The Gatekeepers

The door to the hut opened and the Gatekeeper bent halfway to step out from under it. Eil found that to be terribly inconvenient. The giant bandit, better yet Kagome Ketio Keita, would be dwarfed by this colossus. The man might even become hunchback from living in that hut. It was barely enough to contain his full length. The Gatekeeper, like the prefects, was nothing short of an abomination. Could this be the natural result of being an animist: inhuman mutations? Would he return to his noble tribe for the first time since he’d been hauled off to Kasai at three to find that his parents, aunts and uncles, and cousins long forgotten weren’t as he vaguely remembered them?

The Gatekeeper wore simple wool pants and a cloak that left his right side unclothed. Necklaces with beads that looked to weight half-as-much as Eil must weigh hung around his neck. It seemed the institution would remind him again and again that there were greater things to fear than the prefect that had domineered over him to this day.

He glanced at the animists. “Spread out around the field, there should be a meter between each of you.” He turned to the caretakers. “You six, you’ll help.” That must have been the number of animists who had failed to live through the journey. He knew of at least two of the ones who hadn’t made it: Sami, and Saro Kimbo’s animist – if she’d even had one. Had whole caravans been lost in the journey, or was it simply another case of students outliving their guides?

The animists and the caretakers spread out across the field, surrounding all the institute candidates who had made it this far. The Gatekeeper walked past Eil and Saro’s groups, never once glancing at anyone, but walking with an incontestable certainty.

The Gatekeeper turned around and began a lengthy series of hand gestures - palms intertwining in a precise dance. Once it came to an end, he pressed down on the ground and three-meter-high pillars began emerging across the field, originating from underneath the Gatekeeper. The animists and caretakers leapt atop the pillars in single leaps. None of the recruits could hide their curiosity from below; they all stared at the nearest pillar. The animists and caretakers sat down on top of their pillars and various manners, and closed their eyes. Some brought palm to palm, fist to fist, palm to fist, or neither. Eil couldn’t tell if there was any significance to their posture beyond comfort.

A brown aura began building around the animists, one he’d seen faint traces of in his and his uncle’s spear-animating. The auras all shot up in lengthy curved columns to meet at the apex of the field. The Gatekeeper’s hand gestures had never stopped and his own aura also reached the apex. The Gatekeeper’s aura began expanding horizontally too, colliding with that of the others and expanding past them. Eventually, the dome of brown aura covered the entire field.

The Gatekeeper’s hand gestures came to a halt. The aura began unwinding from the opposite side. The moment the dome began opening, they could see that the sky had changed. Thick clouds of purple and pink hues blanketed the skies. Beyond the pillar where the far most animist stood, Eil could already see they were no longer in that same field they’d arrived in. He could not be sure if they were even in Leonaise anymore. Beyond that pillar stood what seemed to him like a village. A village, actually, would be inaccurate. Buildings of lengths and heights he’d never seen - they crept over high reaching walls - challenged his notions of what a village could be. The plantations were a pale imitation, and his own village could fit in here thirty times over, and he knew that might be a generous estimation of Kasai’s size. The recruits all stood up, beguiled by what lied beyond.

Eventually, the dome had diminished entirely, and the columns reaching up to the apex of the field retreated back to their source until the animists, caretakers, and the Gatekeeper all rested on the same ground as the recruits. Beyond the Gatekeeper rested a forest with trees the likes Eil had never seen, not even among the varied foliage he had discovered on his way here.

The Gatekeeper marched back across the field, past his hut, past the last animist and towards what Eil saw was a genuine gate. The gate was sandwiched in between twenty-foot-tall walls that seemed to stretch even into the forest it bordered. There were doors to the side of the gate, and he could even see people atop the walls watching below. How often would such a gate be used beyond the solitary period of recruitment?

The Gatekeeper pulled open the massive gates in the same manner a Kasaian villager might push pass a drape to enter another room. All one had to do was hear the gates creak and feel the ravaging wind as they were hauled opened to understand the Gatekeeper’s strength. If one were to look closely enough, they would see cracks in the walls, some undoubtedly from the gates being opened too violently. His sole purpose, should his title be lended any credibility, was to open a gate, and he was that fearsome. He glanced at Saro Kimbo once again. Even the Gatekeeper must undoubtedly bow to the Faceless King. And he internally scoffed in disbelief when he thereafter realized the Faceless King must bow to King Paulus, ruler of Buffon, the man whose namesake was the institution. Did King Paulus bow to anyone?

The Gatekeeper stood next to the gates, arms folded, still as a statue.

Beyond the gates, their welcoming party gazed with varying levels of patience. A man dressed in the finest outfit he’d ever laid eyes upon held a thickly bound notebook in his hands. This was the institution's head secretary, Tonsou Legibon. Next to the principal and vice-principal of the institution, it was Tonsou Legibon and his underlings that ensured that the institution remained intact even as their students passed on to the next world by scores.

