Javelinist: Part one

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Javelinist: Part One

”I may agree with your definition of destiny. However, it doesn’t matter because the heat generated by the collapse of reality will be infinitesimal compared to the passion now burning deep inside my heart.”

The last words of the ’Javelinist.’

???, ???, 1999.

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Magic interconnects everything. From the largest monster to the smallest molecule, ’Mana’ flows freely through their masses, destroying the limits imposed by the gray laws of physics. However, only a few fortunate individuals can grasp its true depth, thanks to a blessing from the deities known as the ’Gift.’

Those blessed by the ’Chaotic Chaos’ are called ’Essentias.’

At the age of thirteen, all citizens of the ’Holy Rolandish Empire’ are required by law to undergo a special test to identify those blessed with the ’Gift.’ And a year later, these fortunate ones are obliged to join a special school to learn how to control their new powers.

Everyone except me. On the passenger seat of an expensive speedboat, clad in a reddish-brown wooden frame and powered by a cutting-edge magical engine, a young man casually reread his notes while a relaxing breeze was cooling down his worried mind and excited soul. The water is spotless, as if it isn’t afraid of me grasping at its private depths. And look at its surface—completely waveless. Wouldn’t it be good to live such a life? Wouldn’t it be good to live without a yesterday trying to devour my guts? Wouldn’t it be good to live without the weight of tomorrow crushing my back? Curb your enthusiasm, Rinaldo. Life loves irony, granting fools second chances so they can repeat the same mistakes. Well, as the foolishest of fools once said—third time’s the charm. He thought as he caressed the lake’s surface, noticing that, although the motorboat now racing across the water lacked a cheetah’s grace, the trail left by his hand was much wider than the boat’s.

”Let’s hope your new toy will be enough to avoid getting caught,” the young man winked at the ship’s pilot, who replied with a single stern glance. The two were polar opposites in both personality and appearance. The young man’s curly hair resembled an unkempt bush, while the middle-aged pilot sported a beard to compensate for his baldness and conceal a double chin. However, despite their differences, both were heading toward the same destination, the shining jewel in the middle of the lake.

Thirty-seven islands, connected by a colossal bridge, formed one of the largest urban centers on the continent—'La Cité De Miraval.'

More precisely, the two gentlemen’s target was the two-millennia-old complex that occupied the vast majority of the southernmost island. It was the greatest and oldest educational institution in the world—'L'Académie De Miraval.'

Here, in front of me, the prologue of my legend. He began daydreaming about his shining future inside that overused narrative device, but the young man’s delusion was soon cut short by a shiver running down his spine. At the top floor of the mastodontic building that towered over everything else on the island—a circular and old-looking fortress sporting a bleak surface marked by irregular lines of concrete that isolated each boulder—there was a small-round window through which he sensed the presence of a big trouble. Don’t be paranoid, Rinaldo. Anything behind that glass has no reason to look here, to care about me—yet!

Minutes later, the boat stopped at an abandoned dock covered by vegetation that reigned supreme in the remote area of the southern-most island. ”We made it, Uncle! Thanks for the ride,” the passenger carefreely exclaimed as he slapped the pilot’s shoulder. However, his uncle didn’t share the same enthusiasm, keeping his harsh gaze fixed on the steering wheel while his left leg bounced repetitively.

”For the last time, Rinaldo—don’t do it. You’re dishonoring our family and our republic. You are a ’Di Mario,’ and we don’t meddle with the Nobility.” The young man appreciated his uncle’s effort to restrain the prideful roar that had made Gianroberto Di Mario---'Maria’s Podestà'---so feared and respected throughout the Empire and beyond.

”That’s impossible, Uncle. I’ve been bestowed with the Gift by the everlasting grace of the ’Holy Trinity,’ chosen from among billions of faithful to serve and protect the ’Holy Rolandish Empire’ and its citizens—it’s my destiny. Moreover, I’m also bound by the law. You know, that little thing on which any functioning society is based on. C’mon, haven’t you always told me that, although we take it for granted, law is a fragile thing that is demanded by blood, written in blood, and preserved through blood? Therefore, any compromise, no matter how small, will be paid for in blood.”

JR hated his nephew’s smirk, but, after a deep inhale of the fresh oxygen provided by the bioengineered lake's algae, he swallowed the raw influx of mean words that were overflowing in his throat. ”The nobles of our Unholy Rotten Confederation will never comprehend the duties that each of their privileges demands. Moreover, you’re a Marian—it’s illegal for you.”

”My new documents claim otherwise.” Rinaldo proudly showed him the new passport. ”Anyway, there is another reason for my decision, the little push that made me cross the line—a dream.” Podestà Di Mario blinked a couple of times, his nephew was the last person he would have ever imagined uttering those words. ”I was in a vast and dark expanse, sitting on a throne of corpses. On the floor beneath were three circles drawn with glowing blood, each sporting the number ’37’ at its center, while inside the interstitial site—the small area created by their intersection—an humanoid shadow was looking at me, sporting the same expression as the throne’s corpses—a gentle smile.

