Magic Mêlée Music: II - Mêlée

The room looked like what Kenichi would expect from a dorm room: two halves of the room mirroring one another, a bed on either side, a desk on either side, a wardrobe on either side. Magnus’ side was clearly indicated by the many posters for Clan MacLoud, a celtic punk band complete with red and black tartan kilts and knotwork tattoos and lots of piercings. The frontman wrestled with his bagpipes like they were an irate octopus. Along the bottom of the poster it read: “HIGHLAND HAVOC WORLD TOUR - DUBLIN, GLASGOW, BOSTON, PITTSBURGH.”

Kenichi's side on the other hand was bare with blank walls. Nail holes and stray marker marks indicated the presence of some other posters, possibly in defiance of Magnus’ tastes. At the foot of Kenichi's bed was a trunk. It had a sort of familiarity to it, though Kenichi had never seen it before. He opened it up. Within were several sets of clothes, neatly folded, as well as some individually wrapped snack bags. On the top was a note. Kenichi looked over at Magnus, who was adjusting a framed photo of him with Clan MacLoud. A signed ticket stub shared the frame.

In the moment of his new roommate's distraction, Kenichi opened the note. “You're right,” it read. “I should be giving you a stipend. Hope this makes up for all the times I just dropped you in without any resources.” The signature looked like a paw print. “P.S. There's an envelope of cash if you need to buy anything, but all your academic supplies and food are already covered.”

True enough, underneath an assortment of socks there was a fat envelope full of strange bills. He stuffed it back to the bottom of his trunk and closed the lid.

“You hungry?” Magnus said. He was sitting in his chair and had his feet up on his desk. He wore black patent leather boots that had unnecessary rings and chains on them.

“Sure,” said Kenichi.

“I'll show you to the dining hall. Come on.”

Magnus led him out through the door and into the hallway. “Don't worry about locking the doors or losing your keys,” he said. “They're enchanted or something to only open for the residents or any faculty with sufficient permission and reason.”

“Okay,” said Kenichi, feeling comforted that his fat stack of cash at the bottom of his trunk was almost certainly safe from petty theft. The two walked on toward the dining hall.

“I don't know how much you know about Valeblade, but it's not like other conservatories,” Magnus said as they walked. “For starters, it's not just about music. We're also expected to learn magic and swordfighting. It helps round us out as people.” He looked back at Kenichi and shrugged. “I'm not really good at any of them,” he said. “But my parents are quite insistent that I come here, so I'm just making the best of my time here.” He would have gone on about what his true aspirations and dreams were if he wasn't expected to conform to a certain standard set by his parents, but before he could elaborate on this properly, he tripped and fell flat on his face.

“Looks like the red pepper wasn't paying attention to where he was rolling,” said someone nearby. A tall, pale, blond kid with his foot out had said it. He pulled his foot back in and tapped the tip of the toe on the floor.

“You'd think all the carrots he's eaten would give him better vision,” said a short girl next to him. She had black hair and orange eyes. Around her shoulder was a purse that looked like it had once been a stuffed cat toy that had been gutted and modified with a zipper. The tail was the shoulder strap. The girl was about half as tall as the boy, but they both had a sort of air about them that made Kenichi dislike them. He helped Magnus back to his feet.

“Careful,” said the boy. “That red hair of his might rub off onto you.”

Kenichi muttered. “I'll take my chances.”

“Good thing he wasn't wearing a kilt today,” said the girl. “I probably would have lost my appetite when he fell over.”

The boy crossed his arms. “Listen. You're the new kid, so you probably don't know.” He pointed a finger with a perfectly manicured nail at Magnus. “That one's cursed. It's bad enough you're his roommate, but I would definitely recommend not being his friend.”

Kenichi looked from Magnus to the boy. “He doesn't seem cursed.”

“He doesn't have a soul,” said the girl. “And he can see fairy creatures.”

Kenichi looked at Magnus, who shrugged.

“Well, if you ever change your mind,” said the boy, “assuming he hasn't tainted you, you're welcome to sit at our table. Though the longer you take to come to your senses, the longer the quarantine will have to be.” He looked at the girl. “Come along, Seraphina,” he said. The girl nodded, adjusted the purse on her shoulders and followed him into the dining hall. As they passed, Kenichi got a good look at the purse. It was a black cat stuffed toy, but it had distinct purple eyes.

