New friends, New Enemies

Chapter 2: New friends, New Enemies

"Lord Mbeki, I'm entering," announced Penelope, carrying a food tray.

As the maid entered, she was pretty surprised to see the young man already fully dressed in the academy's uniform. He stood on the balcony, an ethereal presence surrounding him as there was a light gust of wind blowing inward into the room after circling him.

Penelope hesitated momentarily, unsure if she should interrupt the mesmerizing scene. But, this didn't last long as soon after followed a familiar scene.

The bedroom door burst open once more, and Zahara rushed in, half naked as usual, with the familiar sight of the older maid trailing behind her.

"Please, young lady, can we avoid making this a routine every morning? My lord, could you perhaps intervene?" The older maid, once again, found herself chasing after the younger sister.

"Miss, please remember, even though Sir Mbeki is your brother, he shouldn't see you in such a state of undress!"

"Younger one, must this be a daily occurrence?" Mbeki said, turning towards the try and seeing what Penelope had brought him for breakfast.

The younger sister halted her frantic pace abruptly, her expression defiant. "Once I'm allowed to wear my traditional furs, then I won't need to rush," she retorted with a mischievous grin, her resolve evident in her tone.

After indulging in a few bites of fruit, the elder of the Maliwean siblings made his way towards the door. "Remember not to be late for your class," he commanded his sister, receiving a nod in response before departing the room the two maids to manage his sister's antics as he made his way out of the noble's dormitory and towards the academy.

Damn it, maybe I should have restrained that attack... No, I definitely should have! he cursed inwardly, berating himself for not holding back yesterday. _I conjured a bloody ice dragon, for crying out loud! _Despite the turmoil within him, his stoic facade remained unmoved, his expression as impassive as ever.

Okay, stop. What is done is done. Just deal with it and move on. We still have a war to prevent, as well as my sister's and my own life to save, Jamal thought as he tried to rationalize everything.

"Well, that was one exemplary show you put on yesterday, Maliwe Mbeki," a voice came from directly in front of him.

Being pulled from his thoughts, Maliwe finally noticed that Prince Cedric Ardent had approached him, but this time, by his side was a single woman.

The woman who stood next to him was easily one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. She possessed long black hair that cascaded down her back, with a regal and elegant appearance. Her skin was as flawless as a fully refined gemstone. She possessed an hourglass figure, making her a captivating presence even among nobles.

Holy shit, is that the Duchess Isabella? The prince's fiancée, he thought.

"A show, you say, Prince Cedric, but before anything, it would be rude not to address the lady by your side," he said as his body seemed to move on its own. With a devilish smile, he took the woman's hand and gave it a kiss, in a similar manner to how the prince greeted Zahara.

"Am I correct to assume this beautiful lady is your fiancée, the Duchess Isabella Ravenshadow?" He asked, feigning ignorance.

Duchess Isabella's cheeks flushed slightly at Maliwe's bold gesture, and she returned his smile with a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Indeed, I am she," she replied, her voice soft yet confident.

Prince Cedric chuckled, his amusement evident. "Well played, Maliwe," he remarked.

"Now, Prince Cedric, you mentioned something about a show?" he repeated the question, already aware that the prince was referring to his mock battle from yesterday.

"Ah yes, your performance was quite impressive," the prince answered. "Not only did you utilize a form of ice magic, but you also demonstrated a keen understanding of how to best use your power in a combat scenario."

Duchess Isabella's interest was piqued at the mention of Maliwe's magic. "Ice magic, you say?" she inquired.

"Spirit magic actually," Maliwe responded

"Oh, so the Maliwean Shamans can harness more than one type of spirit magic?"

"If by that question you mean whether a staff bearer can call on more than one spirit type, then the answer is yes, some can, but some can't," he explained, tracing a small arc in the air with his finger. As he did, elemental manifestations appeared at various points along the arc: fire, water, earth, and air, followed by spheres of light and darkness.

"However, I am a unique exception to this rule. I possess the rare gift of channeling all spirits, not just the primary ones."

"That's amazing," the Duchess said, her eyes looking as if she was trying to pierce into his soul.

"Well, that does make things quite interesting," the prince added, seemingly unfazed by the revelation.

Need to remember, despite the duchess's poised and regal appearance, she possesses a sharp mind and a talent for schemes and politics. She's another one I need to be careful around, especially now that I think I've piqued her interest, Jamal thought, trying to ignore the fact that she was gazing at him like a predator who just sighted its prey.

