Chương 13: Chapter 11 ~ Brunch with a Side of Arson

19/10/1111 EotTS, 13: 00 Just to the right of the bookstore, by two buildings, was Bwouker's Bar and Restaurant; it was a three-story building made of river rocks and wooden beams, with a large patio encased by a wooden fence made from a lumber mill's longest discards. A single wooden door, that looked to be made of repurposed barnwood, sat flush with the facade and in the shade of a beige linen awning.

Ardhy grasped the bronze horseshoe handle, and pulled open the door, holding it widely ajar so the others could enter.

The interior was rustic like a rural inn but decorated with the superfluous tastes of city folk who fetishized the countryside: all of the table cloths were either brown or white with gold hemming, and earth-tone patches that were certainly only there for aesthetics; the bar was made of a chatoyant walnut, with engravings of leaves and vines spanning the sides of the counter, and the brass footrest was polished, glinting in the warm sigil light, that had been filtered through amber tinted glass, and old linen shades; the scent of fresh ale, sweet wine, aged cheese, and fatty, flavorful meats drifted below the pipe-smoke that clung to the ceiling.

A short waiter with strawberry-blonde hair smiled from behind his podium and its artificial weathering.

"Ah, two more than usual, Wyohla," he said, "I thought the number seemed unusual."

"Yes," Wyohla said.

"We picked up two more. So it will be seven from now on." The waiter backed away from his podium, and led the group to their table.

"Excellent." The table had one head pressed against the wall, leaving only three seats on each side and one at the head—but where to sit? it would not be good to be in the corner against the wall, as that is how one gets left out of conversations, but it would be worse to sit at the head of the table and become the focal point; thus, the center spot on the left or right side would be the best, maybe the right. Checking her hands, Gysel hurried to the center seat on the right side.

Upon sitting, Gysel lifted up a piece of the tablecloth's overhang, and looked beneath one of the patches: no hole in sight. Then she reached for the utensils, which had been tied together with a thin strip of cotton, and the fabric would make for a fun thing to fidget with; untying it, she wove it between her fingers and pulled it through, over and over again. Lyma, Visi, and Thyres sat on the left side, Lyvahn, Gysel, and Ardhy sat on the right, and Wyohla sat at the head.

The waiter began taking orders as soon as they sat down. He looked at Wyohla, Ardhy, the twins, and Visi.

"The usual for you five?" All five said some variation of 'yes' in unison.

"And you?" The waiter asked Thyres.

"I'll have what Ardhy is having," said Thyres. He was looking at Ardhy when he spoke, but Ardhy did not seem fazed. The waiter looked at Gysel but did not say anything. Gysel made eye contact for a moment, then looked down at the fabric between her fingers, and continued to fidget with it, now wrapping it around her thumb.

"What are you ordering, Gysel?" asked Lyma.

"Egg, beef, with cheese on a sourdough bun. With the cheese beneath the top bun. And water to drink," Gysel answered.

"Tell that to the waiter, not me." Gysel looked at the top button of the waiter's shirt and repeated herself.

"Egg, beef, with cheese on a sourdough bun. With the cheese beneath the top bun. And water to drink." The waiter opened his mouth to say something, but Lyma spoke before he could.

"You have the ingredients; just make it." He nodded and left. Speaking to someone behind the counter, he was handed a bottle of wine. Wyohla's focus immediately fell on Gysel, and the questions began.

"How old are you, Gysel?"

"Eighteen," said Gysel.

"How old is everyone else?"

"You're the youngest," said Wyohla.

"Ardhy is twenty-two, I am twenty-three, the twins and Visi are twenty-one, and I don't know how old Thyres is."

"Twenty-one," Thyres said. The waiter returned with the wine. Only Wyohla thanked him, because not just a glass, but the whole bottle was all for her. She poured herself a generous helping, and took a sip.

"So, how many people do you know?"

"At the school?" Gysel asked. The waiter returned once more with the drinks requested by everyone else.

"No," said Wyohla. Gysel took a sip from her water: it could have been colder—how could one even count that? people tend to know a lot of other people, so it is impossible to give a definite answer.

"A bunch, more than I could count. I got to know five more people today." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

"No, no. I mean—" The table shook. Wyohla winced in pain and glared at Lyma.

"So, now for the real question," said Lyma.

"How did you end up here, Gysel?"

"I got a letter stating that the Academy wanted to offer me a full scholarship for the first year," Gysel answered.

"What did you do to get the attention?" asked Visi.

"I did something stupid."

"What did you do?" He spoke more slowly.

"Something, stupid," Gysel answered slowly.

"What was the stupid thing you did?" Gysel looked around the table; everyone was staring at her—the answer has to be honest, but then they might think the new member of their group is weird and leave—Gysel took a deep breath, and answered honestly: "I burned down most of my private school after hours while trying to learn and use sigillography."

There was a brief moment of silence, then the group started to laugh; Gysel smiled—they are the only people who find it funny, Mother and Father, the Headmaster of the private school, and the city guard certainly did not.

"That was you!" Wyohla leaned back in her chair and cackled.

"Yes."

"What did you do?" asked Ardhy.

"Sigillography."

"No, what did you draw?"

"Sigils."

"What sigils did you draw, and what were you trying to get them to do?"

