(TLO) Chapter 51: Ask Away (Patreon)

Dante Faust stood before Seth. The Rector stroked thinning beards gently in an almost skeletal hand. He stood tall today, unbending at the back as he mostly was. The walking cane in his left hand swung in midair, twirled between his fingers. It was an action that would be expected mostly from a jovial adult. Today he wore a cassock of dusty brown and smiled a crooked smile, showing a little bit of teeth that was mostly brown and touched with a small stain of red.

His smile widened at Seth’s bow. “A good day to you, too, Al Jabari.”

……………………………………………………

Dante stroked his beard in a manner his mates had once called regal as he approached the young child. Behind his beard, with each stroke his thumb scratched at a particularly annoying itch that had been bugging him for the past ten minutes. He’d come here for a quick reprieve from any prying eye so he could enjoy the satisfaction of scratching freely, seeing as John was currently in his chambers attending to some documents that couldn’t afford to leave the room.

Al Jabari’s presence here was unwelcome.

Dante watched the boy bowing before him. He was definitely small for his age, too small for his thirteen… or perhaps it was fourteen now. Dante’s beard strokes paused mildly at the realization, then continued. The boy didn’t look a size over twelve. Too small.

But despite his misgivings, mostly due to the boy’s size, the seminary had a debt to pay, whether its inhabitants knew of it or liked it. Their feelings towards this was their problem. If they didn’t like it, then they could come for his position. They could take his head from his shoulders and claim his seat. Barbaric, though it was, it was the only authorized way they could have it right now. After all, he wasn’t going to go die off in some battle, neither was he going to abdicate his position for some random journey like his predecessor.

He brought his mind back to the present, unneeded walking cane still twirling between the fingers of his left hand.

He noted how unruly the boy’s hair had grown. It was long enough to touch his shoulders now. Perhaps it would be longer if the boy took better care of it and straightened it. It seemed he would need to have someone deal with that. Alternatively, he could leave the boy be, then mandate it be cut at some later date. Until then, the hair would have to remain the way it was.

Noting how long the silence had stretched between them, and unwilling to leave the boy who was obviously doing something he was not supposed to in an awkward position, Dante broke it. “And what brings you out this way this fine afternoon, young Jabari?”

He saw the boy stiffen mildly. His shoulder’s tensed and his form straightened. The unconscious desire to look confident even when caught in a bind was almost impressive, as much a good thing as it was a bad one. Dante chose not to dwell on it.

Seth raised his head to meet Dante’s attention at his question and once again Dante was struck by the boy’s eyes. It was not that they were impressive. No. He had seen a lot of colorful eyes over the years, even his were a deep shade of crimson red that most had said looked the color of blood. Most had yet to notice his changing hair color since he continued to dye it grey. But Seth’s grey eyes were an anomaly, an unnatural presentation on a child without a soul fragment to his name. None without control of reia should have eyes so different.

We are the minority, he reminded himself. That is why we are different. One day we will become the majority. Would blue and brown eyes become what is different then?

Seth, to Dante’s surprise, cocked his head ever so slightly to the side. The action seemed involuntary yet restrained, almost as if he had stopped himself. When the boy frowned, his interest was truly piqued, so he waited, and watched.

Seth’s eyes twitched, fighting against what seemed like the urge to wander, to stare into the distance in thought. Dante had known enough children in his time to know when a child was battling with his thoughts. It was the look of a child unsure of what he was thinking about, like trying to solve a math problem posed to them by a difficult teacher without knowing the correct formula to use.

Then the boy’s eyes narrowed as if stupefied and he looked at Dante as if he had just heard the dumbest thing from him. As if he had just asked him why he was on seminary grounds.

Dante almost laughed at the insult but kept the gentle smile on his face. Curiosity danced where he knew a touch of anger should.

“Have I said something stupid, child?” he asked.

Seth’s expression paled as his eyes refocused on him, and he hurried to answer, almost stumbling over his words. “No, Rector. Not at all.”

“Then why the look?”

Seth’s lips scrunched up in consideration before he answered. “I had a question I wanted to confirm,” he said, hesitant, “but thought better of it.”

There had been a bit of a pause before the answer. But considering the long pause at the initial question, it didn’t seem suspect.

“By all means,” Dante encouraged. “Ask away.”

Seth did that thing again. He fell silent and thoughtful, as if contemplating yet distracted. It was a space of a moment before he did ask.

“Have you ever been to the east?”

“The east?”

“Yes. Like, the Asian continent.”

