Post by Chance on Jul 23, 2008 22:10:10 GMT -5
Temporary storage.
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Mana is not unlimited. Excessive use of mana will lead to a time when it shall become the most valuable substance in the world. Mana wars will erupt. Such is the flaw of human beings. Selfishly we will abuse our power. Selfishly we will sacrifice our claim as intelligent beings to hurt each other. Is there no salvation from our faults? Unselfishly, someone must rise up and cast away this sin…
October 21, 2173…
The thunderstorm rages fitfully onward. Torrential cascades of rain pound the marble pavement. Rivers of rainwater drench the sacred grounds of the Royal Estate. Only shadows move in the midst of this black hurricane. It is a single light, the light of a candle, towards which they flock.
“Mercutio, do you read me?”
“Yeah.”
“Please advance approximately sixty meters to the Royal Household. We have confirmed Caesar will locate himself at Bedroom 4 within fifteen minutes. Success rate will approach 88% in the following three minutes. Go.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you listening?!”
“Yeah.”
The assassin slips off the ledge he’d been resting on. He slides down the wall with relative ease and lands in a puddle. “s***, my boots are wet!”
Two guards turn to each other in the dead of the night. Their masked faces hide their perplexed looks. “Hm? Did you hear somethin’?”
“I didn’t hear nothin’,” his comrade responds.
“Wait. I see somethin’ movin’ in those shadows.”
A flash of lightning explodes out of the pitch blackness. It does not come from the sky. The eruption of colors conjured by the lightning flash dissolves in the freezing sleet. The two members of the Imperial Guard lay dead on the ground.
A pair of radiant brown eyes watches the life drain from their bodies. The eyes slip away back into the darkness, where Caesar awaits.
The assassin slides a handgun from his pocket. It clicks gleefully upon recognition of its owner. The candlelight continues to glow from the window. The assassin splashes silently towards the light. Caesar enters the room inside. The finger of an assassin presses against the trigger.
The alarm sounds. The dark-haired youth is dragged into a languid wakefulness. He lethargically flips over in bed to silence the alarm clock with his fist. After a few more moments, he rises from his bed.
He sighs. “I wish I could shoot that alarm clock dead.”
Chapter 1 An Apathetic World
An array of images is displayed on the television screen. The bold outlines of the Royal Estate’s buildings figure prominently in the early morning glow of a rising sun.
“We continue our breaking news coverage of the attempted overnight assassination of King Lucida IV. It seems that at approximately 1:00 AM last night, an assassin broke into the grounds of the Royal Estate and attempted to assassinate our King Lucida IV. Although in a public statement the King expressed severe disappointment that a citizen of the Royal Republic of Ossyria would attempt to make a bid on his life, the King was not found to be hurt. For more information, we go now to our reporter on the scene, Edward V. Yulis.”
The black-haired youth listens idly as he brushes his teeth in the bathroom of his dormitory. He faces the mirror, glaring into his own dark eyes and prominent features. He spits out the soap in his mouth and rinses it.
Grabbing a towel, he places it in the sink and proceeds to wash his face. Water drips down his sharp jaw lines as he throws the towel back on its rack. He reenters the dormitory room that doubles as both his bedroom and general household. A quick glance at the television displays a reporter fervently speaking into his microphone.
“His Royal Highness appears to be extremely irate, and refused to speak to reporters, choosing instead to have his spokesman issue a statement in his stead. At this time, we are told that one assassin, the gunman, has been captured, contrary to earlier reports indicating there might have been more. He is currently being detained in the Royal Prison of Orbis, awaiting trial by the Grand Jury of Orbis, the judges of which are appointed by His Royal Highness himself, of course.”
‘This world is not a bad place to live in. There is plenty to be had for hardworking individuals. Schools and other opportunities exist for the purpose of escaping poverty and promoting general intelligence. The question I’ve always wondered then is, why do people continue to refuse this complacency?
A photograph of King Lucida IV, with his pronounced features and air of condescension, appears upon the television screen.
‘The only answer I could find was…somewhere, injustice is being done. Somewhere, one human’s existence treads on another’s happiness. That is the human flaw. We cannot be content without destroying another’s happiness.’
“For further coverage on King Lucida’s attempted assassination, we encourage you to—”
The youth turns off the television. He glances at his clock. “Oh crap! I’m late!”
He runs onward, a piece of toast flapping out of his mouth. Groups of students jump out of the way as he squeezes through them. At last, he skids to a stop at the doorway of a particular classroom labeled 57.
He slides the door open. A chorus of greetings reaches his ears. “Ah, hello, Grimey!” a cheerful, feminine voice says upon his entrance.
He swallows the piece of bread with one large gulp. “Ophelia,” the dark-haired youth answers with a faint smile, “so you are cheerful as always. You never fail to get to class before me.”
“Well, I’ve got to beat you at something, you smart little bunny, you.”
“Eh, yes,” the youth retorts with a slight blush. He turns his head. A television set is once again reviewing the morning’s news, featuring the unceasing coverage of the assassination attempt. “What’s that?”
“They’re going over the news,” a youthful and lively mage with colorful blue hair answers. “Can you believe someone tried to kill the king? Scary!”
“Scary, Arc?” the youth laughs. “There is nothing scary about an assassination attempt. Lots of people are murdered daily. Why should we care if it happens to be the king?”
Arc gives the youth a highly offended look. “You may not care about other people, Grim, but could you at least pretend to care when our king is almost killed?”
“‘Our king?’” Grim replies in a puzzled tone. “When was King Lucida ever our King? He’s the King of Ossyria. We’re in Ellinia. Victoria Island never had a king. The oligarchy was overthrown when Ossyria invaded. He merely usurped power without our permission. And people act like he is some sort of God.”
“Of course, the only ‘God’ in this room is yourself, right, Grim L. Wright?” a sneering voice interrupts the pronounced silence following Grim’s heated discourse. A dark-haired, black-eyed youth steps haughtily into the classroom, a pair of orange shades dangling low over his nose. He is dressed in a most unfavorable fashion that suggests the aura of one who spends much time in the criminal underground.
“We all know you fancy yourself a God amongst us inferior people.”
Grim’s fists clench immediately upon the sight of this opponent. “Darius Thomason. Only an arrogant Ossyrian like you would dare talk up your king’s atrocities.”
“No,” Darius retorts with a smirk, “I am sure I am not the only one within this room who is satisfied with the way the Empire is run. But that’s the beauty of human beings, isn’t it? No matter how well or poorly things go, they’ll only complain and complain, but they won’t do anything about it. It’s not my fault that you Victorians got your asses handed to you in the war. If you hate it so much, then do something about it. We Ossyrians personally don’t give a damn about your complaints.”
“Not all Ossyrians think like you!” Grim howls, waving his fists angrily. “Ophelia—!”
“Please, Grimey,” Ophelia whispers, “stop.”
Darius bursts out laughing. “Hahaha! Even Ophelia disagrees with you, Grimey! If only she were a bit smarter, she’d throw you to the curb and—!”
Grim ends Darius’ outburst by grabbing the collar of his shirt. He glares angrily into Darius’ dark eyes, so like his own in their contempt for human nature, and raises a fist to Darius’ neck. Angry blue mana flames leak out of Grim’s hand, as he presses his gloved fist closer to his enemy’s jugular.
“Say one more word and I can’t guarantee you live.”
A bell rings from somewhere above as Grim holds Darius in this precarious position. The professor steps into the classroom, impatiently waving his hand for order and silence. He turns off the televised news coverage of the attempted assassination.
“Yes, yes, everyone in your seats, please! I must take roll call.”
Almost quite reluctantly, Grim relinquishes his hold on his venomous peer. The latter smirks and ruffles his jacket. The two enemies take seats on opposite ends of the classroom, Grim choosing the seat nearest Arc and Ophelia.
“Aiden, William.”
“Here.”
Still livid, Grim peers out of the nearby window. The grounds of the once vast Ellinian forests stretch out into the horizon, completely stripped of all trees. Instead, the broad panorama of a modernized city meets his eyes, with towering buildings and intricate subway systems extending as far as the eye can see.
Next to him, Ophelia leans over and begins doodling on his notebook. Grim ignores the happy distraction. Instead, he watches the clouds sail by in a bright blue sky.
“Clover, Lewden.”
“Here.”
“Ahh, that’s the stuff,” the assassin sighs contentedly, redoing the zipper on his pants. He flushes his excrement away. Turning around to face the barred entrance of his cell, he surveys the darkened corridor outside. He sighs again. “It certainly is rather unpleasant, this involuntary incarceration.”
His voice echoes slightly in the emptiness of the facility. He looks at the palm of his right hand with a pair of shockingly bright brown eyes. “Unfortunately, those larcenous rascals deprived me of my mana glove. It would have constituted quite the grand escape indeed, had I at least the pleasure of retaining my glove.”
The assassin watches for a moment the corpulent man standing guard nearby behind a desk, perusing the morning’s newspaper. “Hey, fatty.”
“What’d you call me, bastard?” the fat guard snaps indignantly, roused from his morning round of doughnuts. He shuffles to his feet and waddles to the assassin.
“Listen you,” the guard fumes, “I don’t hafta take no s*** from you.” He pats the holstered gun attached to his belt. “Ya see this? I could shoot ya to death if I wanted to. I’m sure no one would mind, a lowly piece of s*** like you. You’re gonna get the death penalty, anyway.”
“Pray, come closer, I cannot comprehend your mumblings,” the assassin answers calmly.
The guard reaches for his gun. The assassin grabs his wrist. An electric blue charge escapes the assassin’s hand, as mana from his hand escapes into the atmosphere and explodes forcefully.
“As I surmised,” the assassin sighs, as the guard collapses from his induced heart attack, “your clothing is tainted with highly conductive fibers designed by the Empire to track its guards via mana trails. Grievously, even a lowly assassin such as myself cannot help but kill you upon the slightest touch. Still though, I lament over the loss of my beloved mana gauntlet to the Empire! Woe is the mage who is bereaved of his cherished weapon.”
“Quit your complaining,” a voice suddenly interjects on the other side of the brick wall encompassing three sides of the assassin’s prison cell. “I’m working as fast as I can.”
“Ah, does the pulchritudinous alto of Halibel Alumina grace my ears?”
A sizable hole in the wall opens up quite abruptly, just large enough for an average adult to crawl through. A woman with long red hair and impatient eyes glares at the imprisoned assassin from the sunshine outside. “Shut your trap and get out here before they notice!”
“Aye, aye, my fair but unbecomingly terse maiden!”
The assassin crawls through the hole as ordered; he clambers onto the hovercraft waiting for him outside. “I thank thee for rescuing me from those unbearably rustic and unstylish furnishings, Miss Halibel!”
“One more word and I’ll leave you behind,” Halibel replies brusquely, flipping on the switch for the engine of her hovercraft. She glances at her companion, who is resting comfortably in an adjoining sidecar.
“And please don’t call me Halibel out here. We need to stick to our codenames. I’m Capulet, all right, Mercutio?”
“Gotcha,” Mercutio replies grinningly. “…Halibel.”
Halibel heaves a sigh as she maneuvers the hovercraft through a glade of clouds. “Fayvard, you moron…”
“Yes, please pull out your textbooks concerning the Third Mana War and the Fall of Victoria, everyone.” The professor issues his orders in a dull tone, as he stands at the front of the class behind a podium. “Today we shall discuss the reasons for the handover of Victoria Island to the Ossyrians.”
