Thread: Shadows of Nurontha

Young Ron was really bored. He hated these long rides his family made him take. This ride he was hating more than anything else right now. His father had decided instead of him being a proper boy, darting about the village and getting into petty mischief that instead he would go to Condaelius Academy. The place was where boys went to be molded into useful men the worst of the lot were whipped into shape and those that were already good supposedly became respectably so. Ron's father put a good deal of his family's money into the application for the Academy. Ron stared out the windows of the transport. He was only nine years old, he didn't want to go to some stuffy place like this. He wanted to go to school with his friends and then go galavanting around the village and the fields doing whatever he wanted. He just stared, resenting his father a little bit. Ron's father was what people would call invisibly average. There was absolutely nothing interesting about the way he looked, his voice could be easily lost in the din of a conversation, and his job as bookkeeper was total unremarkable. He was completely and perfectly average in every respect. His house was modest and not unique a sort of earthy tan color with leaf-green trim that could easily be overlooked if you were passing by. Even their transport they were riding in was nothing special, it being a small self-powered coach of plain grayish hue. Ron didn't mind this aspect of his father, because it meant people didn't expect anything of him. The people of the village were completely astounded when Ron's father announced to friends and family that the Academy was in Ron's future. The reasoning being Ron needed structure more than he could give, whatever that meant. The family and friends seemed to agree it wasn't a bad idea, however Ron just muttered under his breath alot. The ride took the better part of the day, until it was nearly sundown when the transport finally arrived. Ron's father gathered up everything and Ron got out dragging his feet as much as possible without upsetting his father. If the sight of Ron's father and house were utterly average, the sight of the Condaelius Academy was anything but. The Academy was a huge, sprawling campus of orderly stone buildings and carefully tended greenery. Buildings were marked with various colored flags and painted wooden doors bearing some significance to those structures. The massive central building was almost the size of a castle keep, an imposing stone structure reaching several stories into the air. Around it were perfectly shaped and spaced bushes, and tall flagpoles reached up from the stairs before the building. Various people where going back and forth, all dressed in a similar clothings. The spring had just come, so the grasses were a pale green still, not having had time to grow into what would probably be a full and deep lushness. The sun setting gave everything a sort of odd orange hue that made the main building look as if it were glowing from its own internal flame. Ron and his father climbed the steps up to the doorway of the main building and were welcomed in by a pair of young men whom seemed to be stationed there for that purpose. Inside, the building was very well-lit, with dozens of brightly glowing orbs lining the walls. Ron looked down at the floor, the marble tiling was polished and showed him a shadowy reflection of himself. He looked around at the painted light blue walls where the orbs were embedded. There were frescoes and paintings of various people and places he didn't know, and boards where people were gathered reading messages. Sturdy columns stretched up to the ceiling where larger orbs hung giving off more light. People were still here, going about their business. Ron's father looked about and found a desk with someone there. He asked about something and was directed down to the other end of the floor. Ron was still upset as his father led him to a doorway. The sign on the door was obvious to him and he began to fidget. This was an admissions office. Ron's father pushed him in and then walked in behind him. A female was there at a desk and smiled. Welcome, sir, she said. What may I help you with? Ron's father nodded and replied, Yes, my name is Arron Marreu. I applied for my son to attend the Academy here. She nodded and smiled again, Yes Mr. Marreu we were expecting you. I am Lancer 2nd Class Alicia Roathin, you may call me Ms. Roathin. Arron bowed a bit and extended his hand for a handshake, which Alicia accepted. Pleasure to meet you Ms. Roathin. Arron nudged his son slightly. And this is my son Ron Marreu. You'll have to forgive him for not being polite. Ron half-heartedly waved. Alicia smiled again. Don't worry sir, we tend to get that sometimes. She came around from her desk and seemed to study Ron a moment. Mr. Marreu, and young Master Ron, if you would please sit over here, she gestured to a table in the back of the room surrounded by chairs, we can complete your application process. You may place your items in the corner for now. Arron and Ron did so and sat down at the table, Ron's eyes were burning a bit now as he was feeling very angry and tears were beginning to slowly well up. Ron grunted as he woke up at hearing a loud thump on the floor. He sat up in bed muttering incoherently. Minteur was swearing very loudly from somewhere nearby. Ron shuffled out of bed and went to the bathroom and dunked his head into a basin full of water. He whipped his head out and made a sort of growl or groan and shook himself. Minteur! Ron bellowed still partly asleep. Don't go breaking yourself old man! Minteur just swore some more. Ron was looking out the window and saw the sun was up off the horizon. He groaned loudly and muttered, Cleo's gonna be really pissed at me now. He washed up quickly and got some fresh clothes together before locating the source of Minteur's rather colorful language. Ron found the him in the main room with a rather large crate that had split open and was spilling its contents out on the floor. Ron laughed and Minteur just swore some more. Ron went into the next room and touched the crucible, causing the light to brighten slightly. He rifled around the cabinets until he produced some shelf bread and dried meat and made himself a light breakfast along with a rather large tankard of wine. He grabbed the gunblade off the back of the chair where he left it and wore it on his body where he usually did and beat the old jacket a bit before heading out. He strolled back to where he had jumped down onto the sparkling flowers the night before and looked around briefly. The building was a sort of a house and shop rolled into one. Like many of the people in this town, Cleo lived in the second and third floors of her building and the first floor was for her livelihood. Ron studied the trampled flowers and winced. Damn, I really smashed them when I dropped down here. Ron wasn't paying attention when he was suddenly smacked in the back of the head with something not-too-hard that made a sort of muffled thump when they hit him. Ron's face was in the ground when he heard a female voice that seemed rather angry. RON MARREU! she burst out. I swear one day I'm going bury you! Ron rolled over on his back and looked up. The woman standing over him was glaring at him with a big frown on her face. Her short black hair was in a bob that curled around her face. Her big blue eyes glared at him like they were ready to shoot daggers at him. Her pillow lips were tight in a frown that made her dimples stand out in an odd manner. She wasn't tall, maybe barely 5 foot and 4 inches, and her slender frame wasn't imposing normally, but right now she was about as imposing as an angry dragon. Ron sort of smirked and looked her up and down. She wore a pale green cotton dress with short sleeves. It wasn't fancy at all, but one that Cleo typically wore when she worked. If there was anything about the dress that made people pause, it was the fact that the top of it hugged her breasts tightly so that her already round and full mounds seemed even larger. Ron let out a yelp as Cleo kicked him in the side. Ron winced, thinking she caught him looking again. Get your ass up and you can help me fix your mess! she growled at him before whirling around and walking back into her shop. Ron, even wincing, watched her walk back in just so he could watch her slender body. Cleo had a way of walking that even though she did not have the most round hips or bottom, she could sway and make a man imagine more. Ron picked himself up and dusted off, trudging inside to face what he was sure was going to be even more of an earful.