VI; Amoured Up

  By now, the sun had risen high above the walls of Sigel, basking the academy in a fine, golden lustre and turning the woods from green to orange. Me and Ran sat on the veranda of the dorm, the spear resting on my shoulder, as we looked to the woods. “You reckon they killed Fedwin?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” Ran replied, his face sullen. “He was a good man—and a finer friend?” He shook his head. “There was none.”

  “Good morning, boys!” Gett’s voice called out from inside as he walked out onto the veranda and stretched. “Gram… haven’t seen you since our little scuffle.”

  Ran chuckled, turning his neck back towards Gett. I followed suit. “I tried as best as I could to convince your sister you weren’t there—alas…”

  “He did,” Ran nodded, “we even threw Fedwin under the bus for all of it, so we should be alright.”

  “Only the heavens know what you two are on about,” Gett told us, sitting to the right of Ran. “But it sounds like a job well done!”

  I stretched my jaw, looking forward as an awkward silence filled the air. Gett doesn’t seem too bad of a guy—apart from the whole sister thing, I should say. It’s probably best to get this out of the way.

  Turning to him, I held my hand out over Ran. “I’m sorry about yesterday - it was a poor display.”

  “It’s alright,” Gett said, shaking my hand. “It was a good fight, if nothing else.”

  “I thought it was rather appalling, frankly,” Ran interrupted. “How Riscard threw you like a used rag, I mean,” he laughed. “We all thought you were dead!”

  “It’s Professor Riscard,” the devil himself corrected, appearing from the corner of the dorm—he wasn’t wearing his brown robes today, rather, he was wearing the magenta tunic I used to have, alongside black sandals. “Where’s the rest of you?”

  Looking at him—and mourning my loss of that beautiful tunic—I noticed the time. “Do we train early every morning?”

  “It’s near midday,” the professor told me, “but no. We usually train in the afternoon, but yesterday was a special occasion.”

  “And today?” Gett questioned.

  “Today, you’re not training.” Walking over to the veranda, he took the spear from my shoulder and inspected it. “What’s this for?”

  I tilted my head and smiled. “Spearfishing.”

  “You catch any?”

  Shaking my head, I nudged Ran with my elbow.

  Professor Riscard chuckled, turning the spear in his hand. “Odd, I used to…” With eyes that I could’ve sworn started to tear, he shook his head. “Nevermind.” And with that, he snapped my spear in two. “But you’re not allowed to fish in the stream.”

  “Why not?” I questioned, catching half of my spear as it fell to the ground. “And why’d you break my spear?”

  “Because they’re magical fish,” he smiled. “And because it’s dangerous—ironically enough.” Walking away, towards the Tower of Sigel, he looked back. “Whenever your peers awake, come to the base of the tower.”

  They’re certainly wide awake.

  It was another hour or so until Fedwin hobbled out of the woods towards the dorm. His arms and legs were bruised heavily, and his white tunic was soaked and bloodied. And his face… well, it wasn’t a good sight.

  “Fedwin!” Gett called out, rising to his feet and smiling. “Noble warrior, it’s—”

  “—fuck off!” Fedwin whinged—not without cause, I suppose.

  “You can hate them,” I told him as he sat on the grass in front of the veranda, beside us. “But you can’t hate me. I tried to save you.”

  Ran laughed, hitting my shoulder. “You gave up immediately.”

  “Fuck you all!” Fedwin roared, laying back on the grass.

  Gett crouched and trailed his fingers up the bruises on Fedwin’s leg. “What did they do to you? Gods.”

  “She beat me,” Fedwin muttered, staring up at the sky like a husk of a man. “She beat me and drowned me and beat me again…”

  “It certainly wasn’t without just cause,” I pointed out.

  Gett turned from Fedwin to me and scrunched his face. “If you didn’t wave to them, we probably would’ve been fine!”

  “You were all screaming at each other at a river in the morning. I don’t think my wave did much.”

  “Be that as it may,” Ran said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You got me out of there—and you stopped Gett from being revealed as a sister-fucker—so you’ve got my thanks—”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “—I’m not a sister-fucker, Ran,” Gett held a finger up as he said so matter-of-factly, “as I said before, I wasn’t there for her.”

  Fedwin chuckled on the ground, spitting blood up and onto his lips. “That doesn’t change the fact she was there.”

  Right as I was about to agree with him, I eyed the girls emerging from the woods. “Anyway, that’s why I think you deserved everything you got, Feddy.”

  “Absolutely,” Ran caught on, but he said it way too loud.

  “Right, right,” Gett concurred, putting his mouth to Fedwin’s ear and whispering: “You did well, friend.”

  Leading the girls was Medlyn, also covered in a lot of blood—but I had no doubt it wasn’t hers. To her right was Alice—and to her left was Isla.

  Thankfully, only Medlyn had a look of pure disgust on her face when they approached us. “Gett. Where were you this morning?”

  Rising from Fedwin, Gett made a confused face. “Sleeping, where else?”

  In times like this, you’ve got to bury the lie long enough so that it becomes the truth. Rising from the veranda, I looked at them all. “Professor Riscard wants to see us all by the tower.”

