Throne of Lies ▸

⚔️𝔈𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫⚔️

"You should change your shirt," Linhardt insisted as they walked out of the dining hall together. He had been reeling the entire time from the sight of blood, that he didn't have the chance to properly enjoy his meal, quite to his chagrin. His concern for Caspar's well being was paramount in comparison however, and it showed clearly in his taut features. It was like his hotheaded friend to charge head first into a fight, completely unprepared but fueled with fire.

Caspar had been heading in the direction of their classroom, a whole lot going through his mind. He paused, Linhardt's words penetrating his conscious. "Oh, right," he murmured, moving his step in line with Linhardt's, gravitating toward the stairs instead. They walked the rest of the way in silence, the air clinging heavily around them.

It was like a hot and humid summer day, unbearably warm and too thick to comfortably breathe in. The only difference was there was no summer. No heat and no humidity. Just a dreaded feeling of impending chaos. Like fog rolling in around them, squeezing their visibility to only a few inches in front of them. Like the gargantuan empty pit in your stomach before the drop. Ever looming. Grabbing you by the ankle and dragging you through the hot coals.

Caspar wanted to comment on it, but he had no real inclination to make light of it. There was no doubt in his mind that the turbulence sprang from the inevitable class with Professor Cassandra that they were due to attend that day. He remembered how she declared they were going to be sparring for their next class, presumably so she could accurately gauge their skill and techniques. To be able to guide them through the mock battle and claim the victory.

Winning the mock battle every year was like a right of passage. The house leader with the win was held in high esteem, followed by their classmates. It was a monumental celebration to mark the beginning of the new school year, preceded by the Grand Ball. It was all well and practical to Caspar for succeeding, but it weighed heavily on his mind for one reason.

He felt that this was an opportunity for her to cook up a ploy to bait him. There was just a feeling of animosity that radiated off of her in toxic waves, and if he could only put his finger on what...

"You're awfully quiet, Caspar. Are you okay?"

Caspar yelped, his shoulders jarring as if he'd been smacked.

"I apologize. I didn't intend to frighten you," Linhardt couldn't keep the smile out of his voice.

"Ah, it's okay," Caspar said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head as they ascended the stairs and turned the corner. "I was just thinking."

"Thinking? That's a dangerous past time." The new voice startled the both of them and they spun on their heel. Alexys' smile beamed at them radiantly. Caspar noticed that she had ditched the cloak, and realized that it made her appear far bulkier than she actually was. Her frame, although tuned with fine whipcord muscles, was small. His eyes fixated on the double scabbard on her hip and he noticed a longer weapon preceded by a smaller. One that was presumably for throwing.

"Good morning, professor," Linhardt said with a yawn, then stretched.

"What are those at your hip -," Caspar asked, pointing to the double scabbard. Then his eyebrows pinched together, his eyes fiery. "Hey, were you following me again?!"

"Again?" Linhardt asked, turning his gaze from Caspar to Alexys.

"I can see how you would think that," she said, her voice so soft that Caspar immediately felt his tensed shoulders drop. "But I was just on my way to see Lady Rhea. She requested to fill me in on some details of the upcoming mock battle. I heard it's something of great importance around here." Her eyes glittered with wonder as she looked the smaller boy over.