The Hounds of Helghan (3)
The schoolmaster, a massive man with gloved hands nearly engulfing Mael's birth certificate, looked between it and him with what must be a frown on his jowls. "You're small for your age," he rumbled. "And Radec—I know that name. Coran Radec used to be a student here. I was never told that he had a brother."
Like with the soldier who had found him in the alley, Mael straightened his back and angled up his chin as he stood to attention in the schoolmaster's office. "Coran is my half-brother, sir. It's his mother who enrolled him here without including me." He might as well come out with the truth. He had never been a good liar.
"A rebel and a runaway, eh? Rough life at home, I imagine." The schoolmaster slapped down the birth certificate on his desk and leaned forward. "You're hardly the only one with a sob story, boy. Such is our lot in life on Helghan."
Mael swallowed hard. Would he be sent back to Suljeva? That would be a death sentence. He kept his hands behind his back, so the schoolmaster wouldn't see how hard he clenched them to keep them from shaking.
The schoolmaster eased his bulky frame back into the cushioned chair behind him. "Then again, it's boys like you that perform the best in our training program. You seem to show promise. We'll see if you have skill."
Mael made a stiff nod. "Thank you, sir."
"Don't thank me too soon. I haven't forgotten that your brother failed to enter the military academy. Will you be a failure too, I wonder." A chuckle sputtered from behind the schoolmaster's respirator. "Use that for motivation, perhaps. I'd like to see what happens."
A muscle twitched along Mael's jaw. He won't be like Coran. He would do better. He would come out stronger. He longed to know what that would feel like.
With the schoolmaster's approval—mostly interest at his progress, really—Mael earned himself a spot in the entering cohort of first years. He was the youngest of the youngest, a twelve year-old amid a class of thirteen year-olds, so he had better prove his mettle and show them that he could hold his own against bigger, older boys.
He would be a fool to come here expecting to make friends. He wasn't the boy finding and caring for stray puppies anymore. Philosophy, politics, economics, mathematics, firearms safety, self-defense...every class he attended went by without sparing time for idle chat. The military academy opened up spots for a limited number of Visari Youth graduates, and competition for those spots was fierce. Mael knew from day one that he would set all his sights on that spot, to believe that his name was on it. There would be no friends to make. Only competitors to outmatch.
Of course firearms safety and self-defense were the most popular classes, especially among boys eager to show off how they could throw their weight around, but Mael took care to study hard for all his classes. He took keen interest in the skyrocketing political career of Scolar Visari, the namesake of the training program. Though only in his early twenties, Visari set Helghan on fire with his spirited rhetoric and catapulted himself to uncontested power.
In a favorite news reel of Mael's, he declared, "This is a nation that will rise from the ashes of our exiled forefathers. I will see to it that we embark on the road to our glorious destiny. We will not kneel and bow down in submission, but stand tall and raise our fists to the stars to prove our might. My brothers and sisters, sons and daughters of Helghan, we shall rise up like flames that refuse to be put out, and our cries for blood and vengeance will haunt the nightmares of our oppressors!"
Under the Autarch's direction, considerable finances and manpower were funneled into efforts to bolster the Helghast military. Visari Youth was just one of those ways. Mael wasn't delusional enough to dream of meeting the Autarch himself. He simply wanted to be strong enough to serve Visari's noble cause. That meant serving as a soldier, and he couldn't serve until he entered the academy, and he couldn't enter the academy until he passed the entrance exams, and he couldn't pass his exams if he failed his classes. Mael saw how all the dots connected. Some boys in his class lacked his foresight and focus, either because they got homesick or distracted by drivel, like following sports or wanking off to smuggled pictures of naked women. Coran must've been that sort. Mael had told himself many times that he would not be like his brother. He had no home to miss, and he had no time for distractions.
His peers quickly picked up on his academic prowess, and were just as quick to attempt taking advantage of it. But Mael was no pushover.
If a classmate had the gall to come up to him after class saying "Oi, Mael, can I copy your homework?", he would give the most seething glare of disdain and contempt in reply. He had better things to do than indulge someone else's laziness.
It was different, however, if a classmate came up to him saying "Hey, Mael, I tried to work out this assignment, but I don't know if I'm doing it right. Could you check my work for me?"
Then that would make him stop whatever he usually liked to do, which was either reading a book or replaying Visari's speeches on the portable holo-viewer, and say, "All right, I'll give it a look. What do you have trouble with?" Because whoever asked at least tried and did the work. Mael didn't mind being the tutor in that case.
Even the instructors took note of Mael's single-minded dedication and lack of interest in mingling with peers. Not that they complained. "Class, you would do well to follow Radec's example," they would say. His rise to the top of the class coincided with the explosive increase in his height between his second and third year. At first, he would be singled out and picked on, no thanks to the woeful combination of small size and no friends. Mael would've risen up in objection to whoever came up with the saying "size doesn't matter." Making great strides in his stature threw many bullies off his back, and he could be left alone to his studies in peace.
In his final year, shortly after what remained of his class took the entrance exams, Mael was summoned to the schoolmaster's office.
"Quite the sharp looking lad you are now, Radec," the schoolmaster grunted. "No longer the little desert rat who set foot in here four years ago."
Mael made no reaction to that amused remark, and only kept a ramrod straight posture with hands behind his back. Long gone were his dusty jacket and grimy shoes. In their place: an iron-pressed school uniform and gleaming boots.
The schoolmaster gestured to the stack of papers sitting before him. "Results haven't been publicly released yet, but I wanted the honor of letting you know first about yours. Color me impressed, Radec. Your studying paid off. You've made perfect scores all around."
Satisfaction swelled up from the pit of Mael's chest. "Thank you for congratulating me in advance, sir. I'm pleased to hear that I performed well."
"I'm not exaggerating when I say that you are one of the brightest pupils I've had here. You've far exceeded my expectations, especially considering the failures of your brother."
Mael felt dizzy with elation. He surpassed Coran. This was just one step out of many on the road to prove how strong he could be.
"I've already given the fine folks at the academy my highest recommendation for you." The schoolmaster extended his hand for a shake. "Mael Radec, congratulations on your acceptance to Pyrrhus Academy."