Student Days: New Beginnings
There were many reasons why one might visit the Mage Tower in Mergardia, such as, rather obviously, hiring a mage for one purpose or another. For the tall, fair haired boy named Philip, however, it was the Teleport Stone at the top of the tower that had drawn him to the doors at the foot of it.
"Take care of yourself," Philip's mother was saying, hugging him without seeming the least bit bothered by the black armor he was wearing.
"Mom, please," Philip groaned, rolling his eyes even as he hugged her back. "I'll be fine.
You taught me."
"I know, I know, but worrying is part of being a mother," Philip's mother said fondly, pulling back to look him in the eye.
"More like part of being a
parent," Philip's father commented, stepping forwards as his wife pulled away to give his son another hug. "Take care of yourself," he told him. "For our sakes."
"I will," Philip said, hugging back briefly, before pulling away and running through one last mental checklist of his things.
Armor? Wearing it. It was not particularly good armor, but it wasn't bad either.
Helmet? Also wearing it. It didn't have a visor, but it was what he had,
Spear? On my back. Shield? Same. Sword? He placed his hand on the pommel of the sword at his waist without thinking about it.
Check. Bag? Check. Said 'bag' was a rucksack that he had thown over his shoulder. "Well . . . I'm off, then," he said out loud, turning to the doors.
"Remember to visit home sometime!" his mother called.
"Only if you make sure the city's still standing when I get back!" Philip joked. He heard his mother laugh behind him as he pushed his way into the tower, and smiled.
When he arrived at Summerhold's Mage Tower, Philip found himself in a circular room with a number of other people milling about, not all of them human. A girl with leathery wings who looked to be about thirteen was speaking to a blue and blond haired boy of about eighteen off to his right, while on his left, a rather short (even by relative standards) goblin seemed to be bickering with a tall, muscular being that Philip thought was probably an orc.
Near the door, though, was a human woman (or at least Philip
thought she was human. The pointed ears made it somewhat questionable . . .) with golden blonde hair and watery blue eyes who seemed to be older than everyone else present.
Probably one of the teachers, Philip thought to himself, before approaching her to find out which way he was supposed to go to get to the school.
"Hello there," the woman said before Philip could speak. "I'm Professor Zelda Greyback, Aspida Academy's magical instructor."
Philip didn't recognize the name, but regardless, she did tell him which way the school was, so he exited the room and started descending the tower. It was going to be a
long walk . . .
About halfway to the school, Philip spotted a pair of figures, one quite short, the other only slightly so, walking ahead of him, hand in hand, and sped up slightly.
"Hey there!" he called out.
The taller figure turned slightly, evidently trying to glance back despite the hood of the dark blue robe they were wearing being raised over their head.
"You're here to attend the academy too, right?" Philip asked as he caught up, then without waiting for an answer added, "I'm Philip, from Mergardia, who are you?"
The two glanced at each other, and now that Philip was closer, he could see that the shorter person, who was also wearing a blue robe that was of a lighter shade than the taller one's, was a young girl, probably not even a teenager yet, her hood lowered to reveal dark hair and blue eyes.
"Isaac Marcallas," the taller of the pair said after a moment's pause, voice distinctly male, then gestured to his shorter companion. "This is my sister, Viola."
That took Philip slightly by surprise, though in hindsight it probably shouldn't have. "Oh, you're brother and sister? I didn't realize," he said cheerfully, before moving to walk slightly ahead of the siblings and peering at Isaac's face under his hood. "Though when I look closely . . ." Sure enough, there was indeed a family resemblance, complete with the exact same shade of dark hair, although Isaac's eyes were grey and slightly obscured by a pair of round glasses. Shaking his head, Philip asked, "Where are you from?"
There was a long pause, long enough that Philip actually started to wonder if they had somehow not heard him. When he opened his mouth to repeat his question, however, Isaac answered it with "Springbury."
Philip was quite sure he'd never heard of it before. "Where's that?"
". . . Pisatia."
Philip could already tell he was going to be doing most of the talking between the three of them as they continued on. Still, maybe the siblings would open up a bit with time.
The sun was low in the sky by the time they reached the school, and Philip had to say, it was a beautiful sight. Rolling hills and trees, two buildings sat atop a pair of hills separated by a river, a waterfall pouring from the taller hill, and looking back the way they had come, he could see Summerhold in the distance.
Beside him, Isaac didn't seem to be quite as impressed, while Viola's eyes were all but sparkling, and ahead, a figure covered from head to toe in armor -- mostly leather, but some of it was metal, such as the red-plumed helmet -- was walking towards them.
"I'm Professor Geralt," the armored figure said, and Philip saw Isaac jump slightly and shake his head. "Something wrong, boy?"
"It's nothing," Isaac said, unconvincingly. Philip gave him a concerned look, as did Viola, but when Isaac made no move to retract his claim, the knight reluctantly turned back to the teacher, who met his gaze. At least, Philip
thought he did. It was hard to be sure with that helmet obscuring his face.
"Drop any gear your carrying off at the armory," Professor Geralt began, pointing at one of the buildings, "and the rest of your things in your dormrooms," he pointed to the other building, "then head to the amphitheater," he pointed back to the first building, "the headmistress will be making a speech once all the students have arrived." And with that, he turned and walked away.
