back to the school and scolded for believing in such an obvious illusion? That would be like the ways of Magicians. But what if it wasn’t a trick? Could he risk going further up the tree or go looking for another oak to climb? He though it over for a moment, weighing the risks against his exhaustion and decided to test the branch with a tap of his hand. He leaned forward and tapped the stick quickly with his hand, gripping the branch under him firmly in case anything happened and closing his eyes as if it would protect him against any sudden danger, but nothing happened. After a moment Nicolas opened his eyes again and looked at the branch to make fully sure nothing was going to happen and sat up to grab the branch in both hands, and pulled. The first pull did not break it off, so he shifted his position and tried again, moving his foot to press where he wanted the branch to break and leaned back. Most of the stick broke off where he put pressure with is foot, but still held on to the branch by a few splinters. He shifted again, this time standing up to put greater pressure on the break, grabbed the lowest of the stick and pulled hard, kicking away with his forward foot. There was a loud snapping noise and the stick broke off, but the force of the pull knocked Nicolas off his balance. He took several steppes back with the branch underneath him shaking up and down, causing him to fall back onto the thick branch with a crack. For several seconds Nicolas could do nothing but lay as still as he could as everything around him quivered, paralyzed with fear. After what seemed like forever the branch became still, and for several moments Nicolas did nothing, clutching the stick he had yanked from the tree to his chest while waiting for his heart to stop thumping. Slowly he sat forward and looked around, checking that it was safe for him to start moving again and sighed with relief when he saw it was. After double checking that he had the stick, he turned on the branch to crawl back to the trunk, but halfway through the movement a large gust of wind blew the tree overhead, sending the tree rocking to the side and Nicolas off the branch. He grabbed for the nearest brunch of twigs and leaves with his free hand, but only ended up scraping it as they fell through his fingers. He plummeted and screamed, staring wide-eyed in terror at the tangle of hard roots below him. He threw his arms, stick in hand, and his legs forward to fight the impact, imagining in that moment the pain he would feel when his limbs shattered. Then, a second before hitting the ground Nicolas felt himself come to a sudden stop to float in the air. After a moment or two of compelling shock, forced his arms away from his face, and saw that he was suspended in mid air by a cloud of gold that sparkled like stars and seemed create and capture its own light in a set beautiful descending rays. It felt warm against his skin, and made a noise like wind chimes as the rays and mist danced rhythmically together. Was he doing this, he wondered, was this his magic? He had never done something like this before, his magic normally came out whenever he felt fear or anger and then he usually felt its power. Then there were the results, normally when his powers manifested, well, it was like something out of a nightmare, quick, unstable, often unwanted. This was good He tried to will himself down to the ground, to tell the magic that he was ready to be lowered, but that didn’t work. He tried to move his arms forward, the mist yielded, dragging through the air behind his limbs but it was like moving through water. He fought with the mist, kicking his legs and swinging his arms until his body floated to a horizontal position in the air and saw that the ground was only a meter or two from the ground. Relief washed over him, but just when he thought how he was going to get down the mist it suddenly disappeared and he fell to hit the ground with a smack. After a long dark moment Nicolas opened his eyes in a daze, unaware of everything for a moment, but came back quickly with the help of number of sharp pains across his body. He could still feel the branch in one hand, but all his limbs splayed were out in odd angles and felt sore. A greater pain came from a pressure in his chest, something that felt like a root knot was pushing up into his solar plexus and was making it painfully hard to breath. Then there was the side of his head, which felt like someone had clubbed him. He wanted to move, at the very least get into a more comfortable position, but his body was stunned. He took a few shaky breaths and was able to shift slightly off the root keeping him from breathing, and lay with one side to the forest floor to regain his strength. The last sense that seemed to come to him was his hearing, not that he couldn’t hear the rustle of the leaves in the wind, but for the first time since the fall he noticed the small pitter patter of feet. A shadow fell over his face and he a presence leaning over him, something tickled his exposed ear but he didn’t want to swipe at it. Then the voice spoke, it was soft and concerned, feminine, but not initially recognizable. “Nicolas?” He groaned and turned his face to the ground and started to push himself off the ground onto his hands and knees. Whomever it was that was there grabbed onto his free arm, pulled up as he stood until he was on his feet, and could he used the stick he had taken from the tree as a staff too keep his balance, then took a step back. Nicolas tried to say thanks, but doubled over again as pain erupted in his chest. The girl asked again, “Are you alright?” Nicolas straightened up, glanced into the girls face and froze. It was the Chitarui girl again, Seraph, leaning over to look into his eyes with a look of genuine concern. Nicolas’s mind went blank and a wave of revulsion swept over him. He instantly forgot his pains and took a step back, took a step back, holding the branch in front of him vertically like a shield while his free hand instinctively grabbed at place where his chest hurt him. The girl took a step forward and said, “What’s wrong?” Nicolas ground his teeth, both because of the pain and because of his dislike. “Nothing” he said, sounding a bit more scornfully than he had meant to, “What are you doing here.” “I got a feeling that you need my help.” Nicolas glared at her, “Did I ask for it?” “No, but sometimes its needed most where its not asked for.” Nicolas’s face stayed straight, but he felt his blood froze, it killed his pain and he found strength again to lift his staff and pointed it at Seraph “Well you wasted your time, I didn’t need your help…” said Nicolas, his voice was little more than a cold whisper. Seraph gave him an offended look and took another step forward, “What about when you were falling from the tree? If it wasn’t for my magic that fall could have killed you” Nicolas felt jolted, and took a step backwards, “That was your magic?” he incredulously “Yes, at least I think it was.” she said, she blinked once, twice, trying to meet his cold gaze then looked away and muttered, “When I saw you were falling I just…” Her voice trailed off. Nicolas lowered his staff and looked down at the ground, and felt the bitter disappointment of not created the spell. Then a thought came to him that made his gut twist with humiliation. A girl, a Chitarui, a worthless low life mystic, had saved his life. In his minds eye he could see his father turning his back to him in shame the same way he had done so when learned his magic, he could hear his ancestors crying in their tombs. He could see his status tarnished by the vicious rumor mills of the Magan Aristocracy, his name ridiculed. He would be Nicolas Decameron, second son of Decas, the magic freak who owed his life to a Chitauran woman. And what could he do to stop it? He looked up into the face of Seraph, and all of his cold anguish turn slowly into a burning hate. It was her fault. She had ruined him, and what did she even know of nobility and reputation? She was an animal, stupid and senseless, like all her kind, what could she even hope to understand of him? She was a Chitauri, a parasite, and she wanted his thanks? She did not even deserve his presence. She looked into his face again and he glared back at hers with the smallest of scowls playing over his face. Then after several seconds of anguishing silence, Nicolas shrugged, straightened himself, and walked right past Seraph, without saying anything, back towards the forest. He could feel her eyes on him, making the back of his neck tingle as it always did when he knew he was being watched. Then he heard her feet scraping on the root-covered ground as she came toward him again. “Where are you going?” she asked. Nicolas heard but he did not respond. The sound of footsteps came closer. “Are you alright?” The forest wall was only a few meters away. “Nicolas?” Her hand reach out and touch his shoulder, with that something inside him broke. He felt something shoot through him as his anger fractured his heart, it energized, it made his fingers and skin prickle, and it took over. He turned without thinking and with his staff, held by arm that she touched, stuck her hand away. There was a short odd crackling noise, a loud high pitched yelp, the crash of someone falling to the ground, and the smell of charred flesh and skin. Then Seraph was on the ground curled up in a fetal position, one side to the ground, with her face screwed up in agony as she held her hand pulled into her body with her other hand clutching it at the wrist. Her staff lay on the forest floor next to her. Nicolas, his body moving by itself, took a step toward her until he was over her, then he pointed his staff into her face where she could not miss it. She opened her eyes, looked up at him with a look of unmistakable fear, and gasped loudly, either too terrified or too hurt to say anything. Nicolas saw the fear in her eyes, but felt nothing, no pleasure or pity, just hate and the power that filled him. “Don’t you touch me.” His face barely changed, and voice was barely a whisper, but this managed to carry all of his scorn. “Don’t you ever touch me! You filthy Chitauran snake!” Nicolas turned, lowered the stick again and headed off into the forest only feet away. His bitter hate had barely abated and the power he felt still coursed through him, though he now had it under some control. After a minuet or two of trudging through the forest felt an inkling of guilt floated above his anger, and felt like a ball of lead pressing down on his heart. It told him he should go back, undo what he had done, to do the right thing whatever that may be, whatever the cost. Then, just as soon as he had felt it, it was gone again, lost within all his fears and frustrations.
