Royal Protector

5 - A Lowlife's Scar

Acelin

"Erale Heather."

"You're the-"

"Yes,"

The next was his turn. But, being himself, Acelin still stood rooted on the ground in front of the Glory Entrance- an arch entrance majestically built- without making any steps forward. He whipped his head around to see no one behind him.

With the hesitations overwhelming him, the bravery he had earlier was obscured. Acelin would be risking his life, putting it on a thin and weak string, that could be severed by those in power. He realized that he was powerless, like a bird trying to fly with its broken wings.

"Next," a voice called, snapping him out of his thought.

It was the registrar. A young man who could barely be older by a few years than him, was at the registry table accompanied by a quill, an inkpot and sheets of parchment.

Acelin shook his head, before taking a few steps approaching the registrar. "Acelin," he stated, staring down to the young man.

The protector examined the name list of the new trainees as he dipped his quill in the inkpot. He was about to retrieve it, but he did not. The young man looked up. "Acelin?"

"Yes, that's me." Acelin kept his hands behind him, clasping them together, so tight that it might break his bones.

"Give me your last name." The registrar pulled out the quill, a careless drip of ink met the parchment.

"Huh?"

The young man got annoyed, rolling his eyes before he lifted his head. "Here... It didn't state any last name." He pointed towards Acelin's name on the list, which was in the last row.

"I don't own any."

He scoffed, eyeing Acelin up and down, giving him the look of disbelief.

"I'm not here to listen to your joke."

"I'm telling you, Sir... I don't own any last name," he said every word firmly, to make it clear for the registrar.

The young man sighed, finally nodding approvingly. "I can't believe they even picked a lowlife for such a prestigious academy," he muttered.

A lowlife? Acelin bit the inside of his cheek.

The clasp of his hands loosened up, his nails clawing into the flesh of his palm. The sweat in his palm mixed the tiny drop of blood that started to ooze from the wound he left. Acelin bit his tongue from any unnecessary argument with the young man. Patience was the only thing that could save him from uttering any curses towards the insolent registrar right then.

"Sir-"

"Where is your tattoo?"

"What do you-" Acelin shut his mouth as he silently continued the rest of his words, "-mean?"

How could he be so reckless?

The young man stared at him for a while. He gently placed the quill back into the inkpot. "So, you don't have it..." the registrar smirked. "And now, I will charge you under the rules of the Sierraveil for attacking--"

The young man slipped out a particular parchment beneath the pieces with the name list.

That was when Acelin interrupted. It was not his intention to cut off the man's words but- "Wait- What? Attacking? Just..." His brows knitted together, a perfect picture of confusion. He gathered himself together before asking again, "When did I ever do that?"

He's got to be kidding me.

"Attacking the Protectors Academy through cheating." He then read the content of the parchment. "You've violated the 17th rules of Protectors Academy; one's must be truthful in every action he takes, otherwise, it would be assumed that he is threatening the safety of the academy."

"What?" his stare met the eyes of the young man and he stepped back, stumbling.

The young man peered his eyes over Acelin's shoulder and gave a slight nod towards a protector behind Acelin- a signal to seize him.

"What's going on here, Kestrel?" a voice suddenly came into their conversation.

"Sir Heather," Kestrel quickly rose from his chair, bowing to the owner of the voice. Acelin whirled around to see a man in the attire of a protector. Not the one Kestrel gave the order to, but another protector figure.

Heather- Edward Heather, the head of the Royal Protector, the King's right hand, preserver of the peace of Sierraveil, guardian of the Nobles and the man himself was a Noble by blood-- such a powerful figure that could easily make the commoners cower in fear.

"Explain," he demanded the protector. Heather's voice was gentle yet held the strictness of a leader.

"Sir, he failed to prove his qualification."

"Is that true?" Edward Heather turned to Acelin, his face held no emotion.

Acelin cleared his throat. "About that, Sir... I've got something different and I have no tattoo-"

Acelin paused, eyeing their reaction for a moment. Kestrel was frowning while Edward Heather, well, ... He couldn't tell. And he was afraid of it. He feared what he didn't know-- people fear the unknown. But, still, he continued. "Instead, I'd ask for the insignia to be carved by a heated knife that would eventually leave a scar. So, I have got this scar as a result of passing the Protectors' Heir trial."

What is this lie I'm telling them? Even to him, it sounded ridiculous. He never met the tattoo carver, he never knows him, yet here he was- telling utter lies related to the man he never knows.

Acelin flipped the sleeve of his tunic, revealing the scar on his left arm to their sight. He felt somehow vulnerable showing his bare arm when he always conceals that part of his. If Edwina knew about this, she would kill him first before anyone could lay their hands on him.

Acelin saw Kestrel's face changed; a mixture of surprise and horror.

Then, his eyes glazed over Edward and the man's face remained calm, a contrast to Kestrel. The title of the Head was surely given by the King to the right person- a cold-hearted person like Edward, which he may judge, would show no emotion, no remorse to whoever the man confront. Somewhere deep in his heart, Acelin adored the man's attitude when there was also a little part of him being fearful of the man.

"He has it, Kestrel," Edward concluded.

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