Two

Alexei Boyarov
Present day – November

I could almost hear the crack before it connected. A few seconds too late I realized where my fist was heading and it connected with my combat partner's nose. He groaned loudly and backed up a few steps with a hand over his injured nose, a few red drops started to sip between his fingers and down on his grey training shirt. Those closest around us stopped in their fighting to watch the damage, but our trainer yelled at them to continue.

"I am sorry", I said. "Are you okay?" My combat partner groaned again, but nodded and gripped the bridge of his nose to make the bleeding stop. Our trainer, Guardian Bowden patted the boy's back.

"Go to the nurse and get that nose adjusted", he ordered and shot a glance at me. My combat partner hesitated for a moment, probably reluctant to leave training, but did as our instructor told him. Guardian Bowden eyed me.

"Good punch, but you know that we don't hit above the neck", he said stiffly.

"I know, Guardian Bowden. I miscalculated."

He eyed me again, nodding to my fist. "Is your wrist okay?"

I spread my fingers, knowing that the throbbing in my knuckles would soon pass. "It is fine." I had had worse injuries.

"Grab someone available", Guardian Bowden said and turned his back to me with a short nod. To take my earlier combat partner's place, another dhampir stepped in front of me. He was almost my height, but with a body a lot more muscular. The front and of his shirt was drenched in sweat and he had a half-healed bruise below his eye. A few wet drops from his perspiring hair dripped down his temples.

"I will try not to break your nose too", I tried to joke. However, I feared that I sounded too serious for him to understand that.

Luckily, he understood the joke and grinned. "I'll do the same."

An hour later, I left the novices' gym to shower before lunch. All my classes before lunch break were some sort of physical training, and I longed to step into the shower to wash away the sweat.

I opened the door to my room. It was smaller than what others had, but I did not have a roommate. Its only furniture was a bed and a small drawer apart from the door to the bathroom. I dropped my sweaty clothes on the bathroom floor before taking a step into the shower. The novice I had fought against after I broke the nose of the other had been a match. He had been good, giving me a few punches on my ribcage that I still felt and would probably feel tomorrow. He was one hell of a fighter.

I had been at St. Vladimir's Academy in America since school started in August. Earlier, I had been a pupil at St. Basil's Academy in Russia until I was offered to enrol in an exchange program over a year that would end with my graduation and final trails to be a guardian.

My father had been a guardian. He still was, but since I had never met him I usually thought of him as something no longer existing from my past. He and my mom had been in my age when she got pregnant after being together for a year, much unplanned of course. My father had always wanted to be a guardian, and my mother had not let my arrival stop that. Apparently, things had been clear between them that they would not stay together after graduation. I do not know if it had hurt him to leave mom while she was expecting me, but according to my grandmother, my mother had pushed on that he would become a guardian.

My mother was dead since many years back. She died in a tragedy known as "The Badica Massacre". I was perhaps five or six at the time when my mother visited a friend of the Badica family in America and a group of Strigoi attacked the house, killing everybody inside. Luckily, I had been with my grandmother at the time.

I turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the hanger next to the shower door. I quickly dried my torso and arms before wrapping it around my waist. I turned around and took a quick look in the bathroom mirror. I had plenty of small bruises on my arms and ribcage, but the rest of my lightly tanned torso was free from damage. I was tall, even for a Dhampir, at almost 6'3 in height. Combat training since I was seven years old had given me a lean and strong body with apparent muscles on my arms, chest, stomach and back.
My parents had given me genes for a handsome and attractive face with high cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes and full lips, framed by black hair that curled down my neck. I could put it up in a small tail in the neck if I wanted. I stroke my chin with my index finger and my thumb, the stubble telling me that I hadn't shaved since yesterday morning.

After putting on some clothes, I went straight down to the dining hall for lunch.

I took my seat in the middle of the dining hall, with enough distance so I would not interfere with the other people at the long table. I held my head down my plate, eating concentrated, although my eyes repeatedly scanned the room. I shook my head as I caught myself doing it, again. It must be guardian blood, since I always found myself inspecting my environment for any kind of danger that could appear. I sighed quietly and almost rolled my eyes at myself; I act like a guardian before I have even graduated.

A light laugh stood out from the regular buzz that I usually organised as a background noise. I raised my gaze a little too find the source of the laugh. It was from the group of the popular Moroi, which consisted of mostly royal Moroi but also some non-royal. I had only been at St. Vladimir's for a year, transferred from St. Basil's in Russia, but now I had learned who was Royal and who was not.