The class obeys the professor’s instructions. Grim retrieves his perfectly conditioned textbook, and opens it to the appropriate page. He briefly peruses its contents, noting with disdain the photographs of Ellinia in flames.
“Can anyone state the reasons for the Power Transfer of 2152?”
Grim raises his hand in response. “Yes, Grim?”
“Due in part to the unprecedented levels of mana consumption that ceaselessly climbed within the boundaries of the Ossyrian Empire from 2010 to 2150, it became evident that the Empire’s mana reservoirs would rapidly become depleted and insufficient for fueling a massive state.
“And because of the abundant source of mana trees in the Victorian Island, the populous but mana efficient island was soon targeted as a vital lifeline of mana for the Empire. However, trade negotiations proved insufficient in satisfying the Empire’s hungry needs and they quickly fell through.
“In 2152, the Ossyrian Empire, officially the Royal Republic of Ossyria, declared war upon the Victorian Union. This in effect became known as the Third Mana War, following in the footsteps of the previous two mana conflicts of which the Empire was involved in the Ariant and Mu Lung regions. The Royal Republic prevailed, and by the terms of the peace treaty, won the rights to extract mana from the independent island. Of course, even the vast Ellinian mana forests would be depleted, and we saw the effects of that exploitation four years ago with the Fourth Mana War.”
“An informed answer as always, Grim,” the professor replies upon the conclusion of Grim’s summative report. He turns back to the textbook. “Can someone else name the terms of the Treaty of Perion, which ended the Third Mana War?
Darius opens his mouth with a sneer. “It required the Victorian Union to dissolve its government and write a new constitution certifying the island as a new territory under the control of the Republic. The treaty asked the V.U. to declare its mana reserves open for the Royal Republic’s use. In return, the Royal Republic of Ossyria promises the absolute protection of its citizens—”
“Wrong!” Grim interrupts. “While the terms of the treaty specified such an agreement, the Royal Republic of Ossyria has yet to make good on its own terms. The Republic has certainly exploited our island nation’s mana reservoirs, but it has by no means made the world a better place to live. Every day, injustice prevails at the cost of the Victorian people. Kerning City has devolved into a ghetto. Florina Beach is now nothing more than a resort for the nobles in Ossyria. Even Ellinia…even Ellinia has had its forests cut down, all in the name of the king!”
“If you hate it so much, then go join those assassins and kill the king,” Darius answers in a soft tone of arrogance. “I hate complainers more than anything.”
“It’s not the government I dislike,” Grim replies, shifting his eyes to stare directly into Darius’ as he continues his rebuttal, “it’s the injustice.”
Darius opens his mouth to speak, but the professor interrupts the dispute by clearing his throat loudly. “Grim, Darius. That is more than enough. Please sit in silence so that we may resume our studies.”
The top two students in the classroom quiet themselves immediately. Grim continues to glance at Darius with dutiful hatred out of the corner of his eyes.
The door into the darkened dormitory opens with a soft squeak. Grim flips on the lights and steps into the room briskly. He shuts the door and takes off his jacket, placing it on a rack. The alarm clock at his bed reads 8:03 PM.
Grim strides into the adjacent bathroom and turns on the shower. He removes his shirt, and throws it on the floor. Passing his bed, he instinctively grabs the remote and turns on the television.
“Good evening. I am Gloria Fairweather reporting to you this evening’s news as always. Tonight, we update you on the attempted assassination of King Lucida IV in the early hours of this morning. A massive complication has occurred in the pursuit of bringing those responsible for the attempted assassination to justice.
“A guard was found dead in the Royal Prison at approximately 11:15 AM this morning. He was apparently killed, and the cell he was watching was cleared. As you might guess, the guard was on duty to supervise the prisoner believed to be the would-be assassin of our King Lucida. The assassin is now believed to be on the run and considered to be extremely dangerous. He may have accomplices. If you encounter him, do not approach him at all costs. Instead, call your local police department.
“We will now display a picture of the assassin so that you may recognize him if he’s seen. Please note that at this time, the Royal Prison of Orbis has not provided us with a name to accompany this photograph.”
Grim turns off the television, right before the assassin’s face is shown. He lowers the remote in his right hand, clutching it tightly with unpronounced anger.
Next: Nostalgia – 2 A Date!
Chapter 2 A Date!
Throngs of people flow back and forth through the outdoor shopping district. The open doors of stores are thrown open to the customers meandering about the mall situated in downtown Ellinia. Slivers of sunshine filter down into the open court, which is beautified with cleanly swept tile floors and columns of youthful trees lining the center of the walkway.
Grim navigates his way through the hordes of people chattering noisily and carrying shopping bags. He presses a cell phone to his ear. “Ah, I’ll be there very soon. Yeah. Bye.” He hangs up, closes his phone, and replaces it in his pocket. He glances at a digital clock hanging over the wall of a large clothing store, which reveals the date to be a Saturday.
For several seconds, Grim continues striding straight ahead purposefully. Then he stops for a moment. He watches the shoppers around him attentively. He places a hand in his pocket, feeling the smooth fabric of his mana gauntlet, hidden away from view.
‘This is just an ordinary rendezvous; as long as I don’t stray too far away from the shopping district, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. All the same, it shouldn’t hurt to stay vigi—’
“GRIMEEYYY!”
Grim turns in place, and finds Ophelia, his classmate, waving at him from the top of a short flight of steps leading into a bookstore. Pulled away from his thoughts, Grim smiles and returns the wave, jogging slightly to meet Ophelia at the top of the steps.
“I’m sorry about being late,” Grim says as he meets Ophelia, “did I keep you waiting long?”
“No, silly,” Ophelia replies sweetly, her long orange hair flowing gently in the soft daylight breeze, “I knew you’d be late anyway, Grimey. You’re always late.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Grim returns, inclined to laugh at his tardiness. He stares for a long second deeply into her bright blue eyes, the color of the tropical ocean, or the bright blue sky above it.
“So! Grimey,” Ophelia announces, “what are we doing today?”
Grim puts on a grin. “Ah, it was my payday yesterday, so since I needed to do some shopping today, I thought we could make a day of it.”
“Eh…” Ophelia mews.
Hushed customers converse in dulled tones inside the bookstore. Outside, the echoing chatter of shoppers wafts into the store. Ophelia maneuvers herself through several shelves of books, peering curiously past each one. She finally discovers Grim glaring a shelf of books behind one row.
“History section again, Grimey?” Ophelia asks, as she joins Grim behind the shelf.
“Yes,” Grim answers affirmatively, “since we’re going over the Fourth Mana War in history next week, I need to purchase a textbook for it.”
“You still haven’t bought it?” Ophelia inquires huffily. “You sure are slow about getting these sort of things done, aren’t you, Grimey?”
Grim gives her a faint smile. “I assure you I don’t intend to procrastinate.”
“But you know, Grimey,” Ophelia continues, “taking girls out to buy books for yourself isn’t fun. Are you sure we’re gonna do something more fun after this?”
Grim blushes profusely at the comment. He turns away, attempting, and failing, to be highly engrossed in his textbook. “Ah, well, I-I suppose…I mean, did you have something in mind?”
“I want to ride a ferris wheel.”
“HAH?!” Grim exclaims. “The closest one isn’t for—” He pauses suddenly, casually glancing at a particular page in the book. His eyes immediately fall upon a certain picture on the page, and Grim freezes completely at the sight of it.
His breathing becomes ragged, and his hands begin shaking. Ophelia, however, does not take notice. “Come on, Grimey! I’ve always wanted to ride a ferris wheel. It’s my—hm? What’s wrong, Grimey?”
“Nothing,” Grim heaves, managing to pull a straight face together. He calms himself down by shutting the book in his hands. Grim lowers the book, and shoots Ophelia a wry smile. “This should be enough. Let’s get going. If I’m going to take you to the ferris wheel, we won’t have much time to get there before they open for the night, and then the fee’s going to be double for the same ride.”
“Hehe, I didn’t know you were so cheap, Grimey.”
Grim and Ophelia join the queue waiting in line at the cash register. A girl with long brown hair and quietly pronounced features is running the register. She receives each customer with a pleasant “Welcome to Boundaries Bookstore!”
However, as Grim and Ophelia wait in line, a gang of men stomp into the store, yelling raucously and calling attention upon themselves. Grim turns his head with disdain to watch the men trash the store. His hand tightens upon the spine of his textbook. Ophelia instinctively draws closer to Grim.
One of the men, the apparent leader, saunters his way up to the front desk, pushing Grim out of the way. He heads directly for the girl running the cash register.
“Welcome to Bound—”
The gang leader pulls out a gun, and points it directly in the girl’s face. “Hey baby, gimme all ya got.”
“I-I’m sorry?” the girl asks fearfully.
The members of the gang now gather themselves around the cash register, closing in on all the nervous customers waiting in queue. The leader reaches forward, grabbing the clerk directly in the chest. He points his gun straight in her face. “I said gimme all the mesos ya got, sweet cakes.”
“Stop it!” Grim hollers. He rushes forward, but one of the gang members immediately throws him aside with ease. Grim goes flying off his feet, crashing into a shelf of books nearby with a crash.
“Grimey!” Ophelia cries, running forward. However, the same thug who’d hit Grim grabs Ophelia from behind, restraining her with a malicious look in his eyes.
“Get your hands off her!” Grim yells, immediately equipping his mana glove. “Magic Claw!” A blast of mana escapes from Grim’s hand and explodes around the thug in the shape of a pair of claws. Blood spews out of the man, as he is thrown to the floor in a bloody mess.
The leader finally takes notice of Grim, turning to face him with a dangerous sneer on his face. “Look what we have here, a troublemaker, eh?”
Grim raises his hand again, a murderous glint in his black eyes. “You sorry excuses for human beings…” Blue mana seeps from his hand, electrifying sparks popping in the atmosphere around it.
Before Grim can cast another spell, however, a hand grabs his own, and forces it down. Grim looks over, and a young woman with long red hair steps past him. “That’s enough,” she hisses, and points a pistol at the leader. “Hey, jackass, how about leaving this store before I blow a hole through your forehead?”
The leader continues sneering, cradling his own gun. But the red-haired woman clicks the pistol threateningly. The leader’s face falls, and with great reluctance, he steps away, motioning for the rest of his gang to follow him out.
The red-haired girl lowers her gun with a weary sigh. “Those bastards. They’re such cowards in daylight.” She looks over at Grim, who seems awestruck at her appearance. “Are you all right? Those jackasses occasionally give us trouble, but it’s not enough that we can’t handle it.”
“I suppose,” Grim mutters. He pulls his mana glove off, and places it back in his pocket.
The girl watches Grim go through the motion carefully. “Are you a licensed mage?”
“Of course,” Grim replies in his usual condescending demeanor. He flashes the girl a smile. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about myself pulling out a gun in the middle of a public facility.”
The girl smirks. “I really don’t care. You’re not going to report me to the police, are you?”
“Of course not,” Grim sneers, “you saved me. I do not like owing favors, but I can’t deny that you helped me out back there. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you working at this store. What is your name again?”