“Oh.” Dante’s thumb pressed on his itch so that his stroking was forced into another pause. Then it resumed its stroking as he halted the twirling of his cane. “Not that I can recall. Why?”

Seth nodded as if proud of himself. He waited in silence again, stalling the conversation, then murmured a silent, “Not now.”

Dante said nothing, knowing the boy wasn’t speaking to him. He’d heard enough about it from the other priests to know this. A child with imaginary friends was not a new thing. Still, the child was supposed to be at that age when children discarded of those friends; at the age when they learnt they couldn’t live in their heads anymore.

The child seemed to catch himself once more because he explained. “One of my brothers, Norman, once said he thought he’d seen you before; before he’d joined the seminary. I didn’t think it was true.”

Dante searched his mind for this name Seth spoke of. A few years ago it would’ve taken him forever to remember much of anything, but at Barony his mind was sharp as a curved blade, and he found what he was looking for almost immediately. Norman had been one of the children of Seth’s set. Norman also hadn’t survived the test they’d just had.

“Isn’t Norman dead?” Dante asked, before he could stop himself.

“I don’t think that’s what I’m going for,” Seth mumbled, then took a step back. It seemed unconscious as he continued his mumbling. “How don’t we know this? I’m not crazy… then shut up. This already looks bad enough.”

Dante’s brows furrowed. He watched the boy, keeping his mind from wondering anything truly condemning as the boy mumbled on, lips barely moving, voice barely audible.

“I don’t think that’s what it’s about. No.” Seth seemed annoyed on the last word, his voice rising momentarily. “That’s not what he’s trying to do… He doesn’t... Certain… I have no idea.” Seth paused, then he turned a shocked expression on Dante. “Wait! What?!”

Dante cocked an amused brow. “What?”

“Norman’s dead?”

“Took you a while on that one, didn’t it?” he chuckled. Realizing it was perhaps the wrong expression, he schooled his face to one of solemnity. “I don’t know if the both of you were close, but I am truly sorry for your loss.”

Seth made an odd shrug, dismissive yet apathetic. “That’s not the point.” He paused, then looked at Dante with a sheepish smile, as if realizing he’d made an embarrassing mistake. “We weren’t very close, but it’s difficult to accept. I saw him just before…” he paused again, frowned, scowled. Then he shook himself from whatever was holding him, but an annoyance remained on his face as he continued. “It’s a bit bothering to know I won’t see him again.”

Dante scratched his itch, wondering which of the boy’s reaction to the news was genuine. There was the dismissive response, then the frown, the annoyance. They were too many emotions in too short a span of time. But as intriguing as the boy was proving in his dissonance, Dante’s frustration was growing. He needed the boy gone as fast as possible. Either that, or he needed to be gone to somewhere else. For god’s sake, let him go, he scolded himself.

“Aren’t you off to your next cla—”

“Domitia isn’t the one I should be worried about,” Seth cut him off with a mild mumble. “It’s Fin. I think I hurt him last night… I suspect so.” He smiled to himself, nodding at some inside joke. “I swear he’s like a fucking brick,” he agreed.

“Al Jabari,” Dante said, softly but sharply, with all intents to draw the boy’s attention back.

Seth's attention gravitated back to him. “Yes, Rector?”

“Considering how much of a hurry you’re probably in,” he continued slowly. “I believe you best run off to your lesson.”

His words seemed to hold Seth in a malicious grip as the boy stood stock still, remembering something probably terrible. The look was enough for him to deduce the boy had been up to nothing good. As much as it was against the rule, whatever it was, was a petty misdemeanor in the wider scale of things. He was the Rector. His duty was to deal with issues that affected the seminary as a whole. A crime such as whatever this was laid within the jurisdiction of the other Reverends. If they ever found out.

“I’d suggest,” Dante continued as he walked passed Seth, “that you do not get caught.”

He’d barely taken three steps past the boy when the sound of running filled his ear. He smiled at it. A moment after, he caught himself frowning, turning to the running boy. His Baron sense of hearing picked out the boy’s departing words as they dimmed from the growing distance.

“Timi’s not fat, he’s big boned. And why should I care what happened to Norman, I never really knew the boy. Yes, he was friends with Forlorn. He wasn't any better either… Of course not, I’m not going to try and kill anyone… I don’t care how many mutated Wyrms we just fought… I’m stronger not stupid… And Jason’s still better with a sword.”

Dante stopped stroking his beard, itch long forgotten as the boy’s words vanished into the abyss of distance. Not for the first time he worried at his choice to admit the boy.

This, he thought, might be a problem.