Nagan | Broken Time Series: Book One

Chapter 4

As people filtered in, the humming became more soothing rather than something that drilled into Nagan's ears. Many watched with expressions ranging from bewilderment to disgust as he was ushered through the halls by Sir Luxivo. He liked it better when he was invisible. At least they were going fast enough for the discomfort to last only a moment.

After many twists and turns and ups and downs, the pair made it into a long hallway lined with doors on either side. Most were closed, but Nagan could hear the droning of voices coming from behind them while other groups stood outside. They were nearing the end of the hall when Sir Luxivo stopped by a door. Nagan, meanwhile, was so engrossed in his surroundings that he nearly collided into Sir Luxivo's back.

"This will be your room along with another young master," Sir Luxivo explained and handed him a single key, not seeming to have noticed his little blunder. "This is the key to your room. Do not lose it. Now, I need to start off to my next appointment."

He wasted no time as he strode down the hall and to the stairs, leaving Nagan standing awkwardly at the door. So...do I just go in?

Nagan stared at the knob, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as he sensed the weight of many gazes settling on him. That was when the whispers began.

What's a boy like him doing here? He's practically in rags!

He doesn't look to be from Tarkon...

Did Carvolier not have enough students this year? Why would they let in some stray?

Oh hush, don't say it like that! Perhaps he has a rare ability.

He looks to be from across the sea. Why wasn't he accepted into one of their schools?

That's it. He had enough of this. Promptly unlocking the door, he entered swiftly, and the door clicked soundly behind him. Whoever his roommate was, they weren't there at the moment. Nagan let out a sigh of relief.

The room was simple, yet comfy. Well, to Nagan's standard it was comfy. And his standards weren't the highest considering he was on the street just hours ago.

The arrangement of the room seemed to be divided diagonally. One bed stood in front of the door on the opposite wall, and the other to the left. Both beds had a nightstand with a lamp, drawer, and cubbyhole at the base. In the corner sat the fireplace with the desks on either side. Another door was on the left wall. It must lead to the washroom. The window opened up to a balcony, and a bookshelf sat underneath it.

Yet the most noticeable difference between the two sides, was that the left side was barren while the other was richly decorated. There were dark green bed curtains with a satin leaf-like design, sheets to match, and a trunk at the foot of the bed. Books were in the nightstand's cubbyhole, quills and paper at the desk, and little trinkets scattered around. Sir Luxivo did say his roommate was a young master, but that felt like an understatement. Judging by the luxury, he should say rich young master. The other must have been here earlier and chose his side.

Moving to what he assumed was his side, he noted that it wasn't completely barren. There were no bed curtains, but the sheets were a clean white. Even the pillow retained its general shape when he sunk his hand into it instead of deflating.

There was a sudden shift in the air and a suctioning pop at the foot of his bed. Startled but curious, Nagan inched his way towards it and peeked past the bedding. A large trunk now sat at the foot of the bed. That is definitely not mine, he thought suspiciously as he crouched next to it. It was on his side of the room, so no harm in looking inside, right? He did just that.

Opening the heavy lid, his eyes widened in shock as he saw its contents. It was filled with clothes, two pairs of shoes, some odd string with the Carvolier crest, and a book bag. The clothes and shoes even looked to be his size. He couldn't dream of affording any of these things, so where did it come from? Perhaps Sir Luxivo made a mistake, and this wasn't his room.

With nothing else to see, he shut and latched the trunk closed, yet made no move to stand. His mind started to fill with the usual questions about how he would survive.

One thing was certain; it would be significantly easier to live here rather than anywhere else. He already had a roof over his head, a bed to sleep in, and adequate clothing. All he needed to do was acquire food. With his stomach currently full, he could easily last two days without much more, but what then? Settling on the ground with his back to the bed, he remembered the town past the gate. Perhaps there will be farmers willing to give him old produce. The town looked friendly enough, even if he hadn't properly scouted it yet.

Nagan didn't know how long he sat there thinking, but the door clicked briefly before swinging open. Instinctively he scrambled to his feet at the sound, but the sudden movement had him gripping a bedpost to keep him upright as his vision darkened.

Multiple people filed into the room. All of them were the definition of rich. First walked in a boy around his age, and he was followed by a tall man in a deep green suit, a woman in a modest dress, a young girl who held onto the woman's skirt, and two servants. Why did the first four look familiar...?

At first, none of them took notice of him. The boy, however, must have caught sight of him from the corner of his eye as he turned sharply in surprise. Unfortunately, the rest were quick to react. Nagan found himself shrinking back at the sudden attention, but he recognized the boy's face. It was the person who helped him after being thrown through hell's butthole!

"It's you!" Nagan blurted out before he could stop himself. He silently thanked whatever entity was listening for letting his tone sound surprised instead of incredulous.

"It's me," the other boy agreed almost dumbly, still a bit shocked. Yet he recovered quickly and stepped excitedly up to Nagan, not seeming to notice the other flinch. "I'm glad you're feeling better. I mean, you certainly look better compared to earlier."

There was a not-so-subtle "ahem," and the boy cringed. Nagan leaned to the side to peek past the boy. The stern woman, who absolutely had to be the mother, was staring at the back of the boy's head with a raised brow. The boy before him didn't need to turn around to know what his mother wanted. While this odd exchange happened, Nagan ruefully noted how the boy was nearly a head taller than him. You are also abnormally short, a smirking voice echoed in his head, which he mentally kicked away.

"My name is Icarion Azarius Arcloven II." The boy held his hand out for a handshake.

Nagan stiffened at the casual gesture. When was the last time he was treated as an equal? Especially by someone who was obviously many social standings above him. He once again glanced back at the mother, wondering what she thought about the action. To his surprise, however, she looked pleased and turned to her husband. He took that as a sign of approval and shook Icarion's hand lightly, adding a small bow out of habit. "Nagania Elvar, but please call me Nagan, Young Master Arcloven."

Icarion's eyes widened at the show of respect and flustered, "N-No need for that. Just call me Az if we're insisting on nicknames."

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but there was a sudden bobble of curls in his way. The young girl who was previously clutching her mother's skirt was now in between the boys, curiously looking up at Nagan with big brown eyes.

"What happened to you?" the girl blinked owlishly and pointed to the tear down the front of his shirt. "You tore your clothes!"

"Florine!" Icar—er...Az scolded and pulled her back to give Nagan some space. "That isn't very polite."

Nagan was about to say it was alright until another shadow loomed nearby. Turning to see who it was, he looked up and froze. There stood the mother, looking straight down at Nagan in a disapproving manner. Her naturally severe-looking face made it all the more terrifying.

Nagan gulped.