It had been a day since Layla's disappearance, some influential people were already aware of the situation and chose to avoid spreading the news so that panic would not spread during the mirian competition event. The preparations for the eventual rescue were already being made, however, in a hidden way.
Countless people were seen entering the academy for the final day of competition, being lit by a strangely colored sky covered by beautiful clouds that roamed endlessly.
Mary and the others played with the daughters of the Binghers, a noble family who had known them since childhood, in front of Quagmire's room in the Veritas Class Dorm. They had been waiting for the boy who had disappeared for hours under the pretext of doing something 'important'.
As they talked, an agonizing noise echoed through the support pillars that were responsible for holding the ceilings of the huge corridors. The sound made half the group in the area squirm, it was damp and noisy and certainly distressing; The faces turned toward the source of the sounds that were getting closer and closer, coming at idle steadily.
It could be anyone, it could be anything. After all, rumors had spread throughout the academy that thieves and assassins were looting and murdering the young pilot candidates, a bunch of heavily armed mad mercenaries who strip the nobles of everything from their shoes on their feet to their very lives. Several systems and security measures were adopted after the incident that generated the repercussions of these rumors, but people were still extremely scared and attentive to any small event.
Alice looked up from the girls that were jumping a rope, and the Bingher daughters froze in mid-jump, completely immobile and afraid of the shrill sounds.
"What kind of weird reception is this..." A voice came from down the hall when a person finally appeared, completely dirty and smiling strangely.
''After all, I am literally in my own room. Wait a second, I'm in my room, right?'' Quagmire asked casting a glance towards the group.
The boy was thin and looked like a gardener with so much dirt and dust trapped in his clothes and face, dressed in faded black trousers that now had a large tear in the thigh of his right leg and a white long coat (incidentally, it was the best part of all his clothes) that he dragged on the floor as he passed, over a red button-down shirt. The red eyes that usually looked dead were now covered in a thick layer of dark circles and more alive than ever, somehow showing excitement for some reason.
"Before you ask me where I was, I'm just going to tell you it was for an important reason." The boy said, returning the inquisitive looks that were directed at him.
He carried two file folders along with a black backpack that looked heavier than it should have been, probably using it to carry something.
"Oh my…" Mary looked Quagmire up and down, "How the hell did you end up in this state?"
"My hard drug addiction…." He said, forcing a startled expression.
The group of friends who already knew about the boy's nature and way of acting were not shaken by his mocking response, while waiting for him to respond accordingly. As for the little Bingher girls, they were terrified of the thought of a Landra, who was completely shabby and who claimed to be addicted to drugs ('cause they had taken Quagmire's statement seriously) in front of them.
''Ah! Is that it? Is that why you didn't show up in any of the physical duel matches?" Mary asked as she narrowed her eyes menacingly.
Quagmire wasn't intimidated as he yawned awkwardly and patted the shoulders of the coat he was wearing, trying not to look too tired.
''Can I get into my room?''
"Oh, ok." Mary said shyly, having been completely ignored.
The group made way for Quagmire to let him pass, and the girls from the Bingher family distanced themselves to an extraordinary degree as they sought refuge behind their 'older sisters'.
"But seriously, where the hell and what have you been doing all this time?" Alice asked, stopping the hand that was going to touch Quagmire's shoulder in midair.
The boy took a few glances at the group surrounding him and then took a long breath, shaking his head slightly.
"Preparing myself for a catastrophe." The boy replied without hesitation, "I suggest you do the same while we still have time."
Everyone looked at Quagmire like he was some lunatic, one of those people who appear in movies with posters written: 'THE END OF THE WORLD IS NEAR', and kept trying to convince people that their ideas were actually right.
"U-uh, right." Olivia shook her head, as she gestured with her right hand, "So what kind of 'catastrophe' do you mean?"
"I mean a war," Quagmire said, as he sat down in the armchair and stretched his arms toward the ceiling.
"When I say a war, it's not a philosophical question," He continued stretching with weird crackles coming out of his body, "I literally mean it's a fucking WAR itself, written, read and said."
''Before you ask me, yes, I mean a war for political purposes and which will likely have battles, perhaps life and death situations or just simply duels of honor.''
The group was still very confused, as the little girls who accompanied the non-blood related sisters looked scared in Quagmire's direction. Everyone took it as the delusion of someone half crazy, but there was one person among everyone present who listened carefully to the words, it was Mary who made mental notes of every detail of Quagmire's words.
"Changing the subject," He said, as he walked toward the bedroom with the file folders and the backpack in hand, putting them aside.
Quagmire changed clothes, pulling on a black shirt with a long, slightly faded collar and a blue-gray denim jeans in his bedroom, out of everyone's sight.
"The mechanical competition is about to start," Quagmire walked out of the room with a comb in his right hand and a wet towel he was using to clean himself up, as he carried the lab coat over his shoulder.
"I need to hurry so things will be simpler in every way." He finished cleaning himself and folded the towel neatly, placing it on a pile of dirty fabrics and clothes in the corner of the room.
"I suggest you to prepare for what I told you, the sooner the better."
No one said anything as Quagmire grabbed a small black box and walked out of the room completely unrecognizable compared to his appearance a few minutes ago. He had become a relatively elegant young man with tousled hair, relatively nice clothes, accompanied by a white coat with some weird stains, and finally the slightly serrated eyes that were surrounded by a purple-black stain.
"I think we should go." Samuel took the initiative, as he snapped everyone in the room out of the trance they'd been trapped for a few minutes.
The people who were previously stagnant in place, regained consciousness and finally started to leave the room in order to go and watch the mechanical competition.
'A war, huh?' Mary thought intricately, as she thought of ways to survive the eventual conflict Quagmire had warned them about.
'I'll play your game then.'