Philip turned to the siblings, giving Isaac another concerned look, before saying, "Well, we should probably head to the dorms first." Neither of the siblings disagreed, so he led the way towards the building Professor Geralt had indicated.
Isaac and Viola had stopped once they reached the point where they would have to separate, the latter looking distressed. While Philip had wanted to stay and help, Isaac's tone when he had told him to go on ahead had made it clear that this was a matter for family, not a newly met aquaintance, so the knight had done as he was told and continued walking.
Now let's see, Philip thought as he walked down a hall filled with doors on either side.
Which door is it?
As it turned out, his assigned room was near the middle of the hall, on the left side from where he had entered. Opening the door, he found two sets of bunkbeds, the lower beds having rucksacks on them, and a boy standing near the bed on the left.
"Hey there," Philip said, raising a hand in greeting. "I'm Philip, from Mergardia, who are you?"
The other boy glanced up from what was presumably his bag, and smiled confidently as he turned to face him fully. "I am Chester, from the noblest city of Falvale," he said in a tone that suggested the name should have meant something to Philip. It did not.
"Where's that?" he asked. Chester somehow nearly fell over despite the fact that he was standing still, the feathered green cap he was wearing nearly falling off of his auburn-haired head in the process.
He stood straight again a second later and cleared his throat before saying, "Mdinia!" He still looked somewhat off-balance, albeit not as literally as he had a moment ago, before his previous confidence returned. "I'm not surprised you've not heard of it before," he continued. "We don't often boast of our talents."
That seemed rather odd to Philip, considering that he seemed to be boasting now. Still, he decided not to question it. "Are either of those taken?" he asked instead, glancing first at the bed above Chester's, then at the one across the room from it.
"No, not yet," Chester said. Philip nodded, then stepped in and tossed his rucksack onto the upper left bed, then glanced at the other boy. Said other boy was wearing, aside from the earlier mentioned cap, a green coat and some well worn leather armor. More relevantly, he also had a bow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder.
"Well, I'm heading to the armory next," Philip began. "What about you?"
Chester sighed. "As much as I would like to keep my bow and quiver here, I don't think the school will allow it," he said. "So I suppose that means that I'll need to leave them in the armory."
And so they set out together, passing Isaac along the way.
The first thing Philip's eyes focused on when he pushed open the door to the armory wasn't the weapons, shields or armor around the room. It was the scaly red tail directly in front of him, followed by a pair of leathery wings of a similar color. Philip grabbed his sword and was about to draw it when he saw that the wings and tail were attached to a pair of humanoid figures and quickly let go as his brain caught up with his instincts. He was not entirely sure the two dragonoids had missed it as they turned around to face him.
They were somewhat similar looking, having some shared facial features and the same shade of red hair, along with yellow eyes. Furthermore, both wore red tunics, cream pants and boots. That was where the similarities ended, though.
The one with the tail was a girl, roughly the same age as Philip, her eyes were a bit wider, her hair was shoulder length and somewhat curly, and she was looking at him with interest. The one with the wings, meanwhile, was a boy, slightly older, with narrower eyes, short, messy hair, and a scowl. He was also resting a hand axe against his shoulder.
"Uhhh, hello," Philip began awkwardly. "I'm Philip, from Mergardia, who are you?"
The boy
spat fire in response. Not a lot of it, and it disipated before it hit anything, but it still made Philip jump in alarm. "Bah! A Schwarzen," the boy said contemptuously.
"Vlad, be nice!" the girl responded chidingly. 'Vlad' scoffed, and the girl sighed before turning back to Philip and clearing her throat. "I'm Mariella, and this is my brother, Vladimiro. We're from Chyrdale."
Philip had never heard of that place before, but decided not to comment on it and instead cast his mind around for something to say. Fortunately, it turned out he didn't need to.
Chester cleared his throat behind him. "Pardon me, Philip, but if you would please
move . . ." the archer began, his voice trailing off irritably.
Philip quickly stepped into the armory and then out of the way of the door. "Sorry, Chester."
Chester took one look at Mariella, then smiled broadly and began walking towards her, a glint in his eyes. "Greetings to you, my fair maiden," he began, before sweeping off his cap and giving her a slight bow. "I am Chester, from the noblest city of Falvale." He straightened, replacing his cap and reaching for her hand. "It is an hon-"
He broke off as Vladimiro gave an angry snort, flames shooting out of his nose, and the archer backed away rather more quickly than he had approached. "Do not touch my sister,
lech," the dragonoid spat, this time without fire.
Chester shot him an affronted look, but evidently decided that arguing would be detrimental to his health, and so remained silent. Mariella, on the other hand . . .
"
Vlad!" she snapped indignantly, before turning back to Chester and offering an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about my brother," she began, extending a hand for him to shake. "We ran into one of the teachers on the way here, and she was . . . less than pleasant. He's been in a foul mood since."
Chester looked at the offered hand, glanced at Vladimiro, then took it and shook. "It is no trouble at all, my lady," he said, smiling much more broadly than she was, if not as to the extent he had been before the other boy had made his irritation known.
Mariella's smile became more natural, even as she withdrew her hand. "Well, we need to get to the amphitheater, so we'll see you two later then." Then she turned to her brother and added "Come on, Vlad. Let's go." Vlad nodded, placed his axe on a nearby rack, gave Chester one last disapproving look, and followed his sister out of the room, passing Philip on the way and giving him an outright glare.