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Posted: Sun Nov 22, 2009 9:19 pm
By the time Nicolas got back to the lecture hall, a process that nearly took an hour and a half after leaving the giant oak, most of the students had returned. They all looked worse for ware, covered head to toe in filth, their robes ragged, faces grimy and hair in tussle, a few even carried injuries, but they all had their branches with them, either in hand or on the ground next to them. He felt a little sickened by the look them, then remembered he looked relatively same, and moved around the room to his previous seat at the front. He saw Levefleur was sitting in the same kneeling position, with his eyes closed and head bowed, as he was before the lesson and in the same spot. It was an aggravating sight after what he had gone through, but he shrugged it off.
Paul and Michael were sitting on the same pillows they had occupied before they were all teleported away and waved him over after Michael spotted him approaching. Paul looked a little more disheveled than his usual self, with his feet muddied and a few twigs sticking out of his windswept hair, but still managed to look completely at ease, with his slender staff lying across his lap. Michael on the other hand looked the complete same, his clothes were spotless, his face fresh, his hair flat, even his boots seemed unsoiled, but he still had a long branch sitting next to him on the floor with one hand sitting over top it. Nicolas nodded at the pair of them as he approached and said,
“Good to see you both survived.” They didn’t laugh, but Michael smiled and said,
“Same to you.”
Nicolas took his seat and turned to face them again,
“How was your trip into the forest?” asked Michael,
“Fine.” said Nicolas, blowing off the question so to not relive the experience, “Yours?”
“Same, as soon as I got into the forest I just whipped up the nearest tree to get a branch and got back in less than an hour.” Said Michael with a toothy smile, his spectacles seeming to shine for a moment with his grin
Nicolas raised an eyebrow, “How did you do that?”
Michael was about to speak but before he did Paul cut in with an answer, “You can’t guess? He’s freakishly tall!”
Nicolas smiled as Michael’s faltered, then said before Michael could retort,
“How did you do then?”
Paul sat up, frowned and looked down the branch in his lap, “I landed in a more wild section of the forest than hoped, the trees were easy to clime, but the wolves that lived under them didn’t make it any easier to get down.”
Michael laughed and Nicolas chuckled as Paul sat back on his pillow again, rolling his eyes. After calming down again, Nicolas looked back at Michael and said,
“Wait, if you finished in less than an hour what have you been doing all this time?”
“What?” said Michael, he had missed most of the question as he snorted, “Oh! When I saw that the class was still empty exept for the teacher I went to the dorm to get myself cleaned up, grabbed a little lunch then came back here and waited for the rest of you.”
“All while the rest of us were fought mortal danger, how fun,” said Paul
“Like any of you were in any real danger,” laughed Michael, “its not like the school was going to let anyone get hurt.”
Paul sat silently for a moment, giving Michael an indignant look, then gestured to the rest of the class, several of who were nursing injuries.
“Have you looked around? Almost everyone is hurt. Even Nicolas is bleeding.”
Nicolas jumped, “Wait, what? I am?”
“Yeah, from behind one of your ears,” said Paul nonchalantly, with his eyes still on Michael. Nicolas reached back and felt a small sticky patch of hair on the side of his head that trailed down to his neck and to the collar of his undershirt. He pulled his hand bank and saw his fingers covered in a sticky layer of old, rust colored blood. He blanked out for a moment after seeing this, trying to think of where he could have received the cut that caused this, but drew nothing. He stared for a moment more then lowered his hand again to the floor and tried to catch up in the conversation.
“Think he could be at the student infirmary?” muttered Paul, looking away from the Michael and up into the windows behind the teacher’s platform.
“Na, if Lothep and his host couldn’t leave a scratch on him then I doubt the forest would.” Said Michael, turning to look at the door into the room, a few people were trickling in, but not Richard, who they were talking about.
“I wish he and the rest would get back, I don't want to be stuck in here all day”
“Got any plans for the evening?”
“I think some house is throwing a party later.”
“Really,” said Michael, turning back to face paul, “What's the occation?”
“There isn't one.” said Paul.
“So they’re just having a party to have a party?”
“I guess so.”
Michael considered this for a moment then shrugged and said, “Alright.”
There was a movement by the door and Nicolas's eyes turned just in time to see Richard, looking dirty and haggard but triumphant, walking through the door, holding a long branch at his side. As he looked around the room his and Nicolas's gazes met and he quickly waved around the room towards where they sat. Michael and Paul did not notice Richards approach until he was only a few seats away, when he was did Michael turned and smiled broadly,
“Richard, your late! What took you so long?”
Richard smiled, but took to his seat before speaking,
“I ran into a bit of trouble with a bear after getting this” he gestured to the stick he carried, “and then got lost in the forest, but then everything turned out fine.”
“Sounds like fun.” muttered Paul,
Richard sat up and looked around the room, “How many others are still haven't showed up?”
Nicolas gazed around to do a quick headcount and realized, with a small twist in his stomach that the only person who had yet to return by now was Seraph
“Looks like there only one. Hm.” muttered Michael, more to himself then to the group, staring at the place, and then looked to the front of the class here his eyes caught something. Nicolas and the others followed his gaze to the front of the room where Levefleur was now staring out at the class with a vacant expression. The room soon became silent as more of the class realized Levefleur was watching them. The silence stretched out over a time as Levefleur watched the class and the class stared back at Levefleur. After several torturous minutes of silence he sat up on his pillow, the largest movement he had performed since Nicolas had returned, gazed over the class and said,
“Does anyone know where she is?” All eyes fell on the last empty seat. Nicolas felt the color rise in is face but said nothing, after a moment he looked back towards Levefleur who gazed out at the class curiously and said,
“Anyone? No one?” His eyes lingered on Nicolas for a moment, but Nicolas avoided flinching and stared back determinedly. After a moment, Levefleur sighed, stood, and walked to the edge of his podium with his arms crossed behind his back.