  “What for?” Alice scoffed. She obviously saw through the deflection.

  “Couldn’t tell you,”

  “I’ve got to go change,” Medlyn said, walking past us into the dorm.

  Looking at Fedwin’s bloody white tunic, I sighed. He’ll be alright. I turned to Alice and Isla. “Did you both take part in this madness?”

  Shaking her head, Alice puffed her cheeks. “All Medlyn.”

  Huh. That’s pretty surprising—but I suppose we did leave him drowning. Grabbing Fedwin by the torso, I lifted him up. “Come on.”

  “I’m fine,” he whimpered, freeing himself of my help and standing on his own.

  “You don’t look fine,” Ran stated.

  “I wonder why, Ran.” Fedwin sneered. “I wonder why.”

  Walking away from the group and turning my back, I put my hands on my hips, sighed and looked to the sky. I didn’t catch any fish today—so that wasn’t very good. That fucking red fish—I nearly got it … until it got me.

  “Are you going to put on your sandals?” Isla asked behind me.

  Turning my head, I chuckled. “No.”

  “Why not?” Alice questioned.

  “Don’t want to,”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t feel like it,”

  “Why?”

  Turning to face her, I raised my eyebrows. “Lots of questions.”

  “It’s the same question,” she crudely informed me.

  Truth be told, I just don’t want to go inside that dorm—too much effort—and even more truth be told, I kind of like the feeling of not wearing sandals now. “I don’t feel like being interrogated anymore.”

  “Can’t use that twice in one day,”

  “I used it for a good one then, didn’t I?” With that, I turned around again and started to quickly twitch my fingers, trying to generate some form of movement. I’d never realised it before, but I can’t stand waiting. By myself I can, mind you, because then I can think and be alone and wallow in my despair and daydream of better things, but with other people? It’s too… it’s too weird. Too awkward, and far, far too long when it shouldn’t be. What if they saw something?

  I never had to wait back in the village. I didn’t have anything to wait for. Everything was as it was and as it should’ve been. Everything was there, waiting for me—not the other way around—and if it wasn’t there? Then I simply didn’t need it until it was. But now, waiting as I am, irritation has become my being.

  For instance, how long had Medlyn been in the dorm? Changing, I didn’t realise it was a fucking complex process. How hard is it to tie a rope—

  “Fedwin,” Medlyn greeted, her footsteps resounding off the steps of the veranda. “Sad to see you’re still alive.”

  Grunting, Fedwin waved her away. “You’re lucky I’m not dead.”

  “If you don’t say anything, neither will I.”

  That’s probably the best old Feddy could hope for. All Medlyn would get is a slap on the wrist—I’d imagine, at least. I haven’t been here long enough to know any rules. But him? Can’t imagine the academy tolerates perversion—they seem so… rigid.

  And it’s best for the rest of them too. I doubt Fedwin wouldn’t squeal on Ran and Gett if he thought he could get a lighter punishment. He’d probably throw me under the bus too—even though I was the only righteous one!

  Thus, the House of Bren walked along the cobblestone path, over the bridge, through the woods and to the base of the Tower of Sigel. There, atop a wooden crate - and next to another half-a-dozen—was our professor, Riscard.

  Seeing us arrive, Professor Riscard sighed and rose from the crate, yet as he was about to speak, he saw Fedwin. “What happened to you?”

  “Just a fall,” Fedwin told him, clutching his rib. “I fell down a hill in the woods with the stream.”

  Whilst Professor Riscard decided whatever he was to do about his wounded student, I eyed the crates. Seven crates. Seven students. “What’s in the crates?”

  “Gear,” Professor Riscard answered, patting Fedwin on the shoulder as he turned to the crates. “Long-sleeved tunics, chain shirts, leather bracers and greaves, cloaks, and satchels. Finally,” he reached behind the crates and took hold of a large cloth—obviously wrapped around something heavy—and threw it at our feet. “Weapons.”

  Gett crouched by the cloth and unfurled it, revealing three picks—red—two spears, and seven sheathed swords with an accompanying girdle. “Where’d you get these?”

  “The Inquisitors of the Tower were generous enough,” Professor Riscard replied, holding up a sword. “You all get one of these, as you’ve all—most of you, at least—have trained with one. But if you want another weapon, feel free.”

  “And why are we getting weapons?” Ran asked.

  “Bandits, I’d imagine,” Gett said.

  “And your imagination would be correct.” Professor Riscard handed the sword to Ran. “I’ll deal with the bandits—if there are any—but you don’t want to be caught unawares in the dead of night without a weapon.”

  Ran pulled the blade half out and looked at the shiny, grey steel - sharp as a lion’s tooth. “These are pretty cool!”

  Strolling over to the weapons, I grabbed a metal pick and held it in my hand. Funnily enough, it looks the same as the last one I held … so many years ago now, it feels. I guess the same picks they give in the levies, they give to the Inquisitors—or it’s just a simple design. What the fuck would I know? But speaking of which, I’ll have to go get it one day. I was a fool to throw it away.