Discipline Academy-The Mystery of Abbey College (#NaNoWriMo2016)

Sam

*Sam*

 By the time Physical Fitness class rolled around, I was more than ready to do something other than the academic. I hadn't been recruited to Discipline for my ability in the classroom–though, admittedly, I wasn't exactly brainless. I had been recruited, according to the recruiter who had approached me, for my prowess in the Fighting Arts.

As a consequence, I was more comfortable with a sword in my hand or on the back of a horse than at a desk with a pen in my hand.

Before Physical Fitness, I changed into the training uniform–a white, loose shirt, and tan padded breeches. I wondered what the girls would be wearing during this lesson. I couldn't imagine that their uniform would be the same as ours.

I got my answer when I met up with Abby and Charlotte to walk across campus to the training yard. They were both dressed in white shirts, much like mine, and tan skirts which, upon a closer inspection, proved to be trousers with legs so wide they flowed together like a skirt.

Abby had pinned her hair up in a harsh, braided coil, and Charlotte had plaited her hair tightly from the crown of her head. She looked stunning, like a warrior princess of lore, or like the elves in old Celtic myths.

I offered an arm to each girl, trying to be as gentlemanly as possible, because, for some reason, I felt as though I was calling on the young women for an outing. My gallantry was rewarded with a shy smile from Abby–who I doubted had ever been escorted anywhere by a man–and a raised eyebrow and slight, amused smile by Charlotte–who, I imagined, was all too usual to the manners of the Peerage.

They were so utterly different, these two girls, yet so similar, too. It amazed me how they seemed to complete each other, and how, when they walked together, arm in arm, they appeared as a single individual with two halves as different as night and day.

Together, we strolled leisurely across the grounds, heedless of the faint mist that never seemed to want to let up. Abby chattered, as was her fashion, engaging me rather effectively in conversation. Charlotte simply watched–watched us, watched the world around us. Every so often, Abby would reach out the conversation to envelop her, and she would be absorbed for a few replies, and then would go back to watching the world.

It amazed me that, overtime Abby drew her back into our discussions, she remembered exactly what had been said thus far, and yet she could still seem to be completely absorbed in something else. Her focus was incredible; I had never met anyone like her.

Abby, too was different. She was so sheltered, yet not at all naive. She held no misconceptions about the true nature of our world. She was not blind, seemingly, to anything, and her eyes held the same feeling of eons of wisdom as Charlotte's did. Both girls had seen so much of life, and it amazed me.

When we reached the training yards, I was almost sorry to have to end our conversation–almost, as I couldn't wait to just move, to just be, as a fighter, and as an athlete.

Abby pointed out the Physical Fitness trainer, Professor Hawke, a grizzled man, perhaps in his late fifties, who looked as though he'd seen a lot of life.

Together, the three of us made our way tentatively over to where he stood. So far, we were the first students to arrive, and he greeted us with a gruff, "I appreciate punctuality in my students."

Abby whispered to Charlotte and me, "That's as close to praise as he'll get." She smiled. "I think he likes both of you."

"What are you whispering about, Ashley?" Professor Hawke barked, and Abby went pink.

"Nothing of significance," she muttered, looking down at her shoes. "Just telling my friends who you are."

Professor Hawke raised a graying eyebrow. "Ah. And your friends' names are?"