For a moment, there was silence. Then Chester groaned. "The first beauty I've met here who isn't a teacher, and she has a brother like
that?" he asked of the air, shaking his head. Then he sighed. "Why must it always be
something . . .?"
Philip didn't know what to say to that and so said nothing at all, choosing instead to begin unloading his equipment. A second later, Chester seemed to remember where he was and why he was there and began doing likewise.
Philip found Isaac and Viola in the amphitheater after a couple minutes of searching through the crowd a short while later, Chester having wandered off somewhere along the way, the older Marcallas looking troubled, glancing around and occasionally shaking his head in apparent confusion. His sister, on the other hand, looked downright terrified and was seemingly trying to hide behind him, a difficult task considering there were people
everywhere in the room.
"Hey, guys!" Philip called out. Both siblings jumped, Viola immediately rushing to Isaac's other side and peering around at him warily. Isaac, on the other hand, shook his head again before rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "What's wrong?" the knight asked, concerned.
"Just a headache," Isaac said, waving his other hand dismissively. Philip didn't even have time to question this before he felt
something pull at his mind, drawing his attention to the front of the amphitheater.
"Hello, students," a soft, motherly voice spoke directly into his mind.
"I am Headmistress Vita Lux. Some of you may have heard of me. Others may owe their lives to me."
There was a pause, during which no one said anything. Out of the corner of his eye though, Philip saw Isaac frown and start rubbing his forehead again, eyes closed.
"But that is not why I speak to you," the Lifebringer continued, oblivious.
"You come here today to learn the skills and discipline you need to become protectors of your homes, the lands, and this very world."
Philip heard a few people gulp nervously, Viola included.
"Some of you may find this daunting, even impossible. But I do not. I have faith in all of you, faith that can never be shattered or wavered."
Philip had no intention of disappointing the headmistress, now or ever. He
would succeed, he
would become a hero, a protector of the people, and the world as well if need be. He had sworn as much long before he chose to come here, before the school had even been founded.
"You, however, must learn. And in the end, have faith in yourselves."
Beside him, Philip heard Isaac scoff quietly. "Faith, huh?" the mage muttered, barely audible.
"Classes begin at dawn." And with that last piece of information, the headmistress dismissed them.
Returning to his room after dinner, Philip found that Isaac had apparently been assigned as one of his roommates, which just left one unaccounted for. Upon entering, however, that was no longer the case.
A boy even taller than Philip with prominent muscles stood leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room, arms folded, his black eyes gazing at them from a head that was as bald as an egg. The image was partially ruined by the fact that he was wearing a tunic and trousers rather than something more impressive, but, then again, Philip wasn't in much position to criticize given that he had left his armor in the armory and thus was only wearing a white shirt and beige pants. And shoes, of course, but that was beside the point.
"Hey there," Philip began, stepping into the room and extending a hand. "I'm Philip, from Mergardia."
"Name's Vincent," the other boy said, making no move to accept the offered hand. A moment later, Philip slowly withdrew it. A second after he had, Vincent glanced over the knight's head. "You?"
"Isaac Marcallas," Isaac answered, already climbing up to only bunk that had been untaken when Philip and Chester had left.
Speaking of Chester, the archer was nowhere to be found in the room. Philip even cast his gaze up at his own bed, just to make sure he wasn't up there for some reason. "Have you seen Chester anywhere?" he asked in Vincent's direction. The larger boy shrugged.
About fifteen minutes passed in relative silence, Philip not knowing what to say, Vincent not seeming interested in saying anything, and Isaac having pulled a book out of his rucksack and started reading. Philip tried to read the title from below, but the angle made it impossible, after which he wandered over to a corner and started doing squats.
Once those fifteen minutes were up, however, the quiet was disrupted by the sound of the door being pushed open. Philip paused in his squatting and stood, turning his eyes to the door, as did the other boys in the room.
There was Chester, looking rather dejected. "What's wrong?" Philip asked in concern.
"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Chester said, completely unconvincing. "Just another fair maiden who was . . . unattainable."
". . . Oh," was all Philip could think to say. Considering that that was the second girl in about as many hours, he was not sure how sorry he was supposed to feel for the archer.
Meanwhile, Chester seemed to have taken note of the other boys in the room. "Oh, hello there," he said, his expression shifting back to the confidence Philip had seen when he'd been introducing himself earlier. "I am Chester, from the noblest city of Falvale. Who are-"
"Falvale?" Isaac interrupted, looking up (or rather down) from his book, before setting it aside and rummaging through his rucksack.
"Ah, I see you have heard of us!" Chester said, sounding delighted, before opening his mouth to say something else.
"Not exactly," Isaac responded before the archer could speak again, pulling out a map. "But the name sounds . . ." His voice trailed off as he traced his finger across one part of the map, then lowered it, scowling. "You're a Rusanic." It was not a question.
"Indeed!" Chester said proudly, not looking at the bespectled boy. "The noblest, most
pious people in all of . . ." He trailed off, glancing up to see the look of contempt on Isaac's face. "You're a Romain, aren't you?" he asked, sounding resigned.
