Kyou Kara Maou Fan Fiction ❯ Inexorable Flow ❯ Part 23 ( Chapter 23 )

 

Disclaimer: I don't own Kyou Kara Maou! - It belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I'm not making any money from writing it.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male), Yuuri x Wolfram. Some other pairings. Angst. Adult topics.

A/N 1: Age: Yuuri - 43+. Wolfram…let's say he is about the same age as Yuuri just a little older. Lakarde - 10+.

 

Inexorable Flow

 

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by Melisenda

 

Part 23

 

Military Academy was located in von Christs' lands. It was the place where the sons of noble families from Shin Makoku usually spent their youth. Recently, thanks to the new policy in Shin Makoku, quite a few noble families from countries that had treaties with Shin Makoku would also send their offspring to this academy. It was considered a matter of social standing to receive an education in this acknowledged and reputable school.

 

Although most of the disciplines taught at the school involved military disciplines such as sword-fighting, marksmanship, strategy and element wielding, the boys also learned proper etiquette in various society strata, economics, singing and playing musical instruments. The young men, after finishing the Academy were expected to do well in a battle as well as be popular during a high-class ball, and in addition to this would also be able to increase the wealth of their families at least twice over.

 

Lakarde stared gloomily at the enormous building. It was about four o'clock but it was winter and it was already half-light, so he could not quite discern its contours. He wondered what was expected of him. He had already crossed balls off of his list.

 

Holding a bag in each hand, he started climbing the high stairs. From now on he would have to do without servants that were ready to do everything at the smallest beckon of his hand.

 

Once at the top of the stairs, he lowered one bag and reached out for the door handle. Behind his back, his carriage made a move back to the gate. Lakarde dragged his luggage inside the building, letting the door close behind him. He was greeted by a huge hall and several leading corridors and stairs to another floor. There was a desk next to one of the walls where an old man sat, a wooden board with nails and keys hanging on them above his head. Lakarde decided he was the watchman.

 

“Good afternoon,” Lakarde bowed. “I just arrived. I was…”

 

“Not here,” the old man waved. “The dormitory is behind the main building. It's adjacent to this, but has another entrance.”

 

“I see. Thank you very much,” Lakarde bowed again. He took his bags and headed for the door.

 

Once on the stairs again, he looked around. Further along, he could still see a junction of cleaned out path. It led in opposite directions, both paths disappearing in the darkness. He hefted his luggage and went downstairs. He chose the left path. The paths were cleaned, without a sign of the heaps of trampled snow that marked the rest of the courtyard. Lakarde was sure that every morning, if it had snowed throughout the night, the students would be made to take care of it.

 

Lakarde was wearing a warm coat and battling with his heavy luggage made his shirt stick to his back. Finally, he reached another set of doors. His winded breath rolling out in puffs into the air, he dragged himself up a few steps.

 

Lakarde closed the door behind him, and the man who was sitting at the desk at the entrance measured him from head to toe. There was a very similar board with keys above the man's head. He suddenly jumped from behind his desk, reaching out for Lakarde's bags.

 

“Lakarde von Bielefeld?”

 

“Yes,” Lakarde nodded.

 

“Yes, yes,” the man ripped the bags out from Lakarde's hands. “I'm the superintendent here. Name's Lucius Ferboten.” He quickly lowered one of them to the ground to grab a key from the board and pocket it. “We were informed about your arrival. Let me show you the way.” He started walking down the corridor. “Most of the students are still out skiing.”

 

Lakarde followed the man. He was trying to memorize the turns and the doors that they were going past. The corridors did not seem to differ much from what Gwendal described. Clean but void of decorations, the few windows that they had passed were covered with curtains that looked decent but were very plain. Oil lamps hung here and there to dissipate the darkness, making it huddle in the grim corners. The walls he was passing had that particular smell of age that included something fusty, humid and dank all at the same time. Only the smell of urine was missing. But there was also the smell of something…something…

 

“Here,” the man stopped at the door marked with number 17. He lowered Lakarde's luggage to the floor to fish out the key he had pocketed earlier. After unlocking the lock, he pushed the creaking door open to reveal a room submersed in blue shadowy light. It was being emitted by a pulsing orb on the desk next to the window.

 

Lakarde felt a gust of nausea. Automatically, he set the damn thing on fire.

 

The superintendent's arm shot out. “Sssto…” He lowered his arm. He was a few seconds too late anyway; the room was now swallowed up in darkness. “You are not allowed to summon your element without permission. It's in the rules,” he said. “It was just an alternative source of light. It's harmless.”

 

Ignoring the superintendent, Lakarde snapped his fingers to call his fire element. “It nearly made me ill,” he said, walking into the room, followed by a floating tongue of flame.

 

The Esoteric orb on the desk had become just a charred piece of useless rock. Lakarde prodded it with his finger. His mood dropped a few notches.

 

“So my roommate is a Human?” he asked. “Why?”

 

The superintendent carried the luggage in and put it onto the carpet. “There are no free rooms anymore. You came in the middle of the semester.” He walked back to the door. “The cost of the Esoteric Stone and the desk will be sent to the Prince Consort.”

 

“I am able to pay for them myself,” Lakarde said.

 

“Alright, I'll prepare the bill,” the attendant said. “If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me. Unpack your things for now. As you see, this bed,” he pointed, “is free. I think your roommate should return in an hour or so, so he will show you around.” He nodded and closed the door behind him.

 

Lakarde started unpacking his things. The room was as plain as everything he had seen in the academy until now. Two beds were pressed against opposite walls, a table at the window with one chair pushed up to it. There was also a wardrobe at the back wall. Next to it, right at the door, there was a chest of drawers with a mirror. The second chair, unused, was standing in the corner between the wardrobe and Lakarde's bed. There was also a shelf filled with books over his roommate's bed. A dingy list of the Academy rules - made up of twenty-something points - was pinned to the back of the door.

 

 

1. Obey the administration.

2. Keep your room clean.

3. Fighting and cursing are not allowed.

4. Bathe regularly.

5. Food from the outside is not allowed.

6. Sexual relationships in the Academy are not allowed.

7. Pets are not allowed.

8. Outsiders without permission are not allowed.

9. Summoning one's Element without permission is not allowed.

10. ……

 

Lakarde turned away without finishing reading what else was not allowed. From what Gwendal had told him, he knew that there always was a way.

