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ลำดับตอนที่ #5 : Chapter 4: New Term, Old Classes (วิชาเก่าในภาคเรียนใหม่)
CHAPTER FOUR: NEW TERM, OLD CLASSES
“...The rich, fertile land to the east, Eden, consists of twenty-four nations in all, which are…”
A soft, rhythmic chorus of snores rose up in response to the lecture on geography by Prince Shamal Farowell of Baramos in such perfect harmony it might put even a royal choir to shame. The slow, monotonic drawl worked its magic as beautifully as a bedtime story, coupled with the warm late morning air, and his eyelids were unavoidably becoming heavier and heavier, especially when his fellow classmates—starting from Kil Fylmus the killer, Clow Armstrong the bishop, Deth Fire the warrior, all the way to Zorro Onewill the swordsman—had gone ahead and set an example for him.
Well, if the killer, the bishop, the warrior and the swordsman all had no qualms about flopping down for a snooze in a neat row, then why couldn’t the thief follow suit, too? His desire to remain cool in the presence of Noble Castle girls was ebbing away with every second that passed with more sleepiness overwhelming him. At long last, Felin succumbed; propping up his textbook, he entered a state of deep meditation, hoping to explore the geography of the twenty-four nations with his own eyes in his dream.
“As you can see, Baramos is bordered by Kanoval…”
Shamal’s voice sounded further away as Felin’s head dipped lower and lower, finally coming to rest on the parchment of the thick textbook in front, then he yielded himself entirely to the arms of slumber.
He’d never know how infuriating the sight was to a certain someone sitting in front of him: Angelina Romanov, the Witch of Witch, one of the only three girls in second-year Knight Fortress. Angelina’s cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment, as she obviously is not as thick-skinned as her male counterparts. The boys were acting every bit the ‘brave’ warrior they should be, and she felt like dragging them all back to their fortress.
What a disgrace!
Giggles and snickers blew in from time to time from her Noble Castle classmates. It was the first class of the year, which also happened to be the first class Knight Fortress sat with students from another dorm. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, fate just had to let their all-time nemesis Noble Castle see them at their worst.
And to think that these knuckleheads could still sleep soundly even with the nobles laughing their heads off all around them.
The Lecturer Prince was teaching at the front of the room, and the students in the back all decided they would take a freaking nap. Though the professor wasn’t saying a thing, she definitely would not have it.
And there’s the ringleader…
The unfortunate lad marked out as the main culprit could be none other than her arch-enemy, the idiot at the head of the row who had managed to achieve the sh*ttiest sleeping pose; resting his head on a textbook propped up conspicuously in front of him.
Did he seriously think that pathetic setup could fool anyone? This is going way too far.
“Any questions?”
Prince Shamal inquired in the last five minutes before the bell. Several hands shot up from the foremost row comprised wholly of Noble Castle scholars. Knight Fortress students, on the other hand, began packing up. Meanwhile, the sleeping folk continued sleeping regardless, patiently waiting for the bell to wake them.
Angie glanced at her nemesis, who had begun snoring softly, a sign he was entering deep sleep. The sight had her smiling savagely in annoyance. She flicked the staff she had secretly summoned to her hand, then chanted softly.
The thick textbook which had once served as support for Felin’s head began moving of its own accord, then a loud bonk echoed throughout the room.
“Sh*t!”
Felin swore under his breath as he kept his head flat on the tabletop, not daring to look up and meet anyone’s gaze, knowing full well every eye in the room was now upon him. His brain started whirring super fast for a way out. He pretended to rummage for something under his table, before sitting up with a loud and clear declaration.
“There you are!”
The slick liar held up a blob of eraser, before rubbing the blank notebook on his desk vigorously, paying no attention to the going-ons around him.
The ruse proved effective when the professor returned to his lecture, then a yawn sounded from beside him in perfect unison to the bell signaling the end of the period.
“Goddammit. Why are you always the only one who gets to sleep in peace?”
