Just as Yue declared us a "cool couple," the dining hall door creaked open again. A small Kaynari woman ambled in, a pair of oversized, oil-stained goggles perched precariously on her head, half-lost in a wild, untamed explosion of black hair that seemed to defy gravity, sticking out at odd angles as if she'd just survived an electrical experiment. Her oversized Dolorian dorm robe practically swallowed her slender frame. Her eyes looked like she hadn't slept in a week, deep circles under them suggesting perpetual exhaustion, yet they held a distant, almost calculating focus, as if still processing complex equations. Despite the chaotic hair and the tired eyes, there was a striking, almost delicate beauty to her features, a sharp intelligence that shone through the disarray. She moved with a casual indifference, her steps quiet, almost unheard, as she made a beeline for the food. She grabbed some bread and a bowl of soup from the table, her movements precise and economical. Without a word or a change in her perpetually flat expression, she just sat down and began to munch, her gaze fixed on the bread as if analyzing its molecular structure.
Selyra, seeing her enter, practically shrieked with delight, her earlier possessiveness towards me momentarily forgotten. "Oh, Temo! You're back!" She immediately rushed over, wrapping her arms around Temo from behind in a fierce, childlike hug that practically lifted the smaller Kaynari woman off her seat. "My little sister!" Selyra cooed, burying her face in Temo's wild hair, completely oblivious to the oil stains. Temo, however, seemed utterly unfazed, continuing to eat without a flicker of bother, her chewing methodical, as if Selyra's enthusiastic embrace was just a normal part of her morning routine, a minor atmospheric disturbance. It was clear she was used to it, a silent acceptance of Selyra's boundless affection.
Yue, with a wide, knowing smile that stretched his lips from ear to ear, leaned in conspiratorially to us first-years. "This is Temo," he explained, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper, "our Kaynari third-year Dolorian. She's not just any third-year, though. She's our resident mad scientist! Always at the lab all day, every day. Literally. We're pretty sure she sleeps there sometimes, fueled by caffeine and pure, unadulterated genius. Only on Sunday will she deign to come back to the dorm to eat breakfast and then 'recharge herself' in her room all day, probably by downloading more schematics directly into her brain."
Temo merely glanced at us, her gaze devoid of much interest, still munching her bread, completely unbothered by the introduction or Selyra's lingering hug. She seemed to exist in her own world, a universe of calculations and quiet consumption.
Just as Yue finished introducing Temo, the small Kaynari woman slowly turned her gaze to Yor, who sat quietly eating her own breakfast. Temo, still munching her bread, her eyes holding an almost imperceptible flicker of something akin to recognition, uttered two words that seemed to hang in the air, flat and devoid of inflection, yet somehow weighty: "Ravage Warrior."
I didn't understand what she meant. Ravage Warrior? I thought, a frown creasing my brow. Yor, with her quiet stoicism and metal manipulation, certainly seemed capable of being a warrior, but "ravage"? It sounded… primal, almost savage. It was such a stark contrast to Temo's own detached, scientific demeanor, and indeed, to the general image of the Kaynari as meticulous engineers and builders. Temo was all wild hair and precise movements, a mind lost in equations, while Yor was compact, sturdy, and unyielding, a silent force. They were both Kaynari, but their appearances and personalities seemed to belong to entirely different species. Do Kaynari scientists and warriors even get along? I wondered, a new layer of complexity added to my understanding of the races. Or do they just tolerate each other? Yor, surprisingly, didn't seem bothered at all by the strange address. She merely continued eating, her expression as unreadable as ever, though I thought I saw a faint, almost imperceptible tightening around her lips, a subtle acknowledgement of the odd title. Temo, for her part, simply finished her meal, pushed her bowl aside with a soft clink, and repeated, with the same flat tone, "Ravage Warrior."
With that cryptic pronouncement, Temo rose from the table, walked back to her bread and soup, refilled her bowl with the same methodical precision, and then, without another word to anyone, ambled out of the dining hall, presumably to her room to "recharge" for the rest of her Sunday. The rest of us exchanged puzzled glances, the words "Ravage Warrior" echoing in the sudden quiet.
The dining hall door swung open once more, this time with a confident thwack against the wall. A man entered, a human, by his sharp, chiseled features, and seemingly a third-year Dolorian given his casual ease and the way he surveyed the room like he owned it. This was Aldo von Ferigno, and his presence alone seemed to fill the room with a boundless, almost infectious energy. He had a bald head that gleamed under the light, a strong jaw, and a broad, powerful build that spoke of relentless training and raw, physical might. His eyes, bright and clear, held a perpetual twinkle of good humor and unwavering optimism, reflecting a spirit that seemed to embrace every challenge with a grin. He wore what looked like a light, flexible set of leather and metal armor, hinting at a life of constant readiness, and he moved with the confident, almost bouncy stride of a seasoned warrior who loved a good fight, yet his smile was open and friendly, like a loyal companion. He walked directly towards Thoden, his stride purposeful.
