Chapter 12

Oh, That's What She's Doing

Seval awoke with a loud yawn and stretched his arms far and wide. Something was odd and he looked around for a reason why. Oh, there wasn't a person forcing him awake and dragging him off his bed. That made sense.

He sat up on his bed and waited for the door to pop open. Minutes passed with nothing happening. Seval frowned as he realized he was on his own this morning. Grumbling, he put on his boots and set off for the day. It was customary to forget his magica book and everything else.

Seval stopped by Marien's door to knock. Though, he held back his hand once he realized she wasn't there. Nodding to himself and accepting his loss, he headed downstairs to meet Frant outside as per usual. He too was bewildered about why it was only Seval.

"Why's it just ya?" Frant asked, confused. He looked past Seval for any signs of a second person.

"That's just how it is now," Seval replied, with a helpless shrug. That got Frant to slowly bob his head up and down before turning around to lead.

More and more guards appeared through the streets. Security was being tightened, as protesting was growing more fierce. Soon everything was going to collapse.

"Two guards were attacked last night," Frant explained loudly, so the chanting of the protestors was drowned out. "They say it was a human, the same one that killed those two dwarves the other day." Seval huffed a nervous sigh and tried to look on the bright side.

"Did they see the person? Like a description or anything?" Seval asked optimistically. It took Frant some time to think, but he nodded his head.

"Aye, they said it was a girl by the voice. Since she had a hood on, it was hard to tell what she looked like." Frant looked over his shoulder at Seval. "Sound familiar?"

"No, I don't think so," Seval answered, and when Frant looked back ahead, he clenched his fists. Of course it had to be Marien out of all people. What was she now? A criminal? Could she even go to the academy any longer? He might as well let her be. At least until her name was cleared.

Seval went through each of his classes without much care. Shimmer brought up the incident, as did the rest of the teachers. It was a pretty huge event that impacted the whole resistance. Protesting was at an all-time high, with security amassing to repel it. Fights were breaking out left and right, daily riots happening by the hour. Dwarves were all but content about what was going on at night, whether it be for their safety or just general hatred. Probably both.

Learning in the academy was somewhat better now that Seval was focusing more. He felt more determined and responsible without Marien sticking to the back of his mind. For that, he actually took the time to study and answer questions. He interacted with all the students--or at least the ones that even acknowledged he existed. That only included Arena, and sometimes the dwarven brothers. The nobles had no care for him whatsoever, Iodian regarding him as slime off the boot. Pretty usual stuff made even worse without somebody to straighten things out.

Seval ate alone at lunch, which was back to general food. Adruhan was a one-timer, for he never came back. It was a complete doldrums, no signs of variety or relief anywhere but after it all ended. Ruck and Drak still had their nightly parties at "Da Steel Anvil," but Seval knew better not to drink a dozen ales at once. He took his life with caution, knowing there was nobody to save him any longer but himself. He had to stay on his toes at all times, or else he was as good as dead.

For a whole week, Seval got up, went to the academy, learned about magic and fighting, get ignored by almost everyone, and go out for a drink or two. That was his life, and he would always return home unfulfilled. He would shoot a glance at Marien's door every time he passed it, but he always dipped his head down to disregard it. She was not home. And Seval had no clue when she would be.

He would drown out his sorrows by actually picking up his assigned books to read them. Omni was a mentor, a snarky and complaining one at that. But it was still extra help that Seval would take anytime of the day. He overcame his pronunciation slowly and steadily as the week went on. He spoke more clearly, his stuttering becoming nonexistent in his general speech. He had growth that was derived from his will only. Without a person to rely on, a person to enact laziness and blame onto, Seval just felt more responsible.

A week after Marien's disappearance--only news of nightly killings marked her survival--Seval walked off to school as usual. He and Frant had grown closer, their status evolving into a casual friendship. They had their differences, yes, but there was always something little to talk about.

The guards from earlier, classified as detectives by their badges and red markings, were on sight. They were still a pair, begging the question if they were the only detectives or not. Of course, once they laid eyes on Seval, they had their interest piqued. Frant halted at their approach, so Seval had no choice but to wait for impounding questioning.

"We know ya heard the news, so will ya tell us who it is?" one of the detectives asked, with a stern gaze.

"How would I know? Do you expect me to know every human around?" Seval answered innocently, despite it being the fakest lie he had ever told. The detectives exchanged dissatisfied looks before they returned their focus on him.

"Do ya want us to take ya to a room? Or do ya want to cooperate? We have all day," the other detective declared, as Frant stepped forward.

"He's but a boy. If he knew of anything, he woulda said it by now," Frant remarked angrily, the detectives curling their lips.

"We'll handle the questioning here, water boy." Frant's face had grown red at the name. "And the boy will answer those questions. Ya have no part in any of this. So go somewhere else and wait it out." Frant reluctantly obliged, leaving only the guards and a nervous Seval, who tried his best not to show it.

"So . . . what information do ya got for us?" the same detective asked, impatience mixed in his voice.

"None, but I'll let you know if I find anything . . . Mister . . .?" Seval let his voice trail off, the detectives giving up.

