"Any fool can know. The point is to understand." - Albert Einstein
Sorry for the long wait, I've had a ready busy past couple of weeks! Everything's sorted now, so I can get back to updating more regularly!
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The warmth from the early morning sun envelops Alia as she walks towards the library with a black backpack around her shoulders. She left her house ten minutes ago, following a highlighted route in her mind.
When she was awoken by two alarms set only hours earlier, Alia rushed out of bed to plan her first lesson with Valen. Waking up at 8 am is not something she particularly enjoys, but she needed to have enough time before eleven to have everything ready. So, the first thing she did was reach underneath her bed and pull out an unopened box containing a brand-new laptop, courtesy of the Gamma, whilst leaving behind a smaller box that sat next to it.
Once everything was set up on a white, high gloss desk that resided in one corner of her bedroom, Alia went online to search for a nearby library.
Now, with the library in sight, Alia quickens her pace, eager to take out the textbooks she used during her time at university. She only has two hours until eleven and who knows how long it'll take her to find them.
The glass entrance to the library opens and two individuals wearing white hazmat suits exit the building, dragging behind them a disfigured, bloodied body. Alia stops in her tracks. Only now does the putrid scent of blood and flesh reach her nose.
Scrunching her nose in distaste, Alia decides to continue forward. She won't let a dead body derail her from finding the textbooks. She passes a white van with its back doors open. It contains the two earlier individuals standing on either side of the body with blood coating their gloved hands.
Deciding not to spare them another look, Alia grabs her backpack straps and walks towards the glass doors of the library, noticing another white van further ahead. It's odd, seeing vehicles in this day and age. She's only ever seen them in textbooks and movies, never in person. The lands of this Pack must be expansive to require such forms of transport.
Air-conditioned air blows from above as she steps into the library. Various, pungent scents slam into her senses, causing her eyes to water from the sting it brings.
Alia's body becomes right with shock as she slowly absorbs the gruesome scene. Dark red blood covers various desks and chairs, along with the wooden floors beneath them. If she didn't see the untouched furniture, she would have assumed they were red to begin with.
Four bodies lay scattered across the ground floor, some with limbs removed and others with their necks broken. A torn, tattooed arm lies atop one of the bloodied desks, the flesh pale with a strong scent of decay. One of the bodies remains on top of a table with their torso torn open and their insides out on display.
The grim spectacle becomes too much to handle and Alia swiftly averts her eyes as the bitter taste of bile runs up her throat.
Through chair and table legs, Alia is able to spot a decapitated head covered in ginger hair. Her eyes snap back to the bodies, matching the discovery to a headless corpse only metres away.
Who... who did this?
Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Alia's head snaps to the right to see two other individuals in hazmat suits cleaning the crimson furniture and floor of the library.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Alia turns to the left and heads for a glass elevator located further back. She makes sure to keep some distance between herself and the bloody remains.
A memory flashes in her mind, taking her back to an encounter in the infirmary: Valen with dried blood on his face.
That must be it, she tells herself, remembering his killings near the border. So, does that mean that those five men attacked Liam, and not Andriel? Alia shakes her head, what a coward.
With three textbooks in her backpack, Alia rushes to the tavern, having spent an hour trying to find ones with information on Bertraim and his father, otherwise known as the Twelfth and Eleventh Kings.
When she headed back to the ground floor, the four individuals in hazmat suits were still at work, having removed only one of the bodies with a broken neck in the time that passed.
The one-storey, stone building of the tavern is finally in view and Alia decides to jog over, for she only has less than an hour to prepare. It's fine, she tells herself. She's already got the lesson plan in her head, she just needs to finalise a few things in case Valen's interests lie elsewhere.
Stepping into the tavern, Alia quickly finds that the establishment is quieter than the last time she was here. More tables are unoccupied, allowing her to decide on one located near the back wall.
Pulling back a chair and sitting down, Alia takes off her backpack and places it onto the metal table. She unzips the bag and pulls out a blue notepad and a black, ballpoint pen. Alia then leans the textbook-filled backpack against a singular metal pole that holds the table up from the ground. The pole has a flat, circular base that has thick screws bolting it into the wooden floor, keeping it in place.
The door is to her right, along with two wooden booths that contain oppositely facing, padded benches. They're unoccupied with windowless walls, allowing a dark shadow to provide gossiping patrons with a blanket of privacy.
The bar occupies a handful of seated individuals. Some are hunched over, stirring their almost empty glasses with a slow twirl of their wrist, mulling over internal predicaments. Whilst others send drink requests to the female bartender, their words beginning to slur as they laugh amongst themselves, gossiping about the night before. A light murmur of unintelligible conversations reaches her ears from the surrounding tables and the scent of alcohol slithers into her nostrils, causing her nose to momentarily scrunch up.