 

Once he was done unpacking, he sat down on his bed. It was cold in the room. Gwendal had warned him about this too; there were a lot of things Gwendal had told him about the Academy.

 

Lakarde snuck under the covers to get warm and stared at the dark window. He supposed he should draw the curtains but did not want to move from his comfortable position. He put his chin on his knees. He was somewhat angry and bitter with his father for sending him here. He agreed that it could do him good, this new experience, but… Lakarde scowled at the dark room.

 

Sure. Even being dead could do someone good. To someone else that was not you.

 

Lakarde woke up with a sudden start. His head shot up to stare at the red-faced boy who had just stepped into the room. The boy was holding a burning candle. Surrounded by an aura of pallid light, he quickly walked over to the table to set the candle down. He was slightly out of breath.

 

Without looking at Lakarde, the boy started to unwrap a long muffler from his neck. “Hell, I envy you,” he boy said. He tossed both it and his hat onto his bed and started unbuttoning his coat. “Lying sprawled out here happily while we had to work our asses off.”

 

Lakarde blinked his sleepy eyes at him. He sat up. He tried to discern the boy's face but he could hardly see him in this half-light. The boy was taller and Lakarde presumed that he was also a few years older than him. He figured that, in the Academy, all Human boys were older than the Mazokus as Humans maturated slower and lacked behind with their mental capacities.

 

Annoyed, the boy motioned at the table. “And why the hell did you ruin my Stone? These candles are damn inconvenient… There have been a few accidents with students setting their rooms on fire.”

 

“It was an automatic reaction,” Lakarde mumbled. He yawned. “I'll repay you for it.”

 

“Whatever,” the other boy said. He threw his coat in the direction of his bed. “It didn't cost that much.”

 

Lakarde scrunched his nose when his roommate took off his boots. He slid deeper into the bedding. The rusting of sheets made the other boy raise his head. He grinned at the shadowy figure on the bed.

 

“What a delicate flower.”

 

“Shut your trap. Go wash yourself or something,” Lakarde said. “By the way, where are the baths?”

 

The other boy groaned. “Oh sure, now you'll want me to show you around.”

 

Amidst the sheets, Lakarde nodded.

 

“You, what element do you wield?”

 

“Fire and…”

 

“Lucky!” his roommate exclaimed. He shot to his feet, excited.

 

“Huh?”

 

The other boy gave Lakarde a scrutinizing look. “Don't tell me you didn't bring any water-bottles…?” he drawled. “Make my day and tell me that you did.”

 

“I did,” Lakarde nodded. Gwendal did tell him that during winter fire-wielders became the most appreciated residents in the Academy. He had also advised him to take a few water-bottles.

 

“Yes!” the boy struck his fist into the air victoriously. “No more cold nights!” He grinned. “I'll go wash myself and then bring some water for you to heat it up.” He suddenly sounded uncertain, “You can heat it up right?”

 

“Of course, I can. And I'll go with you. I also want to have a bath; I spent a few days on the journey.”

 

“Alright,” the boy nodded happily to himself while ransacking the wardrobe and pulling out a change of clothes.

 

“Thanks for leaving enough place for my stuff,” Lakarde motioned at the wardrobe where he had stored his clothes; His roommate, after having been warned that he would have another boy living with him, had emptied half of it.

 

“No problem. I really didn't expect it would be a Mazoku, though,” the boy chatted on. “I mean, usually they pair up the same race, just to avoid conflicts, if you know what I mean,” he gave a look at the bed where Lakarde sat, hunched. “You seem quite harmless, though,” he commented. “All Mazoku students live above,” he motioned his hand at the ceiling. “You will be the only Mazoku on the ground floor.”

 

“They said there were no free rooms,” Lakarde explained. He found himself not liking the thought of being the only Mazoku on the floor.

 

“Well, yeah. It's the middle of the semester already.” Gathering the pile of clothes in his arms, the boy grinned. “Well, as long as it's someone who wields fire, I don't mind that much.”

 

“Nice,” Lakarde sighed. He rolled out of the bed. The boy was a chatterbox; he did not particularly like the type, but at least the boy was not prejudiced. Lakarde picked up his towel and a few toiletries with clean clothes to change into after his bath. “What's your name?”

 

“Oh! I'm sorry. I totally forgot,” the boy turned around to face Lakarde who had approached him. He found himself staring at his new roommate's face. The blond boy was not tall, actually even below average height but… And there was something familiar about this face. Pulling himself together, he shifted the clothes to free his right arm. “And you're quite a looker, aren't you?” He stretched his hand out towards Lakarde. “I'm Rial von Torlance.”

 

“Huh?” Lakarde blinked at him. Rial was just grinning at him stupidly. “Lakarde von Bielefeld. Nice to meet you,” Lakarde shook the proffered hand.

 

“Wait…” Rial drawled, his hand still absentmindedly shaking Lakarde's. “The Bielefeld?” Now he knew of whom Lakarde had reminded him. “You know, my sisters are all crazy about you.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well, they have this picture; it's not really accurate, though. I think Eliza wants to marry you or something.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well, you know, you're handsome and nearly a prince. And she's just a couple of years older than you. I am not sure about Marianne, she's only seven but she sleeps with that picture under her pillow.”

 

Lakarde stared at him. “Why there are pictures of me in…Human territories? Where the hell are you from?”

 

“Toska, south of…”

 

“I know where Toska is. We ratified a peace treaty with you nearly ten years ago,” Lakarde cut him off. “Let go. It's getting awkward.”

 

“Oh,” Rial let go of his hand. “Hehe, sorry.” He looked Lakarde up and down again. “Then it's no wonder you were accepted.”

 

Lakarde said nothing to that. Rial was right. The Academy did not accept students in the middle of the academic year. Nonetheless, Wolfram von Bielefeld, Prince Consort, the legitimate husband of the King, was above any such petty rules.

 

Lakarde turned to the door. “Let's head for the baths.”

