Throne of Lies ▸

⚔️𝔒𝔫𝔢⚔️

     Caspar rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, willing the sleepiness that held him down away. Voices filtered through the minute cracks in his doors and windows, seemingly followed by the uprising of the sun.

     He wriggled in his bed, the edge of the blanket catching on the corner of the mattress. Tucking the blankets underneath the mattress was the only way to keep the blankets on him overnight, since he was a habitual mover in his slumber.

     He was swaddled in tight, the warmth from his body keeping him from wanting to embrace the chilled morning. He blinked a few times, turning his head side to side. His dreams were dark and kept him on his toes, but they were fleeting. However the case, they still left an impression that had him feeling a certain way. The sensation that can only be described as being watched from an inconspicuous origin.

     The hairs on his muscular arms stood on end, his heart racing slightly faster. His teal blue gaze swiveled around the moderately sized room without so much as moving his head. He narrowed his eyes and studied everything closely.

     Books strewn all across his desk, the blinds on the windows being slightly askew, his gear and favored axe leaning against the door entry, dress clothes in the center of the room fallen in the fashion in which he'd stripped from them... nothing insanely out of the ordinary.

     Caspar gave a groan, and an eye roll followed. The only way to satiate this unwarranted paranoia was training. Wielding his axe in circles above his head before dropping it in an obliterating arc upon his target's head with a guttural echoing cry was just the medicine he needed.

     But first... breakfast! His stomach growled at the thought and he grinned, throwing the blanket off of him and skipping over to his pile of clothes. He was a 16 year old growing boy who needed more sustenance than the average teen. As he slipped into his trousers, he noticed that by a very small margin, his pant legs were coming up a little short. Extremely small margin, but progress nonetheless.

     "Yeeeeeeeeahhhh!" He shouted victoriously, clenching his fists.

     "Caspar!" A voice admonished from the room aside him. Or was it in front of him?

     His face scrunched with irritation and he crossed his arms. "What? A guy can't be happy about growing a centimeter?" He raised his eyebrows at the implication and quickly shook his head, darting for the door. He pushed it open and was met with a brilliant golden sun ray, illuminating his features.

     He was a handsome young lad, his short teal hair tousled and matching his particularly groomed eyebrows. The sleeves of his undershirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing arms keen to lots of training.

     Slender as he was and falling short on the height chart compared to a lot of the other students, he still packed some muscle.

     A grin plastered his face once again as he made a run for his best friend's dorm, rushing past students. They had been friends since they were six years old, and he was the first person Caspar thought about when he woke up.

     Stopping at his door, he began rapping feverishly on the wood while singing, "Linhardt, oh Linhardt!"

     Students stopped in their tracks to watch the spectacle, a group of girls shaking their heads and hiding their smiles behind their hands.

     Caspar didn't expect an answer right away, so he gave it a rest which only lasted about a second before he was at it again. "Come on, those hot cakes aren't going to eat themselves! I'm starving!"

     "You could just go by yourself," a brooding voice answered. It wasn't from inside the room, and Caspar turned to see it was Hubert who had spoken. "Instead, you're causing a kerfuffle and disturbing the populace. Once again."