Chapter Four

Shadows Not To Be Feared

The final afternoon bells tolled throughout the Academy, and the Novices began to file out of their classrooms. For most Novices, it was the end of the last class and the start of the extra-curricular periods. Some boys and girls made their way to the playing fields to join their respective sporting clubs, while others filed towards special activity halls in the Main School Hall. Everyone had something to do.

For Shin-ju, anywhere was fine, as long as he got out of his classroom as soon as possible. The first two days of school was very unsettling to him, owing to the stares and hushed whispers that his tan skin earned from his classmates and peers.

His last period was a Homeroom class, and the Cleric Lara Murakami was his class's Instructor. She had asked the thirty students present about the careers they planned to pursue, and nineteen Novices—more than half the class—claimed to have interests in joining the Chivalry. A few wanted to enter the building industry, and even fewer wanted to take a medical or legal profession. In the whole class, Shin-ju was the only one who raised his hand when Lara asked for aspiring Acolytes—and the whole class had erupted in raucous laughter when he did.

Shin-ju later realized that many of the kids his age found the Priesthood quite unappealing, due to the difficult vows Acolytes had to make. One smug-looking boy had even interjected: "Acolytes can't get any! Only nerds become Acolytes!" Lara mitigated Shin-ju's embarrassment by telling the class that she herself was a Priestess, and that while the Priesthood is perhaps the toughest career path one could take, it was also the most rewarding in the long run.

Apparently, none of the Novices believed in 'the long run.' Very few in Prontera those days did anymore.

Sighing, Shin-ju pushed through a few Novices who were loitering at the classroom door, avoiding their stares as he moved past them. He was glad that the schoolday was over and that he'd be away from his classmates for at least the rest of the day.

•••

Unknown to Shin-ju, someone was waiting for him to come out of his classroom. She was hiding behind a nearby column, peeking around the corner at his room's door. In her hands, she held a WordTwist puzzle book.

She hid behind the column as soon as she saw Shin-ju walk out of the classroom.

"Okay, Joanne," she whispered to herself, holding the book in front of her face as if getting ready to do something big. "You can do this… just take a deep breath…"

She peeked around the column again. He was walking in her direction. Only a few more steps… and he'd be close enough…

At the right moment, Joanne stepped from behind the column, put on the biggest smile on her face, and opened her mouth to greet Shin-ju when…

•••

"Hey, Shin-ju!" Lara called, stepping out of the classroom. "Wait up!"

Shin-ju turned around at the sound of Lara's voice at the exact same moment that Joanne emerged from behind the column. "Lara?" he called back at the Priestess.

Joanne still had the goofy smile plastered on her face, but Shin-ju, unaware of her presence, had his back turned to her. The girl felt strange stares from the other Novices in the hallway, thrown in the direction of her and Shin-ju. With a bead of sweat running down the side of her face, she slunk back behind the column stupidly, never losing the awkward grin on her face.

•••

"In a hurry, aren't we," Lara chuckled, walking over towards the Nomad boy. "Where's the fire?"

Shin-ju made a face. "Oh, it's nothing," he sighed, trying to look away. "It's just that I've never been so embarrassed in my life."

"Aw, c'mon," the Priestess teased, grasping Shin-ju's sleeve and pulling him along as she walked down the hall. "They don't know what it's like. Everyone makes such a big deal about poverty vows these days. I mean, even chastity isn't so bad once you get used to it."

Shin-ju's face turned red. "Lara!" he muttered her name under his breath.

Lara giggled. "You're blushing!" she taunted the boy. "You're so cute!"

The boy turned away and mumbled something incoherent. Lara laughed lightly, loving every moment of getting under Shin-ju's skin. She looped her arm around his and laid her head on his shoulder, earning a lot of stunned glances from the Novices hanging around the corridor as they passed by.

