A/N I am currently watching Riverdale. I don't how much this bit of information affects my writing, but here we go. Hope you enjoy.
Boards of Canada - Turquoise Hexagon Sun
...
— ...Why must a monarch and its royal family be secluded within a Palace's walls, unaware of its people suffering? there was a time when Dragoon Knights were all nobles in blue flesh, but times change. Nowadays, they accept everyone who has money enough. What does status ever mean, if you can be this or that if you have money enough?
— Long time no see, Gizamaluke. – Ezekiel watched the academy open its doors to common burmecian people, who walked alongside Dragoon Knights.
— It's a pleasure, my friend. – Gizamaluke took a peek at outside, pointing out every single detail to his child in arms. – Look, my son. That's a Dragoon in red. Shiny crimson red. When you become a Dragoon, you can pick any colour you like, how's that?
— Spoon? – the boy said, wiggling the ears.
— No, Dragoon.
— Spoon.
— I said Dragoon.
— Spoon.
— DRAG-OON.
— SPOON.
— ...Spoon? I am a Dragoon.
— You spoon. – Gizamaluke VI pointed at his father with cheerful eyes.
— Spoon, me? I'm no spoony bard. – Gizamaluke V stood befuddled.
— How's the little doing? – Ezekiel asked. He had more experience with the little ones and knew how his royalty friend felt.
— Knowing things. It's a slow and endearing process. Time is rewarding, they say. – The old Gizamaluke felt proud of raising the next generation of burmecian Knights.
— Daddy, stop shaking me. I'm gonna puke.
— Oh well. It used to make you fall asleep... – Whenenever Gizamaluke stares at his son, he finds a sort of innocence long lost on its journeys and training sessions.
— I love you daddy.
— I love you too. – It would hurt him a lot if that kind of trait got lost with time. – Weird how kids soften ourselves, the tough ones.
— I know. – Said Ezekiel, who found himself covered in a temple of linen paperwork. To call it an accumulation of managerial and jurisdiction functions is an overstatement.
— Is that your way of living? – Gizamaluke asked the Jugend's Headmaster. He got no reply by immediate. – I see... don't you ever get bored?
— My daughter asked same.
— Oh, you mean that lady in purple with curly strands? I met her on the entrance. A rather... peculiar girl. She made a fool out of me.
— That's Hrist for you. – Ezekiel smiled, knowing his dear still does the same kind of stuff she did as a child. He does not particulary feel proud of it, but that brings a smile to its old face.
— Honestly, I don't know how today's youth works. They're angst, rebellious, anxious, bored, some want to die, others want to 'get laid', as they say. – Gizamaluke tried to understand what he called by 'Spirit of Ages', in which a certain time period is ruled by a mutual state affair.
Why does that happen? He had no idea. People behaved according to the time, or the Spirit that ruled such time period. Burmecia is a kingdom made of revolutions, widowed maidens and orphaned warriors, its History made of real events tied together of fantastic beasts and water Deities. The amount of wars, rebellions and civil outbreaks that occurred within the land where it eternally rains, they happened nowhere else in Gaia. Nowhere, but Burmecia, as its hopeless youth shows.
In other words, Gizamaluke felt too old for this fecal matter.
— Do you remember, Zack? You, me, Lenneth, Edea... When we pretended to be rebels, they beat us up. Really good. We fought for our ratios and they called out the entire Royal battalion to beat the crap out of us. Lenneth really kicked some butt, Edea had a frying pan, I was divided between royal blood and peasant blood, oh yeah... Dear Bahamut, I suck at following trends.
— You suck, dad. – Gizamaluke VI said, before falling asleep.
— Yes I do. – The elder Gizamaluke replied.
— You don't need to know what the teens are up to say and do these days. We're fine the way we are. – It felt weird for Ezekiel to give an advice to someone with age as close as his. Usually he's there to support Hrist whenever her life becomes a mess of important things to do and wasting times on unknown pleasures.
— Sure. You may not remember when we were trying to be these really studious guys to impress Lenneth, all because she... I have a wife, you see, but you know what we felt back then.
— What do you mean? Lenneth and I...
— You wanted to get inside her pants, that's true. – Gizamaluke spoke out loud, yet with care enough to not awaken his little angel out of its deserved sleep. – Not only that, but we wanted to know Lenneth better. That fine, gentle white-haired woman that could kill a dragon without hesitation. A perfect bride.
