A Scholarly Week (4)

An hour slowly ticked by, giving much needed relief, by virtue of said time passing, to their various ailments inflicted due to their training. Now able to form more coherent thoughts, Cyrus wondered about his current situation and felt bored and interested enough to try to start up a conversation with the rather antisocial individual next to him.

"Hey Caliban, what's your story? Fellow wastelander, crawled his way out of the scorching desert and ended up in Glacies Academy: an institution in the Empire which is the complete polar opposite of our homeland…not many make it out of there as even if they do they are likely to be thought of as criminals and thieves, arrested or outright killed by the Scouts" said Cyrus, trying to start up a conversation.

There was no reply.

"Hey Caliban, you are pretty ruthless huh even going so far as to attack Caligo. I do think of myself as quite competent sometimes, although I try to give myself a healthy dose of humbleness to counterbalance such a belief lest it become deadly, but I would never think to take on Caligo even if I thought myself thrice as strong as I actually am" said Cyrus, once more trying to start up a conversation.

There was still no reply.

"Hey Caliban, what's with that hair of yours? Did you dye it like they dye clothes, a bit too into that whole brooding vibe you got wouldn't you say?" said Cyrus, somewhat annoyed at being ignored thus becoming a bit petty.

"You…you are quite different than how you were before. Why?" replied Caliban, finally.

"Correct, as for the reason…well lets just keep the story short and simple by saying that everyone who makes their way out of the desert successfully is a little screwed up inside. To handle the environment and not be completely corrupted by it, to not fall into degeneracy and cruelty towards the innocent, one must have a rather unique disposition. Having two differing personalities is not so bad I would say, especially considering some of the other folk I had met in my time" answered Cyrus.

Caliban was silent for a moment, before speaking up once more.

"True, you and I both seem to have a few quirks in our personalities…to put it lightly"

"All of my previous interactions with Caliban can be boiled down to outbursts of aggression or being ignored, quite an improvement if I say so myself" thought Cyrus as he formed a plan to push his advantage.

"It's quite boring doing nothing but siting here for another hour or so until we are well enough to leave, let us share some stories about our time in the grand desert" lied Cyrus, as he could easily sit around for days doing nothing but thinking and pondering.

Not letting Caliban voice his refusal Cyrus quickly added, "Since I brought it up, I will go first."

"For the first six years of my life in the wasteland, I was completely on my own from the moment I could form a cognizant thought. Mostly my memory is full of times of extreme hunger, doing anything and everything in my power to get my next meal. Either by fighting for scraps, digging through trash, or outright robbery I did what I could to not starve to death. Quite amazing it was, now that I look back on it, that I actually survived as a child of such a young age. By the time I was six I was picked up by my mentor, finally rescued from my circumstances of being plagued by an unending hunger and constant battles to appease it. From then on I studied under his tutelage for the next 8 years until I was ready to make the journey to the Empire, to carve my place out in the world so to speak" narrated Cyrus.

"Your turn!" said a cheery voice, which was met with silence.

"The first half of life being hell on earth, while the second a blissful dream in comparison…" began Caliban after some time, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"What a coincidence, as my life was essentially the exact opposite. The first half of my life was quiet and easy, living in one of the 'palaces' of a certain Sultan. My father was the head of his guard and a close friend of the Sultan for many years and my mother was the head of a caravan whom he had met one day while escorting it to the palace. Both were strong and competent, my father being a strong fighter and my mother having magical talent and making good use of it. Life was good…." Said Caliban, his tone dreamy with a tinge of happiness.

"Until they were betrayed. All I remember is fire and fury as our house burned and our servants slaughtered as one of the princes under the Sultan decided it was high time for him to rule, to remove the weak and somewhat kind previous ruler and instill a ruthless and efficient new regime. My parents fled with me in tow, fighting their way through both their former colleagues and friends who had turned coat the moment the wind changed direction… eventually both becoming mortally wounded and succumbing to their wounds just as they reached safety" narrated Caliban, his tone becoming more and more unsteady as both wrath and sorrow filled his voice in equal measure.

"I…had always been taught about the Empire up north, how it was a bastion of civilization as great as the Persae empire had once been. I knew I needed strength to get revenge for my family, to finally quench the unending flames within my soul. So I spent my next few years running and hiding, all the while training in anything I could in order to strengthen myself. I robbed caravans full of knowledge to advance my studies, I hunted sandcrawlers to hone my skills, and eventually bribed a few people with connections in the Scouts to take me to the Empire" ended Caliban.

"Wow, how horrid. I would say that explains his personality, his heart containing the same flames that brought down his normal life." thought Cyrus as he pondered how to advance once more.

This time it was Caliban who spoke first, seizing the advantage like Cyrus had done so at the start.

"We both share a common origin and have experienced that which no man should ever have to, but that is it. We are still in direct opposition to one another; one must rise and the other must fall"

"That is true, but I will always return what I get in kind. If my opponent wishes to remain somewhat cordial, while we may put our all into defeating the other there is no need for anything more than just that. In the arena we are competitors, not the worst of enemies to be crushed into the dust. We both have enough foes and challenges to overcome, I do not believe it would be best to continue making more if one could help it. Besides, while taking the top spot is surely something that will bring great benefits I would argue that the most important aspect of the system is that those at the top compete with one another and use their all to hone their skills, which then are sharpened even further upon contact with their fellow students. The sharpening of the blade that is us, that is the first and foremost goal of the Academy and the underlying reason for everything that they do" explained Cyrus, putting a positive spin on the Academy setting.

"I will not argue with the wisdom in your words" began Caliban, replying instantly for once, "But I will not pretend that I can instantly accept such words as well as the fact that I suspect some of our fellow students will never accept such words. Blind to the true workings of the world they are, not understanding what true foes are like and what true evils are like…at the very least I will take it into account. The least I can do for a fellow of the same homeland as I."

With that Caliban was silent once more, this time no longer responding no matter what Cyrus did.

"Well, that was progress I suppose. Not everyone in life is going to throw their hands up and become allies, but if I can mitigate the possibility of being stabbed in the back due to a misunderstanding I will definitely welcome the chance" thought Cyrus as he too closed his eyes and focused on resting.