Thoden, who had been eating stoically, looked up and stood, his usual rigid posture softening almost imperceptibly. Without a word, Aldo delivered a sharp, friendly punch to Thoden's gut, a blow that would have winded anyone else but Thoden merely absorbed, a faint grunt escaping him. To my astonishment, Thoden actually smiled in response, a rare, genuine display of emotion from the usually tense prefect, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. Then, with a shared, almost primal understanding, they began to exchange a rapid series of booming punches, each impact resonating loudly through the hall like distant thunder, a brutal yet affectionate greeting between two muscle-brained giants. Neither Selyra nor Yue seemed bothered; in fact, they watched with an air of amusement, a shared understanding passing between them, completely accustomed to this unique form of Dolorian camaraderie. At the end, Aldo burst into hearty, boisterous laughter, a sound that filled the room with cheer, while Thoden merely gave a low, rumbling chuckle, his face alight with a quieter, but equally genuine, camaraderie.
"First-years," Yue announced, his voice beaming with pride as he gestured to the newcomer, "this is Aldo von Ferigno, our third-year human Dolorian dorm mate! He's got the spirit of a true Dolorian, always positive, always ready for a challenge! A real force of nature, this one!" Aldo smiled warmly as he greeted us, his gaze assessing but friendly, a wide, open grin on his face.
Yue continued, "Aldo is currently on an internship with the royal guard. He skipped third-year classes to go straight into an intern program with the fourth-years. But he comes back once in a while, especially on Sundays, because he 'can't miss Dolorian tradition,' right, Thoden?"
Aldo nodded, taking a seat and grabbing some bread, his movements efficient. "How was the wolf's trial?" he asked us, his eyes twinkling with a shared memory. "Brutal, isn't it? But so much fun! I still remember when we, as first-years, went through that trial. Felt like it lasted a week, but every punch was a lesson, right Thoden?" He clapped Thoden on the back, a resounding thwack. Thoden just gave a silent, almost imperceptible nod, a faint smirk on his lips. Aldo laughed, a deep, resonant sound, then glanced at Selyra, a playful glint in his eye. "Selyra almost cried when she saw Yue get clawed by the wolves! She was clinging to Thoden like a baby!"
Selyra, ever quick with a retort, fired back, a mock-scowl on her face. "I didn't cry because of Yue! I almost cried because I thought we were all going to get eaten! And I was not clinging, Aldo, I was merely... assessing the tactical situation from a secure position!"
Aldo chuckled, then continued recounting their own trial, his voice filled with a nostalgic, almost gleeful energy. "And then this guy, Thoden, used his magma fist and punched one of the wolves so hard its face melted off! It was glorious! Pure, unadulterated power! We fought for almost an entire day until we finally found the door." He laughed at the memory, a shared bond clearly evident between the three prefects, a history forged in fire and fangs, and a mutual appreciation for brute force.
Throughout the entire story, Temo, who had apparently returned unnoticed to refill her bowl, continued to munch on her food, utterly unconcerned by the boisterous tale, a silent, unmoving fixture in the background, a testament to her singular focus.
As Aldo finished his lively tale, I glanced at Henry. Usually, he sat with an air of mild disinterest, a perpetual scowl reserved for Jove's antics. But now, he was sitting straight and stiff, his gaze fixed on Aldo with an intensity I hadn't seen before, almost a reverence.
Aldo, noticing Henry's posture, looked at him, his smile softening. Without warning, Henry performed a crisp, military-perfect salute, a gesture rarely seen outside of formal military settings. "Long live King Arthur!" Henry declared, his voice surprisingly firm, ringing with genuine conviction.
I blinked, a new wave of confusion washing over me. King Arthur? Why is Henry saluting King Arthur? I knew King Arthur was a legendary figure, the wise king of humans, but this level of reverence, this almost religious fervor from Henry, was startling. Is King Arthur more than just a historical figure to humans? Is he some kind of deity, or a symbol of something deeper than just royalty? The question hung in my mind, adding another layer to the intricate tapestry of the races and their beliefs.
Aldo chuckled, a warm, genuine laugh that filled the space. He clapped Henry on the shoulder, a gesture of easy camaraderie. "No need to be so tense in here, Henry," he said, a friendly smile on his face. "We're all Dolorians, you know. Family."