"No, just tell the whole story. All of it," said Visi.

"I was trying to make a Gahlyntimæ. So I had been collecting my urine in jars for a month and letting it putrefy. Then I boiled it down until it was a syrup over a sigil flame and charred it. I mixed the charred residue with sand and continued to heat it. But I made the mistake of not connecting the vessel to water, so when I opened the vessel, everything caught fire. So I ran out." Everyone laughed harder at this.

"You did this... at night," Lyma was struggling to get through the sentence while laughing.

"Right?"

"Yes."

"And then the letter showed up?"

"No, first I was expelled, then the lawsuit demanding my family pay for the damages, and then the letter showed up saying the Academy would pay for the damages and offered me a place." The food arrived on a brass cart, with wooden tiers, and the waiter dispensed it out. Ardhy had ordered a piece of breaded pork; it was larger than the plate and fried to a golden brown. Thyres, who had received the same, looked at the order with wide eyes.

"It's free if you can eat all of it." Ardhy picked up his utensils and began to cut the horizontal pork monolith.

"But if you can't—it's one of the most expensive dishes on the menu." Lyvahn found this particularly funny for some reason: perhaps it was the exercise in hubris Thyres was participating in that seemed hilariously absurd Lyvahn, or maybe, he was just laughing at his friend's misfortune; either way, the humor of such a large dish was not clear.

Gysel lifted the top bun and smiled at the cheesy resistance: the order was correct, and the sandwich was quickly eaten before it had a chance to cool, leaving Gysel's plate barren before any of the others (especially Thyres) had made a dent in their meals.

"You're on the fifth floor as well," said Lyma. She set the spoon back in her chicken soup.

"So it came with a full scholarship."

"Lucky..." muttered Thyres, halfway through chewing a piece of his pork.

"Are you paying out of pocket?" asked Visi.

"Pretty much, my parents gave me some money to help, but most of it is from my savings. But it's still more money than I have. Do all of you have scholarships?"

"The Twins and I have one," said Visi, as he motioned to Gysel with his glass.

"And Gysel as well, obviously." Gysel sipped her water—hopefully, the conversation would not change topic back to the letter.

"So how do you two survive?" Thyres pointed to Wyohla and Ardhy with the end of his fork.

"I get an allowance from my parents," answered Wyohla.

"My uncle works in the paper trade and said he would give the school a discount if they didn't charge me tuition," Ardhy said.

"I also live with my family off campus."

"Do you get the books cheaper?" asked Thyres.

"Uh-huh." Thyres rubbed his face.

"That's the most expensive part. The academy has its own printing presses and still charges what they do." The topic drifted to books and how expensive some could be, especially as one specializes and the topics get more advanced and niche, then it drifted again, and again, to other less interesting topics, luckily, the decorations are quaint, and made for something nice to look at when conversations grew uninteresting.

The restaurant grew busier, the restaurant grew louder, and the once empty tables around began to fill; the man seated behind Gysel had gotten his food and was chewing with his mouth open; the constant, smacking of lips and mushy chewing was the worst of the noises, so removing the pen from her pocket, she began to hit it against her knuckles. Ardhy leaned over to Gysel.

"Is everything all right?" Gysel stayed silent for a moment, continuing to tap her pen.

"There are too many people, and it is too loud," she said meekly. He let out a resonant 'hmm' in response, then looked around the table.

"Has everyone finished eating? I would hate to hold a table." Thyres let out a groan in response; his plate was cleared save for a few crumbs of breading, and now, surfeit, he was leaning back in the chair. Wyohla hailed the waiter and informed him they were ready to pay. He returned with seven receipts and dispensed them. Gysel did not bother to see her total, for she could not pay it either way; instead, she looked to Wyohla with wide eyes and held out the receipt.

"How could I resist that face?" Wyohla said.

"Of course, Gysel." Gysel smiled—this must be tested to see if it works consistently, for if it does, money might no longer be a concern. Leaving payment and a tip, the seven left the restaurant, and exited back into Thoranyn's midday autumn fog, walking back towards the fountain. Gysel tugged on Ardhy's sleeve. He looked to her.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Gysel said softly.

"I appreciate that."

"You are welcome. My sister used to do something similar when it got too loud."

"I would like to head back to the Academy," said Lyvahn.

"I would like to get organized sooner rather than later." Lyma nodded in agreement. Wyohla grumbled but did not protest.

"Fine, walk me back."

"Are you coming too?" Lyvahn asked Thyres. Thyres's shirt was untucked and hung loosely, obscuring his undone pants. His eyes had the disassociated drift of someone full to the point of vomiting.

"I'm going to stay here. Look at more bookstores." Gysel looked between the group—going with Thyres could be fun, but it is time to sit down with Kawvel and read, far too much socializing.

"Well," Ardhy said. He gave Thyres a friendly slap on the back.

"It was nice meeting you. I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again." Thyres's eyes went wide, and he leaned forward, groaning.

"Y—yes." The six left Thyres and headed back up to the academy. Ardhy split from the group with Wyohla, saying he needed to get something from her house.

"I'm going to be with Visi and Lyvahn," Lyma said as they entered the entrance hall.

"I'll probably be back later in the night."

"All right," Gysel said.

"Have fun."

"We certainly will." The Twins and Visi left and headed to the male dorms.