"I'm Tarmic and my partner is Raneer," Tarmic responded, before the two set off elsewhere. Seval was left alone for once, the pestering at a steadfast halt. In relief he returned to Frant, so the two could continue onwards.

"The Royal Investigators," Frant scoffed. "What a lot of dogs that put their noses where they shouldn't be. There ought to be personal laws holding them back. It's civil disrest, I say." Seval nodded distractedly, eyeing the hoard of guards standing in a straight line. They held the fort in a reenactment of a fence. A sergeant barked orders at them, so they followed, whether they march or move their weapons shoulder to shoulder. Typical military regime, which was more of a show to the protestors rather.

With the sound of barking orders and distant protesting in the back of his mind, Seval reached the Scholar's Hall, the good old worn structure that could fall at any minute. He hoped he wasn't going to be there when it happens, or anybody else for that matter.

"Off ya go, lad," Frant told Seval, and gave a gentle shove forward. "Have a better day now will ya?" Seval nodded to satisfy the bumbling dwarf who left him alone in peace. Seval had grown used to the isolation, for the days of company were long over. He remembered when he longed for isolated silence. How times have changed.

Seval trotted through the hallway with his hands tucked into the sides of his pants. He kept his eyes in a straight line for tunnel vision. One destination was in mind, so nothing else mattered. Besides, the dusty bookshelves and cracked walls were an eyesore to even peek at. What a disgusting freak of nature.

Seval walked through the open door and took his normal seat. His fellow students were in a chaos of chattering and rumbling, which all ceased at Shimmer clearing her throat. Seval knew she had news to speak about.

"A dwarven diplomat was killed last night by a swift throat slit." Seval shook his head in shame as Shimmer continued on. "We still have no clue who the killer is and what their intentions are, but last night's killing had absorbed everyone's attention. They really want the killer found and tortured to death." Shimmer grumbled to herself. "Because it's a human of course."

"Aye! Death to the assassin! Death to the assassin!" Ruck chanted, after he stood up from his chair. Drak followed in suit, but nobody else joined. They were quickly suppressed by Shimmer's glare and took their seats in silence.

"Anyway, the Queen wants to hold a peace conference tonight. She wants to put everyone at ease in all this nightly terror nonsense." Shimmer cracked a delightful smile. "We're going to be attending a ball tonight! You are all going to get your personal dresses and formal attire. Also, this will be a masked party, so expect to recognize nobody."

"Masked?" Iodian asked, bewildered at the concept.

"Yes, it is where you wear masks of birds or any animal really to hide your face. Its purpose for this matter is just to erase any diversity of race, or at least try to," Shimmer answered, clear excitement shown about the ball. "You'll have about an hour after academy today to relax until servants will arrive to deliver the mandatory clothing. It'll take place at the old king's mansion, a place I've never been to before. Oh, it's going to be so grand and exquisite, isn't it?" She clasped her hands together, her eyes caught in a fantasy.

"Ah, a mansion you say? Well, my family, the Trunces, have the greatest and largest and most wealthiest . . ." Iodian went to say, just to be interrupted mid-sentence.

"I don't see one around. If it's not in the caves, then I could care less," Shimmer decided, and made Iodian fume. "Anyway, no reading tonight. You'll need all the time you can get to prepare. Expect to be brought up by the Queen herself. You are the big symbols of unity, anyway."

"Who else is going?" Arena asked curiously. It made Shimmer's cheeks redden, but she smiled it off.

"Everybody really. You'll see all your teachers, the Queen herself, even that doofus that arrived a week or so ago," Shimmer's eyes softened at the name and she interlocked her fingers to snap out of it. "If you can recognize them, that is. I'll surely be able to identify all of you, so that won't be an issue for me."

"What's a ball?" Seval asked studiously, for he was taking notes the whole time. Bickering and snorting came his way, and at that exact moment he knew he asked the stupidest question in the world. Even Shimmer chortled at him, until coughing to silence it.

"It's a formal meeting between whoever is invited, which in this case is everyone. Typically we dance and eat a great banquet. Expect lots of wine and other fancy food to be handed out in trays. Don't drink too much," Shimmer advised, and pursed her lips boredly. "Okay, that's all I have to say. I'll see you in . . . about five or so hours." She gave everybody a small wave as they exited the room. And Seval could easily tell how excited they were around him.

"Banquet? At last! I haven't attended one in the longest time . . . I think a few weeks ago or so," Iodian declared happily, pumping a fist in victory. Others had their own opinions.

"I'mma gulp down all da wine and fancy food they got," Drak announced, Ruck chiming in agreement. They were excited for the food, as the nobles were excited about . . . well, the food as well. But it was more so a regal and honorable thing for them, rather than primitive eating and drinking. Seval didn't know what to think of it.

Second class had Yvahen just talk about the ball, too. She was as excited as Shimmer, for they both looked forward to the grand event. Seval could easily catch her dreaming, so he knew she was going to be there. He couldn't help but smirk at seeing her drunk and slur her concise words.