They had known each other for only a little over a week, but Shin-ju and Lara had already become very close. The Priestess had turned out to be a pre-teen trapped in a 23 year-old's body, often exhibiting traits and views that were considerably less mature than Shin-ju's own. For the boy's part, he was very surprised when he first got to know Lara's true colors—but ultimately, he found a strange ease in her company. While she would never show it initially, Lara was a philosopher at heart—and Shin-ju found that it was much easier for him to confide in the Priestess than with anyone else he knew. The boy was actually surprised that he began calling the Priestess by her first name one day—and even more surprised when Lara didn't mind the least.

"Say," Lara piped up. "Tomorrow's a Wednesday. Thought of something cool to wear yet?"

Shin-ju gave her a blank look. "For what?"

The Priestess pouted. "'For what,' he says. It's a Wednesday. Wash day. Ring a bell? You don't have to wear the Novice rig tomorrow. The other kids usually come to class in more comfortable clothing… and, hey, I'd like to see what your taste in clothing is like."

The boy listened to her for a moment, then stared ahead. "Gee, I… I didn't know that. I don't think… No, I don't have any clothes at all," he said. "None without patches and seams all over, that is."

Lara laughed again.

"Well, I kinda thought so," she said. "So I'll tell you what. It's still half-past three, and there's a little Fair at Central Park right now. If you wanna, we could spend the afternoon there and pick out a few suits for you."

"R-really?" Shin-ju asked. "You'd spend for me?"

"'Course. I mean, you can't spend for yourself, or can you?"

Shin-ju smiled sheepishly at Lara's kind offer. "Thanks, Lara," he said. "But… I can't leave the Training Grounds yet. I decided to join the Literature Club yesterday and we have a club meeting today."

"Ooh," Lara smiled. "You're a reader."

Shin-ju shrugged. "Well, it sure beats hanging around at the Dorm room doing nothing."

"Okay, then," Lara said, removing her arm from around Shin-ju's. "How about we meet six p.m., at Central Park? We could have dinner there too."

Shin-ju grinned. "Sounds great… I'll be there."

"Neat," Lara said, waving goodbye as she turned down a different corridor. "I'll see you at Odin's Font at six, aight?"

"Aight," Shin-ju laughed, waving. "See ya."

The lighthearted conversation left a smile plastered on Shin-ju's face, which was dour through-and-through the minute before Lara caught up with him. The boy then made his way towards the Literature Clubroom with a lighter spring in his step.

•••

Meanwhile, Joanne was still behind the column. She had managed to hear a bit of the conversation between Shin-ju and the mysterious, youthful-looking girl named "Lara" as they passed her by. She had no idea who or what Lara was, but the knowledge that Shin-ju was already friends with another girl—and a very pretty oneat that—made her feel a painful twinge in her chest.

Sighing regretfully, the blonde-haired girl waited until Shin-ju rounded a corner and disappeared from her sight once again. Then she took a look at the WordTwist puzzle book in her hands, and whispered the words she wanted to say to him.

"Shin-ju, hi! You busy? I was wondering if we could hang out beside the football fields today. I just got this new WordTwist book. Do you know WordTwist? It's a really cool puzzle game where you try to guess words out of jumbled up masses of letters. It's loads of fun… well, that is, if you don't got anything better to do. Hee hee. So, uh… can we, like, hang out for a bit, just you and me?"

With her back and head pressed against the column's cold surface, Joanne closed her eyes. She smiled sadly at her own misfortune and hopelessness, and hoped that she'd have better luck the next time around… if there ever was a next time for her.

•••

Shin-ju lost his way twice in trying to find the Cyril Hall among the numerous other Halls in the Main School Hall. When he finally found it, it was almost fifteen minutes past four.

He climbed the stairs to the third floor and scanned the wooden signs that hung over the doors. He stopped when he found one that read:

Literature Club

Shin-ju knocked twice and pushed the door open. The smell of paper and dust greeted him.

"Hello?" he called, stepping into the room. It was empty, save for three tables grouped together near the middle of the floor, a heap of notebook leaves and old newsletters littered over them. No one seemed to be there.