“I guess we will have to finish things without…”
There was a sudden noise at the back of the class, a slam and a clatter. Everyone in the room turned to see Seraph, leaning against the wall and breathing as if she had just ran a mile leaning against the wall, with branch hugged to one side of her body hand while the other pushed against the wall. Nicolas’s eyes were drawn to her staff arm and her exposed wrist, covered in fresh bandages in the exact same place he had hit her. She looked with an anxious expression at the class, then, after a moment to regain her composure, breathed,
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I got hurt and then I was lost in the forest and I…”
“Don’t worry” said Levefleur, cutting in, “Don’t worry, your just on time, just take your seat.”
Seraph sighed audibly and started her way through the class towards her seat, most turned back to face Levefleur but Nicolas continued to watch her, feeling a strange mix of guilt and apprehension as she came over. She caught sight of him, flinched, grabbed her bandaged wrist with her other hand and nearly dropped her branch. Her skin seemed to pale and now that he noticed it, her eyes were red, she shuttered then, looked down at the ground again and continued next to him to her seat. Nicolas followed her with his eyes until she was at her seat, then turned his attention back to the podium, feeling slightly relieved she did not make a scene. Levefleur was staring down at Seraph, then after a moment gazed his eyes over the rest of the class to linger on Nicolas, giving him an irritated look before turning his eyes back to the rest of the room with a stony expression.
“So, you all completed your first step in becoming a true wizard. You have obtained an essential tool to your progress, but that is all a staff is a tool. What you really have to ask yourself is what have you learnt today? Did you learn to pick yourself up after falling, or to work as a team, or to trust or to distrust or anything at all? Well that is what will make you a great wizard. Magic is not just about collecting simple trinkets or memorizing spells, its about character, its about how you handle power, how you shape it and how it shapes you. I could teach you all the spells in the world and give you the tools to handle them, but would you know how to use it?” He paused and looked out at the class with a passive expression, no one made a noise. Nicolas doubted anyone was still breathing. Levefleur smiled and said
“That’s what I thought.” He returned to his seat and faced the class, “For the rest of the day I want you all to reflect on the search you each did today, think about the ways it could have gone better, the ways you could have improved, and keep those things in mind as we continue shaping your staffs this week. You can all have the rest of the day to yourselves…” He folded his legs and closed his eyes, resuming the same meditative pose he had at the beginning of class.
Nicolas blinked a few times, then turned his attention back to the others, who looked just as confused as he felt, even Paul. They looked at each other for a second, unable to hold each others gaze as they each lapsed into thought, then after a moment, all in complete silence.
“Well, that was interesting,” muttered Richard, trying to smile through the apprehension. Michael shot him a scathing look, out of place with his complacency from a second before. Richard wavered under the look, then frowned and looked back unaccustomedly annoyed. Paul rolled his eyes, though the movement seemed forced, then gazed back at the two and said,
“Lunch?” Richard and Michael looked at him then, after a moment silence to let the awkwardness wash over them, they both shrugged and muttered
“Alright.”
Nicolas met Paul’s gaze and nodded.
It was two in the afternoon by the time they got to the dining hall. Nicolas thought it would be earlier considering the class started at ten, but he guessed he simply lost track of time when he was out in the forest. The hall was crowded, though most of the students and teachers who were there were just finishing up their afternoon meal. He guessed that their class was held late, though with all the mentors having different teaching schedules this was impossible to tell. He and others took the first open table they saw, set their staffs to the side, got their hands on a plate of sandwiches and ate for several minuets in silence. He knew they were all thinking about their day to get some point to improve upon, or were trying not to think about it to avoid feeling flawed. Nicolas himself tried to avoid it, knew it was easy to start criticizing yourself, but once you started it could be hard to stop, then you would be depressed for the rest of the season.
After a while Richard looked up from his food, and with a shaky smile asked, “How did you guys find the class?”
There was a silence for a moment, and then Michael said, “I didn’t get it.”
“What’s not to get?”
“I don’t get what we were supposed to learn. That whole ‘the tools a wizard carries does not make him a wizard, its his character’ thing. I don’t really get what being sent out into the woods to get a big stick has to do with that?”
“I think its more about what we learned about ourselves,” said Richard, “Out there, in the wild, how did we deal with the problems, how does that define us?”
“Well I didn’t face any problems, I just climbed the first tree I saw and was done with it.”
Richard seemed to think about this for a moment, then turned to Michaela and asked, “Was that fulfilling?”
“What?”
“Was that fulfilling? I mean most of us got ourselves dirtied, faced some danger and had an adventure, but you took the easy root. Could that be the flaw in itself?”
Michael frowned, “Since when is simplicity a flaw?”
“Life is rarely simple”
Michael rolled his eyes, but said nothing more, “Then what did you learn?”
Richard looked away, towards one of the windows, thinking about it and then said, “I think… If you run away from a danger you may get lost?”
Michael laughed, but Paul looked up to glare at him, he also seemed to be in a fowl mood, then said,
“How do you figure that Richard?”
“I don’t know, when I was confronted by that bear I could have fought him …”
“And probably would have been killed in the process” said Michael pointedly, but Richard ignored him and continued
“But instead I ran, and because of that I got lost in the forest for hours, and why? Be…”
“Because you had the common sense to run away from a bear!” Laughed Michael, “You see, was no point in the lesson, you didn’t screw up, you just followed your best instincts, where is the problem there!”
Richard looked dejected, but instead of continuing to argue turned to Paul and asked, “What did you learn out of this whole experience”
“That ignoring a problem won’t make it go away,” said Paul in an offhand way.
“Sounds like you’ve already thought about it?”
“I had the time to think about it while I was waiting for the wolves to get out from under the tree I was in.”
Richard laughed, then stopped instantly when he saw that Paul wasn’t joking,
“Oh, that must have been horrible.”
Paul shrugged and muttered,
“Don’t worry about it, I came out fine.”
Richard looked impressed, then glanced over at Nicolas and said,
“Nicolas, you haven’t said anything yet, what did you learn out there?”
Nicolas did not want to talk about it, he did not want to think about it, but he was on the spot and all he could think to do was avoid the question.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What’s the problem?” said Richard,
“Nothing, I just want to forget about today.”
Nicolas looked down at his food and continued to eat while the others fell silent, he wasn’t glad for it, he was enjoying listening to their conversation, it was distracting. After a finishing up his food, he grabbed his glass of water and noticed the others were all staring at a place directly above and behind him. He turned around and saw a red haired girl, his age, in school robes standing with her arms crossed behind her back giving the boys at the table a bemused stare. Nicolas frowned at her and after an awkward moment of silence he said, “Um… Can we help you?”
“Yeah,” said the girl in a bright, friendly voice, “I was looking for someone named Nicolas.”
