Matt l ttaM
Junior Member
Nathaniel was back home. He sat at the table he always had, some finely crafted desk engraved with his family crest into various locations on the table. A large bound journal rested before him open, his own scrawl covering the page, with a glass inkwell and what appeared to be an eagle-feather quill not far from the book. Nathaniel looked around for a moment, his thoughts jumbled. What had he been doing? The last thought on his mind was of some strange beast...and other students...yet something didn't seem right. Was it a dream? He looked around the room he stood in. Looking around the room, he saw his home within the city of Almaradamri. An old acquaintance of his stood before him, the middle between Nathaniel and an old, worn chalkboard. Runes and diagrams covered the dark slate, ancient lore and archaeological history seemed to be shown in stacks at the base of this board and the old man who stood betwixt them all. His private tutor and friend of his late parents was in the middle of yet another of his long-winded speeches. If he wasn't practicing at the academy, the Sorcera al`Miransar, he was here in this study, listening to this old man drone. Some didn't feel quite right, however...he must have nodded off and had a strange dream.
He was still thinking to himself when he heard something slam. He jumped in shock. Looking up, a large book had been set on the table, but he was still surprised. The sound that originated didn't sound like a book meeting the table. No, it almost sounded like...Nathaniel shook himself again as he looked up at the old professor. The older gentleman sighed as he looked to the young noble, "Young Master Cryvere, if you're going to ignore everything I'm saying, you may as well skip this fight, hmm?" Nathaniel blinked. Had he heard that right? "I'm sorry, professor? I don't believe I heard you correctly..."
"I said, Master Cryvere, that if you are going to continue to ignore this lesson, you may as well skip today." The professor slowly closed Nathaniel's open note journal and gestured to the door, "Clearly there is something on your mind. Off with you. We'll pick up with the Great Silence tomorrow. Good day, Nathaniel." He turned back to the board, slowly beginning clear it off. Nathaniel was stunned. When was the last time he had gotten a moment to himself? He stood slowly, taking his notebook into his underarm before he looked to the teacher and looked to the door before looking back. He wasn't going to waste this chance. He left the room in earnest, heading for his bedroom. He passed many a room and person on his way, some of the servants watched him while others seemed to whisper. Traces of their conversations caught his ear:
"...so reckless..."
"...oolish know-it-all..."
"...orphan. Unwanted..."
"...responsible..."
He heard this and more as this seemingly endless walk to his room continued. He couldn't understand. Had he done something wrong? Forgotten something? What was he responsible for? It wasn't his choice to be an orphan. Do people really blame him for his parents' deaths? Was it his fault? It couldn't be. Sure, he had been there, but he couldn't have done anything. That sandstorm blew in. There was nothing he could have done. His pace quickened as the comments began to grow in volume until it was as if they were yelling and he was running down the hall. He finally broke into his room, stumbling through the door. His chest ached and his breath caught. Slowly, he found it getting harder and harder to breathe. His vision began to shift. Like he was going crazy. His room began to flood, water filling in through every entry. He tried to swim to the surface as the water started to rise above his head, but his limbs were heavy and his body sore. Light glimmered at the surface as his bedroom seemed to drift away in a blink...
He opened his eyes again in shock. His head below water, he went to breathe and gasped from the lack of air. Slow and exhausted, he finally pulled himself to the surface of the pond. He coughed and spluttered as he tried to get his bearings. What had happened? He looked up at the scene. Everyone had gathered around the body of the strange demon they had fought. Thank goodness at least everyone else is okay, unlike myself...what a worthless attempt...He stood slowly, his hand reaching over to his fallen blade. Using it as a crutch, he stood, his body trying vigorously to replace the air he'd lost to the water.
He was still thinking to himself when he heard something slam. He jumped in shock. Looking up, a large book had been set on the table, but he was still surprised. The sound that originated didn't sound like a book meeting the table. No, it almost sounded like...Nathaniel shook himself again as he looked up at the old professor. The older gentleman sighed as he looked to the young noble, "Young Master Cryvere, if you're going to ignore everything I'm saying, you may as well skip this fight, hmm?" Nathaniel blinked. Had he heard that right? "I'm sorry, professor? I don't believe I heard you correctly..."
"I said, Master Cryvere, that if you are going to continue to ignore this lesson, you may as well skip today." The professor slowly closed Nathaniel's open note journal and gestured to the door, "Clearly there is something on your mind. Off with you. We'll pick up with the Great Silence tomorrow. Good day, Nathaniel." He turned back to the board, slowly beginning clear it off. Nathaniel was stunned. When was the last time he had gotten a moment to himself? He stood slowly, taking his notebook into his underarm before he looked to the teacher and looked to the door before looking back. He wasn't going to waste this chance. He left the room in earnest, heading for his bedroom. He passed many a room and person on his way, some of the servants watched him while others seemed to whisper. Traces of their conversations caught his ear:
"...so reckless..."
"...oolish know-it-all..."
"...orphan. Unwanted..."
"...responsible..."
He heard this and more as this seemingly endless walk to his room continued. He couldn't understand. Had he done something wrong? Forgotten something? What was he responsible for? It wasn't his choice to be an orphan. Do people really blame him for his parents' deaths? Was it his fault? It couldn't be. Sure, he had been there, but he couldn't have done anything. That sandstorm blew in. There was nothing he could have done. His pace quickened as the comments began to grow in volume until it was as if they were yelling and he was running down the hall. He finally broke into his room, stumbling through the door. His chest ached and his breath caught. Slowly, he found it getting harder and harder to breathe. His vision began to shift. Like he was going crazy. His room began to flood, water filling in through every entry. He tried to swim to the surface as the water started to rise above his head, but his limbs were heavy and his body sore. Light glimmered at the surface as his bedroom seemed to drift away in a blink...
He opened his eyes again in shock. His head below water, he went to breathe and gasped from the lack of air. Slow and exhausted, he finally pulled himself to the surface of the pond. He coughed and spluttered as he tried to get his bearings. What had happened? He looked up at the scene. Everyone had gathered around the body of the strange demon they had fought. Thank goodness at least everyone else is okay, unlike myself...what a worthless attempt...He stood slowly, his hand reaching over to his fallen blade. Using it as a crutch, he stood, his body trying vigorously to replace the air he'd lost to the water.
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