Lunch was a different story, for Adruhan had arrived. He excused himself into saying it was a weekly thing. It wasn't. Seval knew it was just because the ball was later that day. But what did it matter? Everybody got their favorite meals, and Seval had actually ordered something other than an apple this time. He decided on his mother's pie, a village recipe passed down through generations. Adruhan somehow knew it, so he really was enlightened in the field of food and cooking.

Everybody went on and on about the ball, their excitement very clear. There was talk of wine, all the fancy food, the attires, the mansion, the Queen's appearance, and of course the masks. It was a controversial topic between the dwarves and nobles, who were both skeptical of the concept. Though, it did add some suspense, so they both agreed it was something new. That was settled quite quickly. Maybe the dwarves and nobles were unlikely allies after all.

One person that Seval knew wasn't going to be at the ball, unless for security purposes, was Fury. That dwarf despised it with all his hateful looks and curled lip. He wouldn't speak of it, but it was obvious that he didn't want to go. He wasn't an outgoing person, nor was he into such events. It wouldn't surprise Seval if he had a bodyguard gig for the Queen. Messing with Fury was probably one of the stupidest things to ever do. Being old only made his surprise factor all the more viable.

Fourth class. Rune and his ranting. He wasn't going to be there either. His excuse was that he needed sleep for all the work he was doing. Disclaimer, he was sleeping at least sixteen hours a day, if not more. It was a pure miracle he took on his teaching role. No wonder he was found sleeping in class, as well as on the street at times. At least nobody mugged the poor dwarf, for he seemed to be highly respected and regarded as a noble hero. Seval had no idea what Rune did in his glorious past, but it was surely heroic and valiant.

Seval returned to his room as quickly as he could. The artificial lights in the cave were already growing dim. It was going to be pitch-black darkness for the ball, with special lanterns to guide its attendees. In some ways it was perfect for a riot, as it was a beautiful scenery. It boasted about the dwarven power and inventions, but it also just created the most surreal and imaginative environment available.

Seval sat upon his bed and thought. He weighed his options about the upcoming ball and what could occur. A full out riot could happen with many casualties resulting. Another could be applause for Seval and the academy. Maybe this was the breaking point of the riots, where peace was achieved. Or this was just going to be a forgotten event in which nothing gets done at all. Many different outcomes for one very unpredictable landmark for the resistance. It was either something or nothing.

The door swung open after what felt like an eternity of thinking. In hustled in a dwarf clad in a professional, double-breasted black tunic, a white shirt underneath. He had a pile of clothing in his hands that hid his face.

"For the ball, sir," the dwarf explained, and set down the pile onto the bed. He clasped his hands together politely as he waited for a comment. Instead, Seval took his sweet time examining all the black clothes. They fit him perfectly, from the double-breasted black tunic, the same style as the dwarf, to the long, slick pants accompanied by shining boots. He looked like a true gentleman. But what caught his attention the most was at the bottom of the pile: a white mask with a long snout and two oval eyes. It hit everything above, the snout replacing his nose. He could see out of the eyeholes, a new barrier around the edges of his vision.

"How is it, milord?" the dwarf asked, a warm smile toward Seval that just seemed forced by nature.

"I . . . love it," Seval admitted, adjusting his collars around his wrists that had golden buttons embedded onto them. With that, he went to follow the dwarf, his sword left behind on the bed. For just this occasion, it was better to go unarmed. He wouldn't want to out himself to everybody as the human with magical sword.

Seval could hear faint chattering outside, accompanied with the rhythmic shuffling of boots. It was a marathon outside, thousands upon thousands of dwarves, elves, and even humans walking in unison together. But for now, they were just one affiliation: an attendee of the greatest ball the resistance has ever held. It was the only one, so it was quite the historical moment.

When Seval was out on the street, it became clear to him how massive of a party this was. Bodies upon bodies filled the area, like one whole mass combined together. There were tall elves that stood out, small dwarves that were hidden, but they all had that a mask to cover it. Foxes, bears, leopards, wolves, owls, even one that looked like a rat could be spotted. Though it was pitch-black dark, lanterns were hung up on poles on each side of the street for guidance.

Seval fell into the mob, surrounded by at least a dozen attendees. Their chatter mixed into one to create just loud noises for Seval, who couldn't comprehend a single word that came out of their mouths. Most if not all the males wore double-breasted tunics with either a tie or a bowtie, and the females had their dresses. Some had ribbons, looser collars, longer drapes, but they all varied in color. Red was the most prominent, but royal blue, indigo, and light green also appeared.

The mob moved like a pack, like an organized regiment ready for battle. Seval felt very, very tiny in his position because there were just so many. He could see above dwarves' heads, but he was forced to stare into an elf's back. His guide moved and manipulated through the crowd as best as he could, but Seval was always stuck in an uncomfortable position. His collar got itchy, so he tugged at that for something to do. Under his mask, he sweated, either if it was from the mask itself or just how nervous he was. Probably both.

"Aye! There it is! The Old King Jefrun's mansion!" the guide shouted out under the wave of buzzing chatter.

Seval had to look high above a dwarf and aside an elf to see what the dwarf was talking about. But surely enough, it was there, high up on a hill with lines upon lines of attendees begging to enter inside.