 

“They won't believe me when I tell them you're my roommate.” Rial wanted to go and blow out the candle, but it suddenly went out by itself. “You're quite good at wielding your element, aren't you?”

 

Lakarde glared in front of him at nothing in particular. “I suck at it. Do you actually ever shut up?”

 

“Not really,” Rial shook his head. He locked the door and secured the key inside his pocket. “So why did you came here in the middle of the semester?” he asked Lakarde who was walking in front of him despite the fact that Rial was the one who knew the way to the baths. “Which group are you in? Will you be able to keep up?”

 

“It's none of your business,” Lakarde snapped.

 

“I bet you became unbearable and your father kicked you out,” Rial ventured a guess. He grinned at Lakarde who turned around to stare at him. “You seem the type.” His grin brightened at Lakarde's glare. “Most of us got here like that. I said I wanted to have my own county and the next thing I know, here I am. My classmate wanted to marry this servant chick and was shipped off here a few hours after making that announcement. They think it will help us get rid of the thoughts they don't want us to have, the discipline. Well, yeah, sometimes it's so cold here, the only thing I can think about is setting fire to the damn place.” He grinned. “Just to warm up.”

 

Lakarde stared at him for a few seconds. The sudden realization of his father being just like any other lame and fallible parent stunned him. Wasn't sending him here just Wolfram's way of solving a problem by disposing of it? He had known, but not quite, not quite from this perspective. Not until Rial told him.

 

Lakarde's mouth opened and shut a few times soundlessly. Then he turned around and continued to walk. “I see…” he drawled. He wondered why it had taken him so long to push Wolfram off his godlike pedestal. And probably, if not for Amae, he would have never pushed him off at all.

 

“So what did you do?”

 

Lakarde felt shameful blush threatening to engulf his face. “Nothing much. Pretty the same.”

 

Rial shrugged. On the corner he overtook Lakarde and started leading the way to the baths. There were more boys heading in the same direction. Lakarde was receiving curious glances.

 

“Which year are you?” Lakarde asked Rial.

 

“Oh, it's my first.”

 

“Seriously? How old are you?”

 

“Just turned sixteen. You?”

 

“Ten. Nearly eleven.”

 

“Quite young,” Rial commented. He gave Lakarde another evaluating look. “You Mazoku are sure not normal. A ten-year kid shouldn't look like this.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like he's nearly the same age as me. There is this Mazoku kid in my group who is a little over eleven years,” Rial continued, “but I think you will be the youngest here now.”

 

Lakarde shrugged.

 

“I thought you were quite short for a boy. But now I think you don't need to worry about your height that much. You are only ten after all.”

 

Lakarde glared at Rial's back. “Who said I ever worried about it?” he snapped.

 

“Well, you should,” Rial chuckled. “It's the second important thing after the size of a dick.”

 

Lakarde refused to react.

 

Rial shrugged again. “Well, yeah, it's stupid but for some reason as soon as you say that, others unavoidably think that you have a dick of a size of a peanut. I can't say I like that.”

 

They finally reached the baths and, luckily, Rial's philosophical musings were cut off. With the stream of other students, Lakarde was sucked into a large steaming room. Its windows had their shutters barred, the only source of light being oil lamps, which randomly hung on the walls. Once inside, the smell of soap and detergents was overpowering. But there was another odor that was seeping through this mix and was tickling Lakarde's senses - that of youth.

 

Half-naked and nearly naked bodies were everywhere. The pool in the middle of the room was not big, most of the boys taking up benches around it, in the middle of scrubbing or getting ready to scrub themselves with rough sponges. Lakarde was immediately aware that the ones who were soaking in the pool were older than the rest.

 

“The third- and fourth-years,” Rial said, after noticing Lakarde's eyes linger on the pool. “Don't even come close to them. Mean bastards. Especially that red-hair. The name's Atreus. He-”

 

“Oh, yeah, one mean bastard,” Lakarde nodded. “`He was wetting his bed till ten. Our servants were gossiping for a week after he left.”

 

“Oh really?” Rial grinned. “That is a very valuable piece of information.”

 

“Use it as you see fit,” Lakarde said, walking over to one of the empty benches. He sat down and put his clothes next to him. He undressed down to his underwear and arranged his towel and scrubbing sponge on his other side. After that, he leaned down to grab a wooden tub from under the bench then walked over to the pool to a tube where hot water was streaming from. After filling his tub, he carried it back to the bench. He could feel curious eyes linger on him. Whispers started. He was a novelty.

 

“Want me to wash your back?” Rial called from the bench opposite Lakarde's.

 

Lakarde regarded him with suspicion then nodded.

 

“I'm not attracted to men,” Rial informed him as soon as he saw Lakarde hesitate. He got up and took Lakarde's foamy sponge.

 

“Glad to know,” Lakarde said, turning around, displaying his back for Rial.

 

“So you also go for girls?” Rial asked, starting to scrub.

 

Uncertain, Lakarde nodded. He was not that sure about his sexual preferences. So far he had none of them.

 

“Your skin is kind of pale. You sure you don't have any diseases?” Rial inquired.

 

“You sure you don't want your teeth kicked out?” Lakarde asked politely.

 

“Ah, about teeth,” Rial reminded Lakarde, “don't forget that we Humans don't grow them back.”

 

“Even better.”

 

Rial grinned at Lakarde's reddish back. There were about ten guys who were staring at Lakarde from different places in the room. The boys were curious about the new face. Besides, Lakarde was nice to look at. Rial could also hear Lakarde's surname floating in the vapory air of the baths. He was not sure whether it was for better or for worse.

 

“You will definitely be popular here,” Rial said. “Here, done.” He held out the sponge for Lakarde to take. “Now do mine.”

 

He and Lakarde traded places. Lakarde started rubbing Rial's back. Lakarde felt boys staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably. He had been to baths or to a lake countless times, but it was in the circle of the family and close friends. Standing only in a towel before unfamiliar faces and evaluating eyes was not a feeling he enjoyed. He could only calm himself down with a thought that most of them were no more clad than him.