Something shuffled from inside a small anteroom to the right. Turning his head to the sound, Shin-ju called. "Anyone there?"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on," an impatient female voice came.

Shin-ju walked towards one of the tables and stood in front of it, one hand on the table surface, the other clutching a strap of his backpack. A few seconds later, a girl came out of the anteroom.

The girl had black hair, clipped behind her head into a plume that resembled a miniature peacock's tail. Her Payonese eyes were heavily lined by black makeup, giving her a strangely beautiful, foreboding look. She wore a tight-fitting white shirt, with sleeves that drooped past her elbows and a neckline that dropped a little lower than it should.

"Yes?" she asked, a bit curtly, one of her hands on her hips, the other loosely holding a strap of her black handbag. "Can I help you?"

"Uh," Shin-ju began, jerking his thumb behind him. "I saw the ad in the ECA bulletin board yesterday, and I, uh… I thought I wanted to join the Club."

The girl smiled, amused. "Well, aren't you the weird one. People these days don't normally join the Lit Club by choice… and only on the second day of classes, too. Either you've got the wrong club, or you simply don't have a social life."

Shin-ju shrugged at her sassy remarks, but declined to say anything until the girl finished.

"Well, anyway," the girl sighed, "I suppose I should be thanking you. You're officially the second staff member of the Visor."

Shin-ju knotted his eyebrows at this. "…I'm sorry?"

"The Visor," she repeated. "The Prontera Academy's schoolpaper. Don't tell me you didn't know that?"

"N-no, I thought…"

"Well, it doesn't matter. Can you work right away? As in, like, now?"

"Uh, sure, I guess."

"Good." The girl pointed to a small pile of paper on a corner of one of the tables. "Those are the articles we're gonna put in the next schoolpaper. I want you to lay them out, throughout eight pages, as neatly and as comprehensively as you can. Sorry I can't help you, but I have interviews with some of the new Instructors in the Training Grounds, and I'm running late. I'll be back in an hour… if ever. I just want you to remember… I need those ready by tomorrow."

With that, the girl grabbed a notepad and a pencil and left the room, passing Shin-ju as if he was never there.

Shin-ju stared at the pile of paper on the desk.

From reader to proofreader, he thought. This isn't what I thought the Lit Club would be…

Then he realized something.

I never got to ask her name, he thought, staring over his shoulder at the door…

Shin-ju took the sheets of paper in his hands and walked to one of the tables. He cleared the mess from it and took a seat on a stool, reading through the articles one by one. Taking a previously printed schoolpaper in his hands, he used it as a reference as he began composing the layout of the next issue.

•••

Two-and-a-half hours later, Shin-ju was sitting on a bench near Odin's Font, looking around for any sign of Lara. It was already a quarter to seven, and the Priestess hadn't showed up yet like she had said. Sighing, the boy looked up at the clear blue Midsummer sky from under his hood.

Odin's Font was the majestic marble fountain that marked the middle of Prontera's Central Park. It was situated at a crossroads of the landscaped district, and many of Prontera's citizens liked to unwind there after a hard day's work. There weren't too many people here today, being a weekday, and it wasn't very chilly either, but Shin-ju still chose to wear a large jacket with a hood. He simply had enough of the stares thrown at his tan skin today.

Music was playing at a nearby bandstand, and some kids were playing ball and running after the pigeons in the tiled plaza around Odin's Font. People were sitting on the nearby benches, chatting. And somewhere, a clock bell sounded the hour.

It was seven p.m., and Lara still wasn't around. Shin-ju sighed in exasperation and got to his feet, deciding to take a walk to stretch his legs.

•••

Shin-ju looked at the shops that lined the pathwalks of the Fair. Many were food stalls, selling fruit, nuts, and farm produce. Others were apparel shops, while others drew young girls to their shelves with their displays of flashy accessories and such. Still, none of the shops interested Shin-ju until he rounded a certain corner.