“Halibel,” the girl answers, holding out a hand for Grim to shake. They clasp hands briefly. “Halibel Alumina. I work here part-time, since I’m away often. But since I know the owner personally, I’m allowed to work here whenever I’m in town.”
“I see,” Grim replies. “I’m Grim L. Wright.”
Ophelia rejoins Grim at his side, grabbing him worryingly. “You’re not hurt, are you, Grimey?”
Grim glances at his own arms, which are bruised slightly from his fall. “Ah, just a couple cuts and bruises here and there. Nothing to worry about, I can handle them myself.”
“Ah!” Halibel suddenly gasps. “That’s right, were you here to buy anything?”
Grim picks his textbook up from the floor. “Just this,” he retorts.
Halibel nods, walking over to the cash register, where the clerk is still hunched over, sobbing profusely. Halibel pats the girl on the shoulder, comforting her gently.
“I’ll handle your transaction, Grim,” Halibel announces.
Grim strides to the front desk with Ophelia. He glances at the traumatized clerk. “Hey! You’re…”
“You know Sally?” Halibel asks, looking over at the clerk as well. She places Grim’s textbook in a plastic bag.
“Sort of,” Grim replies, “I’ve seen her at school. She’s one grade below me.”
Sally pauses briefly between her sobs to look up at Grim and Ophelia. She hiccups slightly. “Th-thank you for trying to help me back then,” she chokes.
Grim appears taken aback at Sally’s appreciation. He nods awkwardly, taking the plastic bag from Halibel’s outstretched hand. “Y-Yeah, no problem. I only did what I felt I had to do.”
Ophelia grins cheerfully. “That’s our Grimey!”
Behind the distant skyscrapers of downtown Ellinia, the sun sets to close the day. Hues of orange and pink disappear into the horizon, even as the steady tide of navy blue bleeds into the twilight sky.
Two figures walk side by side back towards the vicinity of the Ellinia Academy. One, tall and proud, with dark black hair, and the other, a bit shorter, but much more cheerfully attractive with her long orange hair.
Ophelia tilts her head towards Grim’s shoulder wearily. “I’m tired, Grimey.”
“Yeah,” Grim agrees. “Who wouldn’t be, after eating all that cotton candy for dinner and then riding the ferris wheel three times.”
“Well you still had money left from your payday!” Ophelia argues.
“Yet you didn’t have to force me to spend it all…” Grim sighs.
The two walk together in silence for several moments, as the silhouette of the academy, growing darker by the minute in the evening sky, approaches them. At last, Ophelia opens her mouth to speak again.
“Grimey?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you help that girl back in the bookstore?”
Grim stares at the floor for some time. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know why?”
Grim shakes his head. “I suppose I wanted to help her.”
“Let me tell you why, then,” Ophelia smiles, looking into Grim’s eyes as she speaks, “it’s because you’re Grim L. Wright! You stand up for justice like no one else I know. You’re the one person I know who will never accept the status quo. You couldn’t stand those guys causing trouble, so you tried to stop them!”
“It seems you know me better than myself sometimes,” Grim replies in a stoic tone. Privately to himself, however, he smiles broadly to the darkness surrounding them.
As the dormitory wing of the Ellinia Academy comes closer, Grim stops in his tracks. “Sorry, Ophelia, but I’m going to have to leave you here.”
“Hm?” Ophelia asks, perplexed. “But we’re not at the student dormitories yet! This is the teachers’ dormitories.”
“Yeah, I have some business with one of the teachers,” Grim replies, “I wanted to ask them a question about the homework. You head back to your dorm, Ophelia. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Ophelia inquires lightly. “Well, see you later, Grimey.”
“Yeah, later,” Grim retorts, waving as Ophelia walks by herself back to the dormitory.
He turns and faces the building closest to him. Grim saunters up to the door and enters the dim hallway inside. He approaches the first door to his left, and knocks once.
Immediately, a wizened old man opens the door, and beckons Grim to enter. Grim slips into the room inside, which is considerably larger and more elaborate than Grim’s own student dormitory.
“Headmaster Theus,” Grim greets the old man inside.
“Grim,” the old man wheezes with an air of familiarity. “You’re a little late this week, but I suppose I didn’t need to question whether or not you’d show up at all after all these years.”
“Any news, Headmaster?” Grim asks in a low tone.
“As always, Grim, there is no news on this ‘Saint Oasis’ that you frequently ask me to inquire after,” Headmaster Theus answers in a grave tone. “Not since the day I found you unconscious and struck with amnesia four years ago have I heard any news regarding Saint Oasis. Pardon me for asking, but are you sure you want to continue seeking this figure that has eluded the authorities for over four years?”
“Of course,” Grim replies. After a pause, “Saint Oasis was responsible for killing my family. It was you who told me that.”
“While there was never any factual evidence confirming that,” Headmaster Theus says, “it is certain that there cannot have been any other culprit.”
Grim turns away. He looks down at the plastic bag he is still clutching in his right hand, from the day’s shopping at the bookstore. “Someday I’ll find Saint Oasis…and kill him!” A long silence follows afterwards.
“Changing the subject,” Theus interrupts suddenly, “I have noticed you appear to be quite intimate with that girl Ophelia.”
“Ah,” Grim smiles sheepishly. He turns to the headmaster. “I suppose you might say that.”
“I think it is good you are developing some positive relationships,” Theus continues. “Are you in love with her?”
Grim’s smile disappears. “Well, my relationship with Ophelia is a little more complicated than that.”
“Oh?”
“I love her, but she does not quite return my feelings,” Grim elaborates, turning to stare out the window, “but as long as I can have her by my side, I feel positive enough that everything shall be all right.”
Theus steps over to Grim, and places a firm hand on his shoulder, looking at himself and Grim through their reflections in the glass window. “I know that given your past it has been difficult for you to form lasting relationships with other people, but having charged myself with your care, I encourage you to form as many positive relationships as you can. Your murderous intentions regarding Saint Oasis are dangerous. You are still young. Do not become too preoccupied with your liberal views of revenge and justice.”
Grim’s grip on the plastic bag tightens. He strides over to the door of the dormitory room. “Well, thank you anyway for the update, Headmaster Theus,” Grim says pleasantly. He opens the door, stepping out into the cold corridor outside. “Have a good night. I ought to study for the upcoming history test.”
The door closes behind Grim, leaving him out in the empty corridor. The dim lights engulf him in their bleakness. He holds a hand up to his face, sighing heavily in the process.
“The test regarding the Third Mana War will be tomorrow, okay, class?” the professor announces in front of the assembled classroom the next day. “Please make sure to take it seriously, and show up. I will not offer the test again if you are absent. Otherwise, I will fail you. As always, if you fail, I will force you to take remedial classes after school. GOT IT?!”
Grim stares lazily out the window of the second story classroom, as the rest of the class professes their having heard the professor’s words. Grim glances over at Ophelia, who is sitting next to him.
His conversation with the headmaster returns to Grim’s mind. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He glances longingly at Ophelia’s beautiful face. ‘I love her, but…’
A knock abruptly sounds at the door. The professor stares at the door for a moment. “Ah yes, I nearly forgot. It seems that we have some new students today.”
Grim looks up at this bit of news. The door slides open, and a pair of students enter the room. Grim’s eyes immediately widen upon the sight of them. Surprised gasps and whispers rapidly erupt throughout the room.
The first student has shining orange hair. His warm eyes are of a grassy green. Yet despite the unknown features, his face is remarkably familiar. However, the second student—
“Halibel!” Grim exclaims.
Next: Nostalgia – 3 Where Justice Resides
Chapter 3 Where Justice Resides
Grim watches the girl from afar, studying her every habit. She is sitting alone at a bench on the grounds outside, munching on a homemade sandwich. He takes a bite of his own salad, observing his subject closely still. Arc interrupts Grim by taking a seat at the table next to him.
“Hey, Grim! What cha doing?” Arc announces his arrival. Grim does not reply. “Grim?” Arc follows Grim’s eyes, and finds him observing Halibel, the new student at Ellinia Academy.
Arc raises an eyebrow, a mischievous look crossing his face. “Oh, Grim! I had no idea you were into this kind of stuff. Do you have a crush on the new student already? You creepy guy, you, stalking her like this already!”
“I am not stalking her,” Grim retorts obstinately. He takes another bite from his salad.
“Hm? What’s for lunch today, Grimey?” Ophelia asks, taking a seat next to Grim.
“Caesar salad,” Grim responds brightly.
“Oh, you’re just in time, Ophelia!” Arc cries. “Grim’s stalking the new girl. Our little player has good taste!”
“I am not stalking her,” Grim repeats impatiently.
“Halibel?” Ophelia says, following the two boys’ lines of vision as well. “Hey, Grimey, wasn’t she at the bookstore the other day?”
“Yes,” Grim replies, “that is why I have been observing her. I found it strange that she would show up at Ellinia Academy so suddenly, especially considering the partner she’s brought along.”
The orange-haired, green-eyed male student joins Halibel, sitting down laxly next to her. He crosses his legs, and sits back lazily, staring up at the sky.
“He said his name was Fayvard,” Arc announces. “Did you know, Grim—”
“Yes, I’ve already heard the rumors surrounding him,” Grim interrupts, “it seems he bears a very strong resemblance to the alleged assassin who attempted to take King Lucida’s life.”
“How scary, assassins showing up at our school!” Ophelia comments.
“His hair and eye colors don’t match the reported descriptions, however. While it is certainly easy to have them altered, even he must realize it would be extremely foolish to show up in public at this time.”
“Wow. So, what are you gonna do about it, Grim?” Arc implores.
Grim rises from his seat quite abruptly, to his friends’ surprise. He begins striding over to where Halibel is sitting next to her friend. Arc jumps to his feet.
“Hey. Hey! You’re just gonna go up to them?! Isn’t that—”
“Shut up, Arc.”
Grim reaches Halibel and her companion. Halibel makes no notice of Grim’s presence until he clears his throat. She looks up slightly, peering curiously at Grim.
“Halibel,” Grim addresses her, “may I have a word with you?”
“I suppose,” she sighs. She stands up.
Grim leads her away, towards a tree growing next to the science building. He glares at her. “What are you doing enrolled in Ellinia Academy?”
“What? Because I work at a bookstore, I can’t go to school as well?” Halibel replies coolly.
Grim narrows his eyes. Out of the corner of his line of vision, Darius saunters into view. He is speaking into a cell phone. For a moment, as he passes around the corner, his and Grim’s eyes meet. The next moment, Darius walks away, a sneer on his face.
Halibel watches this silent exchange with faint interest. Grim returns his attention to Halibel. “I suppose you may if you’d like, though I’d assume you wouldn’t bother attending school since you yourself claimed that you are often away.”
“I felt I needed to finish my schooling properly.”
“I see,” Grim mutters. His eyes fall on Halibel’s comrade, who is still sitting idly at the bench. “As for your companion, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve probably already heard the rumors—”
“Rumors?” Halibel demands.
“Yes,” Grim stutters, “there are rumors going around school that he is the assa—”
“Oh really?” a loud, vivacious voice exclaims behind Grim.
Grim jumps, tripping over a flower bush and nearly falling to his knees. He collects himself rather hastily, brushing dirt off his school uniform. He looks up, and finds the orange-haired, green-eyed friend of Halibel.
