Chapter 9

Aftermath

Seval awoke in a damp sweat, his breathing abnormally fast. He had no clue why, and he never woke up like this. Unless he just came back from a haunting nightmare of his worst fears. But in times like that, he would be scared and clutching his pillow for dear life. Instead, his mind was foggy and his tongue was dry. He was extremely thirsty.

Sitting on the side of his bed, Seval clutched the side of his head. His temple was hurting in a pulsatile manner. To top off the thirst, he also had a headache. The only thing he remembered last night was going out for a drink. Apparently he had more than he could handle. Maybe Marien knew his cause of dysfunction. She was, in fact, the only person he trusted. There was also Omni, but that was a very unreliable source.

Seval put on his boots, forgetting about the magica book again, and ran out of his room. He stopped in front of Marien's door to rasp his knuckles against it.

"I would like to know about . . . ," Seval tried to declare, for the door to already open. He was pulled in by an arm, the door shutting right behind him. Surprised, he recovered his senses to see a full-dressed Marien examining him. She looked quite suspicious.

"Were you about to ask about last night?" she guessed, her hand letting go of Seval's shirt.

"Yeah," Seval answered, and saw Marien purse her lips and fold her arms.

"I think we're not safe here," she said, turning away from him. "Last night made me realize something: we're hated and unwanted. All the dwarves here want us dead. We were sent into a trap, so that we would be drunk and out of our minds." She spun around to face Seval, her face grave. "But they relied too heavily on their ales. Apparently it wasn't enough to knock you down, which was their plan."

"Plan?" Seval asked, bewildered.

"I forgot your memory is as poor as a centuries old man," Marien scoffed, and chuckled amusedly. Her smile soon turned upside down, as her eyes were shadowed in regret. "Last night, as we were walking back home--and you are extremely drunk, like you couldn't even walk--a dwarf jumped me. He took me down faster than I could even think of a reaction." She hugged herself closely and shuddered at the memory. "If you weren't there, I would've been taken to the darkest depths of that cave, probably tortured and killed. I'm so glad that you were there, I'm so glad . . ." Her voice trailed off, her eyes staring at the floor beside Seval. She had a moment of misery, but yet it could also be relief; however, she soon let her arms drift onto her sides.

"We need to find out who these dwarves are." She shot Seval a smile. "And I know exactly who to ask." Her eyes gazed into Seval for an answer, but he didn't know what to say.

"Who?" he asked, and Marien rolled her eyes irritatedly.

"Who are the only dwarves we know and see everyday? They are the reason we got in that predicament as well . . .?" She let her voice trail off, hoping for an answer to be reached. Seval didn't have a clue still.

"They're names are both four letters? And are brothers . . .?"

"Oh! Ruck and Drak!" Seval exclaimed, and Marien groaned. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You kept going on about something else, so I had no idea what that was about."

"You're not the brightest bulb, Seval," Marien admitted honestly, walking past Seval into the hallway. She was already ready to go, so there was no need to make any preparations at all. It took a bit of time for Seval to follow, however, since he was expecting her to return for a missed item. She didn't.

"What are we going to do?" Seval asked, as he hurried beside Marien.

"We're going to interrogate them both separately. If we split them apart, then we'll strike them right in the core," Marien answered, triumphantly smiling at her brilliance.

"Is that even allowed? I don't think they would . . ." Seval was stopped by a fierce glare.

"If we want to survive, some rules are going to have be broken, whether you like that or not," Marien decided, marching forward with a task to fulfill.

The idea of breaking rules did make Seval worry. Yet, there was also another feeling that rushed into him: adrenaline. He couldn't help but smile at doing things illegally. Like that one time when he stole an apple without being caught. That was just the best . . . until he was caught red-handed a few hours later. But before that, he felt like he had conquered the world.

"I like the idea," Seval remarked, after further analysis.