Reacting to the question without really thinking he said, “Yes, I’m Nicolas.”
The girl smiled happily, bobbed up and down on her toes and said in a cheerful tone, “Oh, good!”
Nicolas didn’t catch girls movement, but the next thing he knew he was doubled over the table, his face in his hands with blood pouring out of his nose. The sharp pain in his nose dulled all other senses, though he was somehow aware that it wasn’t broken, just badly bruised. He could numbly hear the girl shouting,
“That’s for Seraph you b*****d!” Clearing his head with a shake he turned back to the girl, her expression was furious, her teeth bared and her eyes glaring, her fist still clenched from hitting him. He could hear the angry swears from the others around him and sensed their standing to aid him. He stood himself, but this was only to get a napkin to cover his still bleeding nose. Next to him Michael shouted,
“What was that for!?”
“Don’t try to defend him!”
After dabbing at his noise several times Nicolas turned again to the girl, Richard, Paul and Michael came to stand by his side but the girl stood her ground, staring them down, looking fierce. Then tension was rising with each passing second and Nicolas could sense through his pain filled daze that something was going to happen if something wasn’t done right away. Richard raised his hands up with open palms to show in a peaceful gesture, took a step forward and said,
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but why don’t we just…” He was cut short when the girl shot him a scathing look and took a moved toward him threateningly. Paul, who was standing closest to Richard, moved to grab her before she could strike and only narrowly avoided a hit by her elbow. After a short, one-sided clash, where Paul seemed unwilling to fight but the girl seemed anything but, Michael shot forward to help overpower the girl, but before any real damage was could be done Nicolas strode forward and yelled.
“Stop!” Instantly the action froze, Michael looked like he was about to tackle the girl from behind, Paul was holding the still girl, who seemed intent on hitting him, by both arms while Richard was several steps back looking flustered, all were staring at Nicolas. Nicolas cringed under their looks, but regardless pushed Michael away and with a gesture got Paul to let go of the girl, while keeping one hand over his bleeding nose. They continued to look at him and after a second, he realized they were waiting for him to say something. He looked at the girl again, who looked defeated but still nonetheless hateful and whispered in his coldest tone,
“Its not right to hit girls.”
The girl’s mouth fell open in a dumbfounded expression and with that, all aggression seemed to leave her stance. Nicolas said no more but marched around her, the boys and out the door to the grounds. From there he headed to the infirmary to get his nose healed
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Posted: Sun Nov 22, 2009 9:20 pm
The rest of the week went by relatively smooth when compared to the first day of classes. Each class was devoted to shaping the branches they had collected from the forest into usable staffs while under the supervision of Master Levefleur, who occasionally gave words of advice. They were not given any tools to do so, but were taught their first basic spells, 'Abducoup' and 'Reparacillio' which made cuts to the wood and fixed cuts onto the wood respectively. Their overall goal was to make the branch into a smooth shaft by the end of the week, which turned out to be much harder than anticipated with clumsy nature of the spell work.
Nicolas found that to make the exact cuts he wanted he had to align his thumb right where he wanted the cut and along with saying the spell had to slide down on with his hand. This was made even harder with the strange sensation he felt every time he used either spell, as if he had some unknown static electricity coursing through his limbs, that caused his limbs to convulse instinctively, often making terrible cuts. After the second, and highly unproductive, day of trying to shape the branch Michael made the discovery that you could remove wood from any one area of the branch and attach it to another section with the healing spell, to augment the overall shape. Nicolas found this interesting not only because it helped with the goal of the class, but because the lines of the wood being attached would change to fit the rings of the staff, as if it was a natural growth. He pointed this out to his room mates but they seemed not to care.
Other students seemed happy to abuse their new spells which hammered Levefleurs point of developing the character before powers home. Nicolas heard a student complaining on the third day of class that his room mate who he shared the class with had cut one of the legs of his bed so it collapsed under him just as he got onto it at night. Another told, to great laughter all around his group, of sneaking into the common room at night to hollow out furniture. But after the fourth day, when a student made a gash in his own hand from halfway up his own wrist up to the end of his palm and had to be rushed to the infirmary after a hasty healing spell by Levefleur people stopped talking about abusing their own power and worked with much more care.
During the week he consciously avoided Seraph who, thankfully, seemed to be doing the same. They sat as far away from each other as they could while having their friends sit around them as a buffer zone. The redheaded girl who had punched him in the dining hall was, now that he noticed it, in the same class as he was and appeared to be Seraph's room mate along with two others. A small girl with long brown hair that kind of reminded Nicolas of a door mouse and a tall, pretty blond girl who seemed to have this quiet, impassive expression on her face. He suspected the others noticed them too, but they had avoided talking about what happened in the dining hall ever since he had met them again after getting his nose fixed. He didn't know whether it was because they were playing to his pride, or because they had found out about what he had done by some other means, but he suspected it was because they simply wanted to save themselves the drama of confronting him.
By the end of the class at week’s end, most of the class had reduced their branches to a semi smooth, unpolished, shafts of debarked wood. Nicolas had redused the larger twisted knots in the wood and used Michael’s refitting technique to extend the branch another several centimeters in either direction, and despite a few uneven gashes, I the wood was rather proud of his work. The boys had produced similar work and were happy, though Michael seemed more happy that the work was done rather than with what he had produced. Then, Levefleur was off helping the stragglers who had yet to finish their staffs and inspected the finished work of the students who had just finished with their own creations. Nicolas, Richard, Michael and Paul were sitting in their little circle by the front of the class having a quiet conversation, all of them had finished their work by that mid day and were waiting patiently for the end of class.
“So the emperor doesn’t actually have any real power?” asked Richard, looking a little confused. Originally they been talking about Gallian politics, Nicolas knew nothing about the subject so in an attempt to include him Richard had switched to asking him about the power structure in Magna. Nicolas believed that was probably a bad decision on their part, all they seemed to think about Magna was that the Emperor was some sort of nepotistic totalitarian psychopath who ruled the whole empire alone with only a few noble families for help, which was very false and very narrow minded view. Now he was having trouble convincing them of the truth.
“No, he has power,” began Nicolas, thinking that this was probably the third time he had explained since they had came onto the subject, “The Emperor is the highest Military authority all the empire and is a important ceremonial figure, but over the way thing are run in the empire he has no influence.”
“So who does?” asked Paul. Nicolas sighed, he thought it was a stupid question, probably because he had heard it already, but he answered it anyway,
“The Senate. They create the laws and deal with actually governing the empire through the Senate committees. The Ministries, who answer Senate committees, enact Imperial law set up by the Senate, and some of them are almost as influential as the senate itself, like the Judicial Ministry or the Treasure Ministry.”
“Who are on the Senate committees?” asked Richard
“Senators, who else?”
“Then what do the Aristocracy do?” asked Michael, out of the three he was probably picking this up the fastest. Nicolas sighed and closed his eyes
“That all depends, Aristocrats are all defined by their titles. The Imperial family serves as the highest echelons of the Magnan Military and work throughout the army in vital positions. Lords like my father write the law, rule provinces, they sets the taxes, organized the armed forces, and provides all services within their ruling province, and the senators who represent the Province have to answer to them. Barons are Merchant Nobility, they work within the economy and work to make the most profit, but they usually answer to other forms nobility.”
