RE: The Accounts of One That Accounted for the Sake of Accounting. (Chapter One up!)
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Chapter One
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My philosophical teacher had blankly stated that most sophisticated people keep some sort of account, be it an autobiography or a journal, and suggested to me of following that trait. While the idea was rubbish (who in the world needs to repeat on a piece of paper what they already know?!) in my head, my nature caused me tried it, testing the reason, finding the method behind the madness. Do I understand now? Course not. That’s why I’m still writing, dear reader.
Now out of the kitchen, I made my way down the hallway, head turning right to left and back, inspecting every ornate bauble – each fancy and decorative to some fool’s taste in this palace – attached to the walls, my paws dryly noting how cold the gold and marble floor was, smoothed by craftsmen to perfection decades ago and left to settle that way, no longer touched by the outside sunlight, my ears tuned to catch signals of any conversations, hidden behind the barriers of stone. The walk lasted a mere two minutes as I walked out, stopping to view the palace’s garden, its flowers tinted with red and golden shades as the sun sets, its lake still, reflecting the last amounts of light before the darkness will reign. The beauty and harmony of such life was captivating, but I hold back, aware of the illusion; the nobles of Libren have locked themselves up, unconcerned about their surroundings, and the garden was the exact representation of it… flourishing while all that remains out there lies desolate sand and desperate beings that struggled for their lives.
DONG!
I silently cursed, using my paws to block out the ringing of the dinner bell from my ears, aching in pain from its sensitivity. Reprimanding myself for forgetting not to be at the garden during this time – for the bell was directly above me, just a few floors up, I allowed myself a few seconds to recover before heading to the dining hall, which (unsurprisingly) resides within close proximity of the kitchen. Tail upright, I walked back in.
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Everyone besides had already sat in their appropriate positions, glaring at me as I walked in. I instantly glanced at the grandfather clock to the close-right corner: 5:41 P.M. Twisting my mouth to represent a slight smile of a delinquent, I walked to my seat, sitting in it, praying that the humiliation wouldn’t last long. Immediately, my father (sitting to the right of me) struck the back of my neck, nearly snapping it. I let the air out of my lungs, attempting to gasp for air of relief, ignoring the following dialogue:
“Late again as always!” Cried my father, his paw up to whack me again. I paid no attention to it nor to my mother’s protest. I had no care. I was a mere tool; abused when in sight and praised in front of others when I’m away. The resulting argument ran deaf to my ears. When I did came to, his diatribe continued, “… lowlife that pays no respects to how much we pay to keep that sorcerer around! I say we starve her and see if she’ll go around stealing any more sal-“
I tugged the table cloth to my right, tipping my father’s soup, letting the force of gravity exploit the bowl’s weak position, pushing and pushing it down, splattering the steaming liquid over his great fur coat, causing him to yelp out in great pain, making him jump out of his seat as one would do so from a burning house, and inevitably resulting in him stealing the attention of every single person in the room; one could consider how ridiculous he acted to a bumbling drunkard, wailing and flailing for almost no apparent reason (though I must remark dryly that only
I in the vicinity found this comedic). Several servants rushed over, attending to him, while I snatched a triangular tortilla chip from my father’s plate, dipped it in salsa, and sent it all flying into my mouth. I snapped my paw for Roy to come over.
“Send my compliments to the chef. He really has outdone himself with the herbal mixture this time.” I said, munching the chip and savoring the delicate taste. The Rhydon couldn’t help but reply respectfully with a large smile. He bowed and went out of the dining hall, no doubt following that exact command.
I quickly wiped my mouth with the silk handkerchief (provided to every diner sitting at the table), signaling to a few servants to clean up my spot, ignoring the complaints of an incompletely-fed stomach. I, knowing the worst is yet to come if I did not leave yet, absconded from the hall the very moment my father recovered. Despite the fact I had ran from the dining hall for a good three seconds, cries – cries of deep hatred, marked with a desire for revenge - of my name reached my ears as I slowly stopped to make sure he wasn’t following me. Heaving out a relieved sigh, I relaxed, until my shoulder was tapped by someone. Spinning around, I noticed that the someone was Roy. Relaxation arrived again.