Kil couldn’t figure out how he could displease his best friend when he had just woken up seconds earlier. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at Felin’s irritated expression in confusion before talking back.
“You promised Kalo that you’ll take notes for him this period, didn’t you? What’s this got to do with me?”
“Notes?” Felin repeated in a shrill voice, eyes bulging in horror.
“Yes, notes.” Kil confirmed.
“Notes! Oh, sh*t! Notes! Oh, I’m screwed! I’m totally screwed! He’ll definitely kill me this time!” The troublemaker started working himself up to an incredibly loud lather.
“Stop bawling, you big baby. Just borrow someone else’s.” Kil pointed out. Felin snapped his fingers in glee at the priceless advice, gathered himself then glanced around the room. Then, he sprinted to the front, towards the star pupil and prettiest girl in Knight Fortress.
Princess Renon of Kanoval.
Surely nothing could happen, but somehow Kil’s heart began thundering fast, especially when the little rascal kept cocking his head towards him as he chatted with that princess, and they both giggled.
Kil couldn’t help dreading the sight. He knew full well this best friend of his was a master secret-seller.
He’d offered to sell even his own father without batting an eyelid. Who was to say he wouldn’t sell Kil’s secrets to that lovely princess as well?
First class: Sleep on your chair. Next class: Sleep on your feet.
Felin felt both weary and amused at the notion. For that first class with Prince Shamal—geography, history or whatever—he’d already braced himself for the inevitable and fatal dose of boredom which awaited. He had high hopes, however, that Intermediate Swordcraft I would be jam-packed with fun and action—but found himself in a class headed by an aged professor as elderly as Lemothy; Lawen Schmucher wasn’t their lecturer this year.
The new Swordcraft professor was a minute old man with white hair and beard, who hailed from Kanoval the land of warriors. He seemed sprightly alright, and intelligence glinted from the depths of his eyes. He might be suited for Magic Class, yes, but Swordcraft?
Felin heaved another covert sigh at the troubling thought, then opened his eyes and studied his fellow knights. Everyone is standing sword in hand, eyes closed, taking it seriously.
The question remained unanswered in Felin’s head, however. What exactly were they supposed to do?
The soft breeze blew by, bringing with it the fresh, sweet scent of spring flowers. Though it could cool the scorching heat from the blazing afternoon sun to an extent, it couldn’t soften the stiffness in his legs from standing rooted for almost an hour.
Remach West, The Great Warrior of Kanoval, who looked to be well past his retirement age, lay comfortably on his hammock, sucking on his pipe, while his pupils stood rigid holding their swords in front of wooden puppets.
“Today we will start off by testing your Mind Blade.” The prologue to his course sounded weird right off the bat. “Gather yourself. Concentrate. Use your mind to slice that wooden puppet in front of you in half.”
Yeah. Kill it with your mind. Could this get any weirder? Am I supposed to fall asleep and dream of slicing the puppet in two with my sword?
Either that old man was planning to slack off, or a mystery lurked behind this seemingly nonsensical lesson.
A moment later, a soft snore interrupted Felin’s thoughts from Clow Armstrong, the Bishop of Gildireg, and Felin could barely suppress his laughter. He surrendered a snicker, then gathered himself.
Well, Sleep-on-your-feet Training, here I come! Thief and Bishop, we’ll see who’s the better sleeper!
And with that last decision, Felin dedicated his attention to the cool, gentle spring breeze swirling by, as clouds rolled in to block out the blazing sunlight...
DING-DONG! DING-DONG! DING-DONG!
The class bell jolted Felin from his trance. He shook his head vigorously, dispelling the sleep from his senses. His sword, once held ready in an offensive pose, had tipped earthwards, keeping him from keeling over and smacking his face into the ground. It was embarrassing as well as hilarious, though Felin knew right from the start that he was not cut out to be a warrior.
What about the others?
The instant he looked around at his classmates, confusion struck him like a hammer blow to the head. Of course there were some lads who looked like they’d just woken up like Felin, but many others looked dead on their feet, slumping to the ground all drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. Some looked as if they’d just been through hell.
