Inchoate Blood (CRUX I)

11. make a decision

{Chapter 11}

The impatient tapping of his pen takes a signal for me to enter the office. The institution is an old building, the wooden floor boards creaking and the layered brick walls rough with cratered holes and peeling yellow paint. Even so, it never ceases me wondering just how imperious the chancellors' offices must be for them to be the sole renovation in the whole building.

As I make my way into vice chancellor Arvind's office, the mahogany lined sideboards gleam at me with polish so shiny I can see my reflection in them. Thick Persian rugs lay on the floorboards under a large traditional writing desk, probably worth thousands of dollars for its heritage. Above it all, on the ceiling, hangs a great chained chandelier satisfying the room with a warm, glowing light.

"Cruz," Arvind calls my name, tilting his head as if overweighed with too many concerns. "Do you have any idea why I called you to my office this afternoon?"

I reply blankly with all honesty. "Not a single idea, sir"

He holds a stare with his forest green eyes, as if awaiting a decent answer out of me. After a little moment, Arvind takes a breath and just exhales. Strangely, he looks a hell lot more stressed than normal, not that I care about his mood half the time.

"Don't call me 'sir', Arvind is fine as always. Go take a seat, please," he gestures at one of the couches, placed like antiques around a small decorated table.

"Let's get to the point," says Arvind, "there's something I need to ask of you. You and your partner."

I nod respectfully, a little surprised at what he was bringing up. Thought he was just going to scold me nonstop for the half an hour or so, what a pleasant surprise I was wrong.

"I've looked through your documents, Cruz, both your previous and recent ones, and I have to say," Arvind halts with his wording, "there isn't another alchemist out there like you. Skill-wise I mean."

So now a compliment from the vice-chancellor? Was I dreaming? But I try hard not to scoff. "Your son was always better than me by at least ten years. Why would you suddenly bring up my skill?"

Arvind picks up a paper with my profile printed on it, reading the commentary aloud. "Prodigy of the R.O.I., Mayson Cruz. Graduated less than three years ago, a natural combatant and an alchemist who looked into everything out of bounds. You were famous, Cruz, and not only as the partner of my deceased son."

Something inside me is denying how familiar those eyes look. Forrest green like the uninhabited nature, wise with just a small hint of wildness. Jett had eyes like that too. I wonder, if he could live to his thirties and forties, would he grow a stubble as messy as Arvind's?

"It's a shame but I'm not his partner anymore." I say matter-of-factly, successfully hiding all emotion from my voice. If there's anything I'm good at, it's deceiving people with what I want them to think. That I don't care about the incident anymore. That it doesn't matter to me. That I'm perfectly fine to move on with my everyday life like nothing has ever happened. I want them to think I'm strong.

For a minute, his eyes try to study me. "Eire is your partner now, I understand. And it seems like your main purpose here at the Regime Institute is to gain full qualification for her. Am I correct?"

"Yes, you seem to know my intentions well."

He rubs a hand to his messily stubbled chin. "Have you been hiding it from her?"

I don't reply but Arvind turns to continue searching for something on his computer. Finally finding Eire's records, he turns the monitor around for me to see. "Looking from her reports, anyone can tell she's quite a talented student. However," he scrolls down a few, "she lacks in experience I'm afraid."