 

To Rial's surprise nobody tried to talk to Lakarde. They just watched them from a distance until he and Lakarde were done with their bath and left. If it had been another kid instead of Lakarde, he would have been poked, teased and made fun of. Just to welcome him. “Von Bielefeld's” surname held power, though. People did not want to take risks.

 

As soon as he entered the room, Lakarde shivered. It was cold. The wind had shifted and now was blowing right against the window. Lakarde tried to towel his hair off as best as he could then gave up and summoned his fire element.

 

Rial, who was trying to find his woolen socks, turned to look at him. “Summoning your fire element without permission can get you a month of latrine duty.”

 

“Oh? Then you will probably have to forget your water-bottles,” Lakarde chuckled, dismissing his fire element, his hair already dry. The flickering light of a candle again engulfed both of them.

 

Pulling his socks on, Rial grinned at him. He watched Lakarde walk over to the tub of water that they had brought with them and set next to the door.

 

Squatting down to the floor, Lakarde put the water bottles onto the floor then summoned his fire element and lowered his hand into the cold water.

 

“How are we going to pour the water from the tub into the bottles?”

 

Rial went to the table and ransacked in one of the drawers. He held out his prize. “Using a mug.”

 

“Come here, you will hold the water-bottles while I'll do the pouring.”

 

“Oh. Done already? You are fast.” Then he saw the steam coming up from the tub. He came up to Lakarde.

 

While Rial was holding the bottles, Lakarde filled them with steaming water.

 

“Hot,” Rial rubbed his reddish hands on his thighs after they were done.

 

Lakarde looked at the window where the winds were picking up. “I will probably need to wake up in the middle of the night to heat it again.”

 

“Hmm…” Rial drawled when the two of them lay in their beds, snuggled into their wraps. “So do you have someone special you like?”

 

Lakarde rolled his eyes. “What's with these questions? Now you won't even let me sleep in peace, will you?”

 

“Suit yourself,” Rial shrugged, “I just thought you won't be able to get a decent sleep tonight anyway. You kinda look like a beaten dog.”

 

“I don't…”

 

“Oh, c'mon! I don't want to wake up to your crying for your daddy and mommy in the middle of the night.”

 

“I won't be cryin-!”

 

“Yeah, you'd better not be. My head hurt two days after that.”

 

Lakarde closed his eyes. He listened to the winds howling beyond the window.

 

“No, I don't,” he said a few minutes later.

 

“Huh?” Rial mumbled sleepily.

 

“I don't have anyone special, moron.”

 

“Aww, no need to get so embarrassed,” Rial yawned. “I am sure you'll find them here.”

 

“You?”

 

“Me what?” Rial asked.

 

“Do you have anyone?”

 

“Oh. Hmm… Do you know that in Toska men are not allowed to have relationships with men?”

 

“Eh? Why?”

 

“Uh. Why, you ask. I am not sure why. It's considered amoral and dirty, I suppose. Not sure, never wondered why as I never came across this before. To tell you the truth, I was quite shocked after spending a few days here.”

 

“I think my father would have a few words to say about it being “amoral” and “dirty”,” Lakarde chuckled.

 

“The King, too, I suppose,” Rial agreed.

 

“Hmm… Yuuri is better at understanding Humans than most Mazoku are.”

 

“Yuuri? Ah, right, the King, Shibuya. I heard he's half-Human.”

 

“Yeah, a pain in the ass, if you ask me.”

 

“You don't get along?”

 

“Hmm… I suppose we do, but he's… Hey, did you just steer the conversation away to a different subject?”

 

Rial chuckled. “Not really. I just think that the Mazoku King is more interesting than my love life.”

 

“Spare me.”

 

“Well, I had this girl back at home,” Rial sighed. “Now there's this Kalara running after me. I can't seem to shake him off.”

 

“Oooh? Sounds like a Mazoku name?”

 

“Oh yeah, wields wind. A colorful personality at that.”

 

“I bet it isn't more colorful than yours.”

 

Rial laughed softly.

 

“Do you like him?” Lakarde asked.

 

“Not sure. But it's quite a problem.”

 

“Hmm… Only if your parents find out. You can always say he's your best friend. One of you can even become the other's irreplaceable official advisor.”

 

Rial grinned at the dark room. “You'll go far in this world, Lakarde. But things don't go this way. Always hiding and pretending takes its toll. What kind of life would it be?”

 

“You don't even know whether this infatuation of yours would last longer than a year. Why worry your head over this now?”

 

“Maybe you're right,” Rial sighed. “I'll just see where it goes.”

 

XXXXX

 

Cold. His feet were freezing. Lakarde roused slowly. He found himself curled up into a ball and shivering. The water-bottle was cold. He pushed the bottle out of the bed and tried to fall asleep again. He was not used to cold like this. He had traveled with his father and did quite a lot of training in harsh weather, but in the evenings he would sleep warmly.

 

Lakarde jerked as trumpets blared somewhere in the corridor. On the other side of the room, Rial groaned. He rolled out of the bed.

 

“What freakin' time is it?” Lakarde growled out.

 

“Five in the morning. We only get to sleep in on Saturdays; till seven. It's then when they allow visitors and have various events.”

 

Lakarde's head hit the pillow again. “What is your schedule?”

 

“Wash, breakfast, classes, lunch, classes, training, dinner, homework, sleep. How do you like this?”

 

“I love it,” Lakarde scowled.

 

“What about yours?”

 

“Going to have a few tests.”

 

“Good luck with that.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You know, let's meet in the main hall at lunch. They'll let you have a break, too. I'll show you around.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

XXXXX

 

Lakarde and Rial were walking down a corridor, Rial showing him around. They were in the main building where the lectures took place. It was as plain as the dormitory. The windows were wide, though, the corridors light. Lakarde figured that these large windows must be quite a pain in the winter. It was drafty.

 

“I think that's about it,” Rial said as they were walking back. “Nothing much to see, just lots and lots of corridors.”

 

“Yeah, kind of really plain.”

 

The corridor erupted into the main oval hall with the stairs at the end of it that led upwards. There was a small platform in the middle of the stairs, then they branched into two sets and led further on to the first floor where they met again. There were about ten students of various ages moving along the corridor and on the stairs. Some of them showed interest in the newcomers, Lakarde receiving inquiring looks. Lakarde did not have his Academy uniform yet, so he was wearing the blue and gold uniform of the von Bielefelds.