“That sounds simple enough to understand” said Richard,
“Well yes, but those are only the hereditary titles, there are still countless given titles. There are still a lot of given aristocratic titles that carry similar influence, like Duke, Knight, Ambassador, Senator…”
They all stared at him blankly, Nicolas sighed, exasperated and asked,
“So how do the do things here?” The question seemed shake out of their stupor,
“Well each city state is run by its own government, usually a council of wizard elders.” Started Michael
“And each government of selects a representative for the Council” Continued Richard,
“And the council select people to run important branches have the empire, and then those men and women also get to sit on the council themselves.” Finished Paul.
“Wait, I thought the important branches selected their own representatives for the Council?” said Richard
“No, I think Paul is right,” said Michael, “And I’m pretty sure the Council has to screen all members as well.”
“I know that’s not right,” said Paul, “My states representative left for Detalis just after he was elected, he didn’t have to get screened.”
Richard was about to speak again, but Nicolas cut in,
“You guys don’t actually know how your government is run, do you.”
Michael flushed, “Of course we know how its run, its just that all the city states individual customs tend to interfere with the perception of how its run.”
“At the very least we know our system is free.” Said Richard
Nicolas thought about this for a moment, he could see an obvious fault in that thinking, but decided now was probably not the best time to peruse it. He looked toward the windows behind the empty teachers podium and asked,
“Any Idea what time it is?”
“What’s the point in asking, we only get out when Levefleur decides it.” Said Paul
“I would like to know how much time we have left in the day to relax, I don’t want to be stuck in here all day.” Said Nicolas, he looked around to Levefleur who stood inspecting the work of the boy who had cut his hand open earlier that week, then noticed that no one else was working.
“Never mind, I think we are about to get out of here soon.” He turned back to the group, but in mid turn he spotted Seraph and her friends on the other side of the room. She looked up and their eyes met for a second, she looked suddenly frightened, Nicolas frowned and made the final twist of to face the front of the room. Richard caught his eye and gave him a prying stare, Nicolas looked away from him to start a pointless conversation with Michael. He felt that Richard still wanted to talk about what Nicolas had done, but avoided it while the others were around. After a few minuets, Levefleur finished his inspections and headed up to the podium at front of the class, everyone including Nicolas and his roommates fell silent and waited for him to begin speaking. He got up onto his podium, walked to his seat, stared at it as if trying to decide whether or not to sit, then shrugged and went to face the class.
“When I was in my mid twenties I traveled to Illyar to do some research on the local traditions and their magic teachings and the possible correlations between the two. If you don’t know, Illyar is a place of mythic beauty, fair sandy beaches, warm seas, marble cities and warm grasslands between the sights. The people there hold a time-honored belief that the most profound acts anyone can perform in his or her lifetimes are those of creation and destruction.
In their eyes to kill anything, be it animal or man, imparts a bit of that beings spirit into yourself, gaining you its qualities, its strengths and its weakness. So, if you were kill a lion you would gain its courage, its willpower, and its arrogance, if you were to kill a wolf you would gain its loyalty, its perseverance and its feral nature, a bull its strength, its passion, its fury, and so on. In addition, if you were killed a man, you would gain a bit spirit in yourself and a bit of whatever spirits he had gained in his lifetime.
On the inverse, the Illyar believe that to create something, anything is to impart a bit of your spirit into it, your strengths, your weaknesses and this goes for everything. To create any tool, or weapon, a home or shield, is to put a part of your soul, and your qualities into that thing. That means that anything you make will instinctively work better for your than it would for anyone else, and if you were to keep it with you wile you grew, it would grow as well, gaining more qualities as you did, binding itself to you on a spiritual level.
Now this is this is only a very basic summery of the concept that that shapes Illyarian culture, but it is a very important concept for you to grasp because, in a way its true. Your staffs are not just tools as you may believe, but something much, like a limb, they will learn as you do, grow as you do, and become as much a part of you as your hand or heart. Together you will shape magic in ways that will only be limited by willpower and understanding. Enjoy the rest…”
“How?” Nicolas did not realize he had asked the question until the rest of the class and Levefleur began stare at him.
“Pardon?” asked Levefleur, fixing Nicolas with his dark eyes. Nicolas shrunk under his gaze, but forced himself not to break eye contact, and managed to mutter,
“I don’t understand how a stick is supposed manipulate magic.” The room seemed to become even more silent, though Nicolas could not figure out how. Levefleur smiled then said tone that suggested he was explaining something painfully simple,
“The staff is not meant to manipulate magic, it is meant to channel magic, to keep it a safe distance away from your body and make it easy for you to control.”
“But…” began Nicolas, after thinking this over, “Why is it bad to channel magic through ourselves?” Levefleurs expression seemed to falter, but only for a second.
“Because Magic is a force that cannot be so easily controlled. If you were to use magic without a staff and get overwhelmed by the power you could end up hurt or worse, you could destroy yourself.”
“But wouldn’t overusing the staff create a dependency on it in order to use magic?” said Nicolas
“Are you dependent on your arms and legs for locomotion?” countered Levefleur,
“Well, yes, but its not the same thing, I can’t remove my arms and legs while a staff could easily be removed from me…”
“Do you expect someone to try and remove your staff from you, or are you afraid you might lose it?”
Nicolas frowned, truthfully he could see his the staff being taken from him if he ever tried to reenter Magna, then realized that was not the point he was trying to make,
“No, but I have seen people use magic without using a staff without any training, I just think it’s a bit unnecessary if its possible to work magic without a staff to train complete dependency on it.” Again, the silence in the room seemed to deepen, the heads of the student’s though Nicolas had yet to realize it, were bouncing back from him to Levefleur and back again with everything said.
“It is possible, but it is impractical,” said Levelfeur, there was a mote, however small, of annoyance in his voice, “doing so could easily kill you.”
Nicolas flinched at the tone of his voice, but now that he had voiced his confusion on one aspect of wizardry, he wasn’t able to stop himself from exploring the others. All at once, the anxiety and fear over what he was seemed to pour out to him like a flood gate was opened.
“Where do the words for spells come from? Why can’t we just say what we want to happen and have it happen? Why can’t we just think of what we want and have it work like that?”
Levefleur’s face slowly became hard as Nicolas asked his questions, but he stayed silent as Nicolas continued to ask questions.
“And what about magic itself? What is it? Where does it come from? Why can it do all these things? Does it have limits? Why do I have it? Why do any of us have it!”
Nicolas finished his questions with a shout, the volume of his voice going up as he spoke without him realizing it. Levefleur and he stared at each other for a time as the class sat in silence while the air seemed to quiver with unease around them. After a while Levefleur turned his head to one side, as if considering Nicolas then said in a calm tone,
“Those are some of the questions that even the most intelligent wizards in the world strive to answer. Many Scholars believe that the Magic we have is a remnant of the power that created this world that continues to exist within us in a nonphysical way, within souls if you will. With this, we who are capable of manipulating said power could recreate the world around us to suit our needs through words and rituals. The Words that manipulate the said power are believed to part of the language of the gods, an ancient language given to us but largely forgotten as humanity splintered across the world. A theory that is supported by mountains of archaeological evidence. Its interesting that you ask such questions, few do, unfortunately I don’t have all the answers you may be looking for.”
