Chapter 3 : Tension Rising

“Believe enough in a myth and it will eventually become the truth.” - Lucius Mortius

Where there are people, there is rumor, tension, and discontent. Examine all societies, communities and groups of people, and you will find this statement to be true. Even amidst what was a typically overwhelmingly positive reception, there were those who believed otherwise.

So called ‘subversive’ thinkers who were at odds with the beliefs that surrounded them, one of these so called individuals, was headed to class.

"Haven't you heard?"

"About what?"

"He's joining."

"Seriously? I thought that was just a rumour."

Those were the type of phrases that had ingrained themselves into the school environment over the past few days. No less avoidable than oxygen in the atmosphere, it was to put it simply, very very annoying.

Characterized by the materials of glass, steel and reinforced concrete, the current stage upon which one of those Jaiga tread belonged to her school. With long, drawn-out windows that give access to the view of crystalline snow and forestry. It was also accompanied by the presence of jovial and busy students that carried upon their day with glee.

One, therefore would have been forgiven to question the expression Jaiga had on her face.

In truth, it was precisely the loveliness of this day in particular that helped sour her mood, for it served as an ironic indication of what was to come.

The day was January 2nd. From the sheer excitement and anticipation radiating on said day, one would have been excused for thinking it was the third coming of gods, but in reality, simply marked the arrival of a few students. And even then, the aforementioned gossip really only concerned a singular 'quaint' individual.

Given that such an occurrence was somewhat far in between, the added actuality that they were going to join the ‘practical’ program only served to further the amalgamation of gossip and rumours.

Over the course of the past week, Jaiga had been privy to a great many such conversations.

Taking place most often amongst her female peers, they irked her to no end.

Everywhere she went, she heard it, in the faculty room, the cafeteria, hell, even in the bathroom, a supposed sanctuary of relief!

Why did it matter if this individual was coming anyway? she thought, making her way down the hallway towards her homeroom.

There were other students who had worked equally hard to pass the entrance exam and even some who had done better. Yet, they were spared the acknowledgement and appreciation this… boy received? Someone who, by all her accounts, was just some snobbish, rich, and pampered dandy?

She could not stand for it, especially as someone with years of hard work and training, traits she did not attribute to him.

With a strut, she continued making way down the corridor, the wall hiding her irritation crumbling with each passing second. Despite her education and aura of composure, she still possessed minor quirks which could enable the keen observer to discern her mood—namely, the strumming of her fingers against her palm. Akin to stroking a harp, her gesture was, in fact, so dexterous and intense that one would think that she was playing the Opus clavicembalisticum or a song from a death metal album.

A few minutes early, as usual, she was now inside the classroom and had found herself a seat.

Jaiga maintained an elegant yet proud posture befitting that of a propertied noble. Calmly, she waited for the class to begin, her vexation still audibly expressed through the rapid clicking of her nails on the wooden desk. Tommy, spotting this, sported a smirk, a mix of equal anxiousness and relief.

While Jaiga had dealt with her own troubles regarding the whole affair, Tommy still hadn’t.

Even with hours of time to reflect on his own state of mind, it was of little use.

Regarding the two that had yet to arrive, Jaiga wondered what Tommy’s opinions were.

As he had avoided the subject matter during their last conversation and steered clear of mentioning it ever again, Jaiga could only guess.

Unable to understand the full extent of his own feelings, Jaiga saw Tommy turn to divert his angst elsewhere.

By the input of Tommy’s subconscious, his eyes shifted to the side of the room. Tracing the outline of one of the many quaint decorations his teacher had adorned the class with. That so-called 'ornament', being nothing more than a decrepit wallpaper torn apart from the wall, showed the raw cement underneath. Tommy, out of curiosity, wondered how thick it was, and if he could punch through it. Surely it couldn't have been that hard, right? Assessing the amount of force needed and the durability of said wall, he would have continued pondering upon it. Had it not been for Jaiga, who flashed him a pensive look.

Escorted out of his musings by a trifling glance, Tommy sighed. That's right. The two were in attendance and thus waiting for class to start. What was once a class of two would now extend to one of many, a concept the two were only currently really processing. On the one hand, it would bring in more potential friends, but on the other, it meant the destruction of the peace that once was. Inevitable, but even so, the duo made ample effort to enjoy what was left of it, as such the-.

"Honey, I'm home!"