 

The watchman was not here, and the boys were horsing about, some of them laughing and shouting, others just lounging about.

 

Lakarde and Rial approached the middle of the hall and Lakarde lifted his head to look at the enormous chandelier hanging from the ceiling. His roommate explained that the hall was used for events like celebrations or gatherings. Students would decorate the hall, bring chairs and benches and such.

 

“Watch out!”

 

Lakarde's head shot up to see a flash of uniform flying over the railing of the stairs, then something whipped past him and smashed into his roommate, knocking him off his feet. Startled, Lakarde rushed to his roommate who lay sprawled on the floor about four meters away from where he had been standing. There was an older boy on top of him. He was trying to standing up.

 

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, laughing. He finally climbed off Rial.

 

Rial grunted something. With Lakarde's help, he tried to stand up, but the collision had dizzied him and after swaying for a few seconds he had to squat down again.

 

The upperclassman laughed. Friendly, he clapped the squatting boy on his shoulder. He bounced back to the stairs. Lakarde stood up. He did not know how the boy managed to slide down the stairs as he did, and it did not really interest him. The thing that interested Lakarde was that the idiot was going to do it again.

 

The upperclassman stopped when something caught his sleeve. He turned around and did not manage so much as to blink before a fist whammed in his face.

 

He staggered and Lakarde hit him again. Now he was down on the floor and Lakarde was straddling him.

 

“What if he has a concussion, you asshole! And you're already going back to knock someone else out?!”

 

Lakarde stopped pummeling the upperclassman. Now he grabbed the boy by his lapels and was violently shaking him. He was just like a doll in the blond's grasp. The older boy was as much hurt as he was stunned that a newcomer had dared lay his hands on him. His friends were still dining, but the way no one else interfered and just watched, made him realize that the students around them felt that Lakarde was right.

 

Lakarde jerked the older boy one more time and finally let go of him. He stood up and turned back to his roommate.

 

“I think we should go see a healer,” he said, seeing how Rial was still wobbling. “There's one here, right?”

 

Rial nodded and, unsteady on his feet, with Lakarde supporting him around his waist, they turned back to where they came from.

 

XXXXX

 

“How are you feeling?” Lakarde asked Rial. He had come back to his room after he had finished his tests for today.

 

The healer had said that Rial needed rest, so Rial did. He looked content. “I'm fine,” he grinned. “Skipping classes always does me good. How did it go for you?”

 

“I think I did pretty well,” Lakarde nodded, starting to unbutton his jacket. “I still have two days of tests left.” He tossed the jacket onto the chair at the table. He kicked his boots off and dropped onto his bed. He crossed his arms behind his head. He was tired. Before coming here he had no idea he would have to take these tests so seriously.

 

After a while, Lakarde was waked up by the sound of the door opening. It had already become dark in the room and he could only discern a shadowy figure. He summoned his fire element.

 

A Mazoku with green hair looked at the ball of fire that had materialized in the middle of the room. It was not hostile and, ignoring it, he turned to stare at Lakarde.

 

“Who the hell are you?” the intruder demanded.

 

“Being the one sneaking into my room, you sure have nerve to…”

 

“He's my new roommate,” Rial said, cutting Lakarde off.

 

“What?” the green-haired Mazoku gave Rial a hurt look. “I nearly begged you to let me stay in your room and...”

 

“Lakarde von Bielefeld. Von Bielefeld,” Rial repeated matter-of-factly, getting irritated. “And why should I even think about letting you stay in my room?”

 

“You must be Kalara,” Lakarde said, suppressing a yawn. The green-haired Mazoku was a few years older than him. Very likely he was already the fourth-or even fifth-year. Lakarde did not remember ever seeing him before.

 

Kalara squinted at Lakarde to see him better. “Ah. His Highness,” he muttered. “You sure look like your father.” Relieved and forgetting all about Lakarde, he turned to look at Rial. “So you stood no chance against von Bielefelds.”

 

“Yeah, he came and returned half the money,” Rial nodded. “So much for the luxury.”

 

Lakarde rolled his eyes. After he had received the superintendent's bill for twice the sum of what an Esoteric Stone costs, it became clear to him why Rial used to have the comfort of living alone in a double room. Lakarde could not care less if his father learned he destroyed some stupid Esoteric Stone, but after giving some thought to it, decided to let it be. One could never know how things could turn out.

 

“I heard you were absent from your lessons,” Kalara said. “What happened?”

 

“Some idiot knocked me over,” Rial said. “I was told to rest which I did.”

 

“Feeling better?”

 

“Feeling just fine. No need to worry over me.”

 

Kalara sighed. “He's an asshole, Lakarde, isn't he? I'm dying to hear at least a word of thanks for visiting him, at least some sort of courtesy and all he does is just roll up like a hedgehog.”

 

“Don't even think of dragging me into this,” Lakarde said, turning on his other side, pulling a cover over his head. The thought that the two idiots deserved each other crossed his mind.

 

“Ha!” Rial snorted. “What thanks? Lakarde was the one to beat the crap out of the bastard! Where were you?”

 

Kalara snapped his fingers as if he had just understood something major. “Oh, so that's why you're sulking! I promise next time I'll be the one to protect you and for you to hide behind.”

 

Rial looked around for something heavy. He weighed a candlestick in his palm.

 

Kalara gave him a promising smile. “You know, I might just let you hit me with it. Just to see you plagued by remorse.”

 

“Lakarde, please, set him on fire.”

 

“You know, Rial said he quite liked you,” Lakarde said while grinning at the wall before him. The two reminded him of his father's close friend Kyota; just as these two, the man could never keep his idiotic smart-assed remarks to himself.

 

“Oh really?” Kalara chuckled.

 

“No, not really, but I think he does,” Lakarde said. “He seems quite at a loss for words when with you. Kind of disturbing.”