“Who were they?” he asked after they had gone. He was mostly curious about the girl with the purse, wondering if she was the manifestation of that cat in this world.

“Donatello Solfège and his girlfriend Seraphina Dolce,” Magnus muttered. “She’s cute, but just as empty as Donnie, and she can really shred the cello.

“What about that purse she was carrying?” he said.

Magnus shrugged. “She calls it Katzenklavier,” he said. “I assume it was some childhood toy that she didn't want to give up, so she turned it into a fashion accessory. She carries it with her wherever she goes.”

“Is there anything special about it?” he said. “Like, does it talk or move on its own or anything?”

Magnus shrugged. “She gets creeped out if I look at her for too long, and then Donnie starts throwing fists.” He ran a hand through the mess of red hair on his head. “Look,” he said. “They're right. I am cursed. Bad luck follows me like a shadow, and sometimes, bad things happen to people around me. Like my last roommate, for instance.” He kicked his boot. “If you don't want to associate with me, I get it. I'm a bad musician, a lousy wizard, and a mediocre swordsman. They're,” he said with a nod toward the dining hall, “talented, attractive, and wealthy. I don't blame you if you'd rather spend time with them.”

Kenichi patted Magnus on the shoulder. “Popularity is overrated,” he said.

They entered the dining hall. Like many of the rooms in this school, it was named after some important donor. The golden plaque that was invisible to all the students from having seen it and its like countless times said ANGSTROM DINING HALL.

Rows of wooden tables filled the room, and along them were velvet backed seats. Along the back of the room was a long counter with glass cases showing the meals of the day. A chalkboard above the counter wrote out a list of the day's specials. They walked up to the counter and were met by a young woman wearing a chef's toque and an apron. The toque hid most of her hair, though a lone wisp of brown poked out down her forehead. She had green eyes, and she wore two blue earrings, the gems cut to look like eighth notes.

“Would you like today's special?” she asked. “It's beef stroganoff and borscht."

“Of course,” Kenichi said.

“I'll just have the sausage and potatoes, if it's all the same,” Magnus said.

She nodded before going over to the counters with different foods. For Magnus, she scooped up a plate of creamy potatoes with herbs and some sliced sausages that were glistening under the heat lamp. She handed him the plate before working on Kenichi's. She filled a bowl with egg noodles, then scooped the stroganoff atop the noodles. In a smaller bowl, she ladled out some cold, red soup. She handed both the bowls to Kenichi, and he placed them on a tray. “Thanks, Marumi,” he said.

She looked at him askance for a moment, then, her hand went to her lapel, where her nametag was pinned. “You're welcome,” she said. “But you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Kenichi,” he said.

She nodded. “You're the new student,” she said.

He nodded. On the way to an empty table, he said, “Do you not get new students here that often?”

Magnus shrugged. “Mostly just first years. Sometimes we get exchange students from other countries, but I don't know if we've ever gotten a new student out of nowhere like this before.” He set his tray down on the table and Kenichi set his down beside it. “You must have some good connections,” he said. “I hear that even Professor Dolce vouched for you.” He started eating his food. “Are you from one of those ancient families or something?”

Kenichi shrugged. “I don't know much about the Chozen clan's history,” he said. He poked his food with a fork. “But I think I'm just here because I need to be here.”

“Like me?” said Magnus. “Forced by your parents because they don't want you to waste your life doing something they don't approve of?”

Kenichi laughed. “Yeah, something like that.” He took a bite of his food. The flavor of beef and smetana and onions and mushrooms blended with the rich flavor of the egg noodles. There were traces of sherry, and it was so flavorful that he had to take a second bite almost immediately. The borscht itself was amazing. It blended the sweet and earthy tones of beets and carrots with the sour tang of vinegar, with undertones of a rich beef broth and more smetana.

“She sure can cook,” said Magnus, almost done with his sausage and potatoes. “I'm not sure why she's not a student here though. She's about our age.”

Kenichi looked over at the counter where Marumi sat, waiting for somebody else to need some food.

“Though I've heard she doesn't have any talent, which is surprising, considering I also hear that she's secretly the daughter of one of the teachers here, but she has a different last name.”

“Don't schools usually let the children of faculty and staff attend for free?” Kenichi asked between bites.

Magnus shrugged. “My parents handle all the financial stuff. All I have to do is attend class and get passing grades.” He finished off his potatoes and sausage. “D stands for diploma, you know?”