Alia then glances at a circular, black clock that hangs high up on the wall behind the bar and she realises that she has forty minutes until 11 am. The female sucks in a quick breath and throws open the empty notebook. She swiftly grabs the black pen and scribbles down the start of a bullet-pointed list.
Only when the air shifts does Alia look up from the lined pages with her hands pausing in the middle of a sentence, muscles growing tense. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of a familiar male walking towards her; his intimidating height and build cause surrounding eyes to follow his every stride. Instead of taking a seat across from her, the male motions towards another empty table nearby, his white eyes daring her to oppose.
Blinking twice, Alia swiftly grabs the notebook and pen and slings her backpack over one shoulder, her body having a mind of its own after meeting eyes with the handsome wolf. She softly kicks the chair underneath the table and follows Valen to another table, which - she recalls - he sat at previously. After sparing a quick glance at the clock, Alia realises that it's 11 am on the dot, and a sense of admiration flows through her - he really is punctual.
Alia's eyes find themselves lingering on his arm, noting the movement of his strong muscles as he pulls out a chair. Heat fills her cheeks and she quickly averts her gaze before pulling out the seat opposite him. Enough, she scolds herself. Be professional.
Feeling his eyes on her, Alia distracts herself by neatly arranging the notepad and pen on the metal table and as she reaches into the backpack to pull out the textbooks, she finds that her hands have begun to shake.
"Is everything alright?"
Alia's head snaps up and her wide eyes meet Valen's. She swallows before responding quietly, "I'm okay... just nervous, I suppose."
Valen's legs are outstretched and crossed at the ankles, and one of his forearms casually rests on the table. "Nervous?"
Placing the textbooks onto the table, Alia nods. "I've never tutored anyone before. It's quite daunting." What she says is true, but it's not why she's nervous, and she hopes Valen doesn't pry any further, for she knows her just-calmed cheeks will grow to feel like the fiery pits of hell.
Deciding to change the subject, Alia clears her throat and flips open her notebook. She can't bear to look at him any further. "I wasn't sure how long today's session would be, so I've prepared enough topics for a couple of hours... if that's okay?" Looking up, Alia's breath is caught in her throat when she sees Valen with a pen and journal and in his hands. His eyes don't leave the journal as he writes and a tidal wave of uncertainty drenches the girl. Is he not... interested?
"That is fine."
Unsure whether to be angry or upset, Alia shifts quietly in her chair with her hands reaching for the uppermost textbook - the one with information on Bertraim. "I think we should start off by learning about Bertraim - he's the current King - and then, if we have time, we can go over his father's reign later on."
Valen doesn't respond.
Alia suddenly feels awkward and she clears her throat once again in order to regain her composure. "So, Bertraim Derrik is the Twelfth King to rule the Lycanthrope Kingdom and he's the successor to his father Rykar Derrik, who died in 2353." Peeking up from her notes, Alia sneaks a look at Valen, who continues writing in his journal.
What is he writing?
Is he... is he taking down notes of his own?
No, that's not it. He's already written more words than she's spoken.
Whatever, at least she's getting paid.
Looking away, Alia's eyes harden and she forces herself to continue, "He's twenty-four years old and was crowned King at nineteen, which was young for a King. His coronation was both a hopeful and horrifying day for the Kingdom." What is she doing? She sounds like a goddamn textbook.
With a defeated sigh, Alia closes her notebook and leans back in her seat with her hands in her lap. "That day was so fucked up, you know." She shakes her head, keeping her eyes on the table. "People thought he was going to be different from his father, but he just turned out worse; killing anyone who disobeyed him, forcing people to become Warriors of the Throne... he's just a crude child with a crown on his head. An insult to lycanthropy, really."
Alia looks up at the stone ceiling, voice steady. "He even ordered the death of a few Gammas because he wanted men of his own under him. Apparently, he got word of rebellion during his father's reign, so he took it upon himself to weed them out - obviously, he ordered Warriors to do his bidding, but it just shows how corrupt the system's become." She moves back to looking at the table, the muscles in her neck feeling strained. "Weak men shouldn't be in power, especially little boys with a superiority complex." It infuriates her. Even just thinking about him has Alia imagining herself driving a dagger deep into Bertraim's heart, his screams falling on ears that couldn't care less.
A stinging sensation erupts from her palms and Alia looks down to see her nails digging into the soft flesh."Anyways, let's just say he's not the worst King to come around. But, we'll get to that another day." If they continue to do tutoring sessions, that is.
After what she's seen, it sure doesn't seem like it.