 

Kalara laughed. “Aww…”

 

XXXXX

 

Dimera was talking with one of is friends in the yard when he noticed a new face - to be more precise was almost blinded by a blond head that shone bright yellow among the snow. A short slim boy had just walked down the steps and entered the yard. He was carrying a shovel. With his chin, Dimera motioned at the blond.

 

“Who's that?”

 

Dimera's roommate squinted his eyes at the blond. Looking in the distance, Yemi covered them with his palm against the glistening snow. He shrugged then. “Don't know him. He must have been newly transferred here.”

 

Dimera noticed that he was not the only one interested - many pairs of eyes were following the blond's short journey across the yard and path to join the cleaning forces. Dimera turned back to his friend and also shrugged.

 

It was not common for the Academy to accept students in the middle of the term and the blond became the object of curiosity immediately. Despite that, Dimera was sure that the interest would dim pretty quickly, instead, it heightened and had even turned into something that gave of the feel of a mysterious delight. At first, Dimera wasn't sure what had caused it, not until a few days later when he saw the blond from a closer range in one of the dorm's corridors. The boy was obviously a Mazoku, seemed to be not much older than ten or eleven years, his body seeming even shorter and slighter from up close. It was the face that made him turn and stare at the blond's back after he had passed.

 

After seeing the face he was immediately able to tell who the blond was - Lakarde von Bielefeld. He had seen the boy's father a few times when their families were doing business together. Lakarde's looks were much more petit and didn't have that particular alluring taste to them yet, but were already similar to his father's, the deep and large emerald eyes shining with strange intensity. Lakarde's blond hair was wavier, and differently than his father's, parted at the left side to fall over his forehead.

 

Dimera was sure that not that many students knew who Lakarde was, and the ones who knew that, didn't spread it around so as not to dissipate everyone's interest in the cute little boy and see where it would lead. Picking on or pursuing the son of the King's wedded husband was a completely different thing than if it had been anyone else.

 

After that Dimera would catch the sight of the blond occasionally in one of the corridors or the yard. Only a few days later he got to know that Lakarde was still taking the tests that were needed to decide which year and group he would attend.

 

A few days later, just at the beginning of their everyday lessons, Dimera was stunned to see Lakarde following his tutor into his classroom.

 

“This is Lakarde von Bielefeld,” the tutor announced while the blond stood in front of the classroom and bowed. “He will be in this group from now on.”

 

“Nice to meet you all,” Lakarde said over the murmur that had started after the introduction.

 

The blond straightened and cast a look over the classroom. He followed the tutor's gesture towards the end of the classroom where a free seat was. Without uttering a word, Lakarde made his way through the row of tables and seated himself. He put his bag onto the table then looked at the books that lay on the tables around him. He found the same book in his bag and pulled it out.

 

The lesson was passing without much excitement, Lakarde spending most of the time gazing through the window while his newly acquired classmates were giving him curious looks. All of them were at least a couple of years older than Lakarde.

 

“Lakarde, are you listening?!”

 

The boy jolted in his seat. “Huh?” The incredibly green eyes concentrated on the tutor's face. Lakarde stood up. “Can you repeat the question?” he asked the tutor.

 

“I asked if you were listening, you…” the tutor gritted his teeth obviously wanting to add something but restraining himself.

 

Lakarde blinked at him. “No, I don't think I was,” he said honestly.

 

A few boys in the classroom giggled. Dimera gave Lakarde a searching look. The boy must be soft in the head - now he would get additional work.

 

“Concentrate!” the tutor snapped. “How do you think you are going to pass the tests? You are already younger by a good couple of years than your classmates!”

 

Lakarde said nothing to that.

 

Dimera had no idea why Lakarde was transferred to his group. The rest of the lesson Lakarde spent lazily staring at the map that was hanging over the board and didn't seem interested in what was taught at all. That was irritating the tutor and he gave the boy twice as much as homework than the others. Lakarde didn't say a word in protest.

 

Despite how the entire group seemed to be waiting for something refreshing from their younger member, the next few days were uneventful. Lakarde was a quiet kid, albeit too shy and dull. He rarely talked unless asked and didn't seem to be close to anyone.

 

After a few days Dimera noticed that Lakarde seemed to finally return from whatever dreamland he had gone to earlier. He began to at last get into things, his eyes becoming livelier. There was that time when one of the lessons had ended and Lakarde approached the History lecturer. Surprisingly, the two of them spent half an hour, which had been intended for a break, discussing the effectiveness of the Murians' strategy during the Eferian War. That was when Dimera realized that there was something wrong with how Lakarde came across and that there really must have been a good reason why Lakarde had been transferred into his group.

 

From that day forward Lakarde had finally woken up completely, his eyes following the History tutor from one place to another, the boy obviously being interested in what was said. He still seemed to be bored with Mathematics and languages but stopped zoning out.

 

Lakarde appeared to be an incredibly zealous student. Despite his dullness and work habits there was hardly anyone whom Lakarde irked or annoyed. There was that strange feel of absolute calmness that sometimes seemed to seep through that layer of timidity and silence.

 

Lakarde, unlike others Mazoku, lived on the ground-floor of the dormitory. He lived with a boy whom Dimera had seen many times and who gave an impression of a chatty and friendly character. Dimera figured that the two must find it quite difficult to live together.

 

XXXXX

 

The thing that Dimera enjoyed the most in the Academy was the baths. But that was only during warm seasons, because other times, his chattering teeth, blue body and gooseflesh would overcome the excitement of so many naked bodies in one place. The insanely spacious baths were on the ground floor where the students intermingled every morning and evening.

 

Lakarde seemed to have gotten used to the unanimously enacted order of the sixth and fifth years going first, then the fourth and third following and only then the second and the first having their turn. There always were some spoiled and overconfident newbies with influential parents and higher status than others who tried to overcome this. None had succeeded.

 

Lakarde didn't seem to think about anything like that, and while leaving the bathroom Dimera could see him waiting at the door with other first-year boys. He had expected Lakarde to try and use his recent transfer to the third-year classes as an excuse to get into the baths sooner than others, but it seemed that Lakarde was really a passive boy.