"I suppose it does," he replied nonchalantly, as if he wasn't bothered by the conversation but before anything could go any further the bells started to ring.

"It seems like the bell has rung, signaling the start of classes, we should get going," he said, trying to use the school bell as an excuse.

"Yes, we should," the prince said.

"Lucky all three of us share the same classroom, Maliwe."

"Yes, lucky indeed," Maliwe replied.

"Come, Duchess, we should make haste," the prince said, taking her hand, and leading her towards the classroom.

He immersed himself in the intricate details of the world's lore, allowing himself to be carried away by the rich tapestry of history unfolding before him. Lost in his notes and the depths of his newfound fascination, Mbeki was scarcely aware of the passage of time until the class drew to a close.

"Eldest," Zahara's voice broke through his reverie, accompanied by a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Turning to his younger sister, Mbeki was met with a forlorn expression that tugged at his heartstrings. It was the kind of look one might expect from a younger sibling seeking solace or a favor from their elder.

"What is it, youngest?" he inquired, concern lacing his voice as he regarded her.

Zahara's response was a simple admission, her words weighted with a hint of vulnerability. "Food... I haven't eaten anything this morning," she confessed, her head drooping tiredly against his shoulder.

A mixture of amusement and exasperation flickered across Maliwe's features as he regarded his sister. "Did you truly make it a challenge for the maids to help you dress right up until the last minute?" he teased gently, though his concern was genuine.

Instead of offering a verbal response, Zahara emitted a low groan, her exhaustion palpable even in the simple gesture.

"Wow, even you can make such expressions, Miss Zahara," a new voice interjected from in front of them.

Maliwe turned his attention towards the newcomers, identifying them with a casual ease. "Sir Roland Evergreen, the prince's foster brother, and Sir Lucius Ironheart, the heir to the title of sword saint," he remarked, his tone carrying a hint of familiarity.

"Ah, so you're aware of us, I see," Lucius remarked, a smile playing upon his lips as he adjusted his glasses with a graceful gesture.

Maliwe's response was delivered with a deadpan stare, his expression unchanging as he began to gather his belongings. The contrast between his stoicism and Lucius's jovial demeanor caused the latter's face to momentarily falter, while Roland erupted into laughter at the unexpected exchange.

As Roland's laughter echoed through the classroom, Maliwe remained unfazed, his movements deliberate as he neatly organized his belongings. He paid little heed to Lucius's surprised reaction, his attention focused solely on the task at hand.

"Come, youngest, let's see what delights the chefs have prepared in the cafeteria," Maliwe declared as he rose from his seat.

"Well, lucky enough, that's why we're here. Prince Cedric and Duchess Isabella have invited you two to dine with the inner circle," Roland announced with a casual air.

At the mention of the inner circle, Maliwe halted in his tracks, his gaze shifting to Roland with suspicion clouding his eyes.

"And why, pray tell, would the crown prince extend such an invitation?" he inquired, his tone tinged with a hint of skepticism.

"Ah, well, only my brother can answer that," Roland remarked with a shrug, his tone betraying a hint of deference to Prince Cedric. "He simply requested for me to extend the invitation to you," he explained, his words reflecting his loyalty to Cedric and his role as a messenger of sorts.

Maliwe's curiosity piqued at the unexpected invitation from the inner circle, especially considering his recent interactions with Prince Cedric and Duchess Isabella. With a subtle nod of acknowledgment, he accepted the invitation, his mind already calculating the potential implications of such an encounter.

"Very well, lead the way, but my youngest will be joining us," he acquiesced, his expression unreadable as he fell into step behind Roland. As they followed Roland and Lucius out of the classroom and into a private room filled with a small buffet of food and a small group of people.

The atmosphere in the private room was one of subdued elegance, with the soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows across the faces of those gathered. Prince Cedric Ardent stood at the center of the room, his regal bearing commanding attention as he welcomed Maliwe and his sister Zahara with a warm smile.

"Shaman Maliwe, Miss Zahara, thank you for joining us," the prince greeted them, his tone gracious yet authoritative. "First, allow me to apologize for my earlier rudeness. I was informed that 'shaman' isn't just your occupation but a title in Maliwea."

"Maliwe inclined his head in acknowledgment. 'Yes, that is my standing among my people,' he replied as he returned the prince's greeting."

Maliwe surveyed the room and its occupants. Duchess Isabella Ravenshadow stood beside Prince Cedric, affectionately wrapping her arms around his and leaning into him. At the far end of the table, Damian Stormrider was engaged in conversation with Sir Roland Evergreen and Sir Lucius Ironheart.