The door to the classroom flew open, the individual who kicked it having no doubt done so with a degree of ardour. In fact, if it weren't for the reinforced hinges and frame, there would have been nothing left in its place.

Such a passionate kick belonged to none other than Azama Meyos, the class's teacher.

From his appearance, one would have assumed that he was some creepy pervert or, at best, some weirdo. Dressed in a highwayman's cloak and donning a matching tricorn hat, he accompanied his attire with a shrewd impression on his face, giving him an uncanny demeanour.

Yet even odder was the fact that, despite all of this, he wore a pair of wooden sandals, a peculiar Idokan tradition. It seemed that the only normal thing was his hair, which was black and had reached his neck. But even then, its regularity was disturbed by a colourful variety of hair clips.

An odd choice of fashion considering the reticent nature of his previous profession, it was a riddle Jaiga and Tommy had yet to solve.

Azama's eyes glinted with a cheerful gleam as he crossed his arms.

With the knowledge of his eccentric clothing and quirks, one would have assumed that Jaiga would have dismissed him. Called him names such as simpleton, knave, and perhaps even believing he deserved a beheading for his heresy. This, however, could not have been further from the truth.

"So, as everyone knows, three new students will be joining our class very soon," Azama declared, prancing about the room with evident excitement in a similar manner to a child after getting a new toy.

"In fact, you might have heard about one of them already," He resumed, pointing his finger towards the ceiling. Each finger acting as a single number, Azama straightened himself upwards. "Here, let me give you a few clues. He sells weapons to autocrats, is very popular in the media and is also the target of several accusations and scandals!"

By the end, there were three raised.

"You may cease your gaudy display, teacher. Frankly I believe we are all already aware of his existence," Jaiga retorted, placing a heavy emphasis on the word 'all' before she turned her head away in guilt.

Usually, she would have left her favourite teacher to his shenanigans, but her particularly distaste of the circumstances surrounding the new student's arrival had led her to have a shorter temper than usual. If he did not arrive soon, she told herself that she would go and wring him out from his gold-plated limousine with her bare hands.

It was then, as if it were reading her mind, that the door to the classroom opened, its movement subdued and composed. Unlike the previous happenstance a few minutes ago, the one behind it left Jaiga at a loss for words.

She seriously hoped that it wasn't him. And, of course, it was. For through the opening walked none other than Lucius Mortius.

Dressed in an impeccable black suit without a speck of dust, it contrasted a pristine white shirt, freshly ironed and without a single crease. Already perfect, it seemed that adding anything else would have been overkill. And yet, there was more. For the magnum opus of his aesthetic composition had yet to show itself. The object of perfection being a silky azure tie, its splendour was akin to that of a blue moon over a fresh batch of snow.

Turning his head that almost resembled a bust in its chiselled features, his handsome complexion gazed at the class. Up close, Jaiga could see that his ears were ever so slightly pointed, an indication of his half, perhaps quarter-elvish origin.

A somewhat rare miscegenation, unions of man and elf were not often heard of.

With tensions that only increased in severity over the past few years, and the relative xenophobia towards humans from the Elves, Jaiga scratched her chin as she wondered how Lucius came to be.

As she continued this line of thought, she then turned her attention to his face.

Quaint, his eyes were emerald green. Drawing a ridiculous parallel, Jaiga could not help but think that he probably had a collection of similarly coloured gems in his basement. Profited off the backs of exploited workers, no less.

Attempting to reassure herself, Jaiga confided that she at least had the grace of paying her employees… Indulged in that line of thought, she sighed.

What exactly had this so-called Lucius done to her anyway?

Knowing that he was not some one dimensional villain or dark king of evil, she tried her best to remain as objective as possible. Though she had heard much of his so called ‘weapons of destruction’ and ‘android slaves’, Jaiga was unsure what that really meant.

For the former, she could only picture a giant catapult, and the latter, sentient golems.

Neither of which warranted much resentment, she recovered her cool.

Jaiga, who then withdrew any further suspicions, offered him a chance to prove himself. For if she was not even aware that he was part elf, then what else would she have been able to deduce from hear-say alone?

Rather, as the Paladin that she was, continued observation was necessary…

Hm. Jaiga saw that he was holding a leather briefcase in one hand surely, but in his other was a second suitcase. Engraved with a golden M, was it possible that he had planned to present the class with gifts?

As she sat back into her chair, her mind recalled memories of a lovely bakery titled Manfredo.