The woman at Legibon’s side was his match in luxury, a Buffonese with a steely, grave face. Long dark grey hair draped down past her shoulders and sharp ears indicated similar violations of nature as that of the prefects and the Gatekeeper. There wasn’t a more important life in all of Leonaise than that woman, the ambassador from Buffon: Elien De Vos. Behind her stood a grotesque giant of a Buffonese with skin greyer than his counterparts. His face appeared rotted off, the whites of his eyes more yellowed, his teeth decayed, and his mouth permanently drooped and drooling. At his left was another Buffonese woman. Not entirely remarkable but pretty, she had her hair ponytailed back with the sides cornrowed, and her hand rested comfortably on her sword. These two were the ambassador’s guards: The Ogre and Dumortier.

Behind this initial welcoming party were the heads of the four official tribes of the Military Institute of King Paulus. These four tribes were the Matrix Opal Lions, generally harboring spawns of the Faceless King and his extended family; the Bronzite Buffalos, generally harboring members of the Beno tribe, Eil’s family; the Jet Apes, a house of no allegiance and haphazard organization; and the Red Beryl Mosquito, changed recently from the Malachite Mambas due to the fall of the Zadi tribe and rise of the Jito tribe.

The Matrix Opal Lions were not led by a child of the Faceless King this year, but a niece who went by the title of Eternity. An ordinary looking adolescent by any account, her only distinctive feature being the gold-shaft stiletto at her hip. Behind Eternity were the most elite members of the Matrix Opal Lions: the Crow Shaman’s piercing eyes of seemingly ephemeral colors made her easily recognizable; Dragongrasped, a third year son of the Faceless King, a favored heir to the monarch and distinguishable by a right arm covered in bronze scales and a sizable sword of impractical make; Cloudstalk, a boy with grotesque scars around his eyes that awkwardly stretched them; and lastly Red, an unassuming girl with a streak of red paint across her face, she’d arrived at the institution covered in blood and the paint remained a consistent reminder to any who might question the legitimacy of her current station.

Eil immediately recognized the head of the Bronzite Buffalos, Nis, an older cousin he had known for six years in Kasai. At the institute he went by the title of Sin. The Bronzite Buffalos were historically a united front though it was debatable if this was still an identity they remained proud of, particularly with Sin at the head. Sin wore a fluorescent headdress of blue and purple hues with earrings and tattoos across his visage. No one in all of the institution was regarded for their beauty in so far as much as Sin was, even as his appearance strayed from Leonaise or Buffoneese customs. The Bronzite Buffalos were distinctive from previous years particularly because of their elites: Squirm and Loom were twins of Buffoneese origin, a rare but not impossible sight at the institute, Squirm and Loom both had twin swords at their left hips and an even lengthier blade at their right leaving Eil curious to see their technique in practice; third among Sin’s elites was Meranti, the tallest girl in all of the institute, and know for wielding a flail that never failed to take limb with it when it met flesh; and lastly there was Even, a boy of perfectly pristine, unscarred, and flawless skin with pupil, pigmentation, and lip of the exact same milk chocolate hue.

The Jet Apes have long been the least impressive of the four tribes but it was notable for often being comprised of some of the most dangerous animist in Leonaise history. It’s lack of success as a tribe was largely due to a lack of unity and a weak midlist of animist. This year’s head was famously called Shitstirrer, an unflattering name she'd firmly embraced. In Shitstirrer’s second year she participated in the cross-country wargames, a generally lethal undertaking for second years. However, after the death of her hand leader, she became known for underhanded tactics that usually saw her four-man hand outdoing much larger groups of opponents. The death of a foreign royalty at her hands very nearly saw her executed but for the patronage of one of Leonaise’s four Pillars. Shitstirrer’s lopsided grin and awkward scars did not make her a pretty sight, but it was her words that made her one of the ugliest individuals in all of Leonaise. Three of Jet Apes elites had been with Shitstirrer during those infamous wargames: Goner was a well-built boy with a knack for getting into fights that made him one of the best single combatants in the academy, the crimson bones jutting out of his skull like dreadlocks looked as if his head might be in constant pain; Patch Face had been called such because of a skin condition that left parts of her skin, particularly her face, with a loss of pigmentation; Silk was the last of these, a son of an illicit Buffoneese and Leonaise affair, a feminine looking boy with jet black long hair, while golden eyes and pointy ears hinted he’d already began defying human biology; finally there was Mirage, a masked man whose face no one remembered, whose squadron had died in the cross country wargames, and whom no one knew much else about except for perhaps Shitstirrer herself.

Lastly, the Red Beryl Mosquitoes had gone through a tumultuous change in the past year alone and many were expecting much from them this year. The head of the Red Bery Mosquitoes was the heir apparent to the Jito tribe, though she should have in fact been heir to the Zadi’s. Due to her odd physical features from birth, snow white hair, blood red eyes, and naturally blood red lips, she had been abandoned by the Zadi’s. The Jito tribe who had long remained loyal to the Zadi’s, secretly took it upon themselves to raise the girl, the final piece in the slow usurpation of power in the tribe. This girl was known as the White Streak. The Red Beryl Mosquitoes elites begins with Red Streak, White Streak’s biological sister and the heir to the Zadi tribe, known for the tips of red at the end of her strung up hair, it was said she had no bad blood with the girl who had taken her throne; Scorpion of the Jito tribe was called that because of the thick, endlessly squirming stinger looming over everyone next to him, it brought to mind Kasai’s prefect; Nest had perhaps taken a bit too faithfully to the tribe’s symbol because she had comeback from a third year expedition with a mosquito cage on her head filled to the brim with the insects, none of the other elites stuck too close to her, but the ordeal had been enough to place her among their ranks this year; lastly there’s Obsidian Blade, a talented swordswoman whose skills became distinguished when her expedition leader was killed by a foreign swordsman whom she begged to take his dead mentor’s place.

