***

The Commons lay ahead, with their dark oak tables and solitary chairs. Lawrence followed Ali, taking in everything with curiosity that hopefully made him look like a tourist, not an investigator.

“Hush, quiet,” Ali hissed at him, making him flinch. The boy elbowed him playfully. “Just joking. For your size, you’re as quiet as a mouse.”

That was hardly the truth. Lawrence was well aware of the sounds his boots were making on the polished floor.

“This is where everything happens,” Ali explained, his voice low and conspiratorial. “It is said that kingdoms rose to greatness and fell to ruin, products of whatever was said in this very room. Or between these walls. Make of it what you want.”

“Kingdoms are a vestige of the past,” Lawrence commented. They were alone, indeed, but the solemnity of the place imposed hushed conversation.

Ali gave him a look as if he pitied him. “Poor middle-class fellow,” he drawled, “who do you think calls the shots? They might not all be ‘vons’ around here, but aristocracy is alive and well. Especially at Veridien. I thought you’d know as much.”

“One can only hope society can change,” Lawrence offered in his most diplomatic tone.

“An idealist. You’re a dangerous man, Larry boy.” Ali walked quickly, forcing Lawrence to pick up the pace. “Just warn me in case you’re planning a revolt. The whole ‘off with their heads’ thing is not exactly my style.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Lawrence said. “I don’t plan anything like a revolt.”

“What are you planning, though?”

The question caught him unawares, and it took him a second to realize Ali was continuing to tease him.

“Just to hone my dead language skills,” he said.

Ali seemed to be ignoring him already. “Through there,” he pointed at a dark door at the end of the common area, “you’ll reach the library. Now let’s take a stroll through our beautiful cloistered garden.”

The castle had a labyrinthine design, so Lawrence struggled to keep up with the intricacies of the layout. And this was only the ground floor, but Ali found his way around with ease.

At the end of a long hallway, which Ali appeared keen on avoiding, a pair of tall doors stood closed. What caught Lawrence’s eye was the decoration on the doors: someone had adorned them with a beautiful white oak. From afar, it seemed to have been carved out of marble.

“What’s there?” he asked.

Ali shrugged but quickened his pace. “I have no clue. It’s always closed. But the way this place is built, I’d say it’s just another exit into the inner courtyard.”

Lawrence lingered, his eyes still drawn to the white oak, until Ali grabbed his hand and hurried him along.

“Come on, there’s so much to see.”

The inner courtyard had the layout of a cloistered garden, making Lawrence wonder about the renovation work that must have been put into creating it. From the outside, Veridien didn’t allow the impression that it sheltered such areas inside its hard, granite body.

The garden was complete with stone benches and manicured bushes. The two statues, guarding what counted as its main entrance was what Lawrence stopped to admire first. In the style of Ancient Greece, they were representations of two young warriors. The nudity didn’t come as a shock; Lawrence hadn’t been born yesterday. It was the expression on the statues’ faces that made him do a double take.

The two warriors appeared to be staring at each other from across the path. One wore a wreath of laurel leaves, while the other held in one hand a sword and in the other an olive branch. The first held a heavy scythe in his hands.

“The Lovers,” Ali commented. “They’re not their official names, mind you, but they’re our local Damon and Pythias.”

Lawrence followed Ali, since his companion was already two steps ahead, hands in his pockets, and walking with purpose. From Ali’s overall behavior and the details he’d gathered until now, Lawrence could only infer that homoeroticism was at home at Veridien. However, how much that was approved openly by the powers that be remained to be investigated.

According to Ali, Lukas had been troubled. There was always a possibility that his fall had been either a suicide or an accident. But Lawrence’s uncle didn’t believe so, and he was rarely wrong. Underneath the academy’s perfect façade, dark secrets lurked. Even without a gut instinct to guide him along, Lawrence knew as much.

Ali sat on a bench and shivered noisily. “I can’t believe it’s so cold already. It always takes me by surprise.”

“Why don’t you wear a coat?” Lawrence asked as he sat by Ali’s side. The garden was the perfect place for meditation, he remarked inwardly.

“We don’t mollycoddle ourselves at Veridien. That’s our unofficial motto. Not wearing an overcoat is the shortest way to build immunity. The air is so pure here that you can’t catch a cold.”

Coming from someone who had complained about the cold damp hallways being propitious for students catching pneumonia. Lawrence reminded himself that he needed to be wary of Ali, at least to a degree. For all he knew, his first acquaintance at Veridien was likely to feed him a steaming pile of bull just to amuse himself.

“What brings you to Veridien, Larry?” Ali’s question seemed innocuous enough, but the way the young man looked at him made Lawrence think that he was being interviewed.

“My undying love for dead languages, like I said. I’ll study Greek and Latin.”

“Greek is alive and well,” Ali pointed out.

“I’m only interested in it as it used to be spoken millennia ago,” Lawrence said. “The best professors teach here. It was an easy choice.”

Ali blew air through his mouth and enjoyed the mist he produced that way. “Are you going to teach? That’s your plan?”

“No. I’ll be working for the Foreign Service, the Cultural Department,” he said in his most official voice.

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” Lawrence confirmed. “What about you?” This interview could go both ways.

Ali shrugged. “Ministry of Defense, most likely. That’s where my entire family is. Now, sorry if I’m being blunt, but how can you afford studying here?”

The matter of class would follow him through these hallowed halls for the duration of his stay, without a doubt. “Someone close to my family put in a good word,” he replied. “And I won’t be here long. My education involves multiple specializations.”

Ali examined him slowly, his eyes half-closed. “Are you going to be a spy, Larry?”

Lawrence grinned and looked ahead. “A spy would never answer that.”

“Not even under torture?” Ali seemed to perk up again.

“I’ve learned techniques to resist even the harshest interrogation techniques,” he lied through his teeth.

“Ah, you’re just making fun of me right now.” Ali punched him in the shoulder. “Okay, Sleeper. Let’s say you’re that formidable. Ready for the upper floors?”

Whatever test Ali had run him through, it seemed to be finished. Lawrence followed, feeling relief wash over him.

He would still need to watch his step. Every step if he wanted to be thorough.

TBC