Filled to the brim with sweet confections and exotic tea leaves, Jaiga imagined that his suitcase was stuffed with foods of similar standard.

Now that she thought about it, maybe this knave wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe, just maybe, Jaiga al Heilewis, the Paladin of justice, had carried out an improper assessment of character?

Perhaps that really was the case, perhaps she was too harsh.

Hell, it was feasible that he was actually a decent person. A precautionary tale she once heard now resurfaced. She recalled that judgement was most harsh upon those whose traits you saw in yourself. Ultimately, they both were rich and loved sweets, so there were two similarities already… Maybe they were actually cut from the sa-... That line of thought never did find an end.

While her last thought would have been to that of cloth, it was now seized by fear.

Jaiga, shaken to her very core, for once in seemingly forever witnessed genuine horror.

A testament to the horrors and evils that mankind committed in the name of lust, she saw tethered to him a being. A being whose every step sunk Jaiga further and further into despair.

It was a half-elf girl.

With long auburn hair and blue eyes, she seemed to be around his age.

Tales of rich billionaire men with wenches and concubines ranging in the dozens immersed themselves in her consciousness. In the modern world, where crime went unpunished and valiance had been trampled, her natural assumption was that she was a slave.

Through a stroke of luck or misfortune no doubt, the girl had been one amongst many. Selected all for the propitiation of his sick, twisted, degenerate fantasies.

How vile… To treat a sentient being as one would a distinctly plump potato in a market...

"Unforgivable..." Jaiga mumbled to herself.

Her head sunk into her desk, the knightess needed some time to lament her suffering.

Lucius, who eyed the class and saw her, then made his way towards Azama.

In an act of formality and respect, he put out his hand, which Azama shook with vigour. Ripples of force sent through Lucius’s arm, he felt it bounce up and down. Azama, had one arm free, gestured to the class.

"Everyone, meet Lucius Mortius and Morgana something! These two are going to be attending this school year with us, so please, do treat them well." He called out.

Head turned to his teacher, Lucius whispered a few words to Azama. Perhaps making some appeal to his favour or attention, it left much speculation for Jaiga.

The wood for her blazing stake, Jaiga saw his pleas for bribery finished with a nod of his head.

In position, the two now stood in front of the blackboard, ready to introduce themselves.

"Greetings, as you probably know, I'm Lucius Mortius. I hope to spend an excellent year in your company," he announced, a picture-perfect grin forming on his face.

Of course, he had to say "probably", this levereter probably presumes infants are born with the knowledge of his name.

"Hi, I'm Morgana. I hope-we all s-spend a lovely time together” the meek young girl stuttered, much to the amusement of the few students in the class.

Unbelievable… she thought to herself, resolving to purge his insolence.

What had the boy done to create such a timid damsel?

No, she shook her head, she didn’t want to think about it.

But she did anyway. Still irritated, it took all of her restraint to not run up and shake Azama by the shoulders. After which, she would question her teachers sanity while simultaneously having her sword drawn and pointed at Lucius.

Acknowledging that she had these feelings, she took one deep inhalation.

Breathe, there is no need to cast such hasty judgement.

As if she had jumped into a serene bath of bubbles, lemon scent, and with a maid to wash her, her mind had eased itself back to normalcy.

In truth, Jaiga knew that this was beyond his jurisdiction. As it was the headmaster who decided who entered, she knew that any grievances would have to be targeted toward him.

Therefore, with much reluctance and a sigh, she simply kept still, stooping into a self-contained reverie of all the atrocities she presumed Lucius had committed.

News of their names relayed to the class, they were now ready to move to the next step. In a most amusing shuffle of his feet and hands, Azama approached his spruce wood desk. The next second, two sheets of paper were pulled out.

“Mhm… Aha!” Hoisted in the air like treasures as if they weren’t just pieces of paper, he oggled them as a child would candy. It took a few moments before he then handed them out to the two.

Eyes examining the colorful decorations and drawings, Morgana and Lucius wondered what the hell they were. They soon found out, that they were called the ‘Amazing Azama Aquestionnaires’. Beginning with three A’s for the sole purpose of being ‘cool’ in the mind of the intricate Azama, it contained a series of questions which combined to create a detailed profile of its responder, enabled Azama to make full use of the students’ information and abilities.

Those information and abilities being nonsensical things like their birthday, what their preferred snacks were or their favorite breed of dog, they were mostly wholesome fluff.