In the world of the animist, there were always exceptions, but it could be said that before the new recruits of the Military Institute of King Paulus were the most talented and elite animist at the institute, and just four years before they had been in much of the same state these new recruits were now in.

Tonsou Legibon, the head secretary of the institute put in an end to the recruit’s communal anxiety by breaking the tense silence. “Before we will begin your induction as students of the Military Institute of King Paulus, the ambassador of Buffon, Elien De Vos, will oblige us with a customary introduction.”

Elien De Vos stepped forward, she cast a cold gaze across the field of recruits. “To most of you, these words will mean nothing. You will die and return to dirt. You are worthless to me. You are worthless to Leonaise. Above all else, you are worthless to Buffon. However, among you are those who will rise above every attempt on your lives, who will grow stronger for it, who will become weapons as a result of it. The Military Institute of King Paulus will refine you until you are sharp enough to cut cleanly through any enemy of the state of Buffon. Remind yourself of this every day until the day you die: you are tools for the state of Buffon, weapons to be used to ensure its sovereignty. Fulfill your singular purpose, and you will die fulfilled. When King Paulus came upon this Leonaise, he found mindless savages living on the richest land in our world, who knew not what they stood above. He raised you from the gutters, gave you purpose, no matter how miniscule, but here at the institute, he offers you even greater purpose. Be grateful. Never forget the hand that feeds you, for it will strike you down the moment you falter.” Her inspirational speech, should one be generous enough to call it one, ended on the abrupt threat. She gazed across the field again, turned around, and left. For whateve reason, the anxiety amongst the recruits doubled.

The speech was enough to leave Shitstirrer giggling, though she had the sense to wait till the ambassador was gone, and to leave White Streak grinning. Tonsou gave them sharp glances before clearing his throat.

“Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Tonsou Legibon, a secretary of this institute. I am here to ensure you are capable of fulfilling your every potential. Feel free to come to me or anyone wearing this badge for any concern you may have at any point in your stay at the institute. We’ll do everything within our means to aid you. Now, I am sure a great deal of you are all fatigued, hungry, and thirsty. Worry not, such concerns will be alleviated for you until you become acclimated to the institute. Firstly, you will be divided among groups of five, until you are drafted into one of the four tribes at the turn of the year, this will be your hand. Trust each other. Support each other. Count on each other above all else. Behind me are the four heads of the four tribes, remember them, do not cross them if you value your lives, but impress them, and learn from them. Once you are settled in your accommodations and uniformed, the same faculty member who will have led you to your rooms will bring you to the Great Hall for further instructions. You will all listen closely and approach whence your names are called. That is all.”

Tonsou Legibon nodded to another secretary, and without missing a beat, she began calling names. Though the secretary spoke loudly enough for Eil to hear her even at the far back, many moved forward to ensure they did not miss their names being called, and some particularly hard of hearing ensured they were close enough to even read the secretary’s lips.

There wasn’t much to the assignment of groups, and it appeared that it was all largely dependent on whichever group arrived first and on presumed sex. The latter fact led to some inexact room arrangements but when one student brought up a questionable assignment, he was slapped so viciously no one bothered doing such a thing again. Silent and Bite-Sized found themselves assigned with Saro Kimbo, likely the way they must have wanted, as well as a girl who had come to be called Shaggy from a group that had arrived before Eil’s. The last member of their group had been among the last caravan to arrive, she was called Jovial, and she had no idea what she was walking into.

This put Eil in a particularly interesting predicament. The first member of his group belonged to the one that had arrived before his, and she should have replaced Jovial among Saro Kimbo’s group. She was a rugged looking girl, with her hair cut short, and a mean sneer on her face. A scar that had been freshly healed by a caretaker crossed the left side of her face. She was called Smoker, a bad habit she’d picked up from her mother. Stranger, a Buffoneese boy who had been part of the last caravan was the third member to be called upon after Eil. He had an extremely boyish face, and his eyes betrayed such innocence that one might assume he’d been dropped here without so much as seeing a drop of blood. Ink was the next one to join, an equally boyish and innocent looking kid. In fact, Eil quickly realized that such sentiment was one that could be equally shared amongst the entirety of the last caravan. Such a sentiment was helmed by the Faceless King’s son himself, a boy Eil had been content to dub the Prince. Eil was particularly delighted to hear the man called upon to join his hand. As with Saro Kimbo, not one of the elites failed to take a glance at the Prince.

Smile was what his caravan had come to call him, and he beamed at both Smoker and Eil when he arrived at their side. “Nice to meet the both of you, I hope we can become great friends.”