Elara Meadows sat at the table, obviously uncomfortable as another student sat next to her, trying to engage her in conversation. He leaned into her personal space, becoming far too friendly with his hands as she attempted to remove one of his chubby hands from her thigh, which he keeps inching further up her thick thigh and closer to her skirt.

"Is that Victor Emberforge, son of an Earl and a Merchant family? In the original story, despite being overweight, he was portrayed as a very ambitious, charismatic, and politically strategic guy. He had a mind for business and a moral compass for fairness, avoiding underhanded methods to make his businesses thrive and grow. While he did have feelings for Elara, he was never depicted as gropey or pushy with her. I guess everything isn't staying true to the original story after all," he thought as he tried to turn his attention back to the prince and Isabella but kept his eyes on Elara and Victor.

"Please, enjoy yourselves. We've gathered here to escape the relentless dance of courtly politics, if only for a moment," Prince Cedric warmly welcomed Maliwe and Zahara to the table, his tone tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "Despite the necessity of playing the game, everyone here is a trusted friend or ally. Here, we can momentarily set aside the burdens of our titles and obligations."

He sighed, his eyes rolling in mild exasperation at the thought of the political maneuvering that constantly surrounded them.

"Victor, leave Elara be. It's clear she's not interested," Prince Cedric interjected firmly, causing the young noble to startle in surprise at the sudden reprimand.

"Indeed, Elara dear, a well-placed tap on the head might remind him of boundaries," Isabella chimed in, her voice carrying a mix of amusement and admonition.

"But... hitting a noble? That's against the law for a commoner," Elara protested, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

"You're no ordinary commoner, Elara," Damian interjected with a chuckle, his laughter echoing in the room.

Maliwe observed the scene before calmly making his way to the table, taking a seat on the opposite side of Elara. Zahara followed suit, settling in next to him and promptly helping herself to a plate of food.

"You really should spend less time sparring with the maids and more time preparing so you can enjoy your meal," Maliwe remarked teasingly, only to receive a playful jab in the side from Zahara's elbow.

As Zahara began to pile her plate with food, Maliwe couldn't help but chuckle at her eagerness. As he interacted with Zahara, he continued to catch glimpses of Elara looking over at him and blushing.

Maliwe's attempts to focus on his meal and engage with his sister, he couldn't shake the feeling of Elara's eyes on him. With each stolen glance, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson, betraying her embarrassment at being caught observing him.

Despite Maliwe's attempts to focus on his meal and engage with his sister, he couldn't shake the feeling of Elara's eyes on him. He turned towards the young maiden and smiled, "How are you doing, Miss Elara?"

Elara's cheeks flushed deeper at Maliwe's attention, her gaze momentarily flickering away before returning to meet his eyes. "I-I'm... I'm doing well, thank you," she stammered softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Maliwe's nodded gently at her response, as he tried to soften the look in his eyes. "That's good to hear. You seemed a bit flustered earlier," he observed gently, his tone laced with genuine concern.

Maliwe couldn't help but notice Elara's shyness; as he observed her delicate demeanor, a question crossed his mind, Was she always this timid in the original story? He wondered, his thoughts drifting back to the character he knew from the narrative. Sure, she had her moments of reserve, but she found her voice and strength as she journeyed towards sainthood.

Elara's cheeks flushed even deeper at his words, and she lowered her gaze shyly, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of her napkin. "I... I was just... um... I-I'm sorry," she murmured, her words trailing off into an embarrassed silence.

"Elara, oh wow... I've never seen you this nervous before. You're usually a humble girl, but this is a new level," Isabella chimed in teasingly as you just noticed that she was also watching the two of you.

Maliwe offered Elara a reassuring smile, his gaze softening as he sought to ease her discomfort. "No need to apologize, Miss Elara. I did eventually wish to talk with you anyway. Preferably just the two of us" he said, his voice gentle and comforting.

Elara's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, her eyes widening in surprise at Maliwe's unexpected invitation. "J-just the... two of us?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart racing in her chest.

Before Maliwe could respond, Isabella swiftly intervened, her graceful presence commanding attention as she approached the young maiden. "Yes, you're going to need to put that on hold, my dear. I don't think our poor Elara can take it," she remarked with a playful yet protective tone, gently ushering Elara away from the table and out of the room.