 

A similar order held forth in the canteen, the newcomers getting their food only after all of the older boys were served first. Lakarde was always slow and never hurried anywhere, and Dimera often saw Lakarde at nearly the very end of the queue. That would have been not so bad, but the thing was that each time after the break for the canteen Lakarde was always late for the following lesson. And he was always punished by getting more homework. At first Dimera felt sorry for the slow boy, but once, while lingering in the canteen, he noticed how after getting his food, Lakarde found a peaceful nook to sit down and, leisurely, started to eat. The siren calling the students to the next lesson howled, and Lakarde was calmly cutting his steak into peaces. Only then did Dimera realize that Lakarde didn't give two shits about being late. Dimera felt as if he had finally grabbed an end to the entangled ball called Lakarde. All he had to do now was to start pulling that thread.

 

Despite being hardly sociable, Lakarde was highly popular due to his good looks. After the blond had been at the Academy for a while, there appeared rumors about Lakarde becoming the main object of interest in the bathroom. Dimera could imagine that - the blond was really pretty. A few boys tried to approach Lakarde, one even attempted to court him, but the blond always pulled away or pretended not to be aware of them. Dimera noticed that those attempts were becoming more and more insistent and he wondered what the blond was going to do about them. Soon someone from the guys was going to lose his patience.

 

One of those early mornings in the baths, Dimera, already done with his bath, was waiting for his roommate to come out. Leaning on the next wall right to the door, he noticed Lakarde nearby. The blond-haired boy was standing in the corner, almost directly under the lamp and reading something.

 

“Hey, Lakarde,” Dimera greeted after walking over. “The sun is not even up and you're reading already…”

 

Lakarde raised his head to look up at the other boy. He nodded at Dimera to acknowledge him then lowered his head again.

 

Dimera thought that it was a great opportunity to get to know more about the boy. “Aren't you afraid of it getting wet?”

 

Lakarde raised his head again. “Huh? Wet what?”

 

Dimera tapped his fingers on the book in the younger boy's hands. “The book, Lakarde, the book,” he chuckled as Lakarde said nothing to that and continued reading. Gods, the boy was absentminded!

 

“It sure gets on your nerves, this waiting every morning, doesn't it?” Dimera asked.

 

Lakarde's head snapped up, his eyes flashing, making Dimera gawk at the sudden change in the usually passive face. Lakarde snorted at him. “No, it doesn't get on my nerves because I like sleeping in and I hate hot baths, so thank you very much, but everything's just wonderful!”

 

Dimera pursed his lips in distaste. “Hell, I was just trying to socialize,” he muttered after a minute to Lakarde who had started reading his book again. “You know, converse? Do you even know what it means?”

 

Lakarde's eyes were bright with emerald anger. “What you are doing now is not called “conversing”. It is called “pestering”.”

 

“Dimera, here! Let's go!”

 

Closing his mouth, Dimera turned around to see his roommate already leaving the baths and waving at him. Dimera gave another short look to Lakarde. “See you in the classroom, asshole,” he said before walking away.

 

“Yeah, be gone, idiot,” Lakarde waved him off absentmindedly.

 

They didn't really talk after that. They would still greet each other but that was it. Although, after catching Lakarde's straying gaze concentrate on him absentmindedly for a few seconds longer than usual, Dimera felt as if he had achieved something, because mostly, Lakarde ignored his other classmates. Dimera was waiting for an opportunity to talk to him again but was not sure what to say - it was obvious that Lakarde was not one to like pointless conversations.

 

XXXXX

 

Dimera was walking back to his room when he stopped suddenly. He slapped himself on the forehead. “Crap, I forgot my sponge.”

 

His roommate rolled his eyes. “Not waiting.”

 

Dimera snickered, smacking his roommate on the back of the head. “No one is asking you to.”

 

“Hey,” the boy protested while rubbing the place he had been hit. He chuckled at Dimera's quickly receding back.

 

Dimera crossed the corridor then turned to the left and found himself watching a very common scene. A circle of older boys had surrounded a first-year who was standing at the wall near the entrance to the baths. There had obviously been some accident between him and the older guys who had just left the baths. A few students were lingering at the walls and around, watching the commotion.

 

“You pushed me, runt!”

 

Terrified, the first year stared at the boy whom Dimera knew from seeing him around and whom he knew to be a fourth-year. Atreus was the name.

 

“I'm sorry, I… I stumbled and…”

 

The red-head pushed at the younger boy's chest, making him trip and hit the wall behind him. “Sure you did,” he snarled. He grabbed the first-year by the front of his shirt.

 

“C'mon, Atreus, let go of the boy. He is just clumsy.”

 

Dimera's step faltered in the middle. He stared at Lakarde who had pushed himself off the wall where he had been waiting for his turn for the bath and now was walking over to the fourth-years. The boy who was holding the first-year by his collar looked at Lakarde in surprise, then grinned.

 

“Oh, look, Lakarde's here.” He laughed. “The pretty princess has come to rescue an ogre!”

 

Dimera could see that the fourth-year's interest in the boy he was holding had disappeared completely. The fourth-year pushed his victim over to one of his pals to hold. He seemed to be excited about the opportunity that had presented itself. It was obvious that Lakarde and Atreus knew each other. It did not seem that they had been enemies, it rather looked as if Atreus was interested in Lakarde for absolutely different reason. Lakarde was going to get it.

 

Wide-eyed, Lakarde staggered back as the red-head's hand shot out to catch his chin. His head was raised up. He blinked at the taller boy.

 

“Do you like the runt?” the fourth-year asked. “It seems to me I'd be of much greater use…” he grinned at Lakarde, trailing his other hand down the blond's back and then squeezing a buttock in his palm.

 

Behind Lakarde, in the circle of the fourth-years, the first-year gasped and groaned as he was punched. He dropped to his knees while holding his stomach. And Lakarde was still staring at the fourth-year in front of him, openmouthed. Lakarde seemed to have gone into shock at the way he was being treated.

 

Dimera cursed softly in his head. He had no idea what he was going to do but his legs moved forward on their own. He was at least older than Lakarde and that other loser.

 

“Atreus,” Lakarde warned. “Get your fucking hand off my ass.”