— Wait until Lyseria hears what you told me...
— No way! – Gizamaluke was outraged by such sinful accusations. – I love Lyseria with all my heart. I respect my wife, I live for her and our beloved son, Gizamaluke V of Burmecia! Lenneth, bah! Just a teenagehood crush. And then she ended up marrying with a low life soldier... but that's okay. Lenneth was a nice lady, how pitiful to learn about her sudden demise. That must have been quite a shock to Freya. Poor girl... she looked sad, melancholic with a sugary optmistic look in face.
— Just like how her mother used to be. – Ezekiel said. His hands hurted a lot by signing papers throught the early morning. It was his chance to take a rest.
— You think,,, can Freya handle training on her own? I do not speak as a Dragoon alone, but as a father too.
— I have my doubts, but that was her decision. – Ezekiel stood near Gizamaluke, as both watched the blurry world outside the window.
A red shape amidst grayish tones could be seen. For a long time, Ezekiel have noticed how Lenneth's feverish red coat detached her from the dull burmecian world, and how same happened to her daughter, the one who inherited the Crescent family's legacy.
– The Jugend, the Dragoonhood... they are part of Freya. With everything collapsing, it's all that remains. It's worthwhile to see how much she is wiling to improve, over training and life itself.
— Truly inspiring. – Gizamaluke felt proud of Ezekiel, but he was not there to visit an old friend. – You know I'm here because the King of Burmecia has personally sent me to ask if you know the Prince's whereabouts.
— No, I haven't saw Soleiyu.
— Well... the Prince of Burmecia is still missing. Word from streets is that he's walking around, wearing rags and pranking on passers-by.
— Rags?
— Yes. Can you believe it? A boy to be reckless at the point of rejecting his heritage.
— Teenager, Gizamaluke. He's a teenager... – Ezekiel layed his hand upon Gizamaluke's shoulder. He found Peace in the little one's sleep.
— A hideous teenager, I'd say with uttermost respect. I heard Soleiyu's mother was human, but I'm not sure. The King is never in the mood of talking about it.
— You said hideous... as if you didn't shared of a monobrow.
— Don't remind me of the monobrow. – While Gizamaluke stood serious and frank, Ezekiel shared of a laugh. A good laugh, from the long lazy night times.
...
— ...His name is Cuttooth, huh? – Gray was shocked by Sir Fratley's inner descriptions of an ill mind. More than seeing the former naked in the shower. – Not really creative, I'd say.
— He's pretty much 'creative' when it comes to get rid of people's defects. – Said Fratley, out of his usual collected self. He stood on a medidative stance, resembling a wise man sitting near a waterfall.
— Yes, I heard about it. – So Gray noticed. He is an expert when it comes to dark subjects, as well as people who change all of sudden due external and internal circumstances. – He cuts the warts out of skin, the lungs of nicotians, the blackheads and pimples of old ladies...
— He got a friend of mine these days. – Said Peter, a Jugend's employee. An unpaid intern in the eyes of Gray. – I told him smoking is bad, but he said that he smoked because the headaches were gone. In front of his daughter! Little Clara began to cough weeks ago and her mother though she was sick. Cold, dust, tuberculosis, but it was her father's doing. Clara coughed like an old man, and she's only four. I'll buy a gift for her, maybe a doll, or who knows, a house on the field. If I work hard enough, maybe.
— My best wishes to Clara. – Fratley felt moved by the random burmecian's story.
— She will be fine. What a bless. Bahamut is indeed protecting her every night...
— Truly a disturbed folk, this Cuttooth. – Said Mack. He did not felt as strong as the Dragoon Knights around, but he felt a bit of food made with care could help anyone out. – We'll be having chicken soup with squashed tomatoes at the kitchen.
— Thanks, Mack. – Sir Fratley had a fondness for Mack's big heart. And his cooking skills, of course. – I hope the kids are doing fine. I told them to stay at kitchen while I cleanse-
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
...WHERE IS THE FOOOOOOD!...
...Archie, you dumbass!...
...I'm gonna play a song...
/\/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\_/\/\/\/\_/\/\/\/\/\_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_
...WE WANT FOOD! WE WANT FOOD! WE WANT FOOD WE WANT FOOD WE WANT FOOD!...
...Stop yelling! I'm trying to play a song with the pans...
...To hell with your stupid song, brother! I'm crying, crying
...Have a onion...
...An onion? AN ONION!? I hate onions!...
