The Castle Kingdom

Visitors III

The gates slowly open as a few foreign guards as of today begin to file near the unknown making their way inside. In the middle of the front courtyard was a water fountain, embedded climbing vines imprinted in the cracks and crevices of the cobblestone flooring. The carriage encircles the courtyard until it comes to a complete halt by the whip of the coachmen.

All boys press closer then immediately they all recognize the symbol of the hierarchy on the top of the grand carriage. The golden crown of what they had seen stamped on letters concerning them, on every book they had read about them, on every government decree from them, and the symbol of them they had grown habitually conditioned to recognize from the mere glance.

A memory of being in a warm lighted room overtook Albère's vision. There was a letter his mother had showed him and the glance at the seal sent him into this cloud of excitement. Her hair was like noodles glued around her pale skin from the rain, yet the expression of moist starry eyes exhibited across her features. At the ripe age of six, he was destined for great things, according to his mom. That symbol, was what represented the past pains of poverty and the resurrection of second chances. From the cold nights and the long hopeful stories his father would drag on about after long days in the fields it was of great joy and anticipation of what lay ahead for them as they read the first few lines of the acceptance letter from the academy. Prior to the overabundance of wealth he now grew accustomed, there was still that pain of the poverty still echoing within him. He never was able to wipe away the bitterness he held for some transgressions of the rich against his father and his family. Never.

They could not muster a phrase as they remain driven in their hypnotized curiosity at the probably beings or being in the carriage. There was one fact they knew for certain--whomever was inside, was linked to the royal family.
A presence of immediate unspoken desire flashed in such a quickened haste, it would have not been odd to decree their feelings as a sin.

The guards form two rows as creating a path for whomever was inside. A black figure nears the carriage from the shadows of the night.
All remain suspended in an eclipse of anticipation.

"I-I think it's them." Damien whispers in a cracked tone of voice. Without the refutation from Arun, the boys in accord began to run down the hallways in their final thrust of curiosity. Passing corridors and a few astonished overseers, "My word! No running!" However, the threats appeared nonexistent for a hinderance in the slightest for the possible ceremonial advent at hand.

The academy was comprised of many stairways, but the main area where they all connected was in the main wing
"Pardon me!" A girl says angrily when the herd of boys nearly push her down.
"Sorry!" The three say in unison as they do not cease in the slightest. They slide almost tripping at the bottom of the stairway into the main grand entry.

The tall slender arched doors are pushed open almost concurrently.
Albère's cheeks burn like an oven is being held ever too close, his pupils widen, his hands grow a cool wave of perspiration. He had no time to think about whether he was appropriate enough from an ordinary school day to possibly make acquaintance with anyone formidable. He, however, was naturally susceptible to anything which made him burn with curiosity.
Two tall serious guards walk in then they were followed by a few more. Their solemn eyes scatter at the young boys quickly as they mutter something foreign. It gave Albère that feeling of habitual inferiority he had known all his life.

Next, the head director Madame Orlova of the academy steps inside with her classic black dress and her raven black eyes followed by the unknown the boys were in anticipation to find. Rather than it be of whom they had hoped, they are met with disdainful beady blue eyes. In appearance, he is between his late thirties.
Albère unconsciously scowls at the sight of him.

Like most, he is a slender man with light brown hair parted in the middle with strands slightly framing his forehead on the sides of his temples. He has a shadow of a stubble reaching up to his thick sideburns, and his jaw has his bottom lip partially pushed out which gives him a look of someone who feels he is superior to anyone with whom he comes across. He has hollow cheeks which creates deep shadows on the sides of his mouth. He has a long dark auburn tailcoat, cream colored slim-breeches, paired with black boots, and he holds a long thin cane. Fixing his white gloves more securely, he scatters his eyes at the locality entirely.

There was a definite air about him like a snake slithering through. In his eyes, Albère could sense there was a disguise of masked propriety covering a false being. Detestment at first sight would most likely capitulate his deep feelings for the unknown man. However, he knew that one cannot judge too hastily when one has not been properly introduced; however, Albère was never one to adhere to all rules.

"Pray tell me whether there will be any deficiencies in their attendance of which I am unaware." He says with his eyes lowering towards the boys.

"I can assure you there will be no need for alleviation, Monsieur." Madame Orlova replies seriously.

"We will see to that." He says turning to her lifting a white gloved finger to her. They continue to exchange a few more sentences which only leave the boys regretting ever coming down entirely.

Claudiu turns back to the boys raising his brows as a signal to leave immediately. They all begin to march up the stairs as though they had suddenly realized how contrary their words were proved at their exaggerated pretense of having a phlegmatic disposition.
"I presume these are some students." The man says when the four begin to adjourn back. He raises his voice probably in wanting to be clearly heard and reacted

"Ah, yes." Madame Orlova says.
They all begin to file back to the end of the staircase obediently.
"Mhmmm." The man says as he deepens his stare, his wrinkled hand meets his chin as if awaiting approval from the children.
"Nice to make your acquaintance." The boys say. Albère merely mouths the words as he fixates his regard on the man's physiognomy. He concludes inwardly how ugly he found him to be.

"Now pray tell me, from where are they?" He says quickly turning to Madame Orlova then back at them.
"Romania, India, Ireland, and England.."
"Yes," He says. His voice trails off as though he were having a separate conversation with himself. "I do hope there will be no distraction for the girls." He finally says after a long pause. He furrows his untamed brows at Albère for an extended period of time.

Albère unconsciously knew right there and then that he hated him. The air this man had was potent and indeed unwelcoming. The man's proceeding stares at Albère when he would draw out words with negative connotations, he knew were not coincidental, gave him the undoubting knowledge that the feeling was mutual..

"Boys..." Madame Orlova begins concluding the greeting with a tone of high hope and high spiritedness, contrary to the man Albère found him to be, clasps her hands together saying, "This is Mr. Bridgeton. He works for the King as the disciplinarian and educational overseer of the royal family. We all will see much more of him."