Lonethorn

Lonethorn University sat atop one of the peaks that surrounds Thornmont City. From afar, it seemed like a castle of old, which is half-true. Lonethorn University is composed of two separate principal structures that laid the groundwork of the entire estate:

Castle Lonethorne and the Abbey.

Young Covington was more than happy to elucidate my dull country mind with the finer points of Lonethorn's history as their fine carriage bore us from Thronmont Central Station towards Lonethorn Peake. "The Abbey predates the castle by at least four hundred years. Seeing the strategic location of the peak, the then Lord of Thorne practically stole back the land once gifted to the monks by his ancient predecessors and erected a formidable castle. Now it lays much of the foundation of the university itself."

Now entitized into a single massive property and graduating students for ten generations. Prestige and old power resonated with the very grounds itself. manicured lawns and shrubbery dotted then landscape of the university. Wrought iron steel surrounded the front aspect of the campus while the remaining expanse was held up by the old curtain wall of failing quarried stone, crept up by crawling ivy.

Like all things high, it bore the illusion of closeness. When in reality it would have taken me the better part of an hour on foot.

"Tell me truly, How did you gain your letter?" Electa Covington resumed her questioning.

I sighed. She really is relentless as I had suspected. My own reluctance at reminiscing that particular line of events stems not only from being annoyed by the young woman's pompous attitude but much deeper woes. It is not a memory that I'd like to revisit. I think back on the Mists of my homeland and then on the ones nestling calmly on the peaks of the mountain itself. The sight brought about a cold slithering dread that I had kept at grip deep within my bowels, a dread that I had repressed since it nestled there more than a year now. It threatened to upend my stomach. I forced it back out of sheer will and spite.

I looked towards young Covington, who remained oblivious (as it should) of my inner turmoil. It had only been a moment since she inquired but to me it was an agonizing eternity. I answered her question with the truth or at least the end result that got me on this path rather than the series of events and circumstances, hopefully to satisfy her thirst for knowledge (or gossip).

"I gained the acquaintance of a professor," I simply said.

It was two in fact. But it was Saville who convinced me to send an application along with his letter of commendation, as a way of thanks. Ol' gruff Spencer would even write in a sentence in the letter, Saville joked, some form of jest between the two. I did not think what would come of it at the time Saville had said it. I was more preoccupied of making it out alive then.

"A professor? Truly?" She seemed genuinely perturbed.

I nodded, my jaws starting to ache. It was getting tiresome answering her.

"Who?" The way she said it sounded like I had just been accused of murdering her cat.

"uhm....," I tried to think back, scratching a cheek, trying to remember Saville's given name. I had been so used at referring to the man by his surname.

"Mansfield Saville."

Electa Covington did not seem to hear me. She looked to me, but her eyes seemed unseeing. They were wide open, the whites of her eyes almost as big as saucers. Then, as if she had been struck in a stupor, she shook herself awake.

"I-I'm sorry, I did not hear that right. What did you say the name was?"

"Professor Mansfield Saville. You...recognized his name?"

Another silence had drawled on. The sound of the clod of feet as the carriage's pair of draft horses was all that accompanied us. The landscape passed by, more highland grass and thrush and inclines. The cold seemed to creep in as a change had occurred to Electa Covington's blank stare. I instinctively shrunk back in my seat. Her Aunt Ione looked to her intently, I saw her hand seeming to reach for something at the back of her seat.

"How did you came upon the acquaintance of him?" Electa said without emotion. I felt I was suddenly thrust upon a frozen lake with thin ice at the tone of her. "I do not appreciate it when people so blatantly lie to my face, ser. Especially an outlandish lie such as you claim. Even more so that I have invited you, out of common decency, to join a ride with us, " Before I could even clarify my acquaintanceship with Saville, she raised a hand. She turned away from me, eyes closed as if the very sight of me offends her. I looked at her aunt Ione. The older woman only had an apologetic look on her and made a motion of her hand, a signal to me. To brush it off. I have severely underestimated the humors of Electa Covington. I had cold read her demeanor to be pompous. I have to add melodramatically delusional as well.

Then she lunged from her seat, almost pouncing atop of me, "I dare not...Nay! I refuse to believe that you made an acquaintanceship with the esteemed Professor --" (esteemed Professor, really?) "-- I could maybe entertain the idea of some commoner entering the prestigious halls of fair Lonethorn but to lie directly to my face? Of being companions with one of the leading minds in the field of Eldrotology--" Electa's tirade was interrupted as a thick roll of the morning paper bopped her head. Once, twice, three times it struck her without any real harm but proved effective in sending her into childish squeaks.

"Aah! Gah! Aunt Ione! Stop! Please!" Electa went from a noble lady to a squealing child in a matter of moments.

"How many times have I disciplined you of this?! Oh you histrionic tart! I am at my wit's end with your obsession into this obscure study. Insulting guests and strangers! Gah! Shame on you!" The older woman battered her niece with no less than a score of strikes with the newspaper roll with a deft hand. Ione looked none of the worse with hardly a lock of hair loose as she doled out the castigation. On the otherhand, gone was the regal bearing of Electa Covington and in its place was a chastised child fearing another strike of a roll of newspaper. The cruel parts of my heart almost let out a grin at the change in demeanor.

After the tumultuous few seconds of swinging newspaper and the pleas of a teenager, a silence settled once more in the cabin. Electa Covington looked liked an innocent child, her lips puckered as if she is about to cry. I had to scratch the corner of my lips to stop myself from laughing. Reminded me of a pair of neighbor's children back in Sorez who I played with. A similar situation unfolded where one child was told not to make mischief and the other told him of what might happen. We had a good bit of laugh at seeing the little scamp getting scolded by his mother.

"I sincerely apologize for my niece's conduct good sir." Ione said, finally breaking the silence.

"I'm not," muttered Electa under her breath.

Another loud 'Thwack!' sounded. Electa said nothing more and it took me all of my will to not end up in hysterical laughter. My cheeks hurt in the effort.

"It has been a continued source of trouble within the family. I hope you understand. This will certainly reach the ear of her parents who would be more than willing to discipline her, with her unacceptable treatment with strangers and guests," Ione explained. The stagecoach drew to a stop. We have arrived at the outer curtain walls of the University. Mist had completely enshrouded the environs now. A 500 meter visibility radius by my reckoning, having spent half my life in the mists of Sorez.

"We have to cut this short I'm afraid, Mister Serrano. I wish you a fine stay at the University and Good tidings as well." Ione Covington seemed genuine in her remark.

"Good tidings to you as well madame. And thank you for the ride as well. It has been.....certainly eventful to say the least." I replied with the best of my warm smiles. The kind of smile my mother taught me. The older woman gave a small smile and nodded. I cast a look at the disheveled Electa Covington, now sulking like a spoiled child at her portion of the seat.

Our eyes met. Her aunt had turned away from me to give instructions to the driver.

I unleashed the full smug aura deep within the black parts of my heart, an almost childish smirk of self assurance that to be sure to piss anyone off. The last sight I saw of her then was one of utter disbelief and wide eyed shock.

I did not give her the satisfaction of listening to her replies as the coach clopped on back towards the city.

I chuckled beneath my breath as I head towards the Admissions Gate of the University. Twelve-Feet tall black wrought iron gates protected the main driveway while the faintest of shadows loomed behind the mountain mist was the only ever real evidence of Lonethorn University's presence. I trudged forwards.

I am not an expert on aristocrats. Although my time in the Thousand Seaspires had me instructed in their conduct, It had been years and those had been seen through the eyes of a child. Nevertheless I had hoped then that would be the last I saw of Electa Covington.

How sorely wrong I was.