Even before he turned down this pathwalk, Shin-ju had noticed faint music that seemed oddly nostalgic. He followed the sound with an irresistible eagerness. He stopped at a certain tent, where he was sure the music was coming from. A sign read above its tent-flap entrance:

Dunewear™

Intrigued, Shin-ju pushed through the heavy canvas flaps and walked into the tent's dark interior.

Shin-ju suddenly realized why the music sounded so familiar. It was a White Nomad melody. He seemed hypnotized—within the tent, he felt some semblance of…

…home.

Shin-ju walked over to the dimly-lit front counter, where a music box played the music that he liked very much. The music had stopped only moments before, reaching the end of its coil. Shin-ju stared at the strange, gold-edged box for a moment. Then his hand slowly reached for the key.

Tenderly, the boy rewound the music box to its beginning, filling the tent with the melancholic music again.

Shin-ju turned and looked around the dim tent. Candlelight illuminated displays of Nomadic trinkets, clothing, and weapons. On one side, the boy saw wooden bracelets and anklets, coral earrings, and beaded necklaces. Clothing hued in deep browns, pale yellows, and reddish-orange lined the shelves. Behind the counter, numerous throwing knives, daggers, iron katars, and scimitars were displayed against the wall—but there seemed to be no one else in the tent.

"Hello?" Shin-ju called quietly. "Is anyone here?"

The boy walked over to the clothing shelves, all the while squinting in the darkness, looking for an attendant. No one answered him, so he allowed himself to browse the tent's wares while waiting.

Within minutes, he had picked out a pale yellow robe, baggy brown pants, and a brown tassel. He also picked out a brown sweater—one with an oversized opening for the head and pale yellow zigzags running across its torso and sleeves. Shin-ju then ducked into a fitting room, changing into the robe and pants.

He stuffed his old clothes in his backpack and emerged from the fitting room. He walked straight towards a full-length mirror, smiling slightly at what he saw.

The robe had a deep brown trim that parted it at the middle, exposing a part of Shin-ju's tan chest and went down almost towards his navel—it was truly a suit for the desert. The boy moved his shoulders, feeling the almost weightless fabric against his skin. He had not worn anything so comfortable in years.

Shin-ju then moved towards the counter to pay for the clothes. There was still no attendant behind the counter, so he stayed there, listening to the music for a few more moments.

The boy's gaze soon gravitated towards a picture frame that hung on a wall near the counter. The picture was that of a middle-aged Northfolk man with swept-back gray hair. His face was devoid of any facial hair except for a goatee that made his face even more angular than it already was. His eyes were half-closed, but his stare was piercing nonetheless.

Shin-ju blinked. He could swear that the man in the picture was clothed in a black-and-purple leather uniform—the exact same worn by those…

•••

…Assassins…

•••

Then Shin-ju saw something move in the picture's glass face. He spun on a jolt, coming face-to-face with a young girl in a mock Assassin's uniform. Shin-ju hadn't heard or felt her presence until the last moment—it was almost as though she had magically appeared behind him at that instant.

The girl had flaming, wavy red hair that bounced down to her shoulder pads. She was undoubtedly Northfolk, but her pose—hands at navel, one hand clasping the wrist of the other—and her calm demeanor upon facing Shin-ju seemed unnervingly Nomadic.

"At last," the girl intoned, smiling slightly with half-closed eyes. "An honorable child of the Desert finally graces us with his presence. This is a glad moment indeed."

With the middle and index fingers of her right hand, The girl touched her navel, then her forehead—then bowed her head, extending her right hand in a receiving gesture towards Shin-ju. It was the Ecrudis—the traditional White Nomad greeting.

"Th-thanks," Shin-ju began after swallowing. "Uh… who are you?"

"I am just the attendant of this Desert Tent," she replied. "I am an Apprentice of the Scholastic, Balthesar Yeary."

"Balthesar Yeary?" Shin-ju repeated.

"Yes," the girl answered, motioning to the picture frame on the wall. "He is the man who owns this shop."

Shin-ju turned to look at the picture again as the girl explained.