“Fayvard Vincent Ralphus Lunari’s the name,” the mage states jovially.
Halibel sighs exasperatedly. “Fayvard, how many times have I told you it’s not good to sneak up behind people like that!”
“But teleport provides such merriment!”
“And another thing, I hate when you speak like you’re from the 18th century!”
“Try? Your endeavors to impede upon the sovereignty of my dialect are unforgivable!”
“Ugh, just shut up while you’re still ahead!”
“What say you to a duel in order to settle this dispute?!”
Grim tiptoes out of the bushes, leaving behind the two comrades to continue their argument. He returns to Arc and Ophelia, who are watching with limited humor.
“Weird bunch, eh?” Arc says as Grim rejoins them. “I thought from the moment I saw them that they were a little kooky.”
Grim glances back at the two. “She has already graduated from school.”
“Eh?!” Arc and Ophelia exclaim at once.
“How’d you figure that out, Grimey?” Ophelia asks.
“Judging from her response to my questions, I am quite certain she is above school age,” Grim replies. “As for her companion, he remains a mystery. I believe we should keep a close eye on him.”
“But is he the actual assassin?” Arc presses.
“I don’t know…” Grim replies softly, “but he is definitely a suspicious person.”
“Eh?” Arc sighs. “Someone not even Grim can figure out…? He must be something indeed.”
The trio falls into silence for a minute. Grim continues observing the two new students from afar, anticipating any suspicious movement. Arc grumbles contentedly as he chews on a slice of pizza, while Ophelia fidgets absentmindedly.
Finally, Arc speaks up as he swallows a bite of his pizza. “Oh, yeah. Grim. Do you think you can come with me to the city today to pick up some computer parts I ordered? Ophelia can come too.”
Grim answers without diverting his eyes away from the suspects. “Why would I need to accompany you to something unnecessary like that?”
“Ouch, cold,” Arc whimpers. He takes another bite of pizza. “See, da ding is, da store’s in a dangerous par’ o’ town.” He swallows. “And I feel kinda unsafe going to places like that.”
Grim sighs wearily. “It’s true that for a magician you’re unusually weak. I suppose that I should go with you to make sure you get there safely.”
A breeze blows by. Several leaves scuttle off their respective trees and join their dehydrated mates on the ground. From above, a mournful bell tolls loudly, signaling the end of the break in classes. Grim’s observers disappear in a flash, like the leaves from the trees.
A flock of late afternoon shoppers are gathered on the sidewalk, where a street band is playing music. Grim, Arc, and Ophelia file past the onlookers. A mother leading her two young children moves past them headed in the opposite direction.
“Hurry up, you two!” she says, as Grim glances at her. “It’s starting to get late. Your lazy father is going to be wondering where dinner is. Hey—! Come back, Timmy! Do you want to get kidnapped by a burglar?!”
Ophelia groans impatiently. “I can’t believe you dragged us all out to buy some geeky computer stuff, Arc.”
The sun quietly sinks behind a multistory tower. Somewhere in the distance, a massive clock chimes as the new hour begins. The band stops playing and the curious shoppers dissemble.
“Let’s hurry up,” Grim urges, “as you already mentioned, this isn’t a safe part of town to be caught out at night.”
As the three students stride past an open alley, a violent scene meets their eyes. A young male is cowering on his knees as a much larger, burlier bully assails him. The larger man points a dagger into the boy’s fearful face.
“Hey! I asked you where my manaine is, bastard!” the assailant howls, spit flying from his mouth. He grabs his victim by the collar and throws him against the brick wall. “It didn’t just get up and walk away, y’know! I asked you where the f**k it is!”
“I-I don’t know!” the younger male bawls. “I really don’t!”
“Don’t f**k around with me!” the bully yells. He reaches forward and creates a massive cut on his victim’s cheek. Blood pours out and spills onto the dirty ground below. The victim’s cries reverberate throughout the entire alley.
Grim, Arc, and Ophelia watch the horrific scene unfold before them, with both participants completely oblivious to their presence. Arc folds his arms, shaking his head despondently. “Another manaine abuser…” he sighs.
Grim clenches his fist angrily. He throws his school bag to the ground, and slips on his mana glove. He bounds forward, but before he can take another step, a pair of hands grabs from behind and restrains him. Grim glances back and finds Arc holding onto him.
“What the hell are you doing, Arc?” Grim growls angrily.
“Are you crazy?!” Arc hisses into Grim’s ear. “You see how big that guy is?! He’ll skin you alive!”
Grim struggles against Arc’s grip, and the two tussle for a few moments. “Ophelia! Come help me hold this guy still!” Arc pleads.
Ophelia hesitantly reaches over, catching hold of one of Grim’s arms with her warm grasp. Together, she and Arc pull Grim back, and lead him away from the alley, away from the bloody scene.
Grim pants heavily as his two classmates let him go. He grabs his bag, and slings it over his shoulder with a look of incensed hatred on his face.
“I appreciate the thought, Grim, and it probably was the right thing to do,” Arc says at Grim’s side, “but jumping into a fight like that is insane! You could’ve killed yourself.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Grim lashes out. “Standing idly by while someone is being hurt is the worst thing a person can do.”
“If you feel that strongly about it, then call the cops or something!” Arc protests.
“Grimey…” Ophelia whispers under her breath.
Grim looks into Ophelia’s blue eyes. “You too, Ophelia?”
“Grimey…I can understand how you feel, and I would’ve helped you, too, but…the last thing I want to see is you being hurt.”
“You’re not exactly the best fighter either, Grim,” Arc chips in. “If you want, you should probably call the cops.”
Grim sighs. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell phone. He dials a number and presses the phone to his ear. “Hello? I’d like to request some police officers as soon as possible, please. There is a violent dispute occurring at the intersection of Cellion Boulevard and Wing Alley.”
Grim closes his cell phone. Arc smiles weakly. “There, wasn’t that hard, was it, Grim?”
Grim replaces the cell phone in his jacket pocket, and continues walking on silently. The smile disappears from Arc’s face, but he continues walking as well.
A couple ceiling fans spin in circles slowly round and round over the aisles of electronics. The small computer parts store is packed with random computer accessories and junk merchandise for enthusiasts. Ophelia shuffles over to the music aisle. Grim saunters up to a rack and inspects a Mexon Game Card.
Meanwhile, Arc approaches the counter directly, where, after a brief conversation with the clerk, he is presented with a compact box filled with computer chips.
Seeing that Arc has completed his errand, both Grim and Ophelia immediately accompany him out of the store. They begin heading back the way they had come.
Grim inspects the package that Arc is now carrying in his arms. “What did you order anyway, that was so important that you had to pick it up after school?”
Arc laughs nervously, a slight blush creeping up his face. “Well, you see, I’m kinda thinking of running a private server or something for one of my online games…”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Ophelia asks, in an accusatory tone.
Grim slips his hands in his pockets and continues striding on silently as Ophelia begins scolding Arc about the legality of his online ventures. After a few moments, they pass by the scene of the violent incident once again.
This time, a police car is now parked by the sidewalk. Grim turns his head to peer into the alley, where the drug addict has now disappeared, leaving only the frightened victim and a bloody mess. Grim watches as the two officers interrogate the victim.
“Now, can you give any description at all of the suspect?”
However, the terrified victim does not respond, instead curling into a ball and shaking his head vigorously. The two officers glance at each other, shrugging their shoulders.
“What do you think, Wilson? I don’t think we have much of a case…I mean, the attacker could be anywhere by now. There’s not really much that we can do…”
“And even then, with this little evidence…”
Grim turns his head and observes as the two policemen return to their car, and drive off, leaving the poor, frightened victim alone, weeping in the dark alley. The sound of an ambulance approaching shortly reaches Grim’s ears.
As he walks with Arc and Ophelia, Grim’s hands clench once again underneath his jacket.
The three students presently reach the vast student living quarters on the school grounds. The massive complex, large enough to comfortably grant each individual student a personal room, sits quietly under a night sky. Stars twinkle as the moon begins to appear over the darkened Ellinian horizon.
“Well, so long, Grim, Ophelia!” Arc announces as they reach a particular section of the dormitories. He ascends a set of stairs and disappears into the upper level.
Grim and Ophelia continue walking for a while longer, as Grim escorts his classmate to the female dormitories. At last, they reach the complex.
“Good night, Grimey!” Ophelia chimes as they reach the appropriate door. “Don’t forget there’s a test tomorrow!”
“Right,” Grim responds, “don’t forget to study as well.”
“That’s right,” Ophelia suddenly says thoughtfully. She stands still for a moment, thinking. “Hey, Grimey. Do you think you can meet me here tomorrow morning?”
“Hm?” Grim asks, perplexed. “Why?”
“Well, you see…” Ophelia mumbles, blushing slightly, “I wanna walk to class together with Grimey. Plus, I have something I wanna show you.”
“Something you want to show me?” Grim repeats. “Well, since I’m here already, you could always show me now.”
“No, no!” Ophelia interjects. “That won’t do at all. I want you to sit through the suspense of waiting to find out what it is! So make sure to be here tomorrow, got it, Grimey?!”
Grim smiles, greatly humored by the moment. He stares lovingly into Ophelia’s curious eyes. At last, he nods in agreement. “All right, I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.”
“And don’t be late!” Ophelia cries, as she disappears behind the door.
Grim raises a hand, waving to the door. Alone, he turns around and begins heading for his own room at last. He passes through an open corridor leading to the outside. A pale moon shines over the empty school grounds.
Grim stares up at the moon for a moment, before proceeding along his way. However, it is not long before a loud, piercing shriek reaches his ears. Grim freezes, his heart chilled by the fearful scream.
He runs outside, searching the expansive grounds of the school campus for the source of the commotion. A girl runs past a streetlamp, her shadow momentarily eclipsing the lamp’s orange light on the ground. Looking closer, Grim finds that a man is chasing after her, brandishing a knife.
Grim clambers as silently as possible down the hill overlooking the courtyard below, and he slides down the grassy hillside until he reaches a wooden bench. He crouches behind the bench, watching the scene unfold before him.
As the two figures enter the range of the light of a streetlamp, however, Grim’s eyes immediately widen upon recognizing both faces.
“Sally Fielden!” the male sneers hoarsely.
The cornered girl gasps frantically, searching for an escape route. “Y-You’re that guy from before…at the bookstore!” she cries desperately, hoping to stall for some time.
The attacker smirks. He begins walking towards Sally. “Please, the name is Rogue T. Blackwater… We don’t have to be such strangers, y’know. After closer inspection, I realized that you are quite the cutie. I was talking it over with the boys… I was wondering what it was like to f**k a cute, innocent girl like you… Y’know?”
“N-No…you can’t!” Sally shrieks, as Rogue approaches her. He steps forward, and grabs her chest recklessly. With a forceful jerk, he tears off the front of Sally’s sweater.
Grim watches furiously as the scene takes place. He reaches into his pocket, and takes out his cell phone. He peers at the screen for a moment. ‘No good…I’ve already tried using the police. It doesn’t work! If I want this world to change, I have to…I have to…!’
Grim steps out from behind the bench, to the surprise of the two standing in front of him. “If you ever try to harm another person…you have to be prepared for the consequences, Rogue T. Blackwater!”
