What do you think love looks like?

Liam didn't want to remember everything that had bothered him during the day.

"So, trouble and trouble," Liam answered, turning to his student, "you'd better tell me how that shameless man has been bothering you, don't hide anything."

"You know the marshal's habits suspiciously well," Cal said, beginning to feel jealous.

"It's just that he's been my only friend for a long time. You might say that Pittsu kept me from going crazy when I missed another shameless man," Liam flicked him lightly on the nose.

"That's what you think of me," Cal leaned in and kissed his forehead.

"What if I told you that's the trait I like best about you," Liam teased him.

"I'd say I don't believe you, I bet you despised me," Cal rubbed his nose.

"What are you talking about anyway, could I?" Liam argued.

"I don't know, you were so eager to get away with that earl, I was out of my mind."

Liam closed his eyes and blushed.

"Don't remind me, it was so humiliating, I thought you'd hate me."

"I guess we both didn't understand each other's feelings very well. What about now? If the marshal started seducing me, what would you do?"

Contrary to Cal's expectations, Liam laughed and looked at him with a strange expression.

"I'm pretty sure he's been trying to do that all day or has he?" Liam smiled quietly.

"And you don't care?" Cal asked defiantly.

"So he tried," Liam said with a serious face and the student realized he'd screwed up.

"No, he didn't!" He waved his arms and stared at Liam.

"I understand Pittsu too well to ignore his changed feelings for you," Liam said thoughtfully.

Cal rolled his eyes, and the next moment he was tickling Liam, making him squirm and squeal loudly. Seeing that he was losing, Liam used a fail-safe weapon.

"Ouch, hand, hand, watch out..!"

Cal immediately stopped and looked intently at Liam.

"You're so trusting," said a contented Liam, pulling him to him, "I'm hurt, so help me get my clothes off."

Cal gladly complied with his request. He helped him to bed and, after extinguishing all but one of the candles, climbed under the covers as well. The time on the clock was about two o'clock in the morning.

"The marshal painted my portrait," Cal said thoughtfully, staring up at the ceiling.

"He always liked painting."

"I don't see how someone like him could be higher in rank than a general. They're not the same kind of people," Cal reasoned.

"I don't know how he did it, but I've always felt that Pittsu is very lonely at heart, just hiding it. I wouldn't be surprised if one day he gave up his career and went around the world as a street artist.

"Okay, enough about him, let's get some sleep, you have to be back early tomorrow, right?"

"As soon as you feel better, I'll pick you up, okay?"

"Let's go away together, I think I've burdened the marshal enough already."

"He'll probably be upset if you do that."

"Tell me, does he spend all his time here? When does he have time to fight? I just don't get it."

"You're comparing him to a general, and that ain't right. A general likes battles and blood and killing. He doesn't want anything else in his life. And the marshal is more like you, he used a military career he couldn't turn away from and built his dream life. Secluded on this planet and enjoying the moment, his doppelganger can fight for him..."

"Doppelganger? "Cal asked again, thinking he'd misheard.

"Yes, his double. You see, Marshal Pittsu is a great lazybones, but he has a sharp mind and a wit. In his wanderings, he sought out and collected all sorts of techniques that would help change his reality. One day he came across a way to create his double and endow him with the will to fight and tactics. Only it's a big mystery, you know?"

The more Cal listened, the less he understood.

"But who does the doppelganger obey? And why have I never heard of this technique?"

"People don't share knowledge in this world, especially not that rare and valuable knowledge," Liam replied, yawning.

"So still, this doppelganger can't hurt the real Pittsu?"

"Who knows which one is real now? "sowed even more doubts in Cal's soul, a falling asleep Liam.

"Wait, are you saying there might not be a real marshal here?"

"No, of course not," Liam replied with his eyes closed, "impossible. Only a real marshal knows the secret of the general's..." he paused and opened his eyes.

"What secret?" Cal seized on his words.

"Oh, nothing, forget it," Liam tried to distract him.

"You talk gibberish when you fall asleep," laughed Cal, kissing the man, "but you're so sweet, I put up with everything."

"You just keep me awake, and I'm dead tired..."

"All right, all right, rest up, we'll go back to the Academy tomorrow."

"All the students have left the Academy..."

"Why?" Cal asked.

"Because of the murder," whispered Liam.

"What?"

"I've been thinking, maybe you should stay here," Liam looked at him.

"How did you get to be the Head of the Academy with that kind of logic," Cal wondered.

"Who knows?"

"So you're leaving me alone with a man who has designs on me?" Cal asked angrily.

"It's because I trust you," said Liam sternly, and laid Cal down on his pillow, ordering him to sleep.

But Cal couldn't sleep for a long time yet. His mind was aroused by the mysterious events at the Academy, and he couldn't stop thinking about the Marshal and couldn't figure out what he was thinking about him.

At one time he thought he was strange and acting like a madman. Other times Pittsu's genius dazzled Cal, and he was ready to crawl on his knees to applaud him.

"Created his double to live solitary in his palace and paint?"

Cal knew that sounded strange, to say the least. He closed his eyes, though, and tried to sleep without pestering Liam, who was peacefully snoozing beside him.