Felin rushed in to support his best friend beside him; Kil Fylmus, he who called himself a killer, whom Felin had never known to scare easily. That same Kil, however, was soaked through with sweat, shaking so hard he could barely stay on his feet.
What exactly was going on ? He was acting as if he were fighting a fierce war while Felin was daydreaming.
Felin glanced around at his friends once more, before turning to the swordcraft lecturer, who had sprung nimbly down from his hammock to the ground, nodding serenely at the scene unfolding before him.
“That’s all for today.”
That simple dismissal left the question hanging in his mind. Felin gazed at the aged warrior in a new light, his hand unwittingly moving up to caress the scar under his left eye.
Seems this is one extraordinary old croak. As for that Mind Blade...
A soft smile crept up on Felin’s lips.
Might be more fun than I’d thought.
Having concluded so, Felin turned back to his best friend, still sitting there taking calming breaths, then gave him a poke.
“The old man told you to practice sleeping on your feet. How the hell did you manage to get all sweaty sleeping?”
Kil looked up and met his gaze, then merely chuckled, but the torchbearer was undeterred.
“I bet you had a nightmare, huh? Ah, well. Only kids have nightmares, you know?”
The mystery of the Swordcraft class dominated the knights’ conversation from dinner until the evening meeting, and the main topic up for debate could be none other than the great retiree warrior of Kanoval, Professor Remach West himself.
“I reckon he might be a legendary warrior of Kanoval.”
The particular statement from Zorro Onewill the swordsman was challenged by one-eyed Creed Thunder, who instantly argued with a thoughtful expression.
“Ain’t that rushing to conclusions? You don’t have to be a legendary warrior to blabber some crap about that Mind Blade. All he got to do was talk! His sword’s not even out of its sheath yet.”
“But, if we consider seniority―” Cybil, the politest knight, spoke up.
“―croaking.” Jake finished for him. The pirate’s opinion sent Felin, who had remained a listener for so long, howling with agreeing laughter. Cybil coughed a little before countering.
“Better not underestimate the elderly, Jake. Pepper is hottest at its ripest, they say.”
“I’d say there’s something fishy behind this.” Felin finally joined in. His comment echoed the unspoken thoughts of many others, and everyone fell silent, brooding over the matter.
Angelina glanced over to her arch-nemesis, who seemed to be poring over the matter so deeply he inadvertently rubbed his scar out of habit. Felin was quite good-looking actually, when he wasn't trying to drive people up the wall. And now, the serious, pondering expression on his features made him look queerly feminine. Especially when his hair had grown out to caress his shoulders, though he’d tied it back carelessly with a length of old, tattered black string.
Angelina couldn’t help being reminded of the pretty young woman she had met last year, back when the lad suffered from a curse which reduced him to half-boy, half-girl and part-dog.
So how did he break the curse? Has it really been lifted? Entirely?
The unwitting curiosity embarrassed her, and Angelina quickly shook herself out of it, swiftly coming up with an opposing comment.
“Oh, come on. You’re thinking too much. There’s nothing fishy about this.”
Felin froze, his brown eyes turning to her, but somehow Angelina did not dare meet his gaze.
“Perhaps. But there must still be a reason behind it, anyway. It’s curious why Edinburgh would recruit a legendary warrior to teach us swordcraft, right Felin?”
Cybil argued, turning to the one who raised the topic.
“Very curious, indeed.” Felin supported, sending his protester huffing irritably.
“Come on! The curious thing here is them hiring a doddering old croak to teach us swordcraft!” Creed shot back instantaneously. His outburst was received by a willful voice of support.
“True, true. That is even more curious.”
“Oi! Exactly whose side are you on?” Creed snapped, his patience fraying. Felin shrank away a little in alarm, before stretching back up, his expression grave.
“We’re one fortress, one people. Since when do we have sides?”
The troublemaker rebuffed maturely and rationally, and Angelina found herself admiring him for the first time. He seemed to have changed a lot this term.