Next: Nostalgia – 4 The Midnight Encounter with Death
---------------
Mana is not unlimited. Excessive use of mana will lead to a time when it shall become the most valuable substance in the world. Mana wars will erupt. Such is the flaw of human beings. Selfishly we will abuse our power. Selfishly we will sacrifice our claim as intelligent beings to hurt each other. Is there no salvation from our faults? Unselfishly, someone must rise up and cast away this sin…
October 21, 2173…
The thunderstorm rages fitfully onward. Torrential cascades of rain pound the marble pavement. Rivers of rainwater drench the sacred grounds of the Royal Estate. Only shadows move in the midst of this black hurricane. It is a single light, the light of a candle, towards which they flock.
“Mercutio, do you read me?”
“Yeah.”
“Please advance approximately sixty meters to the Royal Household. We have confirmed Caesar will locate himself at Bedroom 4 within fifteen minutes. Success rate will approach 88% in the following three minutes. Go.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you listening?!”
“Yeah.”
The assassin slips off the ledge he’d been resting on. He slides down the wall with relative ease and lands in a puddle. “s***, my boots are wet!”
Two guards turn to each other in the dead of the night. Their masked faces hide their perplexed looks. “Hm? Did you hear somethin’?”
“I didn’t hear nothin’,” his comrade responds.
“Wait. I see somethin’ movin’ in those shadows.”
A flash of lightning explodes out of the pitch blackness. It does not come from the sky. The eruption of colors conjured by the lightning flash dissolves in the freezing sleet. The two members of the Imperial Guard lay dead on the ground.
A pair of radiant brown eyes watches the life drain from their bodies. The eyes slip away back into the darkness, where Caesar awaits.
The assassin slides a handgun from his pocket. It clicks gleefully upon recognition of its owner. The candlelight continues to glow from the window. The assassin splashes silently towards the light. Caesar enters the room inside. The finger of an assassin presses against the trigger.
The alarm sounds. The dark-haired youth is dragged into a languid wakefulness. He lethargically flips over in bed to silence the alarm clock with his fist. After a few more moments, he rises from his bed.
He sighs. “I wish I could shoot that alarm clock dead.”
Chapter 1 An Apathetic World
An array of images is displayed on the television screen. The bold outlines of the Royal Estate’s buildings figure prominently in the early morning glow of a rising sun.
“We continue our breaking news coverage of the attempted overnight assassination of King Lucida IV. It seems that at approximately 1:00 AM last night, an assassin broke into the grounds of the Royal Estate and attempted to assassinate our King Lucida IV. Although in a public statement the King expressed severe disappointment that a citizen of the Royal Republic of Ossyria would attempt to make a bid on his life, the King was not found to be hurt. For more information, we go now to our reporter on the scene, Edward V. Yulis.”
The black-haired youth listens idly as he brushes his teeth in the bathroom of his dormitory. He faces the mirror, glaring into his own dark eyes and prominent features. He spits out the soap in his mouth and rinses it.
Grabbing a towel, he places it in the sink and proceeds to wash his face. Water drips down his sharp jaw lines as he throws the towel back on its rack. He reenters the dormitory room that doubles as both his bedroom and general household. A quick glance at the television displays a reporter fervently speaking into his microphone.
“His Royal Highness appears to be extremely irate, and refused to speak to reporters, choosing instead to have his spokesman issue a statement in his stead. At this time, we are told that one assassin, the gunman, has been captured, contrary to earlier reports indicating there might have been more. He is currently being detained in the Royal Prison of Orbis, awaiting trial by the Grand Jury of Orbis, the judges of which are appointed by His Royal Highness himself, of course.”
‘This world is not a bad place to live in. There is plenty to be had for hardworking individuals. Schools and other opportunities exist for the purpose of escaping poverty and promoting general intelligence. The question I’ve always wondered then is, why do people continue to refuse this complacency?
A photograph of King Lucida IV, with his pronounced features and air of condescension, appears upon the television screen.
‘The only answer I could find was…somewhere, injustice is being done. Somewhere, one human’s existence treads on another’s happiness. That is the human flaw. We cannot be content without destroying another’s happiness.’
“For further coverage on King Lucida’s attempted assassination, we encourage you to—”
The youth turns off the television. He glances at his clock. “Oh crap! I’m late!”
He runs onward, a piece of toast flapping out of his mouth. Groups of students jump out of the way as he squeezes through them. At last, he skids to a stop at the doorway of a particular classroom labeled 57.
He slides the door open. A chorus of greetings reaches his ears. “Ah, hello, Grimey!” a cheerful, feminine voice says upon his entrance.
He swallows the piece of bread with one large gulp. “Ophelia,” the dark-haired youth answers with a faint smile, “so you are cheerful as always. You never fail to get to class before me.”
“Well, I’ve got to beat you at something, you smart little bunny, you.”
“Eh, yes,” the youth retorts with a slight blush. He turns his head. A television set is once again reviewing the morning’s news, featuring the unceasing coverage of the assassination attempt. “What’s that?”
“They’re going over the news,” a youthful and lively mage with colorful blue hair answers. “Can you believe someone tried to kill the king? Scary!”
“Scary, Arc?” the youth laughs. “There is nothing scary about an assassination attempt. Lots of people are murdered daily. Why should we care if it happens to be the king?”
Arc gives the youth a highly offended look. “You may not care about other people, Grim, but could you at least pretend to care when our king is almost killed?”
“‘Our king?’” Grim replies in a puzzled tone. “When was King Lucida ever our King? He’s the King of Ossyria. We’re in Ellinia. Victoria Island never had a king. The oligarchy was overthrown when Ossyria invaded. He merely usurped power without our permission. And people act like he is some sort of God.”
“Of course, the only ‘God’ in this room is yourself, right, Grim L. Wright?” a sneering voice interrupts the pronounced silence following Grim’s heated discourse. A dark-haired, black-eyed youth steps haughtily into the classroom, a pair of orange shades dangling low over his nose. He is dressed in a most unfavorable fashion that suggests the aura of one who spends much time in the criminal underground.
“We all know you fancy yourself a God amongst us inferior people.”
Grim’s fists clench immediately upon the sight of this opponent. “Darius Thomason. Only an arrogant Ossyrian like you would dare talk up your king’s atrocities.”
“No,” Darius retorts with a smirk, “I am sure I am not the only one within this room who is satisfied with the way the Empire is run. But that’s the beauty of human beings, isn’t it? No matter how well or poorly things go, they’ll only complain and complain, but they won’t do anything about it. It’s not my fault that you Victorians got your asses handed to you in the war. If you hate it so much, then do something about it. We Ossyrians personally don’t give a damn about your complaints.”
“Not all Ossyrians think like you!” Grim howls, waving his fists angrily. “Ophelia—!”
“Please, Grimey,” Ophelia whispers, “stop.”
Darius bursts out laughing. “Hahaha! Even Ophelia disagrees with you, Grimey! If only she were a bit smarter, she’d throw you to the curb and—!”
Grim ends Darius’ outburst by grabbing the collar of his shirt. He glares angrily into Darius’ dark eyes, so like his own in their contempt for human nature, and raises a fist to Darius’ neck. Angry blue mana flames leak out of Grim’s hand, as he presses his gloved fist closer to his enemy’s jugular.
“Say one more word and I can’t guarantee you live.”
A bell rings from somewhere above as Grim holds Darius in this precarious position. The professor steps into the classroom, impatiently waving his hand for order and silence. He turns off the televised news coverage of the attempted assassination.
“Yes, yes, everyone in your seats, please! I must take roll call.”
Almost quite reluctantly, Grim relinquishes his hold on his venomous peer. The latter smirks and ruffles his jacket. The two enemies take seats on opposite ends of the classroom, Grim choosing the seat nearest Arc and Ophelia.
“Aiden, William.”
“Here.”
Still livid, Grim peers out of the nearby window. The grounds of the once vast Ellinian forests stretch out into the horizon, completely stripped of all trees. Instead, the broad panorama of a modernized city meets his eyes, with towering buildings and intricate subway systems extending as far as the eye can see.
Next to him, Ophelia leans over and begins doodling on his notebook. Grim ignores the happy distraction. Instead, he watches the clouds sail by in a bright blue sky.
“Clover, Lewden.”
“Here.”
“Ahh, that’s the stuff,” the assassin sighs contentedly, redoing the zipper on his pants. He flushes his excrement away. Turning around to face the barred entrance of his cell, he surveys the darkened corridor outside. He sighs again. “It certainly is rather unpleasant, this involuntary incarceration.”
His voice echoes slightly in the emptiness of the facility. He looks at the palm of his right hand with a pair of shockingly bright brown eyes. “Unfortunately, those larcenous rascals deprived me of my mana glove. It would have constituted quite the grand escape indeed, had I at least the pleasure of retaining my glove.”
The assassin watches for a moment the corpulent man standing guard nearby behind a desk, perusing the morning’s newspaper. “Hey, fatty.”
“What’d you call me, bastard?” the fat guard snaps indignantly, roused from his morning round of doughnuts. He shuffles to his feet and waddles to the assassin.
“Listen you,” the guard fumes, “I don’t hafta take no s*** from you.” He pats the holstered gun attached to his belt. “Ya see this? I could shoot ya to death if I wanted to. I’m sure no one would mind, a lowly piece of s*** like you. You’re gonna get the death penalty, anyway.”
“Pray, come closer, I cannot comprehend your mumblings,” the assassin answers calmly.
The guard reaches for his gun. The assassin grabs his wrist. An electric blue charge escapes the assassin’s hand, as mana from his hand escapes into the atmosphere and explodes forcefully.
“As I surmised,” the assassin sighs, as the guard collapses from his induced heart attack, “your clothing is tainted with highly conductive fibers designed by the Empire to track its guards via mana trails. Grievously, even a lowly assassin such as myself cannot help but kill you upon the slightest touch. Still though, I lament over the loss of my beloved mana gauntlet to the Empire! Woe is the mage who is bereaved of his cherished weapon.”
“Quit your complaining,” a voice suddenly interjects on the other side of the brick wall encompassing three sides of the assassin’s prison cell. “I’m working as fast as I can.”
“Ah, does the pulchritudinous alto of Halibel Alumina grace my ears?”
A sizable hole in the wall opens up quite abruptly, just large enough for an average adult to crawl through. A woman with long red hair and impatient eyes glares at the imprisoned assassin from the sunshine outside. “Shut your trap and get out here before they notice!”
“Aye, aye, my fair but unbecomingly terse maiden!”
The assassin crawls through the hole as ordered; he clambers onto the hovercraft waiting for him outside. “I thank thee for rescuing me from those unbearably rustic and unstylish furnishings, Miss Halibel!”
“One more word and I’ll leave you behind,” Halibel replies brusquely, flipping on the switch for the engine of her hovercraft. She glances at her companion, who is resting comfortably in an adjoining sidecar.
“And please don’t call me Halibel out here. We need to stick to our codenames. I’m Capulet, all right, Mercutio?”
“Gotcha,” Mercutio replies grinningly. “…Halibel.”
Halibel heaves a sigh as she maneuvers the hovercraft through a glade of clouds. “Fayvard, you moron…”
“Yes, please pull out your textbooks concerning the Third Mana War and the Fall of Victoria, everyone.” The professor issues his orders in a dull tone, as he stands at the front of the class behind a podium. “Today we shall discuss the reasons for the handover of Victoria Island to the Ossyrians.”
