Julidor 1st had come.
Another day, another bright sun, and another drop of sweat that fell to the ground as Hubert stood in front of another tree, another victim, in the middle of his practice of mindlessly swinging swords.
Though it wasn't long before he was interrupted.
"Hubert," she called.
Hubert turned around as he ignored the fragrance of sunflower seed with a hint of saffron that pierced his nose. His hand moved twice as quickly, hiding the slightly dented wooden sword he had gotten the night before behind him.
"First hall master," he greeted, slightly bowing.
Veronica stood, same midnight blue dress and the same smoking pipe, filled to the brim with freshly lit tobacco, finest from the east. Which she pulled up to her red glossy lips while her right sparkly eye, as blue as midnight too, watched Hubert. The other was covered by her bangs.
"How are you?" she asked, a tone of which showed interest, a smirk on her face described it all as she exhaled all those kept up smoke from her lungs.
"I-I'm fine, hall master," Hubert answered.
"Are you? Or are you not?" Veronica asked, lunging her piercing gaze forward, her smooth and delicate fingers bending as she placed them on her curvy waist.
"Of course. Di-did you, by chance, find who stole the wooden sword last time?" Hubert replied, hiding his stuttering and grogginess.
Veronica rolled her eyes back.
"No, I did not. But… who cares? That one is old and dull, it holds no more value to me than it does to the students who will use it,"
"It is a shame for such a thing to happen," Hubert answered softly, as if offering his condolences.
"Ah. One thing came to mind, though," Veronica eyes brighten up.
"What is it, hall master?" Hubert asked, still hiding the wooden sword behind him.
"I almost forgot but the treasurer told me that… the wooden sword I recently purchased had gone missing as well," Veronica informed.
"An-and what about it?" Hubbert's words struggled as they came out, as he knew full well that the sword he held might be the one.
"Well, perchance, you wouldn't know of such a thing, right?" Veronica stepped forward, her gaze looked down at Hubert with a domineering pressure.
Choking, the air he breathed was stale, the fragrance was as if a snake had wrapped itself around his neck. Her stature was like a giant wall that he couldn't jump over, every strain of her muscle was like a sword in its own right, all staring athim.
For a moment, Hubert trembled, and his grip over the sword loosened.
"I-I don't, un-unfortunately," though it was as if his throat was hoarse and his neck was strained in every single syllable, he prevailed.
"Hmm…" Veronica rested the pipe on her lips once again, her eyes up to the tree above, to a bird that nested on its branch.
Hubert stood in silence, the pressure was gone, its remnants left behind. He smiled and smiled, an honest smile that hid his honesty as every single sweat contradicted his smile.
Then she blew the smoke out once again.
"Alright then, it seems that you truly didn't know. Anyway…" Veronica dragged out her words.
"Y-yes?" Hubert responded in simplicity while recovering from the pressure earlier.
"I've seen your practice, and one thing I must admit, you suck at it," Veronica said bluntly, her eyes glancing over Hubert's left hand, calloused and red, then to the tree behind him.
"Pardon?" Hubert's eyes curled; the truth was laid bare in front of him, and the truth was also hard to swallow.
"Yes. You. Suck. So I'll give you an offer," Veronica placed the smoking pipe on her smirking lips once again.
"I don't feel honored by this offer of yours, first hall master. Especially since I am undeserving of this," Hubert answered, hiding his growing resentment of her harsh and naked truth she gave.
Also to his loyalty to Tianna.
"Undeserving, you say? Kid. You must be joking!" she exclaimed.
Hubert watched, his head slightly tilted.
"How could a disciple of the… yes, you got it. Be undeserving of a mere offer from a hall master," she said, a voice slightly seductive now, replacing the interrogating tone that was earlier.
"Undeserving I am, of course. Being a disciple of the headmaster isn't that great of a deal," Hubert retorted, slightly confused by what Veronica meant.
To which she chuckled.
"Ha."
"What?"
"If only being a disciple of the great headmaster is that easy, then wouldn't you think that everyone here would be an archmage or a knight grandmaster?" Veronica said, slightly exhaling.
"What? A what yo-, first hall master, said? Archmage or knight grandmaster?" Hubert asked, and his eyes blazed with confusion mingling also with interest and desire.
