Grendilton: Rise of the Shadows

2 | The Heslington.

Gold banners hung from the stony walls of the lecture hall, dancing in the subtle wind that circulated the room. Each one of them harboured a beautifully stitched sun icon with a silver arrow shooting through the middle. Order and peace, were the words that were embroidered at the bottom of the material. These words were the common goal all students at Grendilton had, and all made sure to live by the code of the citadel of magics.

Bestowed onto Amberguarde after the first shadow wars, the citadel of magics was a government that led with tranquility and wholeheartedness, only ever turning towards hostility in dire situations. It was always led by a paladin and granted the title overseer in a coronation of jubilation. The role was always given to someone who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty, and it was always someone that led with such an iron heart that their enemies fled by the mere whisper of their name.

For many years, such a title was only given to a Heslington. No other family could lead an armada so gracefully that even the very murmur of the prestigious surname could make even the toughest dragoon soil themselves under pressure.

Connor Heslington, descendant of the great Balthazar and younger brother to the even greater Michael was determined to follow in their footsteps. He was to learn how to command, fight whoever ruins the Citadel and what it has always stood for. However, he couldn't  help but wonder whether or not he could do it like his ancestor before him — thinking perhaps, there is another way.

He looked at his watch, becoming impatient and restless from the lack of students present in the lecture hall. Connor brushed his fingers through his unkempt curly hair, blowing at the one curl that could never stay off his forehead. His legs became fidgety, a small twitch in his lip began to irritate him and he couldn't help but let out a large lingering groan.

"Am I too early?" he asked, furrowing his brow ever so slightly. He then lowered his gaze down to his wrist, pulling up the sleeves of his crispy white shirt up to his elbow. He peered at the time and frowned.

It was nine thirty. He was extremely early.

He shrugged. "The early bird catches the worm," he whispered to himself, pursing his lips as he tilted his back into the seat he was situated in. The words he said out loud caused him to roll his eyes. They were words that his older brother told him constantly, remembering how he would be shunned by the man time and time again.

'Those who arrive early get given the perfect opportunity,'

He remembered clearly the way Michael would say that, even if he had arrived at one of his lessons twenty seconds late. It was always accompanied by a deep set frown and disapproving tap of his finger against his arm. It was one of the more subtle things Connor liked about his brother, attempting to forget the other things people tended to say about him, such as the fact that he is a ticking time bomb.

Or worse — a tyrant.

He sighed, looking up at the fiery roof above him. A breeze whisked against his freckle covered cheeks, watching the peachy light streak across his tawny colour skin along his wrist. He examined his reflection from the giant chandelier above him, looking at his dark brown eyes, listening to the dragon fire roar echo in the room.

Silence was thick, but only for a mere second. Footsteps resonated before him and the murmurs and bellows of oncoming students making their way in began to resonate. Some spoke about the events that were to happen within their four years of being at the institute, such as parties and social events. While others spoke about how they were to become the next Overseer — to overthrow his own brother and to leave him with nothing but memories.