"Oh, you're not such an angel after all," Marien said, chuckling with a grimace. "I don't see you as that type of person, but what can I say? I live for the thrill of breaking rules. It's what I do best." She fished a round truffle out of her pocket and bit into it. Though, she didn't make much of a deal about it, despite Seval easily able to tell how rich it was.

"You've been robbing people? I thought you were past that?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"A thief is a thief forever, what can I say?" Marien replied, smiling at herself as she finished the rest of the truffle. "Even when I'm caught, I just get away with it." She clasped her hands together right beside her face, her eyes going soft. "I promise I didn't do it on purpose. I won't do it again." She laughed at the act, shaking her head. "People are so stupid. They see a girl like me say that, and it's just true. What an easy life."

They walked out of the building, Frant there to receive them like usual. He led them away without a word, uncharacteristic of the talkative dwarf. That only allowed more chatter between Marien and Seval as they walked through the street.

"You . . . um . . . called me Mary last night. Who's she?" Marien asked curiously, a startled Seval unsure of how to react.

"My little sister," he answered, and grew sad about not seeing her in what felt like years. "I haven't seen her since the sword. I hope she's not dead . . . because of me."

"Putting blame on yourself is the worst possible thing you can do. You'd only be asking for a guilt trip to the death," Marien replied, disappointed. "And I'm sure she's alive and well. By the end of this whole journey, when the tyrant is slain, you'll see her again. I promise you that." Her words lit up Seval's spirit to the skies.

"That's nice of you. Is there some ploy here?" Seval replied, unable to accept her kindness that easily. He saw her mood get struck by a thunderstorm, her hair and hood getting drenched as did everything else. Water droplets drizzled downward onto the street, her frown depicting pure frustration. Seval had to blink several times to snap out of the hallucinations, for his mind was going downhill quickly from all the drinks last night.

"No. Being nice isn't always fake. I hope you know that, or nobody will ever be nice to you ever again." She faced straight ahead, her hood blocking her face from Seval's view. "Starting with me now."

"What? I was just kidding . . ." Seval saw Marien hold her tongue in silence, making him guilty. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm really grateful for your words. I just didn't expect you to be that nice all the sudden . . ."

"Oh, so I'm mean? Is that what this is?" Marien remarked angrily, unwilling to look Seval in the eye. "I may be mean to you more than I should, but it's for your well-being. And sometimes I can't help it by how stupid you're being. But I can be nice, I really can. It just needs to be the right time and place." She crossed her arms against her torso in an attempt to hide her body language. It did well to leave Seval in the dark about whether she meant those words or not.

"I'm fine just the way you are: mean and stubborn," he decided, and got a fierce glare that almost made him stagger back.

"Keep this up and I'll have my boots on when we fight," Marien said, a smile rushing to her face that instantly got hidden. She couldn't help but think of the easy victory she would achieve. And Seval, poor Seval. He would have all the broken bones and heart. That would mark the end of his career, or at least an attempt at one.

"Look over there," Frant suddenly instructed, so both Seval and Marien looked in the direction his finger was pointing in. A cluster of guards were kneeling by a dead body, like detectives. The side of one of the buildings was crushed, a load of debris nearby that was not cleaned up just yet. At the sight of the pair, the dwarven guards snorted and muttered about themselves. In due time, a pair of dwarves clad in red armor approached the duo. They had special badges attached to their chestplates, their helmets having a middle bar that split their face in two along the nose.

"Identification?" one of them asked, his eyes darting back and forth on the duo suspiciously.

"They're the students? What do ya mean?" Frant replied confusedly, the guards snapping their focus onto him.

"If ya hadn't already heard, two dwarves were killed last night in cold blood. Both were found dead with gaping wounds in their chests. Their causes of death are unknown, but it's plain obvious that it was murder." One of the red guards brought out a bloody dagger from a pouch attached to his side. "We suspect the killer, or killers, is a human, hence the craftsmanship and design." In awkward silence, the group shot glances at another, full paranoid mode.