"From Pisatia," Isaac confirmed.
Philip had no idea what was going on as he looked between them. "So? What's the problem?"
"'What's the problem'?" Chester repeated as though it were the stupidest question he had ever heard, turning to Philip with a look of barely controlled fury on his face. "The Romains abandoned the gods and seek to cast mortals in their place, and they have tarnished the land again and again to do it!" He paused, turning back around to glare at Isaac and continuing, voice shaking with rage, "I should have expected this. I should have
known that the headmistress would not think to bar such blasphemous
scum as you from her noble institution, but-"
"Considering she chose to hire a Romain to teach here, I doubt she would have much sympathy if you tried to complain to her," Isaac cut him off, sounding as though he was barely managing to keep himself any calmer than the Rusanic. "Or have you really never heard of Zelda Greyback before?"
Chester floundered, mouthing something that Philip couldn't make out from his position, before the mage decided to add more.
"I'll not deny that we would carve our fates with our own hands rather than let the gods dictate our lives, or that some Romains have been arrogant enough to believe themselves
above the gods," he admitted. "But we are better than you
Rusanics," he all but spat the word, "who would sit and wait for your goddess to absolve you of your sins and fix your troubles, and kill any who would
dare attempt to better the world themselves!"
They glared at each other, and Philip almost see sparks manifesting between them. Then, after a moment, Isaac took a deep, steadying breath, and sighed. "Look," he began, "I don't like you or what you stand for. You feel the same about me. Nothing either of us says will change that. But we are
not here to argue about the place of gods in the lives of mortals." He took another breath. "We are here to
learn. And if that means I must tolerate your presence, so be it. I already came here expecting to have to learn alongside Rusanics. Living with one can't be that much worse.
"Are you willing to do likewise, Rusanic?"
Chester continued to glare at him for a moment, before sighing as well. "I suppose I am," he said. "Barely."
Isaac nodded, before blinking in what seemed to be confusion and rubbing his forehead. "Now, if no one minds, I think I'll try to sleep. My head is killing me," he said, rolling up his map and returning it to his rucksack.
"How convenient," Chester muttered. Isaac either didn't hear him or didn't care, instead closing his book and putting it back in his rucksack as well.
This was going to be a problem . . .
The first day of lessons did not get off to what Philip would call a good start. Oh, sure, he and Vincent had managed to get up on time without issue, and Isaac had followed suit with a little prompting (even if he had still been rather bleary-eyed when he left to get breakfast). Chester, on the other hand . . .
"Chester, wake up! We're going to be late!"
Chester snored loudly even as Philip shook him, prompting the knight to sigh.
"I didn't want to have to do this," he said, before ripping the covers off of Chester and rolling him off the bed.
"Bwuh!?"
Thump!
Chester sat up with a groan, rubbing his head. "What'd you do that for?" he asked irritably.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Philip asked back.
"Too early. Wake me later," Chester said, standing and moving to crawl back into bed. Philip grabbed the back of his collar.
"No time, we're going to be late!" Philip said, pulling the archer away.
"Wha- Hey!" Chester protested, scrambling to get his balance so that he could follow without being dragged. "What's the big rush!? I need my beauty sleep!"
"Classes start at dawn, remember?" Philip asked, slowing just enough to allow his roommate to start jogging properly.
"And unless I am very much mistaken, it is not dawn yet," Chester countered, sounding less than pleased.
"It's also an hour long walk to the school," Philip pointed out. "And do you remember what our first class is?"
"Uhhh . . ."
"We're not late!" Chester gasped out as he and Philip dashed onto the training field a little over an hour later, Philip spotting a familiar combination of curly red hair and red-scaled tail amongst those already present.
"No, you are not," the teacher said calmly. He was an older man, his hair, beard and mustache having all whitened with age, but not so old as to be slowing down and becoming frail, for he still seemed to be in good shape. He was wearing silver armor and a brown shoulder cape, and there was a black pegasus standing beside him. "Now sit down, the lesson is about to begin." Once the two had done as they were told, he spoke again. "I am Jasper the Winged Knight. You may call me-"
"
YOU!?!!" Chester roared suddenly, leaping back to his feet and seemingly attempting to draw his bow and an arrow, only to find that he didn't have either.
"Is there a problem?" Jasper asked, raising an eyebrow at the archer.
"You
murdered our king!" Chester declared angrily. Whispers broke out amongst the students, some expressing concern over having a kingslayer as their teacher, others wondering what Chester was talking about.
Philip was stunned.
Why would the headmistress hire a kingslayer
to teach us? He could think of no answer, yet he also could not think of a reason for Chester to lie.
Jasper sighed. "Yes, I did," he said resignedly. "And I dearly hope that, if any of you had been in my position, you would have acted more swiftly than I did." Then his eyes hardened. "Now, if you are done making a scene, I have a lesson to teach."
Chester glared at him for another moment, then, reluctantly, he sat back down, fuming. Jasper gave another sigh, then cleared his throat, and spoke again. "As I was saying, you may call me Professor Jasper. I have been hired to teach you how to fight, both to protect yourselves and to protect the innocent." A fire seemed to ignite within his eyes, and his tone became firmer, more authoritative, as he continued, "
However, that is not all that I intend to teach you. When I am done with you, I intend for you to understand the virtues of chivalry, to live up to the ideals which the academy was founded to impart on you. When I am done with you, I wish to see, not merely a pack of warriors with no cause or ideals, but heroes, willing to stand up for those in need!"
