by Billy Wong
"At least you can say that much. Don't hit any more girls in the chest with an axe."
Leaving the infirmary, he considered what to do. When no better ideas came to mind, he settled on visiting the library as he'd initially meant to before he was sidetracked. On his way through the halls, students shrank back from him in fear having heard or seen what happened. At least that was one possible benefit from yesterday's disaster—his newfound infamy might dissuade others from wanting to antagonize him. As he walked between buildings, he noticed the statue by which he and Meg fought had been destroyed, only the base and the figure's lower legs still standing. Geez, she'd swung him bodily with enough force to shatter the solid sculpture? Albeit it might not be the strongest stone, but even so that was mighty impressive.
Rupert made it to the library, ascended short stairs and entered. Ignoring wary gazes his way, he browsed the shelves and found a book on the various countries that shared the floating continent on which he lived. Ostuh's educational system didn't put much emphasis on teaching about lands such like Severil the hilly kingdom of reputedly crude warriors, great Aerilea ruled by a lineage of mages which led the alliance of northern states, or even the south where countless ever-shifting tribes claimed sovereignty as nations in their own right. But he was fascinated to learn about their neighbors, especially those which celebrated the martial pursuits more, and jumped at any chance he got to do so. Sure the books he found might not be entirely unbiased, most being written by scribes of Ostuh themselves, but it was better than nothing.
After sitting at a table, he paged through the book until he came across an account of mandatory military training in Severil transcribed from an interview with one of its veterans. Not long after beginning to read he suspected it to be quite embellished, as details like each neophyte soldier having to train fifteen hours a day and sleep only two seemed far from believable. That the author didn't include a warning about that made him wonder if he had been gullible or just expected the reader to use some common sense.
A few pages into the chapter, he heard footsteps approach. He didn't look, but gritted his teeth in dread of the possibility some idiot sought to bother him again. When he heard the chair next to him get pulled out, he breathed a sigh of relief as the person probably just wanted somewhere to sit down. He prepared to concentrate back on his reading. A moment later however, a female voice spoke from above. "Good evening, my sleeping prince."
He looked up. A girl towered over him—but wait, that didn't make sense since he recognized her face as that of little Meg. His gaze drifted down to see she had stood on top of the adjacent seat, giving her the higher ground. He glowered. "What are you doing, haven't you had enough already after getting an axe in the chest? Leave me alone."
"Aren't you at least going to thank me?"
"Thank you for what?"
She crossed her arms. "You must not care to ask about much if you didn't hear. I, Diamond Fang Meg, put in a good word for you and bailed you out."
Rupert's eyes bulged. "How did you do that?" Even if she had been his "victim" and could've held back in her blame of him, that alone shouldn't have gotten him off as lightly as he had.
Meg flashed a sly grin. "I am the student council president, after all."
"What?! You are?"
Chapter 3
"Is it that shocking?" Meg asked while Rupert gawked at her.
After a pause, he said, "You are old enough I suppose."
"I'm not old! I'm only twenty... although that is older than most new entrants like you, but it's not age that got me my position. This is only my second semester here, I already became president in my first." He was silent for a bit. "Aren't you going to ask how I pulled it off?"
"Go ahead and talk yourself up."
"Pfft, you're no fun. Anyway, I was a member of the Free Fangs, a group of young monster hunters who stopped a... uh, giant metal bird from threatening the order of the continent. My fame carried over into some popularity among the student body, so when I ran for president, I managed to steal the position from some probably more qualified candidates."
He found himself laughing. "At least you can be pretty honest about yourself." Her pride as a fighter was probably enough for her not to feel a need to lie about her other merits. "Then I assume you didn't start school until this advanced age because you were busy slaying monsters before?"
"That's about right."
A male voice chimed in, and Rupert looked to regard Pat. So the two scarred youths did know each other, and were probably both among these Free Fangs. "Actually," Pat said as he joined them at the table, "we expected to be aiding in research work by now. But when we arrived here at the capital, the researcher who convinced us to return to Ostuh with her told us we needed some basic education before we could start."
"Our other partner was allowed to start working right away," Meg grumbled, "due to being older and allegedly more worldly even though we'd been traveling and fighting together forever. Oh well, at least we aren't required to have a full university stay, just long enough to get 'cultured' whatever that's supposed to mean. We wouldn't stick around if we had to waste a big chunk of our lives for that."
Rupert wasn't certain about college education being a waste—if one could make it through—but that viewpoint seemed fitting of sellswords used to moving freely under the wide open sky. Not really his type of people. "What do you want from me? You think I owe you something, just because you chose to speak on my behalf?"
"Well I could say that, but I wouldn't want to force you into anything against your will. I just thought you might be interested in what we do. Even though there is a defense class, it's only meant for basic... defense, and its training doesn't go beyond a certain, rather low level. So I thought there should be a place here for more advanced fighters to continue honing their skills. In addition to being student council president, I am also founder of the Combat Club, the Martial Club, and the Fighters Club."
"But aren't those all the same thing?"
