Songbirds peeped through the afternoon breeze, their enviable little beaks hidden in the nearby grove. So many elm trees covered this corner of the imperium, and the Cinderfall crest was a burning elm leaf that covered the breast of our tunics. Put two and two together. The lush forests seared over the region, especially when Autumn reigned. Year-round, the warm leaves glistened and gave the province its red Autumnal beauty. Or, perhaps, the legendary founder of our school once saw a burning leaf and interpreted some kind of mystical omen from it.
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Meh. Who cared? I wouldn’t consider myself a scholar.
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Before the fitness test had officially begun, we were forced to make our way into a cavity that dug deep into the earth. According to the local villagers, there were quite a few secret tunnels just hidden deep in and around the terrain around campus. They even came with their own local legends. But once we were in the thick of those cavernous trenches, it was nothing like I expected. How uninhabitable. Cracks and pits. The walls were jagged and rough, yet a stone bench awaited where the ambient light pulsed on a stack of uniforms neatly folded and arrayed. Somebody left them beside the steaming underground spring. We had no choice but to change and leave our uniforms. Further down the cavern, as expected, the towels had been laid out for our return. You’d think it was a resort treatment.
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As I shifted on the bench, my uniform nearly became stuck to my cast. The gambit had yet to begin, and I was already struggling by my lonesome. “Such a drag.” Still, to be the last person in and out of ever classroom—or face—was never as bad as it sounded. You got used to it. But when I heard the sound of footsteps, I realized I wasn’t actually the last person changing clothes in the recess.
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"Do you need help?" said a voice.
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I peeped from the bench. And who did I see but the autumn-haired girl from Demonology. Aftermonths attending the same class, I didn't know her name.
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Alas, how good I am with faces. I remembered the pale skin and red blush around her high cheekbones, and those eccentric hazel eyes. "I need no help, thank you for asking. I am simple and simply slow."
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"I'm slow, too," she said matter-of-factly, following up with a wink. "But only on purpose." Absently, she planted herself on the stone bench. "I'm curious, how do you bathe with that thing?" She pointed directly at my cast.
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What a random question. "Why do you ask?"
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"If we are going to run ten laps around the arena, chances are we'll bathe afterward. That's why I ask."
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Truth. "I take it off, first. Then, I sit and wash."
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"Oh."
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"You're not going to ask me how I run?"
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"How do you run?"
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"I don't," I smirked.
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She breathed out a chuckle. "I was curious about something."
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Goodness. Will she ask why I'm a cripple? Perhaps about my past or my lost memory?
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"Did you choose this class because it's mandatory, or will you be taking advanced fitness next year?"
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"Your questions make me want to question you."
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"You first."
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"Hmm. Will I be taking advanced fitness... Is my lie. How would I take advanced fitness? I can barely manage regular fitness or lame fitness."
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"That's a question, not an answer,” she shot back.
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"Brr. My answer is I don’t know."
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"Shame."
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"What about you?"
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The girl pondered optimistically. "I may indeed."
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Solemnly, I nodded.
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"We're late."
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"Shit."
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Out on the open field in front of the arena, the deplorable sun had not dared to retreat. It stayed in the sky, high and hot, a loathesome virtue of the south-western Imperium.
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Why is it even called an Imperium? It's more like a web of rich lords who fawn over religion and richer mages, and there's that one adult with a crown. Alongside the man on the throne, we have a pater familias for every branch of magic that consorts with the imperial court. Cinderfall is an outcome, an institution loyal to the imperium but more loyal to the Archcouncil… in theory. Call the Imperium a group of patricians... Then there's everybody else. Us.
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A certain Friege’s shadow appeared next to me. It was so ominous, I forgot which one of us was taller. "Why’s thy head in the clouds, Pollux?" she exclaimed.
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Blast! From the starting line, I thrusted forward, knowing full well that my run was barely a series of successful stutters on the grass. Heavy grass. Instructor Friege could not be less amused. "Which part of This is a race' did you not understand, little lamb?"
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Is she serious? I ambled faster, and the pain thwarted my leg with the fury of a thousand badger bee stings. I was scared I'd fall headfirst into the grass at any moment. Were that to happen, I doubt Friege would have left me alone. If I died, she’d follow me into the underworld, scornful and yelling profanities for the inconvenience of chasing me.