"Hold on a second. Are ya accusing these young lads here of murder?" Frant demanded, almost an outrage. The red dwarves shuffled nervously, their faces still stone without emotion.

"We're just telling ya to be on the lookout for any humans that look fishy. If so, report them to us right away. We'll handle it," a red guard remarked, before the duo trotted off back to the scene of the crime.

"They'll never just leave ya alone, will they?" Frant expressed his disbelief, and shook his head. He walked off elsewhere as Marien leaned her head toward Seval.

"Those are the ones that jumped me last night. I still remember that one there." She pointed at the bloody body all the detectives were at, for the other body was alone and forgotten at the time. "He did everything so quickly, that I was being dragged on the ground before I could tell you. Thankfully you had some sense of what to do." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I smelled ale and blood the whole time. But once you did what you did, it was completely blood."

Seval stared at the bodies in wonder, asking himself Did I do that? The wounds were so large and fatal. His sword must've packed one hell of a punch.

"They probably won't bother us anymore," Seval decided, turning around to pursue Frant after a long moment of staring at the bodies and guards that met his stare sharply. They didn't seem to like him one bit. And he thought they were on his side.

"I hope so," Marien said, as she followed Seval across the vacant street, the buzzing chatter disappearing into the air behind them. "Though, it makes me wonder why the guards are treating the kidnappers as normal citizens, like they're to be mourned and respected when they really shouldn't be." She shook her head in dismay. "If I were to explain what happened last night, they would just laugh and call me crazy, probably putting me into whatever hellhole of a jail they have." Suddenly she stopped, as if she had an epiphany. She spun toward Seval, her eyes full of ambition.

"We need a dwarven friend, and not Ruck or Drak because they're evildoers . . ."

"Allegedly," Seval corrected her, and her eyes darted to the dark ceiling in annoyance.

"Yes, yes, sure, but you understand my point, right?" She scanned Seval for an answer, expectant for one, as she tapped a boot onto the ground. Its clicking sound unnerved him to the point of giving in, while he knew how impatient she was.

"Right," he admitted, before falling out of stance to pursue Frant, who had developed a long lead ahead.

"Well? Who do you think we should befriend?" Marien asked, as she hustled beside Seval. He shrugged and kept his gaze forward.

"Somebody that we trust." He cracked a smile. "Somebody that is fun and easygoing, and we get to play all the games with them. It'll be the final piece to our group." He divided the air into three sections with his flat hands, with palms facing the side. "We have the angry, stubborn donkey." He heard Marien snort, but he continued on. "Then we have the neutral guy, which is me, that only looks to concile everything. And then we have the fun guy who brings joy to the party, putting you at ease so you aren't always attacking me."

"Oh, I'm always attacking you?" Marien repeated his phrase, and stomped on Seval's boot to make him hold in a yelp. In the corner of his eye, he could see an amused smile on her face.

"You just did, so yes. My argument stands, so I rest my case," Seval decided for a quick finisher, bracing himself for another attack; however, none came into existence by pure luck.

"Yeah, we'll see what happens in the courtyard," Marien said, as she reeled back her frustration. She already knew it could be settled elsewhere, so there was no need to do anything now. Seval couldn't help but imagine himself being dismantled by her because he knew she was not going to hold back. That meant hard boots, more agile footwork, and of course more pain.

"I bet you can't beat me without boots on," Seval taunted her cooly, his attack focused on the one thing more vulnerable than anything in Marien: pride. At the statement, Marien's button was pushed.

"Really? You want to actually bet on it?" she asked seriously.

"Uh . . . bet what exactly?" Seval replied, uncertain about the whole plan.

"If I win, you have to carry my books and do whatever I say for a week or so." Seval went to protest, but Marien added his side of things. "If you win, then I'll read you the magica spells for one night of my choice. No guarantee though."

"That's it . . .?"
"That's it," Marien responded, abruptly falling into silence at the sight of the Scholar's Hall in all its glory, if the vines and cracks were ignored.