She rolled her eyes. "No. The Combat Club is for people who like to be competitive and do hard sparring, the Martial Club is for folks who prefer to focus on pure technique and combat theory, and the Fighters Club is for those who just want to identify as a fighter and socialize with others who do, but practice alone or with their own circle rather than a large group."
That seemed perhaps unnecessarily complicated... "You run all those and still find time to study?"
"Diamond Fang Meg's schedule knows no limits! Besides, Patrick here does my studying for me."
"Sounds great."
Patrick smiled. "By the way, about the Diamond Fang moniker she keeps trying to push... that isn't her real nickname. It's Meg the Mouse."
"Hey! What makes Diamond Fang less legitimate than Mouse?"
"I'm quite sure you know, but you gave it to yourself. A proper nickname is given by others."
"I didn't know that," Rupert said.
Meg giggled. "Yeah, cause you don't socialize. But you're right actually. It's an outdated convention, Diamond Fang Meg is legit."
"So why did you help me, after I tried to murder you?"
"That might be wording it overly strongly. I know you didn't really want to kill me, considering how many times you tried to warn me not to push you. You could have explained it a bit more directly, but even then my pride might have driven me to continue fighting." She put on a haughty tone. "'You'd kill me? As if you could!' So I don't fault you that much. It's just how seriously you take being in a fight, which can be seen as the mark of a real warrior."
"A real warrior? That's a unique perspective. Usually people just view it as me being not right in the head going as far as I do."
"Mouse didn't say it was purely a good thing," Patrick said. "It can definitely be taken too far, like when you're willing to kill someone just to avoid losing a literal schoolyard brawl. But your flaw isn't such that it makes you a hopeless cause in our eyes. Like some of the kids we've worked with before, we think
you could learn to judge situations better and mellow out somewhat in the future."
"I don't know. It's a pretty strong compulsion I have to not lose."
Meg looked at him with raised brows. "I'm curious if there's a backstory behind this, but won't press you for it if you aren't comfortable sharing. Anyway, want to join the club?"
"Which one?"
"I was speaking in general. It would be your choice what specific club or clubs to sign up for, but whichever you pick, you'll be seen as a friend by our network and have people ready to help you out."
Being used to not having friends, he didn't find much appeal in suddenly gaining a whole bunch, whose relationships with him would likely be shallow anyway and only last so long as he didn't do something displeasing to them. Still, he was in a social setting like it or not, and having acquaintances at least could help now and then, say for him to keep informed.
"Get down from that chair!" a primly dressed older man—probably the librarian—said. "Stop making a scene."
She hopped down, clutching her chest with a wince which reminded Rupert of what he'd done. "Aw, but I like looking tall."
"Would I have to do anything being in a club?" he asked.
Patrick shrugged. "Not really. We have dozens of members in our clubs combined, and the majority don't have a hand in organizing them. You'd be expected to attend meetings and usual club stuff like that, but many don't come to every meeting either. It's pretty casual and nothing to worry over, just an opportunity to meet like-minded people."
That was the questionable part for him. But some added interaction might be worth it to have the student council president as a potential ally. Even at club meetings, he could mostly fade into the background by being quiet as usual. "Fine, you can count me in for the Fighters Club. That's the one where I'm not obliged to train with others, right?"
Meg gave a barely discernible shake of her head, but replied, "Yeah, that one is mostly just for hanging out and talking unless you make private arrangements with someone you meet there. If you change your mind, you can always also join the more involved clubs later or switch over to them."
"I accept your invitation to the Fighters Club, then."
She nodded. "Glad to have you on board. And as a member, we look forward to you helping us recruit more members of course."
"What? I thought Pat said I didn't have to do anything besides attend meetings sometimes."
The boy chuckled. "This falls under 'and usual club stuff like that.'"
Rupert slapped his forehead. "You tricked me..."
"Oh, don't be like that," Meg said, "you still owe me for bailing you out. Besides, it's not like there's a quota for how many new members you have to bring in or anything. But being in a club, isn't it natural to keep an eye out for others who might have the same interests? Just drop a line about the Combat Club, the Martial Club and the Fighters Club when you meet somebody who seems like they could be a good fit, that's all we ask."
"That's not too unreasonable." As long as there wasn't a quota, he shouldn't be unduly pressured into talking more than he naturally would. He already had some in mind who might fit in these clubs, though.
She produced a small piece of paper from a belt pouch and handed it to him. "Now that we're on the same page, here's a list of club meeting times." There was also a none too straight hand-drawn map on the bottom, indicating their locations. "Actually, take a few more flyers in case you meet anyone who shows interest."
"By the way, why are you drinking as a student and what was that Blazing Force of Bae you mentioned before striking at me?"
"Shush about the drinking! I was a mercenary, do you expect me not to have an acquired taste for alcohol? As for the other thing, it's just a joke. Bae is part of Saint General Julianna's nickname meaning something like 'cute' in an ancient language, which I referenced since I am pretty cute myself. We have other matters to attend to, so I bid you goodnight. See you again soon!" As she and Patrick walked away, he couldn't help having a positive feeling about her. To forgive him that easily after he injured her badly and extend a helping hand after... he hoped he would be able not to disappoint her.