...Please don't yell at me, Ingus...
...FOOOOOOD!...
...Shut up!...
_/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\_
— ...Your kids are truly scandalous brats, and I don't even need a super audition to tell. – Gray momentarily paid attention to faraway yells, dumbstruck.
— We better do something before Ingus takes any hostages. – Sir Fratley joked, though he shared of a nervous grimace at face.
— Hostages!? – Soon as Mack said, CRACK! The noise of porcelain dishes falling and breaking in a row could be heard. – Oh. My. GOD! Ezekiel is gonna kill me...
— Kill us both. – Fratley sighed, right after Mack wrapped a towel around his body and rushed to the laundry in a quick, distressing pace.
— No one said it was easy to take care of kids. Former troublemaker speaking. – Gray felt no pride by uttering such words, but he could not deny living and learning for so long. – It's not the sort of thing I am very keen on, but I'm fascinated by Cuttooth's dirty methods. Is he sexually frustated, by chance?
— Look at yourself, lad. You are no killer. – Sir Fratley was indeed different from Gray's point of view. Usually a man who found himself in a windstorm of fate had no one but himself to humiliate.
— Well, who said I'm not? I am many things.
— I'm talking with the detective.
— A defective, you mean. – Said a leaden, crispy-looking burmecian. – This man, he does not know who he is. He plans to destroy his personality throught a kid's game, what a pathetic fool. My advice, Sir Fratley... He is more of a trouble than a solution for this case.
— (Oh shit, it's Ramza). – Gray whispered to himself. – (He looks so serious its dumb, like last time, but) I'm more complex than you think.
— Of course you are. Like a caricature pretending to resemble a burmecian being. – Ramza shedded of an aura of mystery. – You won't hear it out of me very often, but I preferred when they put me in the baby classes with the baby Dragoons who wet themselves.
— You sure are in a mood today, 'Ramses'. – Gray knew better that Ramza acted like a dick for the sake of sounding smart, or whatever. If that was his attempt at being charismatic, he completely failed at kindergarten.
— Done with the banter, kids? – Sir Fratley stood like a rock for most the time, but he could not ignore the ghastly atmosphere left. – I'm not even sure if we're even having a conversation anymore.
Gray had no idea of what to do. With the throw of a dice, he got an answer. – Five. You see, I'm not very good at my job. I listen to people, I write a book no one's going to read, I take a dump and that's how life works. I enjoy the stilness more than the exciting life of a crime solver, but if you insist...
— I'm not insisting. I thought you could be of great help. – Fratley felt the ripples spread across the bathroom floor, the water washing away the dirty on his body, but the soul could not be cleansed.
— Do you still feel guilty? For what happened to Johnny? – Ramza said. He heard from mouth to mouth about the tragedy.
— Not really. It's not Johnny that bothers me, but anyone... anyone can be the next victim. – For a moment, Fratley felt weak, numb like his lower limbs did when he had no control over them. – It makes no sense. None of this makes sense.
— We are not here to explain why a man kills. – Gray's thoughts revolved around the one called Cuttooth. – What if this Cuttooth is someone else? Like, a John Doe who got inspired by the real assassin?
— It's a possibility. Not the worst one.
— Or maybe I AM Cuttooth. – said Gray, to which Fratley stood quiet. Awfully quiet, for a man who could hear a dog bark from ten miles away if he left his ears do it so. – What? I'm a sleepwalker.
— Without a doubt. – Said Edea, entering the bathroom without warning.
— Hey! This is the man's bathroom! – Gray shouted, feeling exposed. He promptly covered his private parts with both claws. – You can't just kick in whenever you want.
— It's important. Besides, what else is there to see? In your case, I'd have to borrow a magnifying glass and a pinch. – Edea had an inscrutable sense of humor that didn't matched with her pale, deadpan face.
— Morning, Captain. – Fratley was not worried at all.
— Morning, Sir.
— I haven't seem you upset since Hrist stepped in one of your callus.
— In fact, you haven't seen anyone since you were a five year old.
— Why the sour puss? – Ramza intervened. – It ain't like you at all, Miss Edea.
— You keep your mouth shut. Like a good mamma boy. – Edea said in a frigid tone.
— What is so important that you could not wait, darling? – Even the water turned cold with her words, as Fratley felt by skin.
