Chapter 3
As I hurriedly go inside the Academy, I pass through a couple of security checks like registering the weapons brought, going through a metal detector and such.
And so, my first day in the “Academy of the Guardians” starts.
Frankly, I don’t like the name. I don’t know why, but the word “Guardians” seem to worry me.
What, or who do we need to guard?
I didn’t even choose this school.
I was given a list of schools I can register in roughly two months ago.
A couple of days after my “crowning” as the seventh Scourge, in a temporary safe house, my Orientation Officer brought the list to me.
I remember scanning my eyes through the long list, sitting at a swing by the yard.
They have fancy names for their institutions. Take “School of the Masters of War” and “Dragon Magecraft Institution” as examples.
They are boasting of their prowess in educating future warriors/officials for the protectorate using mere names of their schools.
I was just about to choose the school that seems to be a humble one (“Academy of War”) when an ornately liveried messenger approached me with a formal looking letter, looking all the more important with him giving it with a sharp attitude and greeting.
“The Protector personally chose the school you would be registered in” He says, handing the parchment envelope.
I just stood there, annoyed, one of my eyebrows raised in question.
The female officer, who is my supposed “Orientation officer”, nudged me hard at the ribs.
“What?” I whispered, annoyed.
“Respond! It’s a must for officials to do so!” She said, as if it was obvious.
“But what will I say? I don’t have a clue with this kind of thing.” I said.
“Anything that basically means ‘Thank you’, stupid.”
“Add a touch of flattery for the Protector too.” She adds as an afterthought.
“Okaaaaaaay.” I turn to the exaggeratedly uniformed man.
“I thank the Protector for doing such a menial task. Does he still have his marbles? He does these things that violate my freedom to choose. You really have a great tyrant.”
Maybe I was just too fed up with everything that day.
No, rather, after that fateful day. The nightmare that is the only clue to my identity.
I gave a really nice comment though. Straight from my mind, without further refining. I just hate it that someone else decided what I was just pondering about what to choose. And to add, I just said nonsense.
The Officer that advised me, as well as the messenger himself, was shocked.
Well, it can’t be helped.
I was just fresh from the killzone and they want me to thank the apparent mastermind that led all of us to our certain deaths? Forget it.
“YOU INSOLENT—!” the messenger finally gets the words out of his mouth.
He inched his hand towards the hilt of his sword.
The Officer stopped him.
“He is just adjusting to these kinds of things. Besides, he’s a Scourge now.”
