Chapter 58: I Am Cooked
Most of them rushed to the board to see.
It was mostly the first-years running to go see. Within two minutes there was a crowd in front of the board.
The words on the board reads;
Reynold Starweaver broke protocol during the challenge fight. He did not enter the challenge through the proper way. After winning his first bout he crossed into a second ring and continued fighting. Because of this his victory is not recognized. As punishment he has been moved to the Ironhold wing for an indefinite period. And there will be no visitors. No messages. His training will continue in isolation.
That was the punishment. No expulsion. No public flogging. He was just moved to the Ironhold.
More crowd of the first-years were pressing in to read punishment..
Just then someone read the words out loud, for the people at the back.
Upon hearing it, the crowd started murmuring.
"Why is the school fu*king protecting him?" a tall cadet with a scar on his jaw said.
Another cadet snorted. "That Starweaver boy broke every rule and gets sent to the safest hole on campus? I would call it favoritism."
A girl near the front folded her arms as she added. "That was the right call. The highborns were already sharpening their knives. One more fight and they would have torn him apart. The academy doesn’t want blood."
"Or they are just scared of what he is," a lowborn boy muttered. "The boy is a Two who is bond to three dragons. They don’t know what to do with him, so they lock him up before the highborns make it worse."
A short boy let out a bitter laugh. " He is a lucky bastard. We get lectures and drills. He gets a private wing."
"Private prison," someone corrected him.
The murmurs were getting more loud.
"The Starweaver boy always acting like he owned the place."
"Yeah, and then he act like everyone esle is shit"
"This is not right! Rules are rules. If it was any of us we’d be scrubbing latrines till graduation."
"But it’s not any of us. It’s Starweaver boy with the three dragons"
Most of them were smart enough to see the real reason. They shook their heads, checked the time, and started heading toward their afternoon classes.
The crowd disappeared so fast. No one wanted to be late and give the professor another excuse to yell.
The news spread so quick. By the time the bell rang for the next period it had already reach the entire academy building.
Laena was standing at the window of the third-floor commom room with her fingers wrapped tight around a glass of water.
She heard the announcement from a group of cadets rushing past below and felt her stomach twist.
She set the glass down as the scene from Reynold fight started flooding back to her.
"I did not do anything wrong," she murmured to the empty room. "Landon was the right pick. He is Strong, reliable.." She clenched her hand until her nails bit into her palm. "I...I chose right. I chose right."
She was trying to convince herself that picking Landon over Reynold was the right choice. Landon had the highborns privilege and Reynold don’t.
She turned away from the window and stared at the floor. Then she picked up her books and left for class.
Up on the fifth floor. Nymeria stood in front of a mirror adjusting the clasp on her cloak.
Bram leaned against the wall a few paces away, with his arms crossed. "You hear about the Starweaver boy?"
Nymeria’s hands paused mid-air. She tilted her head just enough to catch his reflection. "Yes." She turn back to the mirror.
Bram paused for a moment. "You think the school only shoved him in Ironhold to protect him? That the boy..."
"Why are we talking about the Starweaver boy?" Nymeria cut in. She turned from the mirror and met Bram eyes directly. "I thought you came up here to discuss The Bonded. We have meeting tonight, remember?"
Bram opened his mouth, then closed it, then gave a small nod. "Right. The Bonded." He pushed off the wall and followed her down the hall without another word about Reynold.
...
Meanwhile, on the northeast edge of the academy grounds, Reynold walked between the two non-teaching staff members.
His backpack was on one of his shoulder. The path curved behind the old drill towers and ended at a set of iron gates.
Reynold stopped and looked up. "This is the Ironhold?"
Non of staff answered. They simply unlocked the gates and kept walking.
The building was talk and look like a forgotten fortress. It have thick walls, narrow windows, and a roof that disappeared into the low clouds.
Reynold had been on the campus almost close to a full year and never once noticed this place even existed.
They passed through a long tunnel.
Another tunnel. Then another. Before Reynold finally saw the passage opened into a huge open arena. The floor was smooth gray stone. High above were faint daylight filtered through barred skylights.
The space was big enough to hold a full dragon landing and still have room for a skirmish line.
One of the staff pointed. "You can practice here whenever you want. Through that front door is the bunk wing. Take the first room on the right. The other staff added, "Stay inside the arena and the bunk rooms. Don’t cross the ward rope at the far end. The library is opposite the last bunk room if you want to read. Meals will be brought two times a day for you."
Reynold nodded once. "Got it."
The two men turned and left without another word. Their footsteps faded down the tunnel. Then the big outer door clanged shut.
Reynold let out a long breath. He scanned the arena again. There was plenty of room to move and train.
He sigh and then walked through the front door into another well-lit tunnel. Wall sconces were burning with steady mage-light. Ten numbered doors lined the right side. He stopped at the first one and pushed it open, and stepped inside.
It was smaller than his dorm, but it was clean. It has a single bed against the wall. Wooden table. Chair. A narrow door that led to a private bathroom.
Reynold dropped his backpack on the bed and then he sat down with his elbows on his knees, and stared at the floor for a long minute.
His parents’ faces flashed behind his eyes—smiling the morning they left for the border, promising they would be back before the first snow. Then the letter. Then the empty house. The vow he made that same night: get into the academy, get strong, find out what really happened, and take back what was theirs.
He sigh again and then he stood up. He might as well check the library. Maybe he could find maps of the old war zones.
He walked past doors two through ten. At the end of the hall the last door had the word LIBRARY carved neatly into the wood. He reached for the handle.
But rhen he noticed another door standing slightly open, just a few steps to the side. There was no number or label.
Reynold glanced back down the empty corridor. No one around or watching. He stepped over and pushed the door wider, and looked inside. There was another short hallway. At the end of it a second door. This one had a metal plate bolted to the wood:
RESTRICTED AREA
Faculty Clearance Only
He stood there for a moment.
He took a slow breath and pushed the door open.
Cool air rolled up from below. Stone steps spiraled down. Inside was lit by small fires burning in iron brackets along the walls.
Reynold hesitated for almost a minute. Go in or go back?
Go in.
He started walking down. The stairs curved gently.. At the bottom the passage opened into another arena, this one was medium and perfectly round, like a bowl carved into the earth. More mage-lights were on the walls.
He took one step into the curved space.
Then another.
Then a low groan rolled through the chamber.
Reynold’s head snapped up immediately only to see a jet of fire screamed straight toward him.
He dropped to the ground just in time. The flames roared over his head, scorching the air and lighting the entire arena in a sudden, blinding orange glare.
Reynold hit the stone hard.
Before he could raise his head, another fire screamed passed him and it was followed by an angry sound..
Reynold just lay there with his cheek pressed to cold stone, his eyes wide.
"By the flame! I am cooked!" He muttered under his breath...