 

Atreus grinned down at Lakarde's angry face. “The princess doesn't like something?” he patted the blond's backside lightly. “Eeeeeeeephhh!” Grabbing at his crotch and slumping to the ground the next second, the fourth-year rolled on the floor.

 

“Yeah, I have some serious objections,” Lakarde said while lowering his leg down to the floor.

 

In a blink of an eye it started. Dimera hardly managed to reach the blond as the fourth-year's friends, tripping over each other, launched themselves at Lakarde. One of them pushed Lakarde, making him stumble, but the next second the boy who had pushed Lakarde doubled over holding his stomach. The second one grabbed at his face, the blood from his nose spraying up as Lakarde's roommate joined in the fight. The blond's elbow flew into the third boy's stomach. Dimera managed to grab the last one before he reached Lakarde. But the hall soon turned into chaos, more of older boys joining and then the younger ones and some Lakarde's classmates coming to help him, Rial and Dimera. A few seconds later Kalara appeared in the doorway, observed the knockabout and decided that he was on Rial's side, whichever side it was.

 

“Lakarde!”

 

Dimera had no idea who had screamed Lakarde's name but was just in time to see Atreus summon his fire element. The lion sprang right at Lakarde and a few boys he was grappling with.

 

It seemed that everybody in the hall had stopped breathing and time stilled. In complete silence, the lion was making its way towards the terrified boys. The silence was broken by the bathroom door bursting open and a water-dragon slamming into the lion. There was an earsplitting fizzle and the lion disappeared in a cloud of vapor.

 

Drenched, the boys turned to the fourth-year whose lion had disappeared. Despite the water-dragon looming threateningly near him, the boy seemed to be trying to summon something again. Then their attention went to Lakarde as the floor near him started sizzling. One after another, fire-lions started appearing around him. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. The animals' ears pricked as Lakarde raised his hand.

 

“What's going on here?!”

 

All boys' heads turned to the Mathematics lecturer at once. The boys straightened immediately. The lecturer's eyes skimmed over hunching and shivering figures, drenched shirts and trousers sticking to them. It seemed that it was over already, whatever had happened. The huge dragon-form looming over one of the lone boys in the hall confirmed that.

 

“Whose dragon is this?” the tutor asked the fourth-year, pointing at the dragon at his side.

 

“Mine,” Lakarde muttered, flicking his wrist lightly, dispersing it.

 

The tutor turned to the short boy whom he recognized as von Bielefeld. He stared at Lakarde. As far as he knew the boy wielded fire. But as everyone else was silent there was no need to doubt the boy's words. The tutor turned away to glare at the rest of the students.

 

“And the lions?”

 

Feverishly, Lakarde chewed on his lower lip. “Also mine.” He waved his hand to disperse them.

 

Stunned, the tutor stared at him. The short boy didn't raise his head to look at him. He felt the urge to grab a handful of that blond hair and force the boy to look at him, but after having seen the demonstrated power of von Bielefelds, the thought was squashed as soon as it appeared; no good would come from provoking the kid.

 

“Everybody, into the training hall!” the tutor yelled. “You,” he pointed at a random boy, “get me the superintendent!”

 

Clothes and hair dripping, waterlogged shoes squeaking, the crowd of boys followed the tutor docilely. It had been over before the tutor had shown up. After the fourth-year had summoned a fire-lion, the deadly danger had made all of them regain their presence of mind. All of them had been ready to gang up on the fourth-year for trying to summon something again, but Lakarde was the first one to put an end to it while demonstrating an obvious power difference.

 

The scolding lasted more than an hour. Lakarde and Atreus were put in front of the hall. The fourth-year had already started crying while being led in front of the crowded students. Lakarde stood with his head lowered, but it didn't seem that he was worried, he just stood there silently while exploring his, the tutor's and the superintendent's boots.

 

The only change visible in the blond's stance was the jolt when the tutor said that they would inform the parents about what had happened. Only then did he seem to finally get worried.

 

When the grown-ups had finally grown tired of the entire ordeal, the boys were punished by leaving them to stand in those drenched clothes until the evening.

 

When the sun had finally started setting, they were allowed to go back to their rooms. Dimera left the hall and stood farther from the door while waiting for Lakarde to come out. The mass of the boys passed him, but Lakarde was nowhere to be seen. Finally, Dimera went back into the hall. Lakarde just stood there at the door with his head lowered and staring at his boots, oblivious to anything around him. Then Dimera saw Lakarde slide down the wall and rub his face furiously.

 

“Father's going to kill me…” Lakarde groaned softly.

 

Dimera didn't know if he should approach the other boy. But his question was answered when Lakarde froze then moved his hands from his face and lifted his head to look at him. His gaze was blank.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

After the question, Lakarde's gaze shifted from blank to somewhat amused. “Do I look okay to you?”

 

Dimera approached the blond then sat down next to him. “Is your father really that strict? It wasn't even your fault.” Lakarde lowered his hands to his sides to rest his palms on the floor. His head reclined with a thump on the wall. “What will he do?”

 

The blond rolled his head to the side to look at him. “Probably nothing.”

 

Confused, Dimera blinked at Lakarde's bitterly smiling face. It was probably the first time he saw the other boy smiling. But it wasn't the real thing yet.

 

“I promised him I wouldn't cause any trouble.”

 

“Hmm…” Dimera drawled. “Sooo… It doesn't include any beating or anything?” By the way Lakarde stared at him with his green eyes wide, it was obvious that the blond hadn't even thought of that; he had missed it by a great range.

 

“No…” Lakarde rolled his head from one side to another to deny it. “I just didn't want to… Well, didn't want to…”

 

“…Disappoint him?”

 

Lakarde nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Well, I don't think it will happen. And even if it does, you can't change anything, right?”

 

Lakarde shrugged. “True.” He gave a long tortured sigh and got up slowly. “But it still sucks.”

 

Just before he intended to leave the hall, with a sudden shock, Lakarde realized that he had spoken to a stranger about his family and his relationship to his father. That shouldn't have happened. Unsure, he stood there next to the still sitting Dimera for a few seconds. “Forget it,” he said suddenly. “Thanks for helping me out.”

 

“Anytime,” Dimera said to the blond's retreating back.

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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