— I was passing by, when I heard you talk about this sick freak of a rat. The young'uns outside were talking about Cuttooth, the royal infantry's talk was about same killer, the merchant who sells me apples could not stop being worried about its family safety, my hairdresser was so frightened she made the wrong cut and now I'm walking around with this silly fringe.
— Nice fringe. – Gray left a praise out, which was not well received by Edea.
— Anyway... I came here to say that one of my sisters got attacked by this disgusting, filthy man. And that hurts. – There is something very creepy about the Captain's see-throught eyes that no one could explain. They're unavoidable, and like staring at the sun for too long, they leave a burn in you.
— What happened to your sister? – Not even Fratley could imagine how Edea's stare looked like, but he could tell the emotionless knight suffered.
— Yesterday. Lorelei and I took a walk later at night. From a friend's house to a crowded street, a quick way into the market, a typical day in my sister's life. She fell out the stairs but was too stubborn to care about her broken feet. She hated being seen as handicapped, frail, weak... defenseless. It happened so quick, she said. I didn't noticed how quick it was. When you're into the Dragoon's life for too long, you don't notice how much time moves forward when in action. Everything slows down to the point you can pick up a fired bullet with the fingers. Had I not been there to kick that miserable pile of turd away from her, my very sister... I don't know.
Edea grunted, with a clenched bleeding fist. Her nails were too sharp, and teeth made of diamond.
– I don't know what he could have done with her.
— You sure it was Cuttooth? – Gray was horrified, but he dared to ask.
— He had a surgeon's scalpel. Came out of a dark alley and from what I could see, his descriptions matched with those belonging to a few survival's testimonies. Talk about few...
— You saw his face?
— No. It was too dark. It was so quick, like I said. I had no other reaction, like my fists were outside my skin.
— It could be anyone. – Said Ramza, with a wintry glare.
— How so anyone?
— The fact we have been focusing too much on this 'Crooktooth' made us forget Burmecia ain't a happy yellow brick road. And coincidences are a thing.
— It was no coincidence. He did not asked for money. He did not asked for Lorelei's pearls. I remember... he muttered a few disjointed words. Broken leg... broken bones... coffin nails, fix it... It matched with one's testimony of a guy who got its tongue cut.
— You better tell Ezekiel about it. – Sir Fratley was perplexed. So much violence... when will it all be over? He asked himself.
— I will. Mind if you take care of my nieces?
— Your nieces?
— Gudrun and Thetis. It'll be fun. – Edea said in a proud tone, before leaving.
— Always leaving the responsibility for someone else. – Ramza turned around, looking in disdain at the Captain.
— To hear that from you... I'm the only responsible adult in here. Counting Sir Fratley.
— They are not the first babies you got rid of, right?
— You do not deserve of my attention. Grow up a little and you will. – Edea turned her back to Ramza, completely ignoring him.
— Why do people depend on each other? In the end you're on your own. I'm fine by myself now, mommy...
— MOMMY!? – Everyone gasped. Edea could not ignore the pressure.
— Yes. I adopted Ramza, but he's no longer my son. – And with that said, the platinum Knight left the room.
— Wow, things suddenly took a dramatic turn, didn't they? – Gray made cricket noises with the mouth after hearing no one's reply.
— ... – Ramza walked away in silence.
— Gosh, I hate lack of communication. Just when things get interesting, they don't want to talk anymore. Right, Fratley? Care to explain what's the matter with Granny Edea? – With one hand, Gray helped Sir Fratley stand on its own. It was like trying to make a baby walk on its two feet, except Fratley is a 20 year old man.
— Granny? She is as young as I do. – Fratley answered, trying to not lose equilibrium. To walk without a cane was like walking on high wire. All the talk about the killer roaming around the streets troubled the sandy haired burmecian's mind.
— What is the purpose of pubic hair? – Gray threw another dice, marked as 'two'.
— Protection from bacteria and other pathogens.
— I see. I thought it was a shock absorber. – On their way to the laundry, the two Knights walked past a large empty hallway. – So, you feel nothing from your bottom to the feet?
— Nothing. I have to believe that I have control over my body in order to walk.
— How do you pee? – Sometimes, Fratley felt amazed by Gray's lack of self-esteem. One would not normally say such things without feeling ashamed. – You tell yourself 'You can do it, Fratley!', like a reminder from the potty years?
— ... – Fratley had no reply. He was not frank to the point of... answering that.
— Okay. I see you are doing fine without a cane.