“Besides, no matter how we look at it, it all points to the same conclusion.”
Felin paused, giving his listeners time to consider his words, before continuing solemnly.
“Dark times have befallen Edinburgh.”
His prediction sent his friends tensing up. One of them finally broke the heavy silence with a hoarse whisper.
“Will there be war?”
“Something worse than war;” Felin countered levelly. “Food Shortage.”
That was where all tension flew out the window, and Angelina’s magical baton flew straight at the troublemaker’s head, colliding with a loud WHAM, sending the thief who was concerned over impending food crisis screaming bloody murder.
“Oh for god’s sake! When will you stop messing with me, you nag?”
“I won’t stop until your brain shows some signs of development. Food!? Ha! Food! You tell me this instant what on earth swordcraft class has got to do with food shortage!”
The remaining members of the room roared with laughter. Felin bared his teeth, disgruntled, then began preaching his convoluted theory, covering Edinburgh’s economic recession to Lemothy’s cost-reduction scheme, and even touching on the livelihood of legendary swordsmen, much to the amusement of his fellow knights.
“Hmmm...Is this really about the Mind Blade...or is it actually Magic?”
Seeing the topic had gone far enough out sea, Prince Tudor of Witch steered it back with his new comment, pulling his friends back to shore.
“Think about it. All that Professor West did was take a nap. And, somehow, some of us here looked like they’ve run through hell itself, while some slept peacefully as if nothing had happened. I reckon it’s...a bit odd. And I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a warrior by this name before.”
“The lot of warriors Kanoval has. You can't have heard of all of them, can you?”
Zorro argued. From there, the heat of the debate rose higher and higher, and Felin was forced to slip away to the background, where Kil was sitting, muttering wearily.
“Ugh, they just don’t know when to leave it, do they?”
“Food shortage, huh.” Kil responded, moving the pawn in his hand to take that of Guz Toniya’s, one of their classmates who had challenged him to a game of chess to while away the time. Felin laughed at that.
“Come on, that’s just to give them a laugh.”
“So, what are you thinking, actually?”
“Nothing!” Felin answered simply. “Whether that old bloke is really just an old croakety-croak or a swordsman from some stupid legend, it’s not my business in the least. I’d rather spend my time thinking how to lift Knight Fortress above the poverty line. Can you believe that we even have to limit our meals now? I’m starving! Starving! You hear me!?”
Kil snickered at Felin’s wail which warrants a boot to the arse rather than pity. The gobbler has been whining since dinner after discovering that he can no longer ask for thirds like he did last year.
“Just put up with it if you still can. Think of all those people who have starved to death out there.” A calm, slow voice interrupted them from Guz Toniya, The Priest of Gildireg, a young man with silvery hair, blue eyes and an extremely reclusive personality befitting his profession.
Though airily spoken, those words carried enough weight to have Felin thinking. Felin stopped grumbling, abruptly switching topics.
“Hey Guz, what d’you make of ol’ Remach West?”
“What’ll you get out of asking me, Felin? If you’re really curious, why not ask Ro Zevares?”
Felin was taken aback by Guz’s simple, careless reply.
Of course, Ro Zevares! How could he have forgotten he still had that walking, talking mobile library tailing after him?
Felin gave a soft chuckle as he gazed at his strange friend.
Guz Toniya. He was still the same as ever. A lad of few words that all pack a hard punch. Silent and reserved he may be, he knew only too well who’s who in this fortress.
Whereas Ro...he kept insisting Felin was a stubborn sword in a sheath. Come to think of it, there was still a good number of folks in this Knight Fortress who will choose to hide their talent to the bitter end. But that day will surely come, when they must draw out their swords and clash with one another.
What fun that would be.
Felin’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt when the door to the meeting room swung open. Prince Kalo of Kanoval and Princess Mathilda of Amazon, the two leaders of the meeting, led the way inside, accompanied by Miss Ramsel and the two Generals, Prince Rowen and Thinos the Great Warrior.
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