As Isabella guided Elara to safety, Maliwe watched with confusion, pondering the sudden turn of events. His gaze lingered on the retreating figures of the two women, a sense of disappointment washing over him at the abrupt interruption of their conversation.

Was I being too forward? I was merely trying to play my part as a diplomat... he thought, turning his attention to his sister, who held a plate filled with untouched food, her attempt at a meal thwarted by Victor, Damien, and Lucius bombarding her with questions about herself with a growing mount of frustration as she just wish to eat.

Maliwe redirected his focus from his sister to the prince, who was leisurely sipping on his drink of unknown origin.

"So, what's the real purpose of our meeting here?" the Maliwean shaman inquired, drawing the prince's attention.

The prince smirked and responded, "Relationship building. Isn't it in the best interest of both our nations to begin cultivating a friendship now?"

Maliwe raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady as he considered the prince's words. "Cultivating a friendship huh?"

The prince's smirk faltered slightly under Maliwe's scrutinizing gaze. "Yes, indeed," he replied, his tone cautious yet maintaining a facade of congeniality. "In these turbulent times, alliances forged through genuine friendship hold greater significance than ever."

Maliwe's eyes closed and a small smile formed on his face. Unbeknownst to everyone but Zahara, small whispers were pouring into the shaman's ears. Whispers that caused Zahara to turn her attention to him.

Maliwe's eyes closed, and a faint smile graced his lips. Unbeknownst to everyone except Zahara, whispers began to fill the shaman's ears, prompting Zahara to cast a curious glance in his direction.

As the whispers wove through Maliwe's thoughts, he reopened his eyes, meeting the prince's gaze with a newfound understanding. "Friendship, indeed," he mused, his voice carrying a layer of thoughtful resonance. "Though, one must wonder what kind of friendship Thralia seeks with Maliwea."

Prince Cedric's composure remained intact, but a glint of curiosity sparked in his eyes. "A friendship that extends beyond the surface, one built on mutual trust and shared interests," he stated, choosing his words carefully.

Maliwe leaned back in his chair, his demeanor composed. "Trust and shared interests," he echoed, his gaze drifting momentarily to the others in the room.

"Exactly," the prince affirmed. "And what would you say, Shaman Maliwe, are the interests that bind our nations together?"

"Isn't that far too early to ask?" Maliwe countered, his tone measured. "We are here to learn more about your people and build up that trust. I won't reduce that process to a simple 'yes' or 'no' question."

Prince Cedric nodded thoughtfully at Maliwe's response, acknowledging the wisdom in his words. "You raise a valid point," he conceded.

"Zahara, we're finished here," Maliwe announced as he rose from his seat. Zahara glanced between her plate of food and her brother, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features—the first time in a long while that Maliwe had seen such an expression from his sister. Despite her ****, she stood up after her brother, silently following him as they prepared to depart.

"Farewell, ladies. We'll be heading back to the classroom. Elara, just give me a heads-up whenever you're ready for the get-together." Maliwe's announcement caught Elara off guard, as she hadn't realized they had already left the room.

Without waiting for a response, Maliwe and Zahara headed back down the corridor towards the classroom.

"Eldest, what was all that about?"

"I'm not entirely sure, perhaps it was an insincere attempt to forge friendship, or just a feeble ploy to catch us off guard, my dear youngest."

As they walked back towards the classroom, Maliwe kept looking at his younger sister from the corner of his eyes. Zahara's disappointment weighed heavily on her face for barely getting to taste any of the food before their stark departure the prince's private room.

"Hey, youngest one, why don't we check out the cafeteria here at the royal academy? I heard they serve some pretty delicious food," Maliwe suggested, casting a warm smile in Zahara's direction.

Zahara's eyes lit up like a raging fire at the suggestion, a smile spreading across her face. "That sounds like a great idea, Maliwe! I'm starving," she exclaimed, her stomach grumbling in agreement.

Maliwe's hand gently found its place atop Zahara's head, and with a reassuring smile, he met her gaze, his eyes conveying a message of brotherly affection.

"Save your gentle gestures for someone younger, older one. My head isn't in need of petting anymore," Zahara quipped playfully, swatting away her older sibling's hand with a teasing grin.

Together they set off towards the cafeteria, their footsteps echoing in harmony as they walked side by side.

"So, eldest one, about that saint girl..." Zahara started with a grin.

"Hush, youngest one, we literally just met. At least give it a week before you start making jokes."

"Oh, alright, one week of your one-on-one time together, and then I start calling her my future..."

"I said shush, you!"