”I somehow remember that the entity’s voice sounded familiar—a very irritating one—and it also seemed to know all my deepest secrets. After stoning my spirit with my deepest fears, it sliced my pride with sharper versions of my memories, and concluded with a final blow that left nothing but ruin of my conception of reality—the ’World’s End Secret.’

”That’s all, but, despite feeling the shame of total defeat each time I try to revive this nightmare, I don’t actually remember a single word of our conversation—clueless as a branded cow looking at its stigma through a pound.” He shrugged. ”Well, that’s not technically true. I actually remember a single sentence—’Before your pointless death, we’re going to meet two more times. I’ll explain more later, but for now, I can give you a hint: join the Miraval Academy’—not the weirdest dream I’ve ever had, but—holy shit!”

”Shut up!” A punch on the boat’s dashboard was Gianroberto’s reply. He never knew whether his nephew was mocking him or being serious, and it exhausted him. ”The potential of the Gift mostly depends on your family’s blood, and you’re the first of us to receive it. Now, compare yourself to two thousand years of inbreeding among nobles. If you’re very lucky, you’ll become one of their wageslave, otherwise, you’ll be bait for dinosaurs—you have no future here.” JR tapped his index finger three times on his nephew’s forehead. ”Whereas, in Maria you have a good chance of succeeding me as Podestà or even being elected as Console—I’m begging you not to be so stupid!” Despite it all, Gianroberto appreciated his nephew. Rinaldo’s entrepreneurial spirit made him much more reliable than Valentino and Giulietta, his children, making him the most fitting candidate to take the reins of the family. However, his backstabbing wasn’t the real reason behind what had hurt the man once believed to have a heart of iron. Think about your mother…all alone… He couldn’t say it aloud, as JR had promised his sister to respect her son’s decision, but he painfully remembered the tears she had failed to conceal.

”Stop worrying over nothing, uncle. The holy blood of one of the greatest men in all of history flows through my veins—I’ll surely become an elite Essentia.” After a thumbs-up, he disembarked with a quick jump. As he landed, the creaks of the rotting wood sent a shiver down his spine, but the roots of the various plants gave the small pier enough strength to hold him up. Then, Rinaldo stepped forward, and with each step, the sound of the motorboat faded—just three steps to complete silence.

”Do whatever the hell you want, but our agreement will be respected. From now on, you’re no longer part of our family—you're no longer Rinaldo Di Mario—enjoy your new life as Jacques Dreux.” concluded Podestà Gianroberto , throwing his newphie a leather bag containing the necessary documents for his new identity. ”Farewell, fucking retard.”

”Goodbye, uncl…I mean, Mr. Stranger.” JR gave him the middle finger and drove toward the horizon with his motorboat, disappearing from view after just a few meters.

After breathing away what was left of his past, Jacques failed to find any trace of civilization around him, finding only green leaves surrounding the young man on all sides—sky included. Hence, he settled on the simplest solution, walking straight ahead until his face bumped into a solid surface, discovering a wall of rocks and concrete that the vegetation had wholly devoured. Despite the nose’s pain, the ex-Marian agreed that the Academy’s wall was undoubtedly a helpful landmark, stealthily skirting its perimeter to reach the main gate.

Once there, hidden behind a bush, Jacques observed hundreds of students and their families bidding farewell for the last time. In the air, the scent of meals lovingly cooked by peasants mingled with the fragrance of perfumes coldly worn by the nobles. In that moment, all social classes stood together, with their income differences plainly visible on their body. However, there was neither shame nor repulsion from either side, because once one crossed the entry gate, one’s origin no longer mattered.

By law, all ’Essentias’ were deemed equal in status to one another.

Meh, too many eyes for my taste—I need a distraction. The Holy Trinity answered his prayers, and in the sky, black smoke heralded the arrival of a massive metallic monster from the sea. A turtle? No, it’s obviously a ship…but I don’t see any port here. Jacques found his answer when the ship, with a carapace-looking deck, began to sail on land, propelled by three continuous tracks that cracked the paving, causing thousands of ’Marini’ in property damage.

As soon as the turtle stopped, part of its hull opened, revealing metallic stairs from which many seasoned warriors emerged, scaring the public due to their exotic style. Their Logical-Assembled Armor and their demonic-looking masks changed shape with each blink, assuming the form of their observer’s worst nightmares, while their katanas at their sides convulsed inside their scabbards, eager to feed on the terror that now engulfed the public. However, those Eastern knights ignored the pathetic show, forming a guard of honor with their spears, then, atop a white horse, their Highness slowly descended the stairs.

The fear dissipated in an instant as the sight of the lady left everyone speechless—Eastern beauty was seldom found throughout the ’HRE.’ Despite her young age, she exuded the class of a queen, which was further accentuated by a silk kimono featuring a piece of art embroidered on its back—tens of scorpions entangled together, forming an abstract chain. Nevertheless, Jacques noticed something strange in her eyes—hollowness, she was resembling a criminal slowly marching to the gallows.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Was she really here to die, or was it simply the etiquette of her distant nation? No one knew the answer, and that made her an even more precious gem to admire, granting Jacques the opportunity he had been waiting for. However, melancholy seized his body as he made his move. A single step would have ended Rinaldo’s