A few people scoffed quietly, Chester among them. Professor Jasper ignored them, even as Philip's head spun. He could see it in the teacher's eyes. He
meant what he said, with all of his heart, yet he had not only not denied Chester's accusations, he had
confirmed them, even expressed the wish they would have done as he had. How, then, could he believe so strongly in the purpose of the academy? How could he stand there, filled with conviction, and declare that he would teach them to be heroes when he had committed a sin beyond all hope of atonement?
The teacher continued to speak, but Philip barely heard him, his mind too preoccupied with trying to understand the contradiction that was Jasper the Winged Knight.
"How could the headmistress hire
him of all people!?" Chester demanded of no one in particular, once they were out of earshot after Professor Jasper dismissed them.
"What did he even do?" asked a boy in the crowd. More than a few people gave him looks. "I mean, I know he killed a king, but why?"
Chester sighed. "There are
several stories as to why," he began. "Some say he took a fancy to King Saren the Kind's-"
"Saren the Kind?" a girl interrupted. "I thought it was Ivan the Maginificent."
Chester actually chuckled at that. "No, that was Jasper the
White Knight," he corrected, an amused smile on his face. "Though, I can understand the confusion." He cleared his throat, his smile vanishing in an instant. "As I was saying, some say he took a fancy to King Saren the Kind's wife or daughter, others say that he had become envious of King Saren himself for one reason or another, among at least a dozen other versions. All agree that it happened when, one day, the king requested a sparring match with one of Jasper the Winged Knight's students. The king and the student entered the sparring ring, while all of the king's bodyguards, including the Winged Knight, watched on. In the end, only Jasper the Kingslayer walked away with his life that day."
There were several gasps from the other students. Philip froze where he stood. For a long moment, no one said anything. Then the knight spoke. "He murdered one of his own students?" he asked breathlessly, breaking the silence even as his legs felt like they would give out at any moment.
Chester shrugged. "Most think so, although the reason varies from retelling to retelling. Some say she tried to protect the king. Some say that the Kingslayer wanted to leave no witnesses. Some say it was accident, a stray swing of the blade that happened to hit her by chance." Then he scowled. "A few have claimed it might have been the king or one of his bodyguards who killed her -- accidentally of course -- but, personally, I find the idea laughable." He certainly didn't sound like he wanted to laugh about it, and after a moment, he sighed again. "Come on, we don't want to be late for our next lesson." There was a very, very cold look in his eyes. "I just hope that the headmistress has not made any
more poor choices in staff."
If someone had asked Philip what his image of a diplomat was, his first thought would not have been a short, green-skinned man with large, pointed ears, green eyes of a brighter shade than his skin and slicked back black hair, wearing a suit and white shirt combination that made him think of a butler.
"Blah blah blah . . ."
The goblin standing in front of the class and droning away, however, matched that exact description.
"Blah blah, blah . . ."
Chester hadn't exactly been pleased when they had been told that said goblin, Professor Rekunthung, was their Political Teacher, though he hadn't started yelling at him yet, so that was promising.
"Blah, blah blah . . ."
Philip, on the other hand, wasn't even sure why this lesson existed. According to Professor Rekunthung, his job was "to teach you how to speak to kings, nobles, aristocrats, and other sorts of high-born people without offending them enough that they decide to have your head chopped off for 'disrespect'." Which seemed completely unnecessary to Philip, because what sort of noble would do such a thing?
"Blah blah, blah, blah blah blah . . ."
Giving up on trying to pay attention to the teacher for the moment, Philip instead glanced around the room as subtly as he could.
Chester, sitting right beside him, seemed to be having better luck concentrating on the lesson, even nodding along every now and then as he took notes, his earlier look of displeasure having given way to one of grudging respect.
A handful of seats away, Mariella seemed to be following along as well, even if she also seemed to be somewhat bored. The girl next to her, on the other hand, looked like she was about to fall asleep where she sat.
"Blah blah, bla- You there! Pay attention!"
Philip started, his eyes fixing back on Professor Rekunthung. Had he been caught?
Fortunately, it seemed he hadn't, because the goblin's glare was directed a few rows behind him, and turning to look, Philip saw a pair of sheepish looking boys, one of whom seemed to have been doodling something on a piece of paper.
"Sorry, Professor," the doodler said. "Won't happen again."
Philip sighed as he turned back around to face forwards again. This was going to be a
long lesson . . .
At lunch, Philip and Chester separated, the knight wanting to sit with Isaac and Viola, the archer wanting nothing to do with them if he could avoid it. Still, that was assuming he could
find the Marcallas siblings. The mess hall was quite crowded, and growing moreso by the minute as students from other classes trickled in.
After searching through the crowd for a few minutes though, he spotted a familiar blue robe, worn by a young girl with a familiar shade of dark hair. "Hey, Viola!" he called, raising an arm and waving as he approached.
Viola jumped slightly, then turned to face him, shrinking into herself somewhat. "O-Oh. Hi, Philip." Beside her, three other girls who appeared to be around her age looked at him as well.
"Have you seen Isaac?" Philip asked. Viola shook her head.