“Ah. Roy. You had me frightened.” My breathing wasn’t back to normal yet. No. I needed more time to calm down. Unfortunately, Roy decided not to give me that time:
“Reagald, I’m sorry, but you’re ordered to see your sorcery mentor and apologize to him, on grounds for neglecting your studies out of disrespect.” He said. My heart raced again, beginning to burn of contempt.
“Who ordered this?” I inquired.
“Both of your parents, several of the nobles, and the sorcerer himself.” Roy simply stated, hiding his personal views on this from me. I looked down at the floor, considering the dilemma; I could choose to remove most of the tensions just by apologizing, but the action did not reflect my spirit - such sickeningly despicable groveling to someone for no good reason, devoid of purpose, would bring shame to the self. However, if I didn’t comply, I’d be labeled a complete rebel and would indeed face harsh consequences. Hold it…
I looked up, placing my paw over my right ear and lowered it down, scratching that spot. Roy groaned, facepalming which such speed, you’d mistaken it for footage in slow-motion.
“I know that habit. What are you up to?” He asked. I stopped scratching and beamed at him, wagging my paw (Note: this awkward phrasing from Reagald perhaps suggests she was using the motion similar as one would wag a finger to mock someone) at Roy.
“Just going to apologize, so be a good servant and let the others know I’m on my way to do so.” He glared at me, wondering what my motives were, debating if he should just follow me, but he turned around and headed back. I snickered and rubbed my paws, ever so ready to do what was planned. I began walking to the sorcerer’s dorm.
Allow me to pause and explain the art of sorcery to you; if you are aware, then great. Go skip this passage. Otherwise, this information will be crucial for the events recorded by me later. Sorcery – in a simplified, crude definition – is the use of energy or some other spiritual power and altering it into forms usable for the physical world. There are four majorly-used types of sorcery. First,
Wehn Solari, the Common Spirit, is the sorcerer’s main method of exerting his or her power. Spelltags, dried parchment three inches wide and seven inches long are marked with the correct symbols with ink and consists a non-powerful spirit within. Each spelltag is capable of doing one, and only one specific task. After usage, the spirit burns up and takes the spelltag with it in flames. The second type,
Frayn Solari, the Great Spirit, is normally the same concept, but the spirit bounded in a scroll, the length being anywhere from just a few feet to several. Obtaining such valuable objects are expensive; if you were a scroll-crafter, it would be wise to keep it to yourself; you never know what thugs out there will come to force you to make scrolls for them. The third and the fourth types are based off of completely different sources of power, but they do not require much mention.
I reached the door to the sorcerer’s dorm, a soundproof and dark room to enable concentration for the learning sorcerer. Knocking wouldn’t be necessary; if he asked for an apology, he would expect me to come. I grabbed the doorknob harshly, almost as if I were trying to choke it, and turned it. Pulling the door open I walked through the entrance. Once in, I closed the door behind me, making sure my entrance was loud enough for him to hear. Sure enough, the Grumpig turned around from the shelf, closing the book he was studying in his paw. His face was usual, condescending upon me and uninterested. OF course, I contrasted him by grinning.
“I got your call.” I simply stated. placing my paw on my leather pouch – filled with its spelltags and scrolls - on the table. I picked it up and placed the strap across my neck. His eyes narrowed at me.
“Why are you-“ I raised my paw to stop him. Regardless of who was teacher or student, this was my show, and I knew it.
“I had arrived because I wished to address the major issue: my absences. Now, now. Don’t interrupt me; I’m far from done. I couldn’t help but realize that among this plentiful store of books in this single room, I was only assigned to a very small amount of it.” I raised my paw again to keep him from protesting. I was sure he wasn’t going to interject until I finished, I continued, “I don’t know what your motives are, whether because you deem me unworthy of any higher skill or
you’re incapable of any higher level, I don’t care. If you’re not going to move me up anymore, I have no use of you and I’ll inform the court to dispose of you.”
