LUCIUS SHAHAR

 A Hero in The Making Part 1

I thought I was mad when I first got here but almost immediately that sorrow went away after I realized that I could accomplish much more here than back home. I thought it over and over, was being accepted to some Ivy League all that meaningful? Would it give me anything? Yes, it came with status and prestige but that can only go so far after those things are finished. After schoolings over it's like accepting credit from a crackhead, forget about being paid back, your monies already out the back door.

In these situations, I'm reminded of my father who'd accomplished so little in his life he wouldn't even leave a mark in the history books. He had all the advantages I had if not more being one of those Ivy League kids and yet he squandered every asset he had. By the time I was grown up he was nothing more than a stepping stone in my path... But then why, why did I say no when the voting came around? Was it resentment that turned into a deep dark depression?

I can be a Hero here and leave a notable mark in history. I can be an entire book instead of a sticky note on some fridge like him. Because of him I grow, inwardly. I will be a hero.

We follow the King's advisor who shows us the many grandiose suites of this place, "This here is the library and across from it is the Royal Archive, it's only available to high ranking officials, like myself."

"You guys got any nudie mags?" Indie shouts and snorts. The sheep laugh, it was nice seeing people laugh with him instead of at him. Why was I drawn to him like a mother to a child?

"What's a nudie mag?" The advisor asks.

"Something you'll never see in your life 'cause you're gay," Indie quips and dabs. Alas, Indie was by all accounts of the word a douchebag who was so incredibly detestable it was no wonder he had no one that would dare associate with him. He was disgusting beyond words but I couldn't help myself calling him my friend. He was my equal in all regards of the word equal...

Yet... He did something I couldn't. Indie made people laugh. There was something so human about him that he understood people like only I could only long to reciprocate. It was by this same measure that his emotional intelligence was beyond the amplitude that made him so reactionary he was toxic to be around. Indie was a political minefield, he could read a room and know what to say. But, what he would say would not translate to people wanting to associate with him. And yet, they continue to laugh, like slaves, with him. Indie's beguiles me with a charm that's transfixed my heart. I want to save him like a Hero would.

I parade myself to the front of the group, "Now everyone—"

"That everyone includes me, right?" Indie interjects.

I beckon to him, "Yes, Indie. It does—"

"God bless," He bows and presents me a pair of prayer hands. And yet, people laugh.

"You mind if I take charge from here, Mister Kinsley, was it?" I air to the King's advisor.

"Well, yes, because we haven't gone over everything yet," counters the advisor.

I take charge anyway and man the front. I eye every single person before I speak, "Everyone, I know this is still confusing for most of us, I know I still am. But I just want to say we're all in this together so if you need someone to talk to, I'm readily available," I take a short pause for breath, "I don't know what the future holds or what our mission here is exactly but we can't fail. We've given up—our lives—our futures—our families. And I know we will create a new future one that's better than any we've had the chance of being a part of. That's all I wanted to say," I motion toward the King's advisor, "Feel free to continue."

"While it is a nice speech—don't act like damn a peacock, Mister Shahar, it's unbecoming of a Hero," Kinsley grinds his teeth and struts away.

I hop back in line and I feel the hands of several of my classmates gliding past my back. My plan was working, I was winning them over. I will lead these people one way or another, but there will be no other. This is what it means to be a leader.

I feel an emboldened hand grasp my shoulder, the nails dig into my jacket and a breath runs down my neck, "Let's be honest, Lucius, that was nothing but bunk and you know it. It's like you took a shit right under my nose," it was Mister Fitzgerald's hand, "You really think you're going to lead us like one of your shitty sports team? Stop it with this farce, and don't drop the ball again," He beams with delight and let go of me. He follows the rest of the group.

Another hand falls on my lower back, "you give speeches like my mom makes Chinese food—really shitty—she picks it up from the store where it's made by a Mexican named Juan who's illegal but looks like talcum powder." What does that even mean?

And yet, he made me laugh.

"You know, you sound like a hyena gargling cum when you laugh, right?"

I shoot him an ostentatious stare, "Indie, that's gross. What did I tell you about being diligent?"

"What did I hurt your pride? I figured that the rules changed when we got here—I thought—that people would treat me different—along with you—But maybe I was wrong—maybe I was doomed to being the punching bag like always? So why don't you let them fall on me for a change? I'll take them when your pride can't, Lucius," He removes his hand from my back and marches off onto his own. Indie looks back once and dips his brow before turning the wrong way like a ubiquitous idiot.

It wasn't long before we were shown everything in this fortress. The last place we went was the dining hall with food that is incredibly somber. The King is obsessed with gold as everything in the castle was some shade of amber. It is extraneous on the senses and carries a stench of cheap gilded bronze.

Sparingly, King Aurvandil joins us for dinner and it was another chance to take helm of the reins again. I lean toward him and announce, "You mind if I share my thoughts freely? I'd hate to offend you in any sense of the word."

"Speak freely," The King exchanges a glance.

I perch my lips, "I'm more than positive that I can be the leader of my classmates on whatever quest you have in mind," I knew this more than anything else. I keep my diplomatic nature in check, "But we can't do that without first understanding this world we've found ourselves in—And like I've already said, if I'm the leader of my classmates, I'm sure I can get them to cooperate."

"Who died and made you king, Lucius? You think we want someone who voted against going here to lead us?" Indie interrupts my spiel, "Shouldn't the leader be someone who wanted to go here?" He winks his eye and cracks a jeer. Indie was playing at something, he knew what I was trying to do. Is he trying to help me? If so I had to be stern to give off the motion that I was strong. I had to outshine the master.

I dazzle Indie with a short-sided glare, "It should be the one who's best fit to lead, and I believe—no, I know, that it's me out of all people." It was without a doubt true.

BANG!

Mister Fitzgerald slams his fist on the table. He leaves a mark where he sits, "You kids need to stop your bickering. I'm the one who's going to be the head of any party, no exceptions. Kids shouldn't be put in charge of such matters. Aren't I right, King?" That was off the cusp. Fitzgerald vies for my position.

The King snickers, "You people bicker too much between yourselves, 'Who should lead?" I should, "Who should lead? I'll lead! No, me! I said it first!' I like that attitude. But I must agree with your teacher, Lucius, he does have seniority over you all." I will not let him take this from me...

Mister Fitzgerald smirks wider than the distance from here to the sun, "That's right, Lucius, now sit your ass down and shut up. You too, Indie, don't instigate fights you can't win. There's no point in fighting," I rub my thumb and finger together under the table, distraught. I will not let this defeat me.

"So, a leader is decided," Aurvandil asserts. No, there isn't, and there won't be until I'm crowned.

I sit silently through the rest of the dinner casting a gaze at Fitzgerald. Something had to be done, something drastic. If one thing was certain, he would betray us for the highest bidder. He was a damn dirty shark. When the opportunity rises he will throw each of us under.

Durian whispers to me, "I know that look. What happened happened."

I twirl my thumb under my top lip, "You know exactly what he'll do—Does that mean we let it happen again? If we can prevent it, why shouldn't we?"

Durian swooshes his tongue around his teeth. He stares off into the distance only to jut his head toward me. He half-winks, "For her."

"You know what needs to be done."

Durian nods, "Indeed," he slips over to Fayn. Fayn's eyes widen, and his gaze shoots at me. I return his contact and likewise we acknowledge the other.

Fayn taps Momo's legs and gestures. She recognizes the sign and hands Indie back his Adventurer's Card. She stares back at Fayn and bites her lips excited.

Everything is set and dinner had come to an end.