"Ya know this guy?" asked what appeared to be the eldest of Viola's . . . friends? She was wearing a fairly plain white shirt and brown pants, her long, sand-colored hair trailing out from under a red bandana, and her bright blue eyes examining him curiously.
"Not exactly . . ." Viola mumbled, shaking her head again. The blonde gave her a quizzical look, and when Viola gave no sign that she wanted to elaborate, Philip spoke.
"We met yesterday on the way to the school, and her brother is one of my roommates," he explained, before holding out a hand to the girls. "I'm Philip, from Mergardia, who are you?"
The blonde's nose crinkled in distaste, but one of the others took the offered hand without issue and shook it. "I'm Claudia Hampton," she said brightly. She looked to be roughly the same age as Viola, her red robe a stark contrast to the other girl's blue, and her flaxen hair not quite reaching her shoulders. "It's nice to meet you Mr. From Mergardia." Philip stared blankly, and the older girl snorted. "What? What did I say?"
"Schwarzens don't have family names unless they're nobles," the older girl explained, smiling in clear amusement.
Claudia's cheeks went pink. "Oh. Sorry, Mr. Philip."
"It's fine," Philip said, waving his hand, then looking at the other two whose names he still hadn't heard. "And who are you?"
The older girl's smile faded somewhat, and, after a moment's pause, she spoke. "Casilda." Philip looked at her, expecting more, but she offered no further comment.
A few seconds later, the last of their group, who looked to be younger than even Viola and Claudia, spoke as well after a nudge from the flaxen-haired girl. "L-Lorena Sinnett," she spluttered nervously. "I-It's nice to-to m-meet you." She was wearing a green robe, her raised hood not quite managing to obscure her chestnut brown hair, and all but cowered away from him.
Philip gave her his most calming smile and offered her his hand too. Hesitantly, as though she believed it might bite her, she took it. "It's nice to meet you too, Lorena," the knight said, shaking her hand. Lorena let go as soon as they were done, shrinking back. Philip sighed, then cast his eyes around the room.
A familiar looking dark blue robe near the entrance caught his eye, hood drawn up over the wearer's face, and the tall, muscular figure beside it all but confirmed it was who he thought it was. "Hey, Isaac! Vincent!" he called, waving his arm again.
His roommates paused, glancing in his direction, before approaching through the crowd. Viola took a quick step towards her brother, looking like she wanted to run straight to him, only to stop dead as she spotted Vincent next to him. Isaac seemed to take notice and beckoned her towards him, a smile just visible on his face beneath the hood. A moment later, Viola shot forward and ran behind him, then began peering around at Philip and her previous companions. Out of the corner of his eye, Philip could see a look of disappointment on Casilda's face.
Isaac sighed heavily and kept walking, Viola following without prompt. As the bespectacled boy drew closer, though, Philip saw that he looked
tired, in a way that went beyond a lack of sleep. Which shouldn't have been a problem for him in the first place considering how early he went to bed the previous night.
"Hello, Philip," Isaac said upon reaching them, before turning to his sister. "Who are you're friends, Viola?" Viola responded by hiding behind him, and he sighed again.
After a short round of introductions, Philip asked, "Would you like to find a seat with us, Isaac?"
Isaac gave his sister a brief glance, before looking back at Philip. "Yes," the older Marcallas said, smirking slightly. "I think I would."
Philip nodded with a smile. "And what about you, Vincent?" he asked. The taller boy glanced at Isaac with a look on his face that Philip couldn't read, then nodded.
"Great! Let's go!"
A few minutes later, all seven of them were seated on two sides of a long table. On one side was Isaac, Viola on his right, Vincent on his left, with Casilda having taken the seat on Viola's other side without asking. The younger mage had responded by scooting closer to her brother without a word. On the other side, Philip sat directly across from Isaac, with Claudia on his left and Lorena on her other side.
"So how's your morning been?" Philip asked, spearing a piece of meat on the end of his fork.
"
Exhausting," Isaac answered, before taking a gulp of water, then elaborating. "We just had a lesson with Professor Barry."
"The Weapons Master?" Claudia asked curiously. Isaac nodded. "What's he like?"
"He . . . means well, I suppose," Isaac began cautiously, "but I don't think he quite understands that
some of us," here he scowled, "don't have as much stamina as he seems to think we do." Vincent's lips curled upward in a tiny smirk, before the mage asked, "What about you?"
"Well, first we had Professor Jasper, and, well . . ." Philip trailed off, wondering how best to put what had happened. "Chester kind of . . . exploded . . . at him . . ." Isaac raised an eyebrow, and Casilda seemed interested as well.
"Really!?" the sandy-haired girl asked excitedly. "What happened!?"
"Well . . ." Philip wasn't entirely sure how to answer that.
"Who is Chester, anyway?" Claudia asked, throwing him a lifeline in the process.
"Our other roommate," the knight answered, slightly relieved. "We were almost late because of him."
Casilda sniggered, and Claudia gave her a dry look. "I don't think you have much room to be laughing when you could barely get out of bed on time either," the red-robed mage deadpanned. "Or when you fell asleep in our first lesson." Casilda spluttered, her face going red with embarrassment.
"What was your first lesson, anyway?" Isaac asked in his sister's direction.