The class obeys the professor’s instructions. Grim retrieves his perfectly conditioned textbook, and opens it to the appropriate page. He briefly peruses its contents, noting with disdain the photographs of Ellinia in flames.
“Can anyone state the reasons for the Power Transfer of 2152?”
Grim raises his hand in response. “Yes, Grim?”
“Due in part to the unprecedented levels of mana consumption that ceaselessly climbed within the boundaries of the Ossyrian Empire from 2010 to 2150, it became evident that the Empire’s mana reservoirs would rapidly become depleted and insufficient for fueling a massive state.
“And because of the abundant source of mana trees in the Victorian Island, the populous but mana efficient island was soon targeted as a vital lifeline of mana for the Empire. However, trade negotiations proved insufficient in satisfying the Empire’s hungry needs and they quickly fell through.
“In 2152, the Ossyrian Empire, officially the Royal Republic of Ossyria, declared war upon the Victorian Union. This in effect became known as the Third Mana War, following in the footsteps of the previous two mana conflicts of which the Empire was involved in the Ariant and Mu Lung regions. The Royal Republic prevailed, and by the terms of the peace treaty, won the rights to extract mana from the independent island. Of course, even the vast Ellinian mana forests would be depleted, and we saw the effects of that exploitation four years ago with the Fourth Mana War.”
“An informed answer as always, Grim,” the professor replies upon the conclusion of Grim’s summative report. He turns back to the textbook. “Can someone else name the terms of the Treaty of Perion, which ended the Third Mana War?
Darius opens his mouth with a sneer. “It required the Victorian Union to dissolve its government and write a new constitution certifying the island as a new territory under the control of the Republic. The treaty asked the V.U. to declare its mana reserves open for the Royal Republic’s use. In return, the Royal Republic of Ossyria promises the absolute protection of its citizens—”
“Wrong!” Grim interrupts. “While the terms of the treaty specified such an agreement, the Royal Republic of Ossyria has yet to make good on its own terms. The Republic has certainly exploited our island nation’s mana reservoirs, but it has by no means made the world a better place to live. Every day, injustice prevails at the cost of the Victorian people. Kerning City has devolved into a ghetto. Florina Beach is now nothing more than a resort for the nobles in Ossyria. Even Ellinia…even Ellinia has had its forests cut down, all in the name of the king!”
“If you hate it so much, then go join those assassins and kill the king,” Darius answers in a soft tone of arrogance. “I hate complainers more than anything.”
“It’s not the government I dislike,” Grim replies, shifting his eyes to stare directly into Darius’ as he continues his rebuttal, “it’s the injustice.”
Darius opens his mouth to speak, but the professor interrupts the dispute by clearing his throat loudly. “Grim, Darius. That is more than enough. Please sit in silence so that we may resume our studies.”
The top two students in the classroom quiet themselves immediately. Grim continues to glance at Darius with dutiful hatred out of the corner of his eyes.
The door into the darkened dormitory opens with a soft squeak. Grim flips on the lights and steps into the room briskly. He shuts the door and takes off his jacket, placing it on a rack. The alarm clock at his bed reads 8:03 PM.
Grim strides into the adjacent bathroom and turns on the shower. He removes his shirt, and throws it on the floor. Passing his bed, he instinctively grabs the remote and turns on the television.
“Good evening. I am Gloria Fairweather reporting to you this evening’s news as always. Tonight, we update you on the attempted assassination of King Lucida IV in the early hours of this morning. A massive complication has occurred in the pursuit of bringing those responsible for the attempted assassination to justice.
“A guard was found dead in the Royal Prison at approximately 11:15 AM this morning. He was apparently killed, and the cell he was watching was cleared. As you might guess, the guard was on duty to supervise the prisoner believed to be the would-be assassin of our King Lucida. The assassin is now believed to be on the run and considered to be extremely dangerous. He may have accomplices. If you encounter him, do not approach him at all costs. Instead, call your local police department.
“We will now display a picture of the assassin so that you may recognize him if he’s seen. Please note that at this time, the Royal Prison of Orbis has not provided us with a name to accompany this photograph.”
Grim turns off the television, right before the assassin’s face is shown. He lowers the remote in his right hand, clutching it tightly with unpronounced anger.
Next: Nostalgia – 2 A Date!
Chapter 2 A Date!
Throngs of people flow back and forth through the outdoor shopping district. The open doors of stores are thrown open to the customers meandering about the mall situated in downtown Ellinia. Slivers of sunshine filter down into the open court, which is beautified with cleanly swept tile floors and columns of youthful trees lining the center of the walkway.
Grim navigates his way through the hordes of people chattering noisily and carrying shopping bags. He presses a cell phone to his ear. “Ah, I’ll be there very soon. Yeah. Bye.” He hangs up, closes his phone, and replaces it in his pocket. He glances at a digital clock hanging over the wall of a large clothing store, which reveals the date to be a Saturday.
For several seconds, Grim continues striding straight ahead purposefully. Then he stops for a moment. He watches the shoppers around him attentively. He places a hand in his pocket, feeling the smooth fabric of his mana gauntlet, hidden away from view.
‘This is just an ordinary rendezvous; as long as I don’t stray too far away from the shopping district, I shouldn’t have anything to worry about. All the same, it shouldn’t hurt to stay vigi—’
“GRIMEEYYY!”
Grim turns in place, and finds Ophelia, his classmate, waving at him from the top of a short flight of steps leading into a bookstore. Pulled away from his thoughts, Grim smiles and returns the wave, jogging slightly to meet Ophelia at the top of the steps.
“I’m sorry about being late,” Grim says as he meets Ophelia, “did I keep you waiting long?”
“No, silly,” Ophelia replies sweetly, her long orange hair flowing gently in the soft daylight breeze, “I knew you’d be late anyway, Grimey. You’re always late.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Grim returns, inclined to laugh at his tardiness. He stares for a long second deeply into her bright blue eyes, the color of the tropical ocean, or the bright blue sky above it.
“So! Grimey,” Ophelia announces, “what are we doing today?”
Grim puts on a grin. “Ah, it was my payday yesterday, so since I needed to do some shopping today, I thought we could make a day of it.”
“Eh…” Ophelia mews.
Hushed customers converse in dulled tones inside the bookstore. Outside, the echoing chatter of shoppers wafts into the store. Ophelia maneuvers herself through several shelves of books, peering curiously past each one. She finally discovers Grim glaring a shelf of books behind one row.
“History section again, Grimey?” Ophelia asks, as she joins Grim behind the shelf.
“Yes,” Grim answers affirmatively, “since we’re going over the Fourth Mana War in history next week, I need to purchase a textbook for it.”
“You still haven’t bought it?” Ophelia inquires huffily. “You sure are slow about getting these sort of things done, aren’t you, Grimey?”
Grim gives her a faint smile. “I assure you I don’t intend to procrastinate.”
“But you know, Grimey,” Ophelia continues, “taking girls out to buy books for yourself isn’t fun. Are you sure we’re gonna do something more fun after this?”
Grim blushes profusely at the comment. He turns away, attempting, and failing, to be highly engrossed in his textbook. “Ah, well, I-I suppose…I mean, did you have something in mind?”
“I want to ride a ferris wheel.”
“HAH?!” Grim exclaims. “The closest one isn’t for—” He pauses suddenly, casually glancing at a particular page in the book. His eyes immediately fall upon a certain picture on the page, and Grim freezes completely at the sight of it.
His breathing becomes ragged, and his hands begin shaking. Ophelia, however, does not take notice. “Come on, Grimey! I’ve always wanted to ride a ferris wheel. It’s my—hm? What’s wrong, Grimey?”
“Nothing,” Grim heaves, managing to pull a straight face together. He calms himself down by shutting the book in his hands. Grim lowers the book, and shoots Ophelia a wry smile. “This should be enough. Let’s get going. If I’m going to take you to the ferris wheel, we won’t have much time to get there before they open for the night, and then the fee’s going to be double for the same ride.”
“Hehe, I didn’t know you were so cheap, Grimey.”
Grim and Ophelia join the queue waiting in line at the cash register. A girl with long brown hair and quietly pronounced features is running the register. She receives each customer with a pleasant “Welcome to Boundaries Bookstore!”
However, as Grim and Ophelia wait in line, a gang of men stomp into the store, yelling raucously and calling attention upon themselves. Grim turns his head with disdain to watch the men trash the store. His hand tightens upon the spine of his textbook. Ophelia instinctively draws closer to Grim.
One of the men, the apparent leader, saunters his way up to the front desk, pushing Grim out of the way. He heads directly for the girl running the cash register.
“Welcome to Bound—”
The gang leader pulls out a gun, and points it directly in the girl’s face. “Hey baby, gimme all ya got.”
“I-I’m sorry?” the girl asks fearfully.
The members of the gang now gather themselves around the cash register, closing in on all the nervous customers waiting in queue. The leader reaches forward, grabbing the clerk directly in the chest. He points his gun straight in her face. “I said gimme all the mesos ya got, sweet cakes.”
“Stop it!” Grim hollers. He rushes forward, but one of the gang members immediately throws him aside with ease. Grim goes flying off his feet, crashing into a shelf of books nearby with a crash.
“Grimey!” Ophelia cries, running forward. However, the same thug who’d hit Grim grabs Ophelia from behind, restraining her with a malicious look in his eyes.
“Get your hands off her!” Grim yells, immediately equipping his mana glove. “Magic Claw!” A blast of mana escapes from Grim’s hand and explodes around the thug in the shape of a pair of claws. Blood spews out of the man, as he is thrown to the floor in a bloody mess.
The leader finally takes notice of Grim, turning to face him with a dangerous sneer on his face. “Look what we have here, a troublemaker, eh?”
Grim raises his hand again, a murderous glint in his black eyes. “You sorry excuses for human beings…” Blue mana seeps from his hand, electrifying sparks popping in the atmosphere around it.
Before Grim can cast another spell, however, a hand grabs his own, and forces it down. Grim looks over, and a young woman with long red hair steps past him. “That’s enough,” she hisses, and points a pistol at the leader. “Hey, jackass, how about leaving this store before I blow a hole through your forehead?”
The leader continues sneering, cradling his own gun. But the red-haired woman clicks the pistol threateningly. The leader’s face falls, and with great reluctance, he steps away, motioning for the rest of his gang to follow him out.
The red-haired girl lowers her gun with a weary sigh. “Those bastards. They’re such cowards in daylight.” She looks over at Grim, who seems awestruck at her appearance. “Are you all right? Those jackasses occasionally give us trouble, but it’s not enough that we can’t handle it.”
“I suppose,” Grim mutters. He pulls his mana glove off, and places it back in his pocket.
The girl watches Grim go through the motion carefully. “Are you a licensed mage?”
“Of course,” Grim replies in his usual condescending demeanor. He flashes the girl a smile. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about myself pulling out a gun in the middle of a public facility.”
The girl smirks. “I really don’t care. You’re not going to report me to the police, are you?”
“Of course not,” Grim sneers, “you saved me. I do not like owing favors, but I can’t deny that you helped me out back there. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you working at this store. What is your name again?”