He was nicer when he was asleep when he didn't say boring things. But there was cause for Cal's concern.

He was well aware that something terrible had happened at the Academy, and that the Head was withholding this information from him. What Cal didn't know was if his friend was in danger.

As he pondered this, he fell into a deep sleep, and when he opened his eyes, Liam was gone, only a note on the table. It was still early in the morning, and the man did not get out of bed, preferring to lie down at some point.

After a while, there was a knock at his door, and on the threshold stood the marshal, chipper as a cucumber, and Cal mentally gave him a star for this unique ability not to suffer a brutal hangover.

"I'm going to the practice field, you want to stretch before breakfast?" The marshal chirped as if nothing had happened.

"Why not," Cal was feeling a little rusty from his constant rest.

"Then follow me," the marshal turned and, whistling a tune, went first.

On the practice field, they rolled up their sleeves and clashed in hand-to-hand combat. The dust from beneath their feet created a dense curtain, but they didn't care. Attacking and defending, Cal exhausted his resources and retreated panting.

Meanwhile, the marshal went around to his right, and resolutely brought the edge of his palm to the neck area.

With a deft twist, Cal repelled the blow and shifted his stance, then, in a deceptive maneuver, found himself at the Marshal's back, gripping his neck and pressing down hard to get the Marshal to surrender.

In this and the following battles over the next hour, Cal became increasingly defeated and began to think that the marshal was giving in to him. But seeing the sweating, and losing control of his breathing, the man changed his mind.

"Could it be that the captain's skills have been passed down to me and that I owe my victories to this?"

Suddenly the marshal made a backward pelvic movement and broke free from his clinging embrace.

Circling the man around him, he twisted his arm, and then without pause made a throw over himself. Cal fought back and the maneuver didn't quite succeed, the men fell to the ground and rolled on it, trying to get the better of each other.

Cal panted, pinned the marshal to the ground, and stared into his eyes with an overwhelming look. The situation was against the marshal, and he was at a disadvantage.

A moment more, however, and Pittsu, rising, bit Cal on the lower lip. The man recoiled in surprise, feeling a salty metallic taste in his mouth.

Taking advantage of the situation, the marshal saddled Cal and immobilized him with a powerful hand grip.

"You win," Cal said grudgingly, "but are you a dog?"

"I'm sorry," the marshal said, reaching up and holding out his hand, "would you prefer a kiss?"

Cal flared up, imagining how awkward that might have been, and turned away. The marshal leaned over the bucket of water. Taking off his sweat-soaked shirt, he tossed it to the servant waiting at the side.

Showing Cal his beautifully sculpted torso, he poured several cups of water over himself. Cal kept up with him and took off his shirt as well.

His own body was just as good, except that his skin was naturally lighter as if glowing from within.

Marshall was pleased with the way this morning had begun. He gazed greedily at the man beside him, memorizing every line and curve so he could capture it on canvas later. Cal realized that the marshal kept his gaze on him and turned toward him with a challenge.

"Your body is perfect," the marshal said unashamedly. "I'd like to paint you from life, but you wouldn't agree, would you?" said the marshal admiringly.

"Hmm," thought Cal, "it depends on what you offer me in return."

Pittsu's eyes lit up with joy.

"What would you like?" he asked, stepping closer.

"How about some useful techniques and information?" Cal suggested.

"Oh, you know your worth, but that's no problem for me. My library is at your disposal," the marshal smiled, wiping his face and neck with a towel.

"Very well, then," his guest nodded and hurried back first.

"Let's have breakfast together," the marshal shouted after him.

"By all means," he waved.

After breakfast, the marshal invited him for a horseback ride. They saddled splendid trotters that were better suited to be harnessed, and then they rode around the palace. The horses were docile and not frightened.

Cal enjoyed the ride more and more, especially when they entered a small forest. As they dismounted, the men led the horses under the bridle, their footsteps muffled on all sides by the shrill voices of birds.

They did not say a word, completely immersed in the unique atmosphere of the place. Completely unafraid animals appeared here and there, showing interest in the guests.

When they reached the edge, they let the horses go and sat down directly on the grass. The sun was shining through the foliage of the tall trees, warming their faces.

Cal was experiencing the charm of the forest with every passing minute, and he felt as if he were caught up in someone else's romantic story. If Liam had been here, they would have been rolling on the ground in a passionate kiss by now.

But instead, he was having a very ambiguous time with the marshal. Trying not to think about it, he stared at the clouds floating high in the sky. The marshal moved closer to him and looked into his eyes.

"Is there something you want?" Cal leaned back a little and asked him.

"Why wasn't it me?" The marshal asked the marshal bluntly, hypnotizing him with his golden eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Cal lowered his gaze to his tightly clenched hands.

The marshal radiated a frightening fascination at will, instantly changing the atmosphere around him.

"What do you think love looks like?" Pittsu asked.

"Well, I don't even know what to tell you…"

Marshall moved still and caught Cal's gaze again.

"I wouldn't let anything bad happen to you, like what happened at Tishow's camp."