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All the other students had raced ahead, leagues ahead, so why was she so focused on me? Why did she leer with sinister intensity that burned up old wounds? It was a new experience that felt unnecessary. I hated the personal attention far more than regular attention which I also resented.
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I could barely notice when the first student lapped me, thanks to the horrible muscle aches. Then another, another, and a group of them sidestepped my fingers and continued on their stampede around the old marble arena. I could see Warren then autumn-haired girl who threw me a casual frown, and the rest of the runners who skipped on by. I felt afraid then, afraid that if I gave it my all, they'd see how pathetic I truly was. But Instructor Friege's feral scolding carried with it a thousand pricks on my skin. It felt hot, hotter than normal.
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"You're not even trying," she said dismissively.
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"I can't..." is all I said, my vision rocking back and forth. The forest, the ground, the sun, these natural things seem twisted forms under the exhaustion. Oh, how I wanted to collapse. “I can’t do it.”
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"Don't make such claims."
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"But I'm useless."
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"And do not self-deprecate, girl." My fastest gait matched her walking motion. "When a trial presents itself, concede the challenge. Do not call it impossible; do not shed blame; and do not insult yourself. It’s all meaningless. Muster thy grit before you give in."
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"I’m sorry!"
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"Not yet you’re not."
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Finally, I collapsed, fingers dug in the dirt, I shook in my wet tunic and braced for the scolding. I could do no more, no matter how hard I tried. As soon as I rose, I fell again. The region below my thighs fell like an anchor, and I had no strength left. Nothing remained.
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Instead of scolding, however, Madame Friege bent beneath her waistline to look me in eye. "When you fall to the depths of despair, stand, then accept how sorry you are for not pushing yourself sooner."
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I don't get it.
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She stepped off before I could moan again.
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Finally, I had a moment to breathe and nurse my lameness. Breathe. There was a ball lodged somewhere in my leg tendon. As I looked down, I squirmed at the net of skin. It really looked like an amateur wood carving, and I doubt herbal remedies could ever hide the fact. The right footwear could hide the shape of my foot. Because of the stitching and thickness of my boots, however, people thought I had an unhealthy fascination with leather.
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Before long, the sound of panting bellowed and gurgled behind me. I looked back and saw Roy, how the sun and sweat tormented his clenched face. He looked like a wet pillow when he trudged forward. Actually, he reminded me of a piggy, which would sound cruel if said aloud. Yet I couldn’t be easier on the eyes at the present moment. As he halted his stride next to me, he swallowed a giant air pocket. What a disheveled pair we made.
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"Oof... if... if only I did not already run ten kilometers this morning," he panted.
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I had no strength to roll my eyes, but at least I forgot the pain for a second.
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"How many laps have you done?" he asked me.
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My mouth opened then closed. All too soon, I realized that he might’ve been mocking me.
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Roy was practically wheezing. "If I try too hard"—wheeze—" I'm afraid of making everyone else look bad."
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On cue, our classmates arrived in a stampede. They scurried around us two as we nursed our pride. And as the last one jaunted by, Roy's dismay rose to full display. Imagine my surprise when he puckered upright and lifted his knees again. “I am sorry,” he said. “I did not mean to lie. I did not run ten kilometers this morning. I am not very good at P.E.” Nothing could stop him when he restarted his trudge around the arena, though he looked ready to trip.
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Me, on the other hand, I was ready to cry. There was nothing new about this frustrating handicap, a thing I couldn’t shake. The embarassment, on the other hand, fell on my head like a brick. So it hit me; loneliness had many shades of pain.
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I hated it.
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The whistle sounded off before I could complete half of the laps. It marked our first Fitness class, which, in the end, felt like a race toward inadequacy. So, as the sun descended, I stepped off the plain defeated. All I could do was thank the gods that I had the strength left to get to the bathhouse.
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How fortunate that Fitness would be the last course of the day this day and every other day this semester. I could procrastinate in the bathhouse that way. The hot water mist was already soothing my face as I stumbled into the Cavern. Before folding my clothes, I waited in the smothering mist of the antechamber, the antechamber being the space of cave preceding the hot spring. My shoulders were moist and soft before long. But true harmony had yet to come. When everybody was gone, that would be my moment of bliss.
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All potential prying eyes had left the tunnels, so I took my towel and entered the deep room, that recess below Cinderfall which looked like a magical cavern of spirits. Maybe, there were spirits…
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Oh, very gently, I dipped one tired foot in the pool. Then the other leg. The water was so very soothing.
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