"You heard me right, archmage and knight grandmaster," Veronica nodded.
"How is that probable? A title with such power is available only to those of mighty prowess and unexplainable power!" Hubert said, almost barking, unbelieving of her words.
"Ha…" she sighed.
"I know a few dozen of their names and you wouldn't think that the head of the second highest institute wouldn't bore such a title? If only June was here, then she would laugh at you for being an intelligent boy that became the disciple of the great headmaster," Veronica continued, slightly annoyed by Hubert's stubbornness.
"Your words burn… But what does it have to do with my position as a disciple?" Hubert's tone peaked as he demanded an answer.
"..." Veronica looked at him with eyes widening in silence.
"Yo-you… Oh my Goddess, Astia. Forgive me for only turning my faith to you but this one is a lost cause,"
"Answer me, first hall master," Hubert pressed.
"Ha… Being the disciple of the headmaster would mean that you are also the next in line for the position, wouldn't you think?" Veronica explained, even her calm demeanor was now punished by Hubert's lack of common sense.
"Wh-what?" Hubert echoed.
"Yes. Ugh, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall," Veronica turned around, and bit the end of the pipe as she walked away.
"First hall master!" Hubert called as she went further.
Veronica raised her hand and waved in the air.
"I'll see you later, young thief!" she shouted from afar.
Hubert shivered upon her words as he was left alone with his thoughts while the wind blew from the west and the leaves above him dried off and fell. The day continued under the scorching sun.
Hubert walked under the dying evening sun. His drenched, ragged shirt, muddied, dirtied, and dried off from the wind. The sword of his practice, dulled and lamed, was hidden by his coat of a uniform.
The academy's ground was peaceful, students' laughter and conversations were heard, carried by the warm evening's wind. Debaters and loving birds too, on the tables of the common grounds.
Smiling, he felt delighted by such a sight, wanting to be a part of it, once and for all. Clenching his fist, he knew deep down, any of those he approached would leave from his sight. He knew he was unbelonging there.
"Still… This is a nice scenery," he told to himself as he continued along his path, toward his cave.
"Is it?" a young man of blond slicked hair, pulled backward, greeted. His red eyes tempting.
Hubert stopped in his tracks, clenching the sword he held hidden by his coat.
"Yes. And you are?" Hubert asked, his knee slightly bent, his instincts screaming danger, and his heart beat fastened.
"Don't be troubled. I'm of the 71st cohort. Gunther," Gunther introduced.
"71st cohort? A senior?" Hubert asked.
"Yes," Gunther smiled a smile that was weirdly warm.
"And…" Hubert dragged his words, awaiting for Gunther's interruption.
"Ah, forgive my mistakes. I should have told you of my purpose," Gunther placed his right white-gloved hand on his chest and slightly bowed down, lowering his gaze.
"And forgive mine too," Hubert nodded.
"Hubert, the genius that everyone praised," Gunther echoed, a tale of the old, aged a week or two at most.
"Not anymore," Hubert said, shaking his head.
"To me, you still are. And if you still deny it, how's this as a proof?" Gunther smugged.
"What pro-" Hubert hadn't had a chance before from the corner of his eye, a needle of red, came flying toward him, aiming for his right cheek.
To which he faced his face away to the left, avoiding the needle.
"Ugh," he groaned. The pain was sharp and sudden, a small cut, of which his blood, red, leaked from his face.
"See? If you weren't one, then you'll be dead from such an attack," Gunther opened his open palms, explaining as he smiled from ear to ear.
"Senior Gunther, wasn't it?"
"Yes? Gunther responded.
"Why won't you get the hell away from me now. It seems that all your words sound like babbling to me," Hubert told as he wiped the blood off his face, his eyes glancing to the nearby group of instructors of the fourth learning hall, dressed in robes, nearing them.
Gunther looked toward them also, before returning his gaze to Hubert.
"A rude one! But interesting also! Hubert… Hubert, you're fun,"
"And you're not." Hubert replied.
Gunther almost gasped. Though he just shrugged.
"I like you. We'll meet again, Hubert, and I hope, in better terms than now, as I hold the key to your revenge," then Gunther left.