33rd Saun of the 700th ArcThe carriage came to a halt at last, as the driver shifted in his seat and approached the door, opening it ceremoniously as Peake exited. Wrapped in his fine clothing and his leather pack full of books hanging from his shoulder, his eyes ignored the chauffer as the young man joined the ranks of the students. The Andaris School was a jungle of young feet, sponsored by the kingdom, in which all young boys and girls were obligated to attended and gain knowledge in their years of youth. Laughs, giggles, and hormones all mixed in each classroom, shaping each and every last one of them into the men and women they’d become in their adult lives. Many would not reach far, this being just another step in their miserable lives, although Peake was certainly not included. Now that he was twelve arcs old and his father had taken the title of Baron and his Grandfather had assumed the Duchy, Peake was the one son responsible of earning the title – want it or not. He would never fall into a life of misery, instead his life would be a line that only went upwards.
Losing himself in the jungle of children, Peake kept his eyes down. He didn’t like his baggy-eyes, and despite all the luxurious lifestyle he got, he was far from perfect. Arriving at his classroom and taking a seat in the epicenter of all the chairs and desks, Peake let his bag down onto the floor before he extracted his books. His classmates started arriving, one by one, taking their seats after a chat or two, after laughing here and there and commenting this and that. Peake didn’t talk, as he had no friends. His lineage and all the special treatment he received served as another barrier between him and the rest of the class, which combined with his shy attitude and refined manners made him the nothing but an outcast of the class. To even worsen his relationships, lately he had become strangely violent, with a temperament that exploded without warning. They feared him as much as they mocked him. Even the teachers did so. It wasn’t long before the teacher arrived, a woman of approximately 40 arcs, whose hair had already greyed out due to the stress of her profession. With a few claps and a few comments, the class began.
Peake didn’t even bother to pay attention. Every year they taught the same, adding just a few details or elaborating on that subject just to make it feel new and crave more attention. All the money his father spent in tutors had paid off, as Peake had four breaks of tutoring thrice a week, something that had set him far ahead in terms of knowledge. Coming into class was just a formality, just an excuse for his father to fuel his own ego when his son’s grades arrived with a maximum score. If it wasn’t for that, he wouldn’t even care of his son learned or not, enjoyed or not. The teacher’s voice became noise, as well as the occasional coughs, giggles and whispers exchanged between students. It was all the same, over and over again, for the many years this had went on. Daydreaming, meditating, or just wasting his time was how Peake dealt with this classes. Suddenly, the noise that had submersed him in his slumber cleansed, and Peake looked up. What he found was the eyes of everyone in the classroom, the teacher’s gaze being somewhat annoyed, while his classmates’ were either amused, confused, or simply indifferent.
“Peake, did you hear what I said?” Peake blinked, eyes going down on his table as he lacked the strength to meet anyone’s gaze. A girl giggled somewhere behind him, and a boy laughed discreetly somewhere ahead. The silence from the teacher extended itself, Peake’s heart beating with strength as the tension was slowly driving him mad. “Peake the Freak can’t open his little beak…” The comment from one of his classmates caused a general uproar of laughter, which the teacher immediately tried to contain with her yelling. Peake felt his tears already trying to escape him, yet he didn’t let them. Bobas Feenet was the one that made the comment, a boy from low town, son of a fisherman and a whore. He was by far the biggest boy in class, the one that got away with anything due to his confidence. Unlike him, Peake was by far the shortest and thinnest of all the class, even the girls being taller and stronger than him. Not because of that he would just get that boy get away with said comment. Peake would remember that.
----------------After the third class came an entire break of rest, break in which the children ate lunch, talked, and prepared for the remaining three classes of the afternoon. Peake’s lunch consisted of a sandwich, the bread being baked this very moment, and the filling being smoked ham of the highest quality, on top of a small waterskin filled with grape juice from the Andaris Vineyards. He didn’t even eat a quarter of the sandwich before he discarded the sandwich by tossing it into the trash, roaming around the school yard’s borders, afraid of contact. Not because of that he ignored the waterskin, though, which he drank whole. Grape juice had an unfortunate consequence – it took very little before he felt the need to urinate, and with this new urgency he headed towards the restrooms.
After emptying his bladder and washing his hands, Peake encountered Bobas, the boy that had been mocking him for quite some time, busy peeing with his back turned. Just like that, the uncontrollable fury took a hold of Peake, for no reason other than seeing the boy he loathed exposed and vulnerable. These sudden anger issues were becoming more and more common in Peake, and although everyone would say they were a bad trait, Peake didn’t think so. They made him feel powerful and unchained, they gave him a strange sensation of freedom that felt truly satisfied. As he stared onto the back of Bobas, Peake knew what he had to do. Turning around, he took a hold of a bucket full of murky water that stood in the corner, surely used to clean the latrines at the end of the school day. Standing behind Bobas, whom was still busy urinating with bad aim into the latrine, Peake hurled the water from the bucket onto Bobas’s back without warning. The boy exploded into curses, yet not before losing his balance due to the sudden surprise, falling forward awkwardly before trying to stand up and find answers as to what had happened.
Peake did not allow him too. While the other boy was busy trying to recover his stance, Peake approached from behind, and taking a hold of the bucket with two hands, he smashed it against the boy’s head. The hit felt weak, as Peake’s strength was something that was borderline inexistent, and so Peake struck him again. And again. Bobas’ curses turned into cries of pain, at last turning around to face Peake, horror in his expression as if he was seeing his last nightmare. His arms came forward to try to defend himself, yet they retreated as soon as the wooden bucket struck them. Soon he was curling into a ball, the blood pouring from him just as the murky water did, and Peake kept striking, eyes wide, teeth showing and a feral growl escaping his throat with every hit. He truly felt freedom with every hit, finding release the more he hurt the boy, the more his own hands bled due to the impact of the improvised weapon. Bobas said something, surely begging for mercy, perhaps calling Peake’s name, yet Peake heard nothing. Just like in class, he had heard it all before, and at this point it was nothing but noise.
Eventually, the source of released stopped, and Peake halted his motions once he understood that, no matter how much more he struck Bobas, he wouldn’t find that sensation again. The badly beaten boy, Bobas, was curled into a ball, bleeding here and there, and holding on to an obviously bent arm that was badly broken. Peake’s hands were bleeding and they ached, sweat ran down his face, having torn his shirt in various places as it was fitted for appearances, not for actual exercise. Letting go of the bucket and wiping the tears from his face with his sleeve, Peake turned towards the door and left. He wouldn’t return to class, at least not today. He just wanted to go home to his mother. Not because he felt regret, but because only she understood him.