“Halibel,” the girl answers, holding out a hand for Grim to shake. They clasp hands briefly. “Halibel Alumina. I work here part-time, since I’m away often. But since I know the owner personally, I’m allowed to work here whenever I’m in town.”
“I see,” Grim replies. “I’m Grim L. Wright.”
Ophelia rejoins Grim at his side, grabbing him worryingly. “You’re not hurt, are you, Grimey?”
Grim glances at his own arms, which are bruised slightly from his fall. “Ah, just a couple cuts and bruises here and there. Nothing to worry about, I can handle them myself.”
“Ah!” Halibel suddenly gasps. “That’s right, were you here to buy anything?”
Grim picks his textbook up from the floor. “Just this,” he retorts.
Halibel nods, walking over to the cash register, where the clerk is still hunched over, sobbing profusely. Halibel pats the girl on the shoulder, comforting her gently.
“I’ll handle your transaction, Grim,” Halibel announces.
Grim strides to the front desk with Ophelia. He glances at the traumatized clerk. “Hey! You’re…”
“You know Sally?” Halibel asks, looking over at the clerk as well. She places Grim’s textbook in a plastic bag.
“Sort of,” Grim replies, “I’ve seen her at school. She’s one grade below me.”
Sally pauses briefly between her sobs to look up at Grim and Ophelia. She hiccups slightly. “Th-thank you for trying to help me back then,” she chokes.
Grim appears taken aback at Sally’s appreciation. He nods awkwardly, taking the plastic bag from Halibel’s outstretched hand. “Y-Yeah, no problem. I only did what I felt I had to do.”
Ophelia grins cheerfully. “That’s our Grimey!”
Behind the distant skyscrapers of downtown Ellinia, the sun sets to close the day. Hues of orange and pink disappear into the horizon, even as the steady tide of navy blue bleeds into the twilight sky.
Two figures walk side by side back towards the vicinity of the Ellinia Academy. One, tall and proud, with dark black hair, and the other, a bit shorter, but much more cheerfully attractive with her long orange hair.
Ophelia tilts her head towards Grim’s shoulder wearily. “I’m tired, Grimey.”
“Yeah,” Grim agrees. “Who wouldn’t be, after eating all that cotton candy for dinner and then riding the ferris wheel three times.”
“Well you still had money left from your payday!” Ophelia argues.
“Yet you didn’t have to force me to spend it all…” Grim sighs.
The two walk together in silence for several moments, as the silhouette of the academy, growing darker by the minute in the evening sky, approaches them. At last, Ophelia opens her mouth to speak again.
“Grimey?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you help that girl back in the bookstore?”
Grim stares at the floor for some time. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know why?”
Grim shakes his head. “I suppose I wanted to help her.”
“Let me tell you why, then,” Ophelia smiles, looking into Grim’s eyes as she speaks, “it’s because you’re Grim L. Wright! You stand up for justice like no one else I know. You’re the one person I know who will never accept the status quo. You couldn’t stand those guys causing trouble, so you tried to stop them!”
“It seems you know me better than myself sometimes,” Grim replies in a stoic tone. Privately to himself, however, he smiles broadly to the darkness surrounding them.
As the dormitory wing of the Ellinia Academy comes closer, Grim stops in his tracks. “Sorry, Ophelia, but I’m going to have to leave you here.”
“Hm?” Ophelia asks, perplexed. “But we’re not at the student dormitories yet! This is the teachers’ dormitories.”
“Yeah, I have some business with one of the teachers,” Grim replies, “I wanted to ask them a question about the homework. You head back to your dorm, Ophelia. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Ophelia inquires lightly. “Well, see you later, Grimey.”
“Yeah, later,” Grim retorts, waving as Ophelia walks by herself back to the dormitory.
He turns and faces the building closest to him. Grim saunters up to the door and enters the dim hallway inside. He approaches the first door to his left, and knocks once.
Immediately, a wizened old man opens the door, and beckons Grim to enter. Grim slips into the room inside, which is considerably larger and more elaborate than Grim’s own student dormitory.
“Headmaster Theus,” Grim greets the old man inside.
“Grim,” the old man wheezes with an air of familiarity. “You’re a little late this week, but I suppose I didn’t need to question whether or not you’d show up at all after all these years.”
“Any news, Headmaster?” Grim asks in a low tone.
“As always, Grim, there is no news on this ‘Saint Oasis’ that you frequently ask me to inquire after,” Headmaster Theus answers in a grave tone. “Not since the day I found you unconscious and struck with amnesia four years ago have I heard any news regarding Saint Oasis. Pardon me for asking, but are you sure you want to continue seeking this figure that has eluded the authorities for over four years?”
“Of course,” Grim replies. After a pause, “Saint Oasis was responsible for killing my family. It was you who told me that.”
“While there was never any factual evidence confirming that,” Headmaster Theus says, “it is certain that there cannot have been any other culprit.”
Grim turns away. He looks down at the plastic bag he is still clutching in his right hand, from the day’s shopping at the bookstore. “Someday I’ll find Saint Oasis…and kill him!” A long silence follows afterwards.
“Changing the subject,” Theus interrupts suddenly, “I have noticed you appear to be quite intimate with that girl Ophelia.”
“Ah,” Grim smiles sheepishly. He turns to the headmaster. “I suppose you might say that.”
“I think it is good you are developing some positive relationships,” Theus continues. “Are you in love with her?”
Grim’s smile disappears. “Well, my relationship with Ophelia is a little more complicated than that.”
“Oh?”
“I love her, but she does not quite return my feelings,” Grim elaborates, turning to stare out the window, “but as long as I can have her by my side, I feel positive enough that everything shall be all right.”
Theus steps over to Grim, and places a firm hand on his shoulder, looking at himself and Grim through their reflections in the glass window. “I know that given your past it has been difficult for you to form lasting relationships with other people, but having charged myself with your care, I encourage you to form as many positive relationships as you can. Your murderous intentions regarding Saint Oasis are dangerous. You are still young. Do not become too preoccupied with your liberal views of revenge and justice.”
Grim’s grip on the plastic bag tightens. He strides over to the door of the dormitory room. “Well, thank you anyway for the update, Headmaster Theus,” Grim says pleasantly. He opens the door, stepping out into the cold corridor outside. “Have a good night. I ought to study for the upcoming history test.”
The door closes behind Grim, leaving him out in the empty corridor. The dim lights engulf him in their bleakness. He holds a hand up to his face, sighing heavily in the process.
“The test regarding the Third Mana War will be tomorrow, okay, class?” the professor announces in front of the assembled classroom the next day. “Please make sure to take it seriously, and show up. I will not offer the test again if you are absent. Otherwise, I will fail you. As always, if you fail, I will force you to take remedial classes after school. GOT IT?!”
Grim stares lazily out the window of the second story classroom, as the rest of the class professes their having heard the professor’s words. Grim glances over at Ophelia, who is sitting next to him.
His conversation with the headmaster returns to Grim’s mind. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He glances longingly at Ophelia’s beautiful face. ‘I love her, but…’
A knock abruptly sounds at the door. The professor stares at the door for a moment. “Ah yes, I nearly forgot. It seems that we have some new students today.”
Grim looks up at this bit of news. The door slides open, and a pair of students enter the room. Grim’s eyes immediately widen upon the sight of them. Surprised gasps and whispers rapidly erupt throughout the room.
The first student has shining orange hair. His warm eyes are of a grassy green. Yet despite the unknown features, his face is remarkably familiar. However, the second student—
“Halibel!” Grim exclaims.
Next: Nostalgia – 3 Where Justice Resides
Chapter 3 Where Justice Resides
Grim watches the girl from afar, studying her every habit. She is sitting alone at a bench on the grounds outside, munching on a homemade sandwich. He takes a bite of his own salad, observing his subject closely still. Arc interrupts Grim by taking a seat at the table next to him.
“Hey, Grim! What cha doing?” Arc announces his arrival. Grim does not reply. “Grim?” Arc follows Grim’s eyes, and finds him observing Halibel, the new student at Ellinia Academy.
Arc raises an eyebrow, a mischievous look crossing his face. “Oh, Grim! I had no idea you were into this kind of stuff. Do you have a crush on the new student already? You creepy guy, you, stalking her like this already!”
“I am not stalking her,” Grim retorts obstinately. He takes another bite from his salad.
“Hm? What’s for lunch today, Grimey?” Ophelia asks, taking a seat next to Grim.
“Caesar salad,” Grim responds brightly.
“Oh, you’re just in time, Ophelia!” Arc cries. “Grim’s stalking the new girl. Our little player has good taste!”
“I am not stalking her,” Grim repeats impatiently.
“Halibel?” Ophelia says, following the two boys’ lines of vision as well. “Hey, Grimey, wasn’t she at the bookstore the other day?”
“Yes,” Grim replies, “that is why I have been observing her. I found it strange that she would show up at Ellinia Academy so suddenly, especially considering the partner she’s brought along.”
The orange-haired, green-eyed male student joins Halibel, sitting down laxly next to her. He crosses his legs, and sits back lazily, staring up at the sky.
“He said his name was Fayvard,” Arc announces. “Did you know, Grim—”
“Yes, I’ve already heard the rumors surrounding him,” Grim interrupts, “it seems he bears a very strong resemblance to the alleged assassin who attempted to take King Lucida’s life.”
“How scary, assassins showing up at our school!” Ophelia comments.
“His hair and eye colors don’t match the reported descriptions, however. While it is certainly easy to have them altered, even he must realize it would be extremely foolish to show up in public at this time.”
“Wow. So, what are you gonna do about it, Grim?” Arc implores.
Grim rises from his seat quite abruptly, to his friends’ surprise. He begins striding over to where Halibel is sitting next to her friend. Arc jumps to his feet.
“Hey. Hey! You’re just gonna go up to them?! Isn’t that—”
“Shut up, Arc.”
Grim reaches Halibel and her companion. Halibel makes no notice of Grim’s presence until he clears his throat. She looks up slightly, peering curiously at Grim.
“Halibel,” Grim addresses her, “may I have a word with you?”
“I suppose,” she sighs. She stands up.
Grim leads her away, towards a tree growing next to the science building. He glares at her. “What are you doing enrolled in Ellinia Academy?”
“What? Because I work at a bookstore, I can’t go to school as well?” Halibel replies coolly.
Grim narrows his eyes. Out of the corner of his line of vision, Darius saunters into view. He is speaking into a cell phone. For a moment, as he passes around the corner, his and Grim’s eyes meet. The next moment, Darius walks away, a sneer on his face.
Halibel watches this silent exchange with faint interest. Grim returns his attention to Halibel. “I suppose you may if you’d like, though I’d assume you wouldn’t bother attending school since you yourself claimed that you are often away.”
“I felt I needed to finish my schooling properly.”
“I see,” Grim mutters. His eyes fall on Halibel’s comrade, who is still sitting idly at the bench. “As for your companion, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve probably already heard the rumors—”
“Rumors?” Halibel demands.
“Yes,” Grim stutters, “there are rumors going around school that he is the assa—”
“Oh really?” a loud, vivacious voice exclaims behind Grim.
Grim jumps, tripping over a flower bush and nearly falling to his knees. He collects himself rather hastily, brushing dirt off his school uniform. He looks up, and finds the orange-haired, green-eyed friend of Halibel.
“Fayvard Vincent Ralphus Lunari’s the name,” the mage states jovially.