He smiled back at Nicolas, but it wasn’t the type of friendly smile you would expect to be given from a proud teacher to a new student. It was one of those diplomatic smiles. A smirk really, meant more to hide feelings of intense dislike while pretending to be friendly. Nicolas flinched, but said nothing more. He didn’t feel any better from before hearing Levefleurs explanation of things, to him it sounded more like a snub than a real answer. In a way it hurt, like a hunger pain, he wanted to know these things, he wanted to know the real answers, answers he could use. He wanted an explanation for what he was, for why he could do these horrible things, most of all he wanted to know how to make them stop. After a short time Levefleur turned to the class at large and finished up what he was saying before Nicolas first interrupted him,
“You may have the rest of the day to yourselves, enjoy your week end, spend your time wisely.” There was the sound of collective movement and Nicolas stood, picking up his staff, feeling suddenly weary. He looked back at Richard, Paul and Michael, and they gave him an uneasy look back, but before he or them could say anything there was a call from the front of the class.
“Nicolas, could you come here for a moment.” He turned to see that it was Levefleur and walked up to the front of the class while all the other students in the room filed out, feeling some apprehension as he did so. Levefleur stared at him when he approached, but did not speak for a moment until most of the student’s were out of the classroom. Nicolas felt his gut twist, and for a moment he saw himself receiving a harsh punishment for speaking out of turn
“Have you ever studied magical theory Nicolas?”
“No, I haven't' sir.”
“Are you interested in it?”
“I don't know what it is sir.”
Nicolas said nothing, but Levefleur looked away from, with a flick of his wrist and caused a piece of paper and a small stick charcoal to pop into existence on the floor in front of him. Seeing it made Nicolas's gut twist, not at the display of magic, but at the idea of being put into He picked the charcoal and began to write, speaking aloud as he did so.
“Most wizards have their powers realized at an early age and are sent to apprentice under a local scholar before being sent here for more formal training. That way they can be taught the basics of magical principles, the reasoning we do what we do, our limits, the importance of the tools we use and so on. Considering where you come from I can understand why you have never heard of it.” When implying Magna his tone seemed to darken. He looked up, his eyes grim, and he handed Nicolas the slip of paper
“This is the name and author of a book on the subject, I know we have several copies in the library. Its not required for study of course, but I think you would find it informative. Answer some of the questions you had today in greater detail than can provide.”
Nicolas stared at the neat handwriting on the paper in surprise, so he wasn't going to get reprimanded for speaking out of turn after all, just some schoolwork. He felt relieved he looked up from the paper and muttered quietly,
“Thank you, sir.”
“No thanks needed,” said Levefleur, nodding, “now go enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”
Nicolas turned away from the podium and headed for the door at the back of the class, his staff in one hand and the note in the other. Outside in the hall Richard, Michael and Paul were waiting for him, no other student's were in sight except for them. Richard stood closest to the door and when Nicolas exited said,
“So, what was that about?”
“Nothing, he just had a book he wanted to suggest.”
“Is that it?” said Paul
“Yeah.” Paul frowned a little disappointment, but before he could say anything more Michael stuck his head over Nicola's shoulder and asked
“What's the name of the book?”
Nicolas took a step away from Michael and away from the door and said,
“Meditations on the Arcane by Rene Vasser” There was a pause,
“Never heard of it.” Said Paul,
“I have,” said Michael, “Its famous”
“What is it about?” asked Nicolas,
“Don't know, never read it.”
Nicolas hummed and read the two lines on the paper again, then left with the others on a walk around the grounds as they decided how they were going to spend the rest of the afternoon.
When Nicolas woke the next day, he found himself alone in the room with only a small note on the writing desk. It was from Richard, it told him that he, Richard, and the others had decided not to wake him up and instead had gone down early for breakfast before heading off into the forest to practice spells for the day. Nicolas knew where they were, over the last few days they came to use the same hollow of trees by the castles outer wall as a sort of hang out when the common room was too full for comfort. He decided instead of heading down to meet them right away he would head down to the library and pick up the book Levefleur had suggested. He wasn’t yet as enthusiastic about using magic as the others and hoped the book would calm himself a little. After bathing himself in the empty floor washroom and getting dressed in his most comfortable Magnan Style underclothes, school robes and grabbed his staff before he headed through the set of waydoors that lead directly into the dining hall for a small breakfast pastry before heading off to the library building.
It did not take long and only thirty minuets after waking he was walking through the gardens and walled quarters toward the library while eating a small scone. He had never visited it before but he remembered it from Miss Jolie’s tour of the school. It was a tall, circular building, like many in the school, built from the same tan limestone, with the same strange stained glass windows embedded into the wall and the same organic architecture to the building that was present everywhere. What set it apart was its wide girth which, compared to its height, made it much more seem a lot more squat than tall like the other towers of the school, and its apparent flat roof, where other buildings had complex domes.
He walked through the courtyard to where he remembered it to be, but when he passed through the wall archway into the Library’s quarter and he stopped dead. The Library seemed, though Nicolas could not say why, a lot more foreboding than the last time he saw it. The Verandah was shielded by a series of pillars that provided the entryway with shade that were there before, but from the new angle it gave the building a look from the outside a look of baring its teeth. Its deep-set windows gave the a lot more spaces for shadows to form. Aside from that the walled area around the building seemed distinctly devoid of students compared to the rest of the school that day, and an odd chill and silence seemed to hang over it.
For a long time he just stood there and stared at the building until a strong gust of cold wind blew past him. Then he reminded himself that it was early September and he was just picking up on the changes of the weather as a sign of foreboding. He headed through the abandoned quarter garden, past the equally grim statues of school alumni and in through the Libraries entryway.
It didn’t as much as surprise him as disappoint him when he saw the library itself was almost as welcoming as it was from the outside. The first he saw was a set of very tall oaken bookshelves with small glass orbs hanging like torches from their ends. These were emitting a soft candle like light that barely illuminated the ground and space between the book shelves and did not illuminate the ceiling at all, giving the impression of the ground floor being the only floor with an unending empty space going on infinitely above. Hanging from the unseen ceiling was something like a chandelier, except with the same light glass instead of fire. This illuminated the desks that curved from either side of the doorway around the concave inner wall and up to two stone stairwells. The only other person he could see sat inside one of the checkout desks. It was a young man, wearing black students robes, reading a book by the light of the chandelier above him. Nicolas walked up to the student, pulling the piece of paper with the book information written on it and said,
“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me find…”
“Yes, what’s it called,” said the student, before Nicolas could finish and without looking away from his book. Nicolas felt a little taken aback, but continued anyway,
“Meditations on the…”
“Arcane by Rene Vasser?” Again the Student finished what he was going to say for him and without looking away from his book. Nicolas blinked and said, slowly,
“Yes, yes it is, have you read it?”
