Mother lined up the pieces of clothes she needed in front of Conan as she spoke. "And please don't forget to put on your socks this time. I was sorry to look at your blue legs yesterday."
Well before classes began, Conan arrived at the classroom. The young man silently looked at the unfamiliar room, and then, having decided that he, the son of the ruler, deserved the highest place, sat down in the teacher's chair and began to wait for further events.
Gradually, the class filled with people. They greeted Conan, threw out a hilarious note, put books onto the table, and exchanged good natured barbs. Conan watched it all in silence – if no one approached him directly, there was no need to intervene in the general hustle and bustle.
Five minutes before the bell, Steven and Lisa entered the classroom. Lisa glared at Conan with a evil and resentful look and pulled her companion's sleeve. Conan watched the two in calm indifference.
"Look, Steven, this stinky pig isn't ashamed to look at us, it's like it wouldn't have been him who wanted to rape and beat me yesterday." Lisa's voice became shrill.
Steven walked over to Conan's table and rested on it with both hands. Sticking his face as close as possible, he asked in a threatening voice. "What can you answer to that, pussy?"
Conan stood up and in turn surveyed Steven. He was half a head taller than him and almost twice as wide in his shoulders, but Conan wasn't bothered by it. He knew he would be able to deal with a much stronger opponent as well, it wasn't for nothing that he had been accepted into the McLaughlin's squad.
Then Conan's gaze turned to Lisa. Taking in her long, blond hair put in a tail, super-short skirt, super-long jacket, red socks and high-heeled boots, lingering for a moment on the girl's face and looking into her eyes, Conan laughed. Such eyes had been watching the boy by the whores of Ediburgh when he had rejected their offers.
He turned back and measured Steven with a proudly arrogant gaze, Conan said. "It's not good for real men to start a quarrel because of a low-class scum, and I wouldn't even open my mouth because of her, but since you called me a pussy, then hopefully you, the slave and the whore's defender, will be able to answer for your words, though judging by everything, you are the dirty son of a bitch."
Steven roared and grabbed Conan by the sweater. Conan immediately freed himself and, pushing back the table, stood in a fighting position. At this point, a teacher entered the classroom.
"Winterfell, Klavson, what does it mean?" shouted teacher, Mrs Backer, sliding off her nose her tattered glasses. "If you, Callan, have so much energy, then endure a little, you will be able to come to answer your beloved object, history, as soon as possible, otherwise you are in danger of failing on the report. Just please raise my chair beforehand and sit down in place so I can start the lesson."
There was laughter in the classroom. Everyone knew Callan's relationship with history. Steven went to his place, unpacked his books, and put his bag down as an obstacle between himself and his ex-friend.
Conan was still standing in front of the classroom and staring furiously at the teacher, Steven, Lisa, who had sat next to a bubbly girl with her hair smoothly brushed back. There was something Spanish in its appearance and nobly restrained. Conan smiled at her and bowed lightly. The girl looked at the young man in surprise and smiled shyly in return.