"Political Etiquette with Professor Rekunthung," Viola answered easily.
"You should have seen him when he saw Casilda sleeping in the middle of the class," Claudia laughed.
"Wh-What was I supposed to do!?" Casilda asked defensively. "It was the crack of dawn, and he was
sooo boooring."
"Not sleep in the middle of class?" Claudia suggested, her voice drenched in sarcasm. Casilda glared, then burst out laughing, Philip and Claudia joining in, Isaac chuckling, Viola and Lorena giggling shyly, and even Vincent grinning in amusement.
"So- So what's your schedule for the afternoon?" Casilda asked a moment or two later, still giggling a bit.
"I don't think I have anymore lessons today," Philip answered. "I'll have to check with my classmates to be sure, though."
"We have Professor Rekunthung next," Isaac sighed, rubbing his forehead.
"Then I definitely must have forgotten what my next lesson is," Philip said sheepishly.
"Not necessarily," Claudia commented. "We didn't have any lessons after Professor Rekunthung's this morning." That seemed strange to Philip. Why would different classes be given a different number of lessons?
"Any
official lessons," Viola muttered, so quietly that Philip barely heard her. Isaac chuckled, and Casilda outright laughed at the knight's confused look.
"I took these three for a swimming lesson when we heard we had the rest of the morning free," the sandy-haired girl explained.
Philip chuckled at the look of indignation on Viola's face and the groan from Claudia. "I wouldn't exactly call it a lesson . . ." the red-robed mage commented. Beside her, Lorena seemed to be stiffling laughter.
"Oh, come on, it was perfectly educational!" Casilda protested in mock offense.
"Only if you consider 'educational' to mean shoving Viola and myself into the water and telling us to sink or swim," Claudia countered without missing a beat.
"It wasn't deep enough to drown in!" Casilda protested again.
There was a pause, and then both burst out laughing, Philip joining in while Isaac chuckled and Lorena sniggered. Viola, on the other hand, gave them all sour looks.
A moment later, though, Isaac calmed down and got them back on topic. "So what's your next lesson?" he asked his sister.
"Combat Class with Professor Jasper," she answered, still looking mildy miffed at all the laughing at her impromptu 'swimming lesson'.
"Come to think of it, ya never did tell us what yer roommate blew up about this morning," Casilda noted, eyes gleaming with renewed curiousity.
"Ehh, well . . ." Philip's voice trailed off, then he sighed. He could only tell them the truth. "Professor Jasper . . . is a kingslayer."
Claudia choked on a piece of carrot, Lorena spat water at Casilda, who gave her an irritated look, Vincent dropped his fork, Viola's eyes went wide, and Isaac raised an eyebrow.
"You're joking," Vincent said flatly.
"I wish I was," Philip replied gloomily.
"But why would the headmistress . . .?" Claudia wondered, her voice trailing off.
"She probably knows something we don't," Casilda said, dabbing at her face with a napkin.
"What do you mean?" Vincent asked, giving the younger teen an odd look.
"There has to be
something more to this than that Chester guy knew," Casilda explained as though it were obvious. "There's no way the headmistress would knowingly hire someone who committed such a massive crime without doing one hell of a background check, and if it were as simple as 'he killed a king, end of story', he wouldn't be a teacher here."
"That makes sense . . ." Claudia muttered, nodding thoughtfully.
"I wouldn't be too sure," Vincent said, frowning.
"And why's that?" Casilda asked him, also frowning.
"Talians have never been known for being fond of kings," Vincent began, in the tone of one who was explaining something very basic to someone very dense. "It would not surprise me in the least if the headmistress
approved of-"
"Oh, cut the crap,
Schwarzen," Casilda interrupted, and Philip startled. The way she had said the name of his culture, almost spitting it, sounded remarkably familiar. "We may not have your obsession with 'order' and 'birthrights', but murder is still murder, and a head of a state is still a head of a state." She paused to glare at Vincent, far more seriously than she had at Claudia at any point in the conversation. "If Professor Jasper really didn't have one hell of a good reason for what he did, the headmistress would've sooner killed him than hired him."
Vincent was silent for a long moment, before turning his gaze to Isaac. "Your sister needs better friends," he said, as though he were commenting on the weather. Then he stood, turning around and casting one last glance over his shoulder at Claudia and Lorena. "That goes for you two as well." Then he walked away, leaving what was left of his lunch on the table.
Another moment of passed before anyone spoke again. Finally though, once Vincent was out of sight, Claudia could keep silent no longer. "What was that about?" Philip wanted to know that as well.
Casilda sighed. "We Talians have never really seen eye to eye with the Empire," she said, as though that explained everything.
Isaac seemed to think it did, because he cleared his throat and said, "Leaving any cultural issues we might have with each other aside for a moment, Philip, what was your impression of Professor Jasper?"
It took Philip a moment to process the question, his mind still caught on Casilda's not-explanation. "Oh. Um . . . He was strange," he said, shrugging.
"How so?" Isaac pressed, looking at him intensely.
"Well . . . He didn't deny it when Chester said he murdered their king," Philip began, feeling somewhat awkward as he tried to remember the entire encounter. "He even said that he hoped we'd have done it sooner than he did if we were in his position."