There. I did it. He stared at me, eyes burning through me with such ferocious anger, it almost unnerved the cold stance I had always set as my nature. My threat could end him and leave him departing out from the nobility of Libren, and to most anyone, it was pretty much falling from Grace. Obviously, he retaliated:
“So you think so lowly of me? Very well, I shall not hold such disrespect from a stuck-up, misbehaving child. Do what you wish Reagald, but you’ll never progress without me-“
“Is that so?” I asked. I opened my pouch, causing him to step back. I grinned once more. “Let’s test that. I challenge you to
We Solari En Tkan (Test of Spirit, a Sorcerer’s Duel)!” The shock on his face nearly caused me to burst out in scornful laughter; never did it occur in his mind that I resorted to self-study after neglecting his lessons. I could tell… his composure crumpled and all confidence was lost, blown away by the wind of underestimation. The dilemma pressed him to start sweating: denying such a challenge to your own student bared the ultimate shame to any esteemed sorcerer, but to lose would destroy more than just pride, for he claimed to the nobles to have mastered all types of sorcery for my education – this, such a rubbish and fictional statement, when exposed could certainly have him possibly even executed under charges for lying to the nobility for self-benefit. Realizing that his only choices were to either hope I was bluffing (and it became evident to me that he certainly had no doubts I wasn’t) or to compromise, he went for the safer one:
“Certainly you don’t mean to deal in such dangerous combat –“ I tsk’d, wagging my paw at him, mocking his despicable tactic to get out of the situation.
“Considering how you asked
ME, Reagald the prodigy, to apologize to the likes of you, I certainly am not taking back my challenge.”
“What if I apologize to you? I’ll pack up and leave this place and leave you to yourself as long as you don’t tell them that I -“
“That’s the same as denying the challenge, only that you’ll acknowledge it, retreating with your tail between your legs. Face it, just admit that you have nothing else to teach to the nobles and I’ll be sure that they’ll pardon most of the charges against you. You’ve gotten away with this much money, so why try to weasel all of it away and end up dead, when you can pay back half and leave safe and sound?” I got him. He was so bent on my argument, completely desperate to just leave alive, that his apology was surprisingly sincere to me. He got back up from kneeling and left the room in a rushing hurry, apparently trying to just get away from this place as much as possible; he wasn’t going to confess… he was trying to escape the wrath of the penalty for cheating the nobles.
I stood, looking around the room, for chasing such a vermin wasn’t my style – the guards are supposed to be on duty anyway. Finding nothing of interest, I left, leaving my pouch back on the table, satisfied I had dealt with the issue, surprisingly simple to handle, most likely due the fact that I
was bluffing… I had no clue how
We Solari En Tkan worked… only what it was. Regardless, it worked, and I was rather confident in my abilities.
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I walked for some time and stopped, viewing the garden once more. The sun had retired now, letting the moon begin to oversee the ongoings of night. Only with oil lamps, seven feet high, three feet apart from another along the stone path, was sight possible in the garden (the large gold roofs of the palace blocked out much the moonlight. They were constructed that way to ward off much of the sun’s heat from getting in). The sight was tranquil, somewhat natural in comparison to the artificial ongoings of the palace, but I can never help but realize that the world never truly looks like it.
“Enjoying the night view again?”
I jumped slightly, turning to see Roy standing behind me, smoking a pipe for it calmed his nerves each day. He pulled the pipe out of his mouth and blew a small ring of smoke.
“Sorry for scaring you like that, but I just wanted to see you.” He said, placing the pipe back in. “You know about tomorrow?” I silently nodded. He smiled and rummaged through his pack. He got out a small white cardboard box, cube-shaped and no more than seven inches wide, and handed it to me. He went ahead and puffed. “I know it’s early, but I don’t think I’d have the time to make one then.”