— Sometimes I have what's needed to believe I can walk, but I'm not positive all the time – Fratley said, picking up his clothes at laundry. They shared of a lemony vanilla scent.
— And I've been thinking to myself that you only wear a cane to look all frail and weak. You don't fool anyone, Sir Fratley. – By chance, Gray's coat smelled like aloe vera. He thought about how much of a waste it was to make a Dragoon's outfit have a specific smell, but nevermind. It smelled good, that's what matters. – For a moment, I have questioned myself why I don't do well with girls. And the dice came to the conclusion that I'm not a girl.
— Do you need to throw this dice to make choices and commands, or is that you do not believe in yourself to do it so?
— There's no 'yourself', Fratley. It's a thing humans came up with so they feel different and special from the rest, while pretty much there's someone who's just like you somewhere else, making money, careers and babies and all kinds of funny things I'm agonizing to even lay a finger at. Sometimes, all it seems to matter is if you're rich, born in the right family, at the right place, at the right time, and then you write a book about how wonderful of a world we live at, you write a song about two lovebirds who find themselves in darkest times while you make some simpleton cry to make them feel alive in their scanty, desolate lifespan.
— Where does the dice fits in the story?
— What I mean is that having an identity rottened my way of living. I have been 'living' throught projecting myself on people I considered to be successful in a way I was not. Then I realize sucess didn't mattered, not on its own. To write a book for yourself, live a life on your own is one thing, but to share your work to others, to tell everyone how amazing and incredible of a person you are by the talent you got, or whatever material possession we have... those two things are mutually exclusive to one another! You can't just say 'live your life' without mentioning 'live your life, but let others know you're living, or else you'll leave the impression that you are a walking corpse'. And no one likes corpses, even thought we have no choice. No matter what we do, life is short, but love is strong. I got dumped by my girlfriend, so love ain't that strong.
— And the dice?
— The only choice I had, that came out of my heart... is that I wanted to live. Whose better way of living other than chance? Throught a dice's flip, I can change into any kind of person, do any kindds of crazy stunts the old me would feel afraid of thinking about.
— Have you ever made an unconscious choice that your 'old me' deemed too wrong to be done? – Fratley asked, wearing the fur neck collar. All that remained was his indistiguible tassel hat.
— ...I once thought about killing my neighbor. Only once. Murder, sexual assault, suicide, these choices are too much for me.
— I thought you had no personality.
— I'm working on destroying it, but the roots of what constitutes a living being have stretched far deep on earth. – Gray breathed a sigh of relief.
— And Ramza? Do you know him?
— Yes, I know him. We dated in secrecy.
— You what!? – Fratley's eyelashes fluttered as he cried out. In response, Gray shed of a giggy smile.
— Ha ha ha ha ha! And you believed it?
— Just pick up your clothes. – Fratley remained stoic, in relatively awkward silence.
A few minutes later...
— ...Teenagehood really sucks. You're like 'No one understands me! Not even I can understand who I am!'; 'I have all the skills I need to survive. I'm not a child anymore...' That's a lie. I don't know anything. I'm confused. I don't want to depend on anyone. How can I do that? Someone tell me... Someone? So I'll end up depending on others after all... – I wonder why do I still listen to Hrist. Maybe to not ruin the strange friendship we have developed over the years. – One kiss and you're like 'I fell in love!' No, don't look at me like that, Alba. Please don't. It aches my heart.
— I thought you were unable to come up with some self-criticism. – I said. Maybe I stay together of Hrist due how she resembles a little sister.
— We all can do things beyond our imaginations and dreams. Alba can talk! Isn't that amazing?
— It sure is. – If at least we felt no side effects... not that I blame Alba, but my head is shaking, my body trembling, and I must admit, I'm scared.
A girl who can make flame barriers, another who can make an ice pillar with the bare hands, her sister who can summon tides higher than any buildings, Hrist who can do crazy stuff with her hair... I had no idea the Dragoon Knights were that wild and so out of my previous reality.
— The first manifestation of young love may feel like a total loss of dignity. You better treasure those feelings. It all turns sour soon enough. – Gudrun came in and gave us an advice. It was weird seeing the ice Knight walk on her own, but that was a good advice. Perhaps I'll find the love of my life, not that it interests me. I loved my mom, and I want to share that feeling we had together with someone who's alive.
— I'll keep that in mind, Grunty. Meanwhile, I have no one but myself to love. – I hope what Hrist said didn't meant... forget it.
