Uphill

Life passes by like an obnoxious streetwalker, bumping into you and yelling unwanted slurs about your physical features. Two days have wasted away since. Now I’m ascending to school. Up some remote mountain in the middle of nowhere, currently being driven by my butler.

“You should look outside, Lucius.”

I don’t. Every single frame that hillbilly academy is within view, a portion of my soul withers away. With my intellect, I’ve already managed to gather information about the place online in advance. And insofar, I am moderately unimpressed.

“Don’t look so glum, Lucius”. Guillaume bellows from the driver's seat. “You’ll get to make friends!”

“I already have friends.”

“Middle-aged businessmen who want your money don’t count, Lucius.” Morgana says, eyeing me.

Unlike Lucius Mortius (yours truly), our friendly Morgana Wittford is doing quite well. Seated across the SUV, hand holding a glass of sparkling water, a tinge of evil in her eyes all the while. It’s truly something. When it comes to responsibility, I have no doubt that she’s at least partially to blame for this whole ‘school’ thing. For all intents and purposes, it might’ve even been her who sowed such an irritating thought in the first place.

I struggle in place. What I feel is Vardosian Steel cuffed around my hands and some off-brand super-tape wrapped around my body. At this stage in life, I’m pretty much a prisoner.

No hope, no nothing. Just the calm passage of time until my eventual release.

I look up at Morgana.

Referencing her previous statement, I attempt to speak as derisively as possible. “Do you? (Implying if she does count as a friend). “Traitor.”

She shrugs. “Sorry for wanting to go to school, Lucius. I know it’s an awful thing. Women getting an education and all.”

I lose it.

“We already have an education! GUILLAUME WAS HOME-SCHOOLING US; HE’S SMART!”

“Pipe down, boy. I appreciate the compliment, but you should save your energy for school.”

Arguing is pointless. I sink into my chair and sigh instead, resting my gaze on the hands of my Rolek watch. The only consolation I have is that I got to bring three pieces of luggage. If worse comes to shove, I’ll have drones I can airstrike unsuspecting students with.

With my anger vented, the rest of the ride passes by relatively quickly. The GORGSON SUV halts, and the doors open automatically, revealing the outside. Morgana slowly frees me from the tape, her terrifyingly long knife repeatedly passing inches away from my eyes and ears.

Finally free, I lean out and step onto something hard.

White marble. Beneath my feet, or rather, the flooring of the outdoor carpark, is made of marble.

Idly, I ponder over how much it costs before receiving a pat on the back.

“Look up, Lucius!”

I do just that. Gazing upwards (my sunglasses protecting me from permanent retinal damage), I manage to see. Here before me is the main building of the school. Two stories tall and approximately 320,000 square feet in total. More than that, the whole thing is also made of marble, though its pristine charm is somewhat muddled by what looks like blends of random paint splashed onto it.

I start counting the seconds to unending torment when a figure waltzes through the main entrance. Instinctively, I brush my hair back, smile, and stand straight as possible. Adjusting my eyes to the incoming figure, it occurs to me they’re none other than Rainee Althaiez.

He’s a tall thirty-ish-looking man dressed in a white shirt, black tie and blue jeans. His hair is a standard swept-back black and adorned with a few hair clips, but other than that, his overall impression is relatively standard. Amidst all my frustration, though, even the sight of Rainee is more than enough to quell it.

The reason being that this man is special.

More than just a headmaster of an academy, Rainee Althaiez also happens to be something else.

Something beyond normal humans, elves or dwarves.

Something beyond even money (maybe).

He’s a figure so influential that governments think twice before provoking his wrath.

In other words, Rainee Althaiez is the most powerful mage on the continent.

‘The Walking Nuke’, some people call him. Whether that’s accurate to his ability remains to be seen. Though maybe it’s best left ambiguous in the case. I’d rather not suffer from magically induced radiation, all things considered.

I move out a few paces, my right hand extended firmly.

“Mr. Althaiez, thank you for having me here. It’s an honour to meet you in person.”

Rainee looks down curiously, possibly wondering if I’m even worth the effort.

“Not a fan of handshakes?” I throw out, nodding in affirmation.

“No, I’m good!” He shakes his head passionately. “Good as in, I am good with anything you know, handshakes, bows, kisses, whatever.” Rainee coughs into his left hand. “I’m, uh, very multicultural.”

“Having an open mind is key to success.”

“Uh-huh.”

We’ve exchanged quite the bit of substantial dialogue at this point, and it comes to me that Rainee still hasn’t made the effort to shake my hand. I look into his eyes for some kind of indication as to what I should do and not only see him look elsewhere but also frantically dart from side to side.

This is something.

Uncertain, I throw out another affirming nod, hoping my good looks and charisma will mitigate the tension.

“Well.”

Withdrawing my hand to my waist, I decide to move things forward.

“So—”.

I stop my sentence midway.

Huh.

Something’s holding onto my hand. Or rather, someone.

I thought our awkward exchange of half-assed hand gestures had come to an end, but it seems not. Halfway through bringing back my hand, I was literally pulled back in. That’s right, our ‘Walking Nuke’ here chose to grab onto it at the last second, now leaving him looking like he’s going to drag me off somewhere by my hand.

“Ahem.”

I make my best attempt to hide my discomfort. Try as I might, though, a fraction of a shiver courses through my body, making my right toe wiggle.

Truth be told, I’m starting to feel a bit uneased. All of this makes little sense. Why would Rainee refuse my handshake only to take it just when I withdrew? There’s no way a man this powerful happens to have the social skill of a rotten hazelnut. So what is it? Is this a declaration of some sort? Does there exist a subliminal message I’ve yet to understand?

I run my eyes along his body in some vague attempt at discerning information. No use. I’m left dangling like a fish on a hook.

When I walked in here, I knew I was dealing with the strongest mage on the continent, but this, this is on another level. There’s no way he isn’t trying to tell me something. The man didn’t reach his power and status through ineptitude, so there must be some kind of meaning guiding his motive.

“Uh!”

He haphazardly returns my gaze and coughs. Then, without warning, pulls my hand back to him and shakes it.

“Sorry, I hope you aren’t angry or anything.”

Though I begin to grow increasingly suspicious that Rainee might actually be socially inept, I also remind myself that patience is a virtue and that angering him would bring me next to nothing.

“It’s all good,” I reassure.

Out of the corner of my eye, I drift my attention to Morgana and Guillaume. From a cursory glance, I can tell that they’re savouring the situation quite a bit. The latter doubly so. Maybe more than that, given that he has his arms crossed and a broad grin on his face. Knowing him, he probably finds this whole situation more than amusing. Call it old-school humour.

“So, do the rest of us get dead fish for handshakes?” Guillaume interjects, laughing, “Can’t believe it.” He shakes his head twice. “So, this is the Althaiez heir of our time, eh?”

“Yes”. Rainee sighs, “Though rest assured, social uh skills aside, my proficiency in magic and schooling more than compensates.”

“Compensates?” Guillaume laughs again, though noticeably louder and heavier. “Perhaps the next time you seek to impress a lass, you’ll pull out a schooling and magic certificate to compensate for your lack of charisma.”

Damn. I’d say I’m scared of the consequences of Guillaume’s words, but I’m beginning to find amusement in it too.

“Anyways, let’s proceed onward. I want to get a good look at this school for myself!”

Guillaume casually struts forward, having taken the lead at a moment’s notice. Without retaliation, the rest of us follow, stepping up the marble stairs into the main building. Somehow, despite being the headmaster, Rainee resigns to being a mere chaperone, soon guiding us through the halls.