The girl laughed again, and now I could distinguish who did it. I recognized her as a royal Moroi, although I did not know her name. She had her wavy, dark brown hair in a bun on the back of her head. She was just as tall and slender as all the other Moroi, but her face was rounder around the cheeks and her body held a few curves on the right places that any Moroi girl probably would sell their fangs to have.
Just as I was going to lower my gaze, the Royal Moroi girl turned her head and looked right at me. We looked gazes for a moment; she gave me a small smile and turned her head a little to the side. I nodded in return. When she turned her head back to her group of friends, I returned to my food.

"Mr Boyarov?" I stopped to chew the full fork of pasta I had just put in mouth. One of my teacher's, Mrs Renard, a French Moroi, stood on the other side of the table. As usual, she had her strawberry blonde hair in a tight braid, keeping the hair from her pale face. She was perhaps close to 50, but she did not look more than 40.

I swallowed my food before I spoke. "Yes, Mrs Renard?"

"The Headmaster would like to see you", she said with that French accent she did not even bothered to hide.

"Can I finish my food before I go?" I asked. Mrs Renard opened her mouth, probably to protest, but she closed it again and nodded.

She looked un-amused and slightly annoyed while she had to stand and watch me finish her food, but she did not say anything. Just as I put the last the last piece of pasta in my mouth, her patience ended.

"Done?" She asked.

I shot her a glanced and nodded. "Yes."
Mrs Renard walked ahead of me towards the headmaster's office. She was quick in her steps; I had to pick up my own pace to keep up with her. She knocked on the door twice before the Headmaster on the other side told us to enter. Mrs Renard opened the door and made a gesture towards me to go inside; she did not follow me, but closed the door behind me.

"Headmaster Alto", I greeted.

The Headmaster gave me a light smile. He was in his early 40's, very young for a headmaster. However, his black hair had already grown a few grey streaks and he had visible lines around her mouth and eyes. I had heard that he had been a douche bag when he was simply a teacher here, but as a headmaster he gave a strong impression of a firm hand and seemed to do a good job as the leader of the school. Perhaps in future he would be told to have ruled this school just as well as his predecessor, Kirova.

"I apologize if I interrupted your lunch, Mr. Boyarov?" He asked.

I shook my head. "I managed to finish it."

"I'm going to go straight to the point, if you do not mind?"

I shook my head again. "Not at all."

Headmaster Alto adjusted his position in the chair and moved a pencil an inch to the left before he spoke. "I've heard about your skills in combat, your combat teachers have been telling me what a potential you have to be a very good a guardian." I got the feeling that he did not give praises easily, but I nodded in thanks for the commendation.

"I did not know they thought so highly of me", I said.

The headmaster eyed me. "Surely you are aware of your skills?"

I swallowed. I knew that I had skills, but I hated to tell other people that. "I have heard that I am good." I finally admitted. I hated to brag. One should never overestimate oneself, for that is dangerous both social and in combat. Dangerous for me that would mean, not for my opponent.

"More than good, from what I have heard. And it's because of your skills I have called you here", Headmaster Alto grew more serious. "As the society is built, the Royal family is the ones who have to be protected first. The other Royal Moroi families are next in lines for guardians and, unfortunately, the less important Moroi families will have to make it on their own." Headmaster Alto continued. "And, sadly, guardians age just like the rest of us and starts lacking in skills, it is for the best that they are replaced by someone younger and stronger."

"A newly graduated can never be compared to an experienced guardian" I interrupted.

Headmaster Alto agreed with a nod. "You are absolutely right. An experienced guardian could be worth three fresh guardians. However, a young guardian can surpass their contemporary guardians with some tutoring from a skilled guardian."

I waited for him to get to the point. Who was the guardian he wanted me to replace? When he spoke again, he must have read my thoughts in my face.

"After your graduation, you've been asked to be the new guardian to Lucas Dragomir."

My eyes actually widened in surprise. Lucas Dragomir was the oldest son (though the second child) to Queen Vasilisa and her husband Christian, who had the title of King Consort since he was not the main ruler. I had figured out by now it would be something important he brought me in here to tell. However, I had not expected it would be a proposal to be a future guardian to the Queen's son.

"I am not ready for that kind of responsibility," I swallowed.

Headmaster Alto eyed me. "Your teachers are of a different opinion. That is why they recommended you for this task."

"So may be. However, putting the prince as my first assignment after graduation seems risky for his safety", I countered.

"Two of the royal guardians have agreed to tutor you until they think you are ready. However, now when I have given you the proposal, you can consider it until you graduate. But honestly, Mr Boyarov, you would be a fool if refusing the offer."

I nodded, grateful that he had been completely honest with his own thoughts and appraisal. "Thank you, Headmaster Alto."

I hope that you enjoyed it!

Love, Zeraphime