He really didn't want to attend the Prydonian Academy. If anything, he was a scientist, an artist, certainly not a politician, but as usual, nobody considered giving him a choice. Quences, his house's Kithriarch, had requested that he could attend the Prydonian Academy and become a Time Lord, without consulting him. Apparently, the Matricians had predicted that he would become the most influential Time Lord since Rassilon, which Quences had regarded as a most important prophecy. You are going to be someone important, someone grandiose, and you cannot fail us by refusing your destiny. You are going to give the Lungbarrow House its glory back.
As if. He didn't want to be someone important, he didn't want to give the House its glory back. That was his elder brother's job – but nobody cared about Irving these days. Nobody cared about the fact that he ranked so high in the Academy that the governement had contacted him to make him an unofficial ambassador of Gallifrey and send him away in the universe, nobody except for him. Because having an older brother away in the galaxy meant that he could never do the same.
He wanted to be an explorer. That was his dream – the only thing he ever wanted to do. Of course, the galaxy and the universe had already been explored long before he was born, everything had been seen and mapped a long time ago, but he still wanted to see it all for himself. Being a politician didn't seem to go along very well with this plan. He couldn't picture himself sitting in a chair giving stupid advice and ordering people to do things forever, that would probably kill him sooner or later. He needed fresh air, he needed to run and to jump and to call out at the sky, preferably not alone.
He was mumbling for himself as he climbed the mountain, looking for the Hermit that inhabited it. Everything around him was only dull-coloured rocks and weeds, nothing interesting, nothing beautiful. Gallifrey looked so awful at that time of the year, so grim and boring – why was he still around ? Why was he staying around this dreadful planet that had nothing to offer him ? He could simply run away with Braxiatel and conveniently disappear in some place he would like. But no, of course not, he was watched all the time, he couldn't make any single decision for himself and his life wasn't his own anymore, if it had ever been. In a few days, he was supposed to enter the Academy, to go to this stupid school with these stupid uniforms and these stupid teachers, to score as high as possible to become the most influential Time Lord since Rassilon.
That didn't sound like a good plan.
The Hermit lived in some kind of tent overlooking his father's estate. Just like everywhere else on the mountain, his land was nothing but rocks and weeds, nothing coloured nor bright, nothing that caught the eye, and the Hermit himself was rather dull. He was an old man with a white beard and the eyes of a very myopic creature, pleated to try and discern the details of what was surrounding him. His voice was high-pitched and toneless as he asked who was coming to him.
« So you're the boy from the Lungbarrow family... the one they're sending to the Prydonian Academy to get a political education ? I can't see anything of a politician in you. »
Me neither.
« I came to get some answers, » he said, gathering the courage to stand tall in front of the Hermit. « I don't know where my life is going. I don't want to go to the Prydonian Academy, I don't want to be a politician, I want to be an explorer. But I'll never be one, right ? My brother is already gone in the universe, they'll never let me do the same. And what if I have to stay here ? I don't want to. I hate this place. I hate this planet, I hate everyone on it. Well, not everyone, there's my friend from the Oakdown estate, but I hate everyone else. They're shallow and petty and they hate me back. Torvic and Anzor, for example, they keep on bullying me. They hit me all the time and they say I'm worth nothing. They're both heading to the Prydonian Academy too, they're going to bully me there, I'll never be at peace. Here I can retreat in my home but I won't be able to do the same in the Academy, because we'll have dorms and they'll be able to enter the dorms. »
As his speech went on, his voice filled up with tears and he found himself almost sobbing at the end, unable to gaze at the Hermit in the eyes. The old man didn't seem really interested in what he had to say, he kept on drawing circles in the sand with a stick, as if he was just bored by everything around him. When he seemed to be certain that the boy had finished his speech, he got up and showed the boy a flower. It was nothing much, just a flower with red petals and a silver core, spreading its leaf desperately towards the sun, but when the child looked at it a second time, he understood.
The flower itself was nothing much but what made it appear in this very place – the subtle combination of water, sun, earth, winds – was the most beautiful thing in existence. But the flower itself, despite all these perfect conditions, would not have been as splendid without the seed it came from.
It was a bit blurry in his head, he was a little too young to grasp the whole concept of it, but still the sight of this simple flower cheered him up. He wasn't too sure how he was supposed to thank the Hermit but the old man had gone back to drawing figures in the sand, mumbling for himself in a language that had disappeared ages ago, so the boy decided it was better to simply go without a word.
And on the way, everything looked bright and pure, renewed in its beauty, and he felt better than he had in the last few years. Maybe the Academy would be a good thing, in the end.
