Cerestial: Short Stories

Font size: - +

Tempest

18th April 1998

 

 

The Building of The Court had many floors, including that of the floors belonging to the Grand City Library, which was used strictly by the humans. Should you go up to the top floor, you would arrive in the white entrance room and the doors of The Court.
However, should you go down, past the small stock rooms, you would spy three off-limits floors. Today was the day that Mars Briel was to experience the first of the three for his first yet not final time.

The brunette teenager approached the set of stairs that led both up and down and found himself more aware of his surroundings than usual. His scarlet eyes glossed over the thin veil of translucent magick that he easily passed through, which had been professionally crafted by Fae to ward off humans. He wasn’t aware of how it kept humans away, it was rumored that they’d simply be made to avert their gaze and curiosities and to forget seeing anyone even approaching the area. It had been something he’d been meaning to ask his Father about for a long time, however, the opportunity to do so hadn’t arisen.

It didn’t help that his Father hadn’t spoken to him since Ceres’ birthday the month before.

Mars grimaced yet shook himself and scowled with a newly lit spark of determination. It didn’t matter; he’d had his time for tears, now it was the time for action.

No, he wouldn’t be part of the Court just yet, he thought as he paused beside the stairs, glancing up and following the rising pathway that swerved a corner then disappeared from further view. But then, if someone else wasn’t going to hand him what he wanted on a silver platter, he’d find his own way to rise to his own station.

The Elf scowled, swallowing his pride and turning, before beginning to descend the stairs leading to the lower level down, the Briel insignia suspended on a black chain to hang at his chest just above the collar of his white button-up shirt.

He’d dressed to impress that day, with his coal-black waistcoat decorated with silver chains and the white dress shirt that whilst was unbuttoned at the neck was held together with ruby cufflinks at his wrists. Smart, proud and practical.
He was to meet his tutor and peers in his new class after all.

Today was the induction of the newly chosen Elven Guard trainees, and Mars Briel was determined to become the leader of the Regiment one day.
He could do it, he knew he could.
It would mean recognition; it would mean honor for him and his family name.
It would be a new future.
New goals.
New hope.
It would mean someone having belief in him, finally.

Mars furrowed his dark brow as he stepped off the final stair, approaching a set of double doors and feeling the insignia tingle in recognition at his chest, the door ahead of him responding to his presence and unlocking as he neared.
His two hands caught onto the door handles, and he pushed it open effortlessly.
Now time to meet his peers, he was prepared for anything.

But as he entered and saw a small class of Elves all sat around chatting amongst themselves, it wasn’t a sight he had readied himself to see. Stood in the middle of the room, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he balanced a steel practice sword on his forehead, was a raven-haired elven man with his blue eyes squinting up at the wobbling object.

Now this, he wasn’t prepared for.

Slowly and silently, Mars gently shut the door behind him and stared over at the sword-balancing Elf, who was clad in a dark blue hoodie that hid his frame and had seemingly allowed himself to pluck a minor practice sword off the wall (which, he noted, was full of different steel practice swords) without the go-ahead from any means of authority.
That was something that both intrigued and annoyed the Briel.

Mars’ scarlet eyes were deadpan on the Elf as he approached slowly almost like a prowling wildcat with his prey aloft in front of him.
Closer, closer…
Until he was stood directly beside him.
“What are you doing?”

The boy in front of him jolted at the sudden voice that had popped up without his prior realization, his arms coming up in a desperate flail as the sword finally came out of balance and toppled sideways. Thanking his reflexes for co-operating with his hand-eye coordination, Mars very quickly and easily snatched the sword from the air, it had been inches from causing an unfortunate bump on his own head.
The still shocked boy with a rather dumbfounded expression on his face looked over and slightly up at the Elf, blinking a few times as it registered in his head what had just happened.
“Oh! Hi!” The black-haired elf laughed loudly, perhaps too loudly, before turning towards Mars and fixing a strand of his bangs that had fallen out of place,
“I was balancing a sword on my head.”

Mars kept back a snort, his intrigue and annoyance mixing and causing quite the intense and confusion hybrid,
“I could see that,” Mars stated manner-of-factly, “Did you gain permission from any higher-ups before doing so? Or did you simply look at the wall, think ‘oh shiny’, and do it without the go-ahead?”

The Black-haired Elf paused, tilting his head slightly as interest captured his own features,
“There aren’t any higher-ups around? How was I meant to ask?” He questioned, before snickering, “Anyway, don’t worry, I’m pretty good with a sword so I wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Mars’ eyebrow raised as he listened, the taller male letting out a quiet ‘hmph’ before shaking his head,
“I wasn’t worried about your safety, more for the fact you’re very obviously here to join the Elven Guard, correct?”



Ace of Prince

#95 in Short stories

Story about: cerestial

Edited: 27.09.2019

Add to Library


Complain