I, in a rare speechless moment, took the box, ever so careful not to drop it, and opened the top flap, gasping, my eyes widening, as I saw the container’s contents; perfectly crafted, a circular vanilla frosted cake, layered (as it was Roy’s favorite style of baking) with alternating rows of strawberries and blueberries, exhaling fumes of freshness - for I realized that it was freshly baked and decorated (the box itself was warm!), and written on top: “Happy Birthday, Reagald.” I looked up at Roy’s beaming face.
“You’re going to be seven, right?” He asked. Much to his surprise, I did not answer, but instead placed the delicate gift down on the ground and hugged him, silently expressing my gratitude. He remained motionless but soon wrapped his arms around me.
“… Roy, did you ever wonder how many times I planned to just run away from this place?”
“Yes, you had been trying to get out for so long.”
“I want you to leave with me.” My eyes were closed but I had good reason to believe his widened.
“Reagald, the world outside isn’t for you. Not yet.”
“Then when?” I demanded, letting go, returning to my original personality. I opened both my paws. “Tell me, I have nothing to gain here, so why should I be locked up, denied of anything new?”
“Why ask for anything when you have all you want?” He questioned.
“Maybe I don’t have all I want. There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”
“Reagald, I’ve came from the outside, remember? I would like to remind you that there’s
nothing, nothing of any worth you could wish for out there.”
“…” My head hung down, staring at the ground, unable to fight back.
“I’m sorry, but please don’t do it. You’ll regret it very easily.” With that said, he turned away and left. I picked up Roy’s presents and started to return to my room, taking a bite of the cake as I walked. Oh Roy… if only we left earlier, then I never would have written the following…
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Sleep didn’t come easy. It never does for me. Roy’s words frustrated me. My ignorance frustrated me. Everything just irritated me, and I just wanted to destroy something in anger, completely misunderstood and confused. What made it worse was that tomorrow was my birthday and I can just guarantee my father would be plotting his revenge after the event at dinner.
In my restless condition, I heard a knock on my door, roughly during sometime after midnight, the beginning of my birthday. The knocking has an urgent sense to it, so I opened it with haste, nearly yanking the door from its hinges. Roy was gasping for breath.
“No time! Pack! Leave!”
One thing to know about Roy: when he says something very seriously and threatening like that, it would be very wise to do so. I could question what was wrong but it could come later. Besides, the most likely situation was decided in my mind: assassins. The last attempt was eight years ago, and with the rising tensions, another one was bound to occur. I realized I forgot to take the spell pouch from the sorcerer’s dorm and cursed myself for it. At my final choice, I decided carrying anything with a decent compartment was pointless and told Roy I was ready to go.
We rushed out quickly, confirming my theory. There was no need to lock my door to stall for time; they would simply just knock it down. The Rhydon’s sense of worry unnerved me as well, causing me to wonder how long it was taking, going through all the hallways to the secret passage (If your palace doesn’t have one, better get one. It’s rather useful at times). Roy looked behind and gasped.
“They’re coming! Go, Reagald! I’ll hold them off!”
I never took a look back, for my wits no longer existing; fear ran supreme in my body. Hearing a snapping sound five seconds after I ran ahead, I dared turn my head to see behind me, instantly regretting the image I saw, one of those nightmarish types of scenes one could imagine, displaying – in my case – three hooded figures and Roy, falling to the ground, head twisted in such an awful, unnatural angle, a dagger jammed in his throat. They came after me, but the five seconds proved to be my savior; I grabbed the handle for the passage and rushed in. Before they got in as well, I slammed my paw into an indent in the rock wall, activating the emergency spell, closing the way to the passage and making it impossible to get in without ridiculous amounts of time and energy. I heard an unknown person curse outside, followed by running footsteps away from the passage. I was gasping, tears pouring down as I realized the ironic truth of this recent event, immobilized by the fear pouring in my body. But I had to move on. I had to get out. I needed to escape the palace before they find me again.
But I couldn’t help but cry, for the only person I ever cared about died on my birthday… and he died such an ignoble death for a noble being as he.