— It's not like her to do this... – Gudrun said coldy, with an absentminded gaze. – We are the Gainsborough twins! Together we are a combined single supermind. We can do pretty much anything. Alone, on our own, guess what? We're just two grizzled pretties.
— What's up? Are you so upset you stopped with the rhymes? – Oh yeah, I found that weird too. The two Gainsboroughs spoke in a rhyming pattern. They are the strongest Dragoon Knights I've met so far.
— I can only rhyme near sister, like how an only hand does not clap. – Even thought strenght does not necessarily mean control. With the touch of a naked hand, Gudrun froze a red rose petal that broke in a million shimmering pieces, like dust in the wind. She puts the glove again in shiver. – I can touch no one, or else this happens. When water vaporizes, it takes the heat away with it. I have the power to vaporize the moisture of my arms, my legs, my whole body if I want, as well as absorb the heat of things, objects and living beings to the point they freeze on instant.
— Cool. – I agree with Hrist.
— It's not cool! Yes, my collection of frozen butterflies might be, but... I have these powers since I was a kid. I could not even hug my mother and sister until I was ten. I could not hold their hands, feel them by the fingertips. Ten years wearing gloves, and I still do! And Thetis... she's all I have. Without her, I am nothing. Nothing but a walking block of absolute zero. – Gudrun cried. Even her tears were made of ice.
— And where's your beloved sister? – I felt moved by Gudrun's life story...
— Like I said, I feel no one's touch. But look at that slut and her big mouth tongue-kissing, EUGH! – ...Now I feel disgusted.
— Eugh! Indeed. – Same for Hrist. – What is she trying to prove?
— Exactly! I can't stand sister behaving like this. In front of others!
— Yes! In front of children! – With one hand, Hrist blocked Alba's view, who tried as hard as she could to take a peek.
— And who's that guy? Her boyfriend? – I hope so.
— He is doing something with her mind. He took sister away from me! – Moved by jealousy, Gudrun reacher her sister's arm and, like a kid pulling its mother's arms to grant him attention, she took Thetis away from the Royal Guard's mouth. He runs away in shame, while the two siblings have an argument.
— What's with you, Gudrun!? Could you not just wait until I was done?
— Until you were done? Of course. As if that hour-long kiss didn't last long enough!
— You don't understand how much I love Lucian!...
— And what about me!? You left me on my own with these... these two freaks! – Gudrun pointed at us. – No offense.
— That's okay. – Hrist, Alba and I just hear them talk, like a sort of sickening entertainment.
— We will kick them later, sis. Don't worry.
— You should kick Lucian! I don't like him.
— But I do!
— You are not in the age of dating!
— I'm older than you.
— 16 seconds older! – Honestly, it's hard to tell who's the crybaby and who's the mom. Just watching...
— Gudrun, listen... this conversation is getting nowhere.
— Like all your secret sex affairs.
— My what!?
— Yes, you heard me! Lucian was not the first, and he won't be the last. So shut up your cow mouth and
— Don't talk to me like this, Guddy.
— (I prefer Grunty, but whatever). – Hrist whispered to me. Should I do something to stop this? Not my problem...
— I'm sorry, Thetis, but... BUT! That stranger wrapped its dirty fingers all over you! He was about to squeeze your bottom! I could hear him say 'Oh, soft'!
— He ain't no stranger! You know him well.
— No, I don't! And that's why he's a stranger with second intentions. He's taking you away from me.
— Not everything is about you.
— And you touch him, you feel him, he feels you, your skin... Sob. You feel things I can't, things I can't tell how they feel like... that's unfair, sob... so unfair...
— Oooh, Gudrun... Don't cry. Not in front of others. – Thetis stared at us. If looks could kill, they probably will, but she ain't in the mood of such. They hated to look all frail and weak in front of us. – Look, Gudrun. Hey! Guddy... We are the Gainsborough twins. No one can divide us! Like the storms, the glaciers, the hurricanes and earthquakes, we just are. But like sisters, we are together, forever and ever.
— But Lucian, the kiss... His touch... The wicked touch...
— He won't harm me. What happened last time won't happen again. I was too careless, but Lucian is such a gentleman when he is not shy! It'll be fine, Gudrun. It'll be all fine...
— Hello everyone. – As the Gainsb-Gaisb-Gatsbyroug-eh, I can't spell their name right... so, as the sister regained composture, Gizamaluke V landed from the skies.