Isaac 'hmm'd thoughtfully, Casilda frowned, and the other girls looked about as confused as Philip felt.
"Then he started talking about how he was hired to teach us how to fight," Philip continued. "How to protect ourselves and the innocent." As he spoke, Philip found the confusion he'd felt before coming back in full force. "Then he said that he didn't just want to teach us to fight, that he wanted to teach us
chivalry and to live up to the academy's ideals."
Isaac nodded, face unreadable. "And what do you think of what he said?" the mage asked. "Do you think he meant any of it?"
"He did," Philip said, nodding firmly. Even amidst all the confusion he felt about their combat instructor, that was one thing he was certain he knew about the Winged Knight. "I could see it in his eyes. He meant every word of it, with all his heart. That's what doesn't make sense."
Isaac nodded again, this time looking satisfied, and held up a hand to stop Casilda as she opened her mouth. "I'm sure it will, someday," he said, his tone odd, almost . . . pitying, in a way. "For now, though, I think it would be best if we kept this to ourselves."
"What do you mean?" Claudia asked, looking puzzled.
Isaac sighed. "While we can't stop Vincent and Chester from spreading that information to across the school, we can at least not help them do it," he explained. "Hopefully, at least some of the students can experience a lesson with him without knowing what he did . . ."
". . . And draw their own conclusions when they do afterwards," Casilda finished for him, nodding. "That makes sense to me."
Claudia, on the other hand, looked skeptical. "I'm not so sure about this," she said, sounding worried. "What if he really
is dangerous?" Everyone else gave her looks, and she blushed. "I mean, to us and the other students, not . . ."
Casilda chuckled at her. "It'll be fine, Claudia," she said reassuringly. "If even a
Schwarzen thinks he was serious about the whole 'chivalry and ideals' schtick, then I'd say he is." This time, there was no venom in her emphasis of his culture.
Claudia still didn't look convinced when Isaac turned to his sister. "What about you, Vio?" he asked. "What do you think?"
Viola was silent for a long moment, eyes closed, clearly thinking about it. Then she looked up at him and said, "I think we should give him a chance."
Claudia looked downright alarmed at that. "Viola, you can't be- He murdered-" She turned, desperately, to the only theoretical participant in their conversation left. "Lorena, please tell me
you can see that this is madness!"
Lorena shrank back in her seat as all five of them looked at her. "I, um . . . I think . . ."
Casilda smiled encouragingly. "Go on, Lori," she said. "Speak your mind. We won't judge."
Lorena was silent, glancing first at Claudia, then at Casilda, then at Philip. Philip gave her his own encouraging smile, and her resolve seemed to solidify. "I think . . . we should give him a chance," the young mage said at last, voice only slightly shaky.
Claudia didn't look happy with that answer, but she seemed to have accepted defeat. "Fine!" she said, throwing her hands up. "Fine! But if it turns out we can't trust him, I am not responsible for what happens!"
Isaac smiled, Casilda beamed at Lorena, and Philip felt somewhat guilty. Claudia had a point, if Jasper turned out to be as villainous as his reputation suggested . . .
"When I am done with you, I intend for you to understand the virtues of chivalry, to live up to the ideals which the academy was founded to impart on you," Professor Jasper's words drifted back to him.
"When I am done with you, I wish to see, not merely a pack of warriors with no cause or ideals, but heroes, willing to stand up for those in need!"
I'll give you a chance, Professor, Philip thought as he and his friends(?) resumed their lunch.
I just hope we don't regret it.
A/N: Eight. Thousand. Words. I did
not expect this to wind up being so freakin' long.
Trivia regarding the characters (re)introduced in this Omake for those wondering:
Philip: Age 16, Knight (I intend for him to Class Change to Pegasus Knight at some point, probably after he gets the full story behind Jasper's actions). In Class 3
Isaac Marcallas: Age 17, Black Mage (has an interest in becoming a Dark Mage, but is too cautious to try without consulting a (sane) expert and preferably getting their supervision). In Class 2
Viola Marcallas: Age 12,
technically a Black Mage (she hasn't actually started specializing yet, and I intend for her to become a White Mage in the next turn or two). In Class 4
Chester: Age 17, Ranger? I'm not entirely sure, since we don't have much information to go on regarding that Class, but he's definitely
something that allows for archery. In Class 3
Vincent: Schwarzen, Age 18, either a Fighter or a Blademaster. He's from Sirton, Schland. In Class 2
Mariella: Age 16, Mercenary. In Class 3
Vladimiro: Age 17, Fighter. He and Mariella are half-siblings through their father who were raised together. In Class 5
Casilda: Age 13, Corsair. Likes to call herself "Captain Casilda". In Class 4 and one of Viola's roommates
Claudia Hampton: Angshire, Age 12, Black Mage. In Class 4 and one of Viola's roommates
Lorena Sinnett: Angshire, Age 11, Nature Mage (she's the one I considered making a Beastmaster). In Class 4 and one of Viola's roommates
Also,
@Magoose, I'd like to point out an error I spotted regarding our staff; namely, there was no "Maximilian Maximilius" in our potential teachers. I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be
Marcus Maximili
ous.
Additional Trivia: The original name for this Omake was "Student Days: The Knight of Mergardia", but I decided to change it because I didn't feel there was enough focus on Philip to justify the title.
