Week One, Day Six (Part One)
'Um. You had a question?' you ask, staring at him in confusion.
He chuckles. 'Humour me. I really want to know. Why do you strive? Why suffer? Why live, if living is so hard? What reason do you have to go on?'
You consider your surroundings: the oppressive heat and darkness, the tangled maze of grey stone rooms, bickering voices from far away. 'Am I dying?'
'Yes. Every day, every moment, a step closer to the grave.' He gives you a grim smile. 'Answer my question, please.'
It's difficult to think while your mind is filled with fog. You stare blankly at the old man, trying to gather your thoughts. Gradually, you assemble a few scattered ideas into a reasonable approximation of what you want to say: you're young; you haven't seen very much of the world yet; there's so much you still want to do, to see and to experience; there are people you care about, friends and family who have hopes for you, who are relying on you, who need you; it would be a shame to die now, before your life has really begun.
However, even when you have an idea of what you want to say, you struggle to vocalize it. 'So far, being alive has been worth… being alive,' you murmur.
'That's almost a tautology,' says the old man. 'Shaped like itself.'
'What do you want from me?' you ask, temper flaring. 'I want to live! I like living! I don't want to die yet.'
The old man looks past you, as if staring into the distance. A thousand-yard stare. 'I suppose… what I really want to know is…' He takes a few deep breaths, as though exhausted by the weight of his chains. 'What I did, what I suffered… was it worth it, in the end?'
'It's worth it to me,' you declare.
'May it remain so,' says the old man. His pained, weary expression seems to soften.
'Who are you?' you ask him for the second time.
'A dream,' he replies. 'Just a dream…'
Afterwards… you don't remember if there was anything more to the dream than that. When you wake, you can barely remember it at all.
You wake to a bright, clear, shining morning. The sun peers through the window, sending its golden rays to give you warmth. Outside, you hear chattering birds and the bustle of people beginning their day.
Fresh and energetic, as if the pains and weariness of yesterday had been washed away, you leap out of bed. Only then do you realise that it's an unfamiliar bed, away from the dormitory you share with the other first-year boys.
A woman rushes in, wearing a ferocious expression on her face. She is a large and imposing figure, dressed in white robes, with grey hair almost concealed underneath a nursing cap. She must have heard you get up. 'What do you think you're doing?!' she yells.
'Uh… it's morning, isn't it?' You frown. 'There are things I need to do today. It's important.'
'You won't be going anywhere, young man! You need rest,' she says sternly. 'You were seriously ill when that… that woman brought you here yesterday. I need to make sure that you'll be all right.'
'Did someone mention my name?' says Green Flame, poking her head around the door.
'No! I didn't! What are you still doing here?!' asks the school matron. 'I told you to stay out!'
'I was worried about my student.'
'Hah! It's your fault that he ended up here!'
'Technically true. I accept responsibility.' Expressionless as any statue, Green Flame steps fully into the room. 'I told the headmaster that I should be punished.'
'Lucky for you, he's not inclined to waste time beating a dumb animal. Off with you!'
'Um, I feel fine,' you say, instinctively shying away from the confrontation taking place in front of you. 'I pushed myself too hard, that's all. Green Flame gave me a potion to help with that, which must have worked – I feel much better now!'
The school matron glares at you. 'You'll stay here until I'm sure there's nothing else wrong with you!'
'What is this shouting all about?' says a familiar voice: cold, urbane, and with an edge of refined cruelty. Opernus Prentigold enters the room. This is the first time you've seen him since your first day at this school. You remember well the speech he gave to all of the new first-year pupils, just after you arrived. 'Ah. Dorian, you're awake. Good.'
'Headmaster! He should be in bed! I didn't authorise this!'
Prentigold winces, rubs his forehead as if he has a headache, gazes directly at you and asks, 'How are you feeling, Dorian?'
'I'm fine,' you assure him. 'There's nothing wrong with me.'
'Excellent. I hope you will take this as a lesson, young man: you need to be more cautious,' says the headmaster, staring at you with hard, unblinking eyes. 'Fortunately, you took no harm from it, this time. Of course, if you have any sense, there won't be a next time.'
'No, sir,' you say, shaking your head. 'Thank you, sir.'
'Well, I see no reason to keep you incarcerated here. You may go.' The headmaster gives you a thin smile. 'Enjoy your weekend.'
'I really must protest!' cries the school matron. 'I need to perform some tests to make sure that he isn't going to drop dead as soon as he walks out of here!'
'That sounds reasonable. Very well. Perform your usual battery of tests, but when you have ascertained that there is nothing wrong with him, you will let him go. Is that understood?'
The white-robed woman simmers down into mutinous silence.
'I'm glad we can agree on something,' says Prentigold. He turns to you. 'Got any plans for the weekend, Dorian?'
'Well, I had planned to go out into the city… to see my parents,' you say. That's not the only reason, of course, but it's the only one you're willing to talk about, here and now. You have a feeling that if you'd said "to sell my dahlias" it would be dismissed as a frivolous reason and you might be forbidden to go. 'Green Flame has offered to escort me.'
At that, Green Flame nods her head.
'That was kind of her,' says Prentigold. 'Carry on.'
'Headmaster, are you sure it's safe for him to go out into the city… with her?' asks the school matron. 'Couldn't you send someone else?'
'What was it you said before…? Ah yes, you questioned my judgement in using a "living artillery piece" as a teacher for children.' A flicker of amusement crosses his narrow face. 'Well, I say to you: if he can't trust a "living artillery piece" to keep him safe from anyone who might try to harm him, who can he trust?'
Again, no reply.
'I really must be going,' says Prentigold, striding towards the door. 'Good day to you all.'
You are relieved when Green Flame discreetly leaves the room, avoiding any further arguments. The school matron – whose name you still don't know and are too terrified to ask – performs a battery of tests, eventually pronouncing that she can't find anything wrong with you, though not for lack of trying.
After that, you're set free. The rest of the day is yours.
What will you do with it? (Choose one)
[] Spend some time with the school's Equestrian Society.
[] Go with Philander to see what the game of Bladderwrack is all about.
[] Rest for most of the day, then go to the Astronomy Club.
[] Do something else (write in).
OR
[] Agree to Green Flame's plan for the day.
-[] Borrow a cart and some pots from the Gardening Club. Get your dahlias ready for sale.
--[] Join up with Green Flame and the rest of Cadre 1F.
---[] Take your cart to the market, sell your dahlias. (Meanwhile, your friends will spend extra quality time with their parents.)
----[] Visit your parents. Talk with them.
-----[] On the way back, visit the tavern where Green Flame's former student is wasting his time and money.
------[] Meet up with Phil, Venta, and Isolia.
-------[] Go back to school.