— Good morning. – Alongside Sir Fratley Irontail. And his kids. – Ready for training?
— Finally! – Hrist claimed with awe in voice. She's been waiting for so long, talking about useless crap to me. What a relief.
— Where is Captain Edea? – I asked, to which I was met by Gizamaluke's concerned eyes.
— She is with Ezekiel, filling a report as a testimony.
— Aunt Lorelei... – Thetis said, crestfallen. – A horrendous crime.
— She made the best blueberry pie... – Gudrun holded her hand tight.
— Won't Aunt Edea train us? – Hrist was unsure of what to say. She felt both glad but dissatisfied with the truth.
— I will. – Sir Fratley said, convicted.
— Will you show us how you train the knights? – Raymie asked. The kids were unusually quiet, like something bad happened.
— Training? After the mess you made at kitchen? Gee... I can't leave you alone, trust in you for a moment and you just cause trouble, how great. – Fratley uttered in a brief, disappointing tone.
— We're sorry, Frat. – Archie was about to cry. I too would. There's something in the way an adult looks down on you as a kid, each of their words sound different when you are small and unaware of what to do.
— I was hungry! – Ingus had no shame in face, but he was sad too. – There was no candy in the kitchen, just fruits.
— Fruits are nature's sweet.
— Counting lemons? – Raymie's fingers twitched of anxiety.
— Counting lemons. – Despite his rough attitude, Fratley had a big heart for the littles. – Alright, I'll let you see the training, but you won't go unpunished.
— Lemme teach them the art of spanking!
— That won't be necessary, Hrist. – The blind Dragoon put his thoughts to work, and – Instead of watching five yours of training, you will only see two and half hours!
— YAY! – The children chanted in joy, jumping at once. They made a huge SPLASH! that spilled over us all.
— Why are they so happy? – Fratley scratched his head in confusion. – Anyway... Freya Crescent, Hrist Chardonnay, Alba Marigold, Thethis and Gudrun Gainsborough, Gray... Where is Gray?
— I am here! – That was Gray, eating some grass.
— Stop eating grass.
— You sure he's a qualified Knight, Frat? – Ingus asked, frowning at the dice knight.
— Do not judge others by appearances, even though the first impression stays like a crushed paper's texture. – A Dragoon wearing a black and golden suit walked in. He had a ponytail, wore a helmet with two long horns and felt too distant, and that's my first impression so I can't tell a lot about this guy.
— Who are you? – Maybe Hrist can.
— Me? I am your worst nightmare.
— So, you're me on a bad hair day, with blisters on feet, period cramps in chest, late at training and wearing pants made of pudding?
— No, I don't mean... uh, whatever. – Hrist left a giggle and an aphatic look on the Dragoon's face.
— Name's Blackmore. Ramza Blackmore. – Gizamaluke said. – He's a fine warrior.
— The finest, you mean. – Ramza replied with some pride.
— Uh huh. We will see soon enough... – Hrist is such a prideful little bastard.
— I'll tear the hair of a lady if I must live.
— I'll let you live because I like your attitude. And because you might grow up someday, have faith.
— Hmph! The baby Dragoon smells. – Ramza said. The obvious insinuation was urine. It's what happens when you're out of tantrums.
— Do not look back in anger, kids. Life is too short for one to be spiteful to another. – Sir Fratley argued like a wise old man. – Alright, without further ados
— Oh no, he's gonna say it... – Hrist covered both ears with her fingers, closed the eyes and kept the mouth shut. Everything lost sense for a second, until...
— Let's mosey. – Having said that, Fratley, Gizamaluke, Alba and the others went inside the academy.
— ...He said it, right? – Hrist looked at me. I replied with a dumbfounded glare just as I walked away from Miss Chardonnay. – Hey, you can't leave me behind! Oh... Crescent! CRESCENT! Wait for me! I'm gonna kick you like a soccer ball, be ready! NO, WAIT! Argh, what the hell, why don't you hear me?... I need to be heard...
...
Next: The training has begun, and it won't be easy for anyone! Freya climbs a sand pillar, Hrist attempts to kick someone's butt, Edea pursues the deranged known as 'Cuttooth', Gizamaluke's family curse, Sir Fratley finally teaches Freya the Surface Tension technique, Ramza's sad and emotional backstory and more! Stay tuned, because it has only begun... and Merry Christmas, everyone!