The Boy didn’t look up from his book but said, in a bored tone, “No, but I understand its famous… Wait here a moment.” Nicolas stood, as the kid picked up his book, stood up and without taking his nose out of the pages turned to the wall, which had a number of small wooden shelves built into it and pulled a small card from one of the shelves before tossing it to the desk in front of Nicolas then said.
“Here’s the card, has the book location listed on it, get the book and bring both it and the card back to me so I can stamp it out.” Nicolas picked up the card and looked at the location on its inside, three floors up, philosophy section, listed under Va. He pocketed the card and headed for the stairwell before he heard the desk boy say,
“Hey, if you see Mr. Tav up there tell him I was supposed to be out of here almost an hour ago.” Nicolas turned, his foot on the first step of the stairwell to look at the boy.
“Who?”
“Mr. Tav, he’s the Librarian, he’s been up there sorting out the books all day, does that a lot really, says they re-arrange themselves whenever he’s not looking.” There was an awkward silence as Nicolas waited for the boy to chuckle at his own joke. He did not.
“Just give him the message if you see him, kay?” Nicolas nodded then headed up the stairs. The number of stairs he went up to reach second floor seemed oddly short compared to the apparent height of the first room. When he got to the landing there he looked out onto the floor and saw that where the place where the desks would have been on the first floor was a large reading area by a guard rail looking down onto the floor below. He walked up to the rail, looked down at the desk below, and saw that he had travelled up nearly four times the distance he had thought he did on the stairs. He returned to the stairwell, deciding that the stairs must have been enchanted and headed up another equally short flight of stairs up to the third floor.
The third floor was much like the second, but it didn’t have any view to the others below. It had a large reading area against the wall between the staircases and a set of tall oak bookshelves like the levels before. He walked out onto the floor and noticed how uncared for the place seemed. The air was stale, silent and still. Light poured in through the windows shot illuminated clouds of dust that sat suspended in the air. The glasses that hung from the walls that provide lights were flickering as if they were close to death. Nicolas immediately decided he would get the book as fast as possible and get out of there, this was the type of place where bad ghost stories began.
Taking the card out of his robe pocket Nicolas checked the book’s location and sighed as he realized it was the furthest point away from him at the far side of the library. He pocketed the card again and headed into the bookshelves towards the back. Every few seconds or so the lights would flicker, occasionally going off entirely for a short time before coming back on. These times did not scare Nicolas, but they made him feel uneasy each time it happened. He turned the corner and headed down the isle between the shelves, staring at the small plaques that said the subject and alphabetical listings. The place well organized, but its darkness and emptiness, along with the similarity of its rows gave it the feeling of a maze. Like the rest of the Scholair all of the walls and shelves were curved, but instead of give it a more organic feel it gave it made it more claustrophobic, giving you the since you were walking down an endless corridor. If Nicolas stopped paying attention to where he was going and looked at a flickering light or down a vast row of books he could easily forget his headings. One time he walked several rows just before realizing he was doubling back again. Breaking up the endless book lined corridors were small reading areas, with desks, displays and chairs as old and dusty as everything else on that floor. He never stopped at these but continued onward through the network of shelves.
Once or twice Nicolas’s nerves would get the better of him and he would become startled at nothing. A light would flicker and he would jump, or there would be a small noise that would come out like cannon blast in the silence that would only turn out to be nothing. At his very worst moments, he would tell himself he saw something moving at the corner of his eye, a shadow that would disappear as soon as he actually went looking for it. Every time this happened he told himself, he was being stupid and scared, that there was nothing here except him and the dust, but the further he went the more uneasy he would feel, and the more often he would jump at shadows.
After what felt like a long time Nicolas reached the last bookshelf in the place, sitting in the wall the back corner of the Library. Nicolas went up and down the last row of books with his eyes, scanning the spines of books, looking for the name of the author he wanted. It was only until he got to the end of the row of books, where it opened up into another alley sided by a limestone wall, that he spotted the book. He sighed to himself, strangely relieved that he got to the book without any incident and reached out his hand to take it. Just as his fingers touched the spine froze, tensed, and the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
He knew with absolute certainty that someone was standing behind him, someone silent, and someone big. Fighting the sheer terror he felt at that moment Nicolas gripped his staff tightly in his free had and turned around to jab it out but there was nothing there, just air and the adjacent row of books. It took several seconds for Nicolas to relax, he had been sure that someone was there. Looking up and down the isle, he told himself that nothing was there, that his own imagination was just adding to the creepiness of the place. Turning around he reached his free hand back for the book, keeping his eyes on his back before turning back to see what book he was really grabbing and screaming.
A face, a horrible, broken face in a ragged hood of twilight stuff was sticking its head through the bookshelf, staring with blank, dead eyes that shone with an eerie blue light. Nicolas fell backwards on the ground and crawled away in horror from the thing as it slowly melded the rest of its body through the bookshelf some sort of living smoke. The thing was vaguely humanoid in form in form, though only vaguely. In a way, it was more like the animated form of a translucent human torso, which floated feet above the ground. It wore some ethereal black shroud, frayed at the edges in long, ragged tatters, like some sort of giant dead bat. Whatever was inside the Shroud appeared and disappeared in pieces, each blade like body part showing up itself only when it moved, shimmering blue white as it in the air before disappearing again. The most horrible, foreboding part about the creature was the sound it made in the utter silence. A mix of dead leaves rustling in the wind as its cloak moved and the slice of a blade against a sharpening iron as its elongated arms and fingers moved.
Nicolas didn’t think about what he was going to do next, he knew if he did it would the last thing he ever did. Before the creature could free itself from the wall Fueled he bolted to the side running down the back isle between the shelved wall and the rows of bookcases. He ran until he ran out of breath, but still had not’ reached the opposite wall of the library. He paused to catch his breath, looked over his shoulder over his shoulder and saw that the creature, whatever it was, had not followed him. He sighed, relieved and leaned against a break in the wall as tried to get his barring. Trying to push the immediate thought of the monster out of the front of his mind, he decided that the best coarse of action would be to keep along the wall until he reached the stairwell. If the creature could move through it, then it could easily run circles around him amongst the rows of shelving.
He moved forward as fast as he could, disregarding the fact he was out of breath and cramping out of fear. He strained his ears to hear that sharpening noise the creature made when it moved, his instincts telling him that would be the first thing he would notice if it were near. He tightened his grip on the staff, knowing that if it were to come at him again it would be his first and last line of defense, even though he only knew a few spells.
After a time that felt like forever, Nicolas reached a sharp break in the wall where it rounded into the next. He stopped and felt some relief pass through him. He was halfway there. He began forward again, but just as he put he raised his foot he heard, like a thunder crack, the noise of scraping metal directly behind him. He jumped around, jabbing out his staff and throwing his back against the wall, expecting to see the monster bearing down on him, but instead saw nothing. He sat there petrified for a moment, his heart pounding in his ears, wondering if the thing was there or if he had just imagined the noise, then he was hoisted up into the air, and was slammed against the wall with a crash that broke a shelf and sent a cascade of books falling to the floor. The Creature had come up out of the wall behind him and had taken him around the neck with its icy fingers. It held him up like he was weightless gathered itself from the wall from angle, staring back into Nicolas’s open eyes.