Halibel sighs exasperatedly. “Fayvard, how many times have I told you it’s not good to sneak up behind people like that!”
“But teleport provides such merriment!”
“And another thing, I hate when you speak like you’re from the 18th century!”
“Try? Your endeavors to impede upon the sovereignty of my dialect are unforgivable!”
“Ugh, just shut up while you’re still ahead!”
“What say you to a duel in order to settle this dispute?!”
Grim tiptoes out of the bushes, leaving behind the two comrades to continue their argument. He returns to Arc and Ophelia, who are watching with limited humor.
“Weird bunch, eh?” Arc says as Grim rejoins them. “I thought from the moment I saw them that they were a little kooky.”
Grim glances back at the two. “She has already graduated from school.”
“Eh?!” Arc and Ophelia exclaim at once.
“How’d you figure that out, Grimey?” Ophelia asks.
“Judging from her response to my questions, I am quite certain she is above school age,” Grim replies. “As for her companion, he remains a mystery. I believe we should keep a close eye on him.”
“But is he the actual assassin?” Arc presses.
“I don’t know…” Grim replies softly, “but he is definitely a suspicious person.”
“Eh?” Arc sighs. “Someone not even Grim can figure out…? He must be something indeed.”
The trio falls into silence for a minute. Grim continues observing the two new students from afar, anticipating any suspicious movement. Arc grumbles contentedly as he chews on a slice of pizza, while Ophelia fidgets absentmindedly.
Finally, Arc speaks up as he swallows a bite of his pizza. “Oh, yeah. Grim. Do you think you can come with me to the city today to pick up some computer parts I ordered? Ophelia can come too.”
Grim answers without diverting his eyes away from the suspects. “Why would I need to accompany you to something unnecessary like that?”
“Ouch, cold,” Arc whimpers. He takes another bite of pizza. “See, da ding is, da store’s in a dangerous par’ o’ town.” He swallows. “And I feel kinda unsafe going to places like that.”
Grim sighs wearily. “It’s true that for a magician you’re unusually weak. I suppose that I should go with you to make sure you get there safely.”
A breeze blows by. Several leaves scuttle off their respective trees and join their dehydrated mates on the ground. From above, a mournful bell tolls loudly, signaling the end of the break in classes. Grim’s observers disappear in a flash, like the leaves from the trees.
A flock of late afternoon shoppers are gathered on the sidewalk, where a street band is playing music. Grim, Arc, and Ophelia file past the onlookers. A mother leading her two young children moves past them headed in the opposite direction.
“Hurry up, you two!” she says, as Grim glances at her. “It’s starting to get late. Your lazy father is going to be wondering where dinner is. Hey—! Come back, Timmy! Do you want to get kidnapped by a burglar?!”
Ophelia groans impatiently. “I can’t believe you dragged us all out to buy some geeky computer stuff, Arc.”
The sun quietly sinks behind a multistory tower. Somewhere in the distance, a massive clock chimes as the new hour begins. The band stops playing and the curious shoppers dissemble.
“Let’s hurry up,” Grim urges, “as you already mentioned, this isn’t a safe part of town to be caught out at night.”
As the three students stride past an open alley, a violent scene meets their eyes. A young male is cowering on his knees as a much larger, burlier bully assails him. The larger man points a dagger into the boy’s fearful face.
“Hey! I asked you where my manaine is, bastard!” the assailant howls, spit flying from his mouth. He grabs his victim by the collar and throws him against the brick wall. “It didn’t just get up and walk away, y’know! I asked you where the f**k it is!”
“I-I don’t know!” the younger male bawls. “I really don’t!”
“Don’t f**k around with me!” the bully yells. He reaches forward and creates a massive cut on his victim’s cheek. Blood pours out and spills onto the dirty ground below. The victim’s cries reverberate throughout the entire alley.
Grim, Arc, and Ophelia watch the horrific scene unfold before them, with both participants completely oblivious to their presence. Arc folds his arms, shaking his head despondently. “Another manaine abuser…” he sighs.
Grim clenches his fist angrily. He throws his school bag to the ground, and slips on his mana glove. He bounds forward, but before he can take another step, a pair of hands grabs from behind and restrains him. Grim glances back and finds Arc holding onto him.
“What the hell are you doing, Arc?” Grim growls angrily.
“Are you crazy?!” Arc hisses into Grim’s ear. “You see how big that guy is?! He’ll skin you alive!”
Grim struggles against Arc’s grip, and the two tussle for a few moments. “Ophelia! Come help me hold this guy still!” Arc pleads.
Ophelia hesitantly reaches over, catching hold of one of Grim’s arms with her warm grasp. Together, she and Arc pull Grim back, and lead him away from the alley, away from the bloody scene.
Grim pants heavily as his two classmates let him go. He grabs his bag, and slings it over his shoulder with a look of incensed hatred on his face.
“I appreciate the thought, Grim, and it probably was the right thing to do,” Arc says at Grim’s side, “but jumping into a fight like that is insane! You could’ve killed yourself.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Grim lashes out. “Standing idly by while someone is being hurt is the worst thing a person can do.”
“If you feel that strongly about it, then call the cops or something!” Arc protests.
“Grimey…” Ophelia whispers under her breath.
Grim looks into Ophelia’s blue eyes. “You too, Ophelia?”
“Grimey…I can understand how you feel, and I would’ve helped you, too, but…the last thing I want to see is you being hurt.”
“You’re not exactly the best fighter either, Grim,” Arc chips in. “If you want, you should probably call the cops.”
Grim sighs. He reaches into his pocket and takes out his cell phone. He dials a number and presses the phone to his ear. “Hello? I’d like to request some police officers as soon as possible, please. There is a violent dispute occurring at the intersection of Cellion Boulevard and Wing Alley.”
Grim closes his cell phone. Arc smiles weakly. “There, wasn’t that hard, was it, Grim?”
Grim replaces the cell phone in his jacket pocket, and continues walking on silently. The smile disappears from Arc’s face, but he continues walking as well.
A couple ceiling fans spin in circles slowly round and round over the aisles of electronics. The small computer parts store is packed with random computer accessories and junk merchandise for enthusiasts. Ophelia shuffles over to the music aisle. Grim saunters up to a rack and inspects a Mexon Game Card.
Meanwhile, Arc approaches the counter directly, where, after a brief conversation with the clerk, he is presented with a compact box filled with computer chips.
Seeing that Arc has completed his errand, both Grim and Ophelia immediately accompany him out of the store. They begin heading back the way they had come.
Grim inspects the package that Arc is now carrying in his arms. “What did you order anyway, that was so important that you had to pick it up after school?”
Arc laughs nervously, a slight blush creeping up his face. “Well, you see, I’m kinda thinking of running a private server or something for one of my online games…”
“Isn’t that illegal?” Ophelia asks, in an accusatory tone.
Grim slips his hands in his pockets and continues striding on silently as Ophelia begins scolding Arc about the legality of his online ventures. After a few moments, they pass by the scene of the violent incident once again.
This time, a police car is now parked by the sidewalk. Grim turns his head to peer into the alley, where the drug addict has now disappeared, leaving only the frightened victim and a bloody mess. Grim watches as the two officers interrogate the victim.
“Now, can you give any description at all of the suspect?”
However, the terrified victim does not respond, instead curling into a ball and shaking his head vigorously. The two officers glance at each other, shrugging their shoulders.
“What do you think, Wilson? I don’t think we have much of a case…I mean, the attacker could be anywhere by now. There’s not really much that we can do…”
“And even then, with this little evidence…”
Grim turns his head and observes as the two policemen return to their car, and drive off, leaving the poor, frightened victim alone, weeping in the dark alley. The sound of an ambulance approaching shortly reaches Grim’s ears.
As he walks with Arc and Ophelia, Grim’s hands clench once again underneath his jacket.
The three students presently reach the vast student living quarters on the school grounds. The massive complex, large enough to comfortably grant each individual student a personal room, sits quietly under a night sky. Stars twinkle as the moon begins to appear over the darkened Ellinian horizon.
“Well, so long, Grim, Ophelia!” Arc announces as they reach a particular section of the dormitories. He ascends a set of stairs and disappears into the upper level.
Grim and Ophelia continue walking for a while longer, as Grim escorts his classmate to the female dormitories. At last, they reach the complex.
“Good night, Grimey!” Ophelia chimes as they reach the appropriate door. “Don’t forget there’s a test tomorrow!”
“Right,” Grim responds, “don’t forget to study as well.”
“That’s right,” Ophelia suddenly says thoughtfully. She stands still for a moment, thinking. “Hey, Grimey. Do you think you can meet me here tomorrow morning?”
“Hm?” Grim asks, perplexed. “Why?”
“Well, you see…” Ophelia mumbles, blushing slightly, “I wanna walk to class together with Grimey. Plus, I have something I wanna show you.”
“Something you want to show me?” Grim repeats. “Well, since I’m here already, you could always show me now.”
“No, no!” Ophelia interjects. “That won’t do at all. I want you to sit through the suspense of waiting to find out what it is! So make sure to be here tomorrow, got it, Grimey?!”
Grim smiles, greatly humored by the moment. He stares lovingly into Ophelia’s curious eyes. At last, he nods in agreement. “All right, I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning.”
“And don’t be late!” Ophelia cries, as she disappears behind the door.
Grim raises a hand, waving to the door. Alone, he turns around and begins heading for his own room at last. He passes through an open corridor leading to the outside. A pale moon shines over the empty school grounds.
Grim stares up at the moon for a moment, before proceeding along his way. However, it is not long before a loud, piercing shriek reaches his ears. Grim freezes, his heart chilled by the fearful scream.
He runs outside, searching the expansive grounds of the school campus for the source of the commotion. A girl runs past a streetlamp, her shadow momentarily eclipsing the lamp’s orange light on the ground. Looking closer, Grim finds that a man is chasing after her, brandishing a knife.
Grim clambers as silently as possible down the hill overlooking the courtyard below, and he slides down the grassy hillside until he reaches a wooden bench. He crouches behind the bench, watching the scene unfold before him.
As the two figures enter the range of the light of a streetlamp, however, Grim’s eyes immediately widen upon recognizing both faces.
“Sally Fielden!” the male sneers hoarsely.
The cornered girl gasps frantically, searching for an escape route. “Y-You’re that guy from before…at the bookstore!” she cries desperately, hoping to stall for some time.
The attacker smirks. He begins walking towards Sally. “Please, the name is Rogue T. Blackwater… We don’t have to be such strangers, y’know. After closer inspection, I realized that you are quite the cutie. I was talking it over with the boys… I was wondering what it was like to f**k a cute, innocent girl like you… Y’know?”
“N-No…you can’t!” Sally shrieks, as Rogue approaches her. He steps forward, and grabs her chest recklessly. With a forceful jerk, he tears off the front of Sally’s sweater.
Grim watches furiously as the scene takes place. He reaches into his pocket, and takes out his cell phone. He peers at the screen for a moment. ‘No good…I’ve already tried using the police. It doesn’t work! If I want this world to change, I have to…I have to…!’
Grim steps out from behind the bench, to the surprise of the two standing in front of him. “If you ever try to harm another person…you have to be prepared for the consequences, Rogue T. Blackwater!”
Next: Nostalgia – 4 The Midnight Encounter with Death