#
Walking back with her towards the main building, Patrick asked Meg, "Are you sure about recruiting him? After what he did to you..."
She touched her shirt over the deep bandaged wound and bit her lip, but said, "What did he do to me? He just gave me another nice scar to go with all the other ones. Besides, strong friendships can grow out of initial hostility, just think about me and Taryn for example."
"Yes, but I don't know that the club members will take well to such a dangerous individual being let in. I hope you know what you're doing, Mouse."
"The Free Fangs are supposed to be bold, what better way to reaffirm our boldness by taking in the one who challenged me so? ...and it's Diamond Fang now!"
He sighed. "Whatever you say, Mouse."
#
Rupert returned to class the next day. Instead of paying him no mind, many actively avoided meeting his eyes now, gazing at him when he didn't look in their direction but turning away as soon as he glanced their way. He cut quite the frightful figure it seemed after opening up a girl's breast with an axe, even if said girl herself didn't show fear towards him.
After the classes taught by Professor Milo, the boy he had helped before fighting Meg approached him on the way to lunch. "Are you okay?" asked the boy with straight-cut bangs. "I was worried about you after the way that girl bashed you into the statue and you weren't seen until days later. She smashed it to pieces with your head, it was quite the sight."
"I'm fine, I think it was more my back that broke it since that hurts more than my head. And thanks, I guess."
"What a monstrous tiny female. I've heard of elite warriors with nigh superhuman strength and resilience, but never thought I'd see one in school... or that she would be so small."
"I think she might be a big fish in a small pond. Sure she's good"—a bit of an understatement, given most adults couldn't match him at full force—"but I haven't heard her name in the company of those like Julianna or the High Knights. I'd assume she isn't one of the best in the world at her age, although that might be too much of an assumption if she was still holding back against me... and by the way, she is also the student council president."
The boy started. If he didn't know who Rupert had tussled with until now, he probably kept to himself too. "Her? Good example of brawn and brains going together, then."
"I'm not sure it's brains so much as preexisting fame that got her where she is. Still, she seems like a decent girl. It would have been bad if I actually killed her." He realized how eagerly he was talking, more than he had to someone outside his family in a long while. Had that battle mouse infected him with her open attitude that quickly? "You aren't scared of me though, after what I did?"
"You saved me from those bullies, so I can't think of you as a bad person."
"Don't give me too much credit, I doubt much would have happened to you. They might've given you a few lumps, but wouldn't likely go farther on school grounds."
"You still helped me. You just got carried away in the fight after, it happens. I figure you weren't thinking clearly after you got rocked by her." He had been a tad dazed, but aware enough that it couldn't be used as an excuse. When he didn't reply, the boy added, "Anyway, you're Rupert right?"
"Yeah. Sorry, I can't think of your name off the top of my head."
"It's alright, we only had classes together for one day after all. Mine is Elliot, good to meet you... again. Can I sit with you at lunch?"
Rupert felt ambivalent. If the boys who harassed Elliot still held a grudge, them openly acting chummy might lead to more trouble for him. On the other hand, if they happened to join the same club... "I don't know, I like to have quiet time to relax with a meal." Elliot's face fell, but brightened again as he pulled out one of Meg's flyers. "You showed some skill in defense class, so if you want to meet other fighters, yo
u might try this club I'm part of."
"Sounds nice. But when did you have time to join a club in between class and getting into fights?"
"Our esteemed president found me yesterday after I was released from the infirmary and offered membership to me. She and her friend founded this and a couple other clubs apparently, all to encourage development of fighting skills among the student body."
"She asked you to join? That's a surprise."
He gave a weak laugh. "It certainly was. She got a sense of being kindred spirits from how hard we beat on each other, perhaps."
"That's like something out of a heroic saga. I'll check out the club then, thanks for telling me!"
As they parted after getting their lunch, Rupert wondered if he could be considered to have made his first friend in years, since he wasn't sure if Meg and Patrick counted. Grudgingly, he thought maybe his parents had a point in sending him here. It remained to be seen whether it would work out in the long run though, or if he would end up with student blood on his hands.
#
School life continued, Rupert acclimating to the routine though he remained aware most students avoided him. It shouldn't have been a big issue, given his familiarity with solitude, but it somehow disheartened him that many felt unsafe around him. He didn't want to have a negative impact on their experience just by being there, and started to increase his participation in class hoping to form more innocuous impressions of himself and put his frightful actions behind him to whatever extent he could. His typical awkwardness in responding when a teacher asked him to elaborate might even help there, as the image of a verbally bumbling student probably didn't match up the best with that of a terrifying lunatic many viewed him as... or so he hoped.
After the initial assessments which took up the first few days, the physical education and defense classes settled into light training everyone could do at their own pace. Though Coach Jarvis noted their varying levels of ability, he didn't do much different with the more advanced students besides congratulating them on completing tasks with ease and holding them up as examples for their peers to strive towards. Rupert supposed there was only so much a non-combat focused college could do. For him and others who already had little to learn from the standard defense class, further honing of their skills would probably have to be done outside the curriculum.