Nicolas saw what the creatures pale blue face looked like when it first came out at him, but now he could see it in horrifying detail. It looked like the type of face you would see staring back at you when you looked into a broken mirror. Everything was there, just fractured and out of place. If Nicolas could say it had an expression, it was slack jawed nothingness, like that of a corpse. The only thing that seemed to be together were the eyes, and only because the place they should have been shone with an eerie bright blue light. Nicolas’s breath caught in his mouth, he couldn't breath through the ethereal thing's grip, and stars formed in front of his eyes. He grabbed at the cold, smoke like stuff that was wrapped around his neck and it stung the finger of his hand like he had stuck them into ice water. He was losing his strength and as his free hand fell to his side the fingers around his staff started to loosen. Then realizing he still had the staff he struck out at the beast with the last ounce of his power, feeling the strange, eclectic feeling of magic flowing through him.
The creature screeched a horrible, inhuman noise like metal dragging on stone and threw Nicolas to the side, away from his escape. Landing on his side Nicolas rolled far on the floor, his staff landing a only a meter or so away from where he came to a stop. Laying there he saw the Shrouded creating staring at him with its shining cold blue eyes before slowly disappearing into the air. Nicolas shot up, ignoring the pain in his body, breathing hard through his throat was throbbing and bruised, and picked up his staff before running away from where he felt the creature still sat and into the rows of shelving. Whatever plan he had for was gone now, he was running on instinct and adrenalin.
He ran to the end of the shelf and paused, looking around the curved isles, trying to decide the best rout. He flexed his free hand out of stress and felt an immense pain. Looking down he saw, with another dull shock, that his fingers were blackened and swollen, they were dead from frostbite. He gasped, and a sharp pain cut in his neck, he reached up to feel it now it was free and realized that his neck too was frost bitten. He felt nauseous for a moment, but realized that if he didn't start moving now he would end up just as dead. He headed off to the right, thinking that it would lead him to the closest stairwell. A moment later something caught he corner of his eye and he turned to see the shrouded thing soaring at him from high on the bookshelves. Nicolas dodged, felt a cold pain shoot through his hip, like he was slashed by icicles. He came up to see the thing disappear into the floor, and saw four, long, blackened cuts in his side.
He stumbled in the direction he was heading again and was able to make it past the set of rows, using his staff to support his injured side, before the shroud rose out of the floor in front of him, blocking his path. Nicolas stopped and stared at the thing, realizing that he wouldn't be able to outrun it with the speed it had attacked him before. It stood still, staring back at him with its blue eyes, then rose into the air and plummeted toward him, making the noise of a metal sliding against metal, its claws outstretched. He raised his staff to block it, but the claws simply traveled through the wood and slid into Nicola's shoulders.
He tried to scream, but the noise caught in his wounded throat. He dropped both arms, and fell to his knees as his face contorted in pain. There was nothing more in the world, just the cutting pain of the claws and the biting cold. The blades of the shrouded creatures hands twisted through him, making his arms all but useless, his staff fell to the ground beside him. Nicolas believed that there was nothing more it could do, that the creature was simply going to kill him there and then and leave his body to lay undiscovered in this place. Yet the creature relented, noise of slicing metal went away and the dissipated into the air. Nicolas curled up in pain before energy came back to him and he scrambled to his feet, abandoning his staff in a mad dash. He didn't think about what just happened just then, but kept on going forward, fighting unbelievable pain he felt up and down his arms as he headed toward the entrance. Once he started moving again the small part of his brain that could work through the terror, pain and adrenalin asked why the creature did not kill him. Then he realized, it was toying with him.
He ran for what felt like forever in the maze of bookshelves, dodging attacks from the creature as it popped out of the dark, jumping in random isles to avoid attacks, all while trying to find a way out of the place. Every time he saw the creature he would take a wound, everything ranging from small cuts and scrapes to deep slices in his fresh and heavy bruises. He tried to avoid getting as badly damaged as his what happened to his shoulders, but with all the pain he felt all over his body he probably wouldn't be able to notice it until he was safe. The creatures attacks seemed to becoming longer and more frequent with each passing moment, to the point where he was running away from it as it chased him down row after or of books before vanishing again into the walls.
Nicolas finally stumbled into a row of shelves, avoiding a lunging, slashing attack for his head by only taking a long ragged cut across his cheek. He headed down this row for a moment before he realized what was in front of him. The windows at the front of the library were still shining bright with morning sunlight, and beside that was the twisting stairway leading down to the lower levels. He cried out, seeing his goal ran with all his remaining strength for the end of the isle. Behind him he could hear the noise of the creature, slicing at the air as it came in for another attack. He jumped to the side and saw the creature soar past him before flying into the shelves with a metallic howl. When it came from the side he ducked and came out of it with only a slice in is side.
Then, just before he was about to reach his goal he stumbled and fell to the floor. He stirred, his brain numb, and looked around for whatever had caused him to fall, forgetting for a moment what he was running from. Then he looked down at his feet and stopped. His left leg, which he had stumbled on, black with blood, mangled below the knee, long slices of flesh peeling away from the bone, holding on to the rest of his leg by flaps of skin. His shoe was gone, and along with it half of his toes and most of his foot. Nicolas broke down, there was nothing he could do but scream, he was going to die, there was no way to fight it, but he did not want to die, he was too young to die. He tried to twist, he tried to turn, but the pain was too much for him to fight any longer. The noise of grinding metal, the noise of the creature, which sounded far off started coming in a steady beat. Becoming louder and louder as it closer to him for the killing blow
A shadow passed over Nicolas’s face, cast from the windows at the front of the library, Nicolas cast his head up and saw a figure of a man standing in the light. A middle aged man stood there, looking down at Nicolas with his slightly mouth open, in obvious shock. Nicolas struggled to move his arm despite the shoulder wound and stretched out toward his hand toward the man, gurgling through is wounded throat as he tried to call for help. The man, seeming to get over his shock spoke, just as the noise of the creature reached its crescendo,
“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice clear and calm “everything is going to be fine.”
The metallic noise of the creature ended and there was a slick, wet noise and a sudden stinging pressure in Nicolas’s chest. He looked down and saw the creature floating horizontally in mid air, its fingers sunk up to the knuckle in Nicolas’s rib cage. Nicolas expected his life to flash before his eyes, or for time to freeze and for himself to have some sort of revelation or calm at death, but nothing happened. Just as his eyes fell on the creature, it twisted its hands, causing a final pike of pain to shoot through Nicolas’s body before a numbing sensation washed over him. His head fell back on the floor, his slowly senses sinking into a lucid dark. The last thing he saw was the shrouded creature, floating slowly over his body. The last thing he heard was the squelch of the creature’s fingers leaving his chest. The last thing he thought was of how, in so many ways, he could have been a better person. Then he was dead and for a moment, everything was still and at peace.
In the dark, Nicolas thought he could hear a child crying.
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