"My Master rarely speaks of himself, but he has already made known to us, his Apprentices, of his involvement in the Frontier War," she intoned. "He used to be a Knight on the Alliance's Antioc Front. He told us that even the dishonor of failing to reach the White Nomad Capital in time was but a pittance of an insult compared to the dishonor done to him and his peers by the Kingdom of Prontera those days.

"They were ordered by their Majors, several times in fact, to attack many friendly Nomadic villages on their march to Antioc. Sir Yeary was only following the orders of his superiors, and yet he was still indicted as a proponent of those faulty raids. He was soon recalled from the frontlines and stripped of his rank of Knighthood."

Shin-ju winced. He had heard these stories of the Kingdom's injustices before.

"Since then, Sir Yeary has resigned from Chivalry service and instead devoted himself to the study of Nomadic culture," the girl continued. "He has written several books on the ways of life in the White Nomad villages—based on his own observations during the Frontier War—and he has made several studies into the intricacies of the Shadow Arts. Presently, he is the only known Master of the Shadow Arts in Prontera—and I am one of his Apprentices. Our school here in the Capital, small as it may be, is known officially as Assassin Nation."

Shin-ju turned to her. "Assassins…" he began. "You're studying to be a Shadow Artist?"

"Your worry is uncalled for," the girl answered him. "Sir Yeary is only working to make the Nomadic way of life known to Prontera in order to erase the misjudgment and prejudice held against Nomads here. I do not mean to assume, but I believe you have felt your share of bigotry in this city."

Shin-ju nodded slowly.

"I am Northfolk, but even I have suffered the intolerance from others of my race, due merely to my association with Sir Yeary's school. We do not mean to sow any turmoil here. We are Shadows Not To Be Feared."

The girl approached Shin-ju slowly, never taking her eyes off his.

"It would be an honor for Balthesary Yeary… and his Apprentices… if you were to join Assassin Nation and be one of us."

Shin-ju swallowed, all of a sudden feeling uneasy. He reached for his wallet.

"Listen," he said. "I can't stay long. I'll take these clothes… and this sweater, here… and I'll be—"

Shin-ju stopped with a shock, realizing that his wallet wasn't in his back pocket.

"My wallet—" he said loudly, only to be cut off by the sight of the girl in front of him. Her right hand was in front of her, and Shin-ju's wallet was in it.

Wordlessly, Shin-ju took the wallet from her hand.

"I am sure Balthesar Yeary would want you to receive those clothes as a gift," she intoned, withdrawing her hand. "And, perhaps, as an invitation as well."

Shin-ju did nothing as the girl leaned in and moved her lips close to his ear.

"It was your heritage, after all," she whispered. "And it can be yours again, if you wish it."

•••

"There you are!" Lara whooped, jumping off the bench at Odin's Font. "Shin-ju!"

Shin-ju smiled in greeting as he and the Priestess walked towards each other.

"Sorry I'm late!" Lara apologized, giggling. "I sorta got caught up with this WordTwist puzzle at my pad, and I… ooh, hey. That's an intriguing get-up."

Shin-ju had walked out of the Dunewear tent wearing the Desert clothes he had been given. Undoubtedly, many glances were again thrown his way—only this time, he did not seem to mind. He always liked his Nomad heritage. Only now, he did not feel the need to hide it from the scrutinizing gaze of others.

"You like it?" Shin-ju asked, striking an easy pose. "It was a steal."

"Mm, yeah, it suits you," Lara agreed, eyeing Shin-ju's chest area. "I guess I don't have to pick out clothes for you anymore. Wanna do dinner? I'm starved."

"Sure," he answered easily. Soon they left Odin's Font and looked for a place to eat—arm in arm, as usual. The two were quite a sight that night.

While Lara gave her excuses for being late, Shin-ju snuck a look over his shoulder. What happened a while ago at the Dunewear tent left in him a curiosity about the Shadow Arts and Balthesar Yeary that would stay with him for days after that.

•••

End of Chapter Four