Frant had run up to the entrance and waited for the duo to follow for a good few minutes or so. He boredly had his arms crossed, while he tapped his boot against the ground.

"Oi, what took ya so long? I be standing here for ages, ya know?" Frant complained, and shook his head before pushing open the light-weight doors to drift aside. He marched on in, navigating the way around the monotonous building that had the same decorations and floor all around.

"Look how clumsy he is," Marien whispered into Seval's ear, so he looked at Frant long and hard. The dwarf was stumbling around, his plump legs acting like peglegs. Something about it made Seval chortle, but he stopped once he saw Marien frowning at his reaction.

"It's not nice to make fun of people." She set her gaze straight ahead, with a fixed jaw. "I really wonder who's the mean one now because you're getting there. In a few weeks, you'll probably be surpassing me!" At the thought, she laughed and wiped aside a tear. It was good to laugh every once in a while, especially to loosen tension.

"I hope not," Seval said, looking at his left hand. He didn't want to be like Marien, but maybe such a change was inevitable. Maybe it was just fate. Whatever it may be, he was going to strive to not be like that, all mean and arrogant.

Frant escorted them to the first class of the day, as per usual. When they sat down, they realized they had forgotten something rather important. Well, it wasn't like it mattered. Nobody else really brought their books, except for an obedient Arena. She was the only one that didn't go out drinking last night.

"When there's time, I'm going to separate and question them. Be at my side to make them more nervous," Marien whispered, both of them glancing over their shoulders at the dwarves in the back. "We're going to pry the information out of them, whether they like it or not." Her quiet laugh was quite cynical, so Seval had some worries about the dwarves' well-being. This could very well turn out to be a whole torture scenario in which fingers and other limbs are cut off. But surely Marien wasn't that cruel.

By the sound of heels tapping against the floor, Seval snapped his attention forward. In came in a buzzling Shimmer, who was tugging at her strict sleeves irritatedly. She had no armor or a robe, but a mere navy tunic with buttons below the V shaped collar, which revealed a simple white blouse underneath. She wore slick pants that ran down to her knees, a pair of black socks being accompanied by red heels. Fancy but ill-worn. Shimmer was not a match for such an attire.

"Well . . ." Shimmer brushed off her tunic, tugging at her sleeves, like they were itchy. "Sorry I'm late. It was one thing after another." She threw her ponytail back, ready to rant about her bad morning. "I woke up later than usual just to find my clothes scattered around the room. I had no choice but to wear the ones that stood out for time sake, so please excuse the fashion." She narrowed her eyes as she went back to tugging at her sleeves, almost about to tear them off.

"After I left my room, I ran here . . . only to get stopped by a lot of guards. They actually halted me for questioning." She chuckled, shaking her head. "There was a room and everything. It felt like I was arrested. But, luckily, I was excused, so I headed here as quickly as possible. It wasn't even that bad. I'm only a few minutes late."

"Questioning fer what?" Drak asked, his voice a bit hazy.

"Oh, it was horrible. Two dwarves were killed last night, and nobody knows who did it." She furrowed her brow, a bit frustrated. "Of course they blame the humans. It's got to be us, doesn't it?" She patted her legs with her hands, done with the topic. "Okay, let's actually get stuff done. I would ask questions, but nobody read. Instead, you all want out for a nice drink. Hmph." She had her back turned toward the students as she wrote on the board. Quiet snickers went past her radar, with the sound of scraping piercing everyone's ears. It was not pleasant.

"I read," Arena declared proudly.

"I know you did. You're the only one that takes this class seriously," Shimmer replied expectantly.

Arena laid back in her chair, her special status gone just like that. She deserved a lot more credit.

"Seval, would you mind coming to the front of the room? You're quite useful for what I'm about to explain," Shimmer requested, the sound of scraping ceasing. Unnerved, Seval went to stand, only to stop at the sight of the words on the board.

LIVING MAGICA - HOST OR PARASITE