The real entrance exam, or test, had already been taken prior to the start of class.

Althaiez Academy could be comparable to a prison in the sense that every inhabitant of the place possessed a written profile of some form. Uploaded to a shared database, anyone who wished to join the institution had to undergo a mandatory examination. A request made by the government, Rainee saw no great wrong with it and accepted.

Truthfully, to describe the academy as a prison would be too harsh. A prison is a place of confinement for those who bore sin and crime. If anything, it would be better to view Althaiez Academy as a refuge; with outcasts from a variety of communities.

The only true comparison there was to jail was the excessive use of violence.

Well, that, and free food.

Jaiga then shot the duo a ruminative look. Her mind, which ran adrift with ideas, led Jaiga to insinuate the contents of their paper. Though there were some individuals who possessed the capability of soul reading, Jaiga was not one of them.

Every student in the class had taken the test, and it was now their turn.

While Azama instructed the rest of the class to complete different exercises in an arithmetics textbook, the newcomers left to their work, engaged in their own manner of preparation.

For Lucius, it was to take out his 'pencil case', or rather pen pouch. No doubt crafted from the hide of some endangered reptile, he slid the leather strap open and retrieved a diamond-encrusted fountain pen from it. The expertly cut 24-carat jewel which shone with garishness caught more than just the casual recognition of Jaiga.

Fwoosh. The pen which pivoted with each brandish of his hand, couldn’t have been more shiny.

Shiny as it were, Jaiga could not help but notice the feeling of prestige that had been conveyed with each stroke of ink that washed across the paper.

Even from a detail as miniscule as this, her mind painted grand fantasies.

After a decisive battle in a war torn tent. She imagined the days of yore, wherein leaders, presented with a map of territory after a war, would draw newfound borders, displacing masses as effortlessly as they would sentence one to death.

The final stroke of black is casted upon the paper.

Lucius was done, and Morgana, much in the same vein, was too. Short and sweet in its length, it only took them around fifteen minutes to finish. Their forms handed back to Azama, their teacher gave a satisfactory nod and thumbs up.

With a twee hum, he tucked them in a bright green translucent folder.

The two, who were prepared to leave, are stopped in their tracks. By the power of a mere raise of his index finger, it seemed that their ‘unique’ teacher was not yet finished.

From the way in which his tiny limb wiggled towards the bookshelf behind his desk, Jaiga and Tommy could make an approximation at what came next.

The final assessment of any student of Azama, horrors of its sheer length and complexity flashed in Jaiga’s mind.

Two thick arithmetic textbooks, each one the length of a thousand pages or so, were dropped on the desk. With a satisfying thud, the sound which they produced was more than enough to suffocate the hopes of any wishful teenager.

Labelled 'Advanced Calculus and Trigonometry’, the contents of its thick, oldened pages was no easy conquest. If Jaiga would describe it, the difficulty to surmount it was like taking over a fortress on a tall mountain.

Lucius's eyes wide open at the prospect of a challenge, the two took the opportunity to inspect their respective books.

Little did Jaiga at the start of the year, that this, in truth, was a joke of his.

With the intention to leave students momentarily baffled, Azama would lean back and delight in their lack of mathematical skill.

However, Morgana and Lucius, whose hearts were meant to be crushed under the weight of their opposition, stood steadfast.

Jaiga’s gaze in deep and profound contemplation, held a small amount of admiration.

To take on such a daunting feat, were the two utterly insane?

Without accompanying instructions or reasons as to why, it was like being sent into war naked!

A sly grin on Lucius's face, his intention was to meet this provocation with all he could muster.

Headed back to his workplace with Morgana in tow, the two began.

Bewildered by their sheer efficiency, within the next half an hour or so, there was an ever-growing pile of papers situated on his desk.

Each one the product of his toil with mathematics. Jaiga could not help but be a little impressed.

So the scoundrel does have genuine skill… While she had no doubt that the reason he had committed to this was for nothing more than a braggadocious display of ability, she at least held some degree of respect for it.

Stare now shifted to his neighboring table, Jaiga looked at Morgana with growing regard.

The girl, who moved at a pace consistent with his, neither fell behind nor overtook him. As if the duo were matched in their capabilities and skill, there was a certain irreplaceable harmony about it.

Comparable to the two sides of the same coin, this fact led Jaiga to conclude that it must have been the result of selective concubine education.

In any case, the pair, she took it, was at least mathematically proficient.