II; Stripped of Lustre

  After a rather sordid affair of waiting for this room to travel through what felt like a thousand levels, it finally opened and revealed a great expanse of small meadows, bustling woods, quaint streams and vibrant plains of emerald grass, all encircled by a towering wall of black stone.

  The moment I walked out of the room, it closed and retreated. Looking up, I gazed at the spiralling tower I’d just left, so high it reached the clouds and seemed to touch the sun. Oddly enough, it wasn’t particularly exhilarating—it felt like I’d seen it before. Somewhere, long ago—even though I knew I’d never seen such wonder.

  From the long-since retreated room I’d just walked from, a cobblestone path stretched through the expanse. “I trust you’ll find your own way,” I repeated the words of the old fool who called himself ‘Sig’. But where am I to go, but follow the path?

  And so I did. For a while, it was just like it was at the base of the tower: grass and stone. But eventually, I neared and entered a cluster of high trees. Walking through this woodland, I could’ve sworn I saw animals in the corner of my eye, yet whenever I tried to look at them they would shirk away, disappearing into the shrub.

  Soon enough, the path broke out of the trees and over an old and storied stone bridge. As I crossed, I looked within the aqua stream and saw fish of a thousand shades swim in myriad symphonies.

  Ahead of me, within a clearing surrounded by the same great trees, I saw a grand two-storied manor the same colour as the tower, a crisp, seamless black.

  And outside the manor, hacking away at straw puppets, was a tanned girl with hair as white as snow. ‘Quite rare’ he says. She was wearing a similar tunic to mine—down to the thighs and tied around the waist—but a simple, plain white rather than my rather nice magenta—and I couldn’t help but notice she had black sandals. Sandals I quite would’ve liked. Sandals I was promised and sandals I wanted before I walked a horrid path of rough stone.

  I had boots in the village. And that was a poor village. I even had boots in the forest, made of leaves and reeds. You’d think the great magi could give me sandals. Speaking of sandals, I’ve no doubt this girl has noticed me by now. She’s looked at me a couple times, yet she has returned to her straw puppets every time. Almost as if I’m a bore, and the puppets offer more entertainment than me—which was rather rude, thinking on it.

  But there’s no point standing here like a creature. I began the short, arduous walk without sandals over to her, stopping a bit before the puppets as she finally looked at me for more than a moment.

  “Can I help you, Lord Magi?” she asked with a voice full of life and warmth, her blue eyes beaming. How long does it take before someone gets a voice like gold—or iron—I wonder? Speaking of which, she just referred to me as Lord Magi…

  “Yes,” I proclaimed, putting my hands on my hips as I struck a heroic pose. “Where might I get sandals?”

  She stared at me in a stupor. For a while. For a great while, until she corrected herself. “Take mine, Lord Magi!”

  Crouching on the floor, she unstrapped the black sandal from her tanned left foot and handed it to me whilst she got to work on the right.

  “Many thanks, esteemed…” What is she? A student, probably. Like me. “Learner of the arts!” Taking the sandal from her, I held it against my foot. “Far too small - I should expect no more of the lesser sex.”

  She stopped in her tracks, her right sandal half-undone. “I’ll strive to do better, Lord Magi!”

  “What are you doing?” a voice hit my ears like a stone, high above.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I looked up at the balcony of the manor and saw an older man dressed in brown robes with the hood down, his dirty blonde hair waving in the wind as he watched me. Noticeably, the girl beside me rose immediately, hobbling on one foot.

  This is most definitely a magi, so I should be careful. “I’m just teaching discipline—"

  “—you’re not a magi,” he cut me off. “It does no good to lie.”

  “I never said I was.”

  “What!?” the girl beside me questioned, grabbing her sandal from my hands and smacking me across the cheek with it.

  Ow. “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to strike a lord?”

  She hit me again. Harder this time.

  “If you allow a misconception to flourish,” the brown-robed Magi atop the balcony began. “Then you’ve turned it into a lie.”

  “Then who is he, professor?” the girl questioned, glaring at me from the side.

  Tapping the rail of the balcony, he finally turned to her. Only now had I noticed he never took his grey eyes off me. “He’s our newest student. Gram.”

  Holding my hand out, I smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

  She smacked my hand away, not even deeming to look at me. “Since when do we have a new student!?”

  “Since today. Put your sandal back on. I’m coming down.” With that, the ‘professor’ retreated into the manor.

  Kneeling on the ground again, she placed the sandal on her left foot and tightened it. “Don’t forget the right.”

  “Shut up!” she roared, tightening the right. Rising from the ground, she finally looked at me. “Why’re you wearing a magi’s uniform?”

  “I didn’t know it was.” Looking down, I held up my hands. “I’ve only ever seen them in robes.”

  She scoffed. “That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing them.”

  “He’s wearing them,” the professor answered, appearing from the entry of the manor and slowly walking over. “Because he didn’t have any clothes. And a certain fool didn’t want him sleeping in cheap fabric.”

  “Hmm.” Trailing my hand down the rich, magenta fabric of the tunic I wore, I chuckled. “That’s rather nice of him.”

  “It was,” the professor repeated, throwing a white tunic into my chest. “But it was just a loan. Get changed.”

  There’s a tunic, which I was promised, but no sandals. “Where’s the—”

  “—you don’t get them. For trying to accost your classmate.”

  “Ha!” she laughed in my face, pointing. “I’d expect nothing more of the lesser sex!”

  I mimicked her face, mocking her, as I undid the rope of my tunic and took it off, handing it back to the professor. Right now, I was only in my underwear: a white cloth wrapped around my groyne and arse, yet for some odd reason I didn’t feel ashamed. Did I ever feel shame?

  Placing the white tunic over my head, and letting it drop to my thighs, I tightened it and lightly bowed towards the professor, whilst in the corner of my eye I’d noticed the girl turned away. Did she feel shame?

  “You were allowed to look, you know?”

  “Don’t be crass,” the professor scolded me. “Medlyn, meet Gram.”

  “A rather paltry physique,” another voice stated, as another student—this one a male with a plain face and straight black hair—walked out. “You shouldn’t be surprised she turned away.”

  I tilted my head. “And you’ve a rather paltry face, but we shouldn’t be crass.”

  He scoffed and ignored me. “Is this the new student, Professor?”

  “Aye. Gett,” he held out his hand and moved it to me. “Gram.”

  Gett nodded, rather rudely, and his attention caught my stolen tunic the professor was holding. “Why’re you holding a Magi’s tunic?”

  “Ah yes,” the professor’s eyes darted to Gett, holding out the tunic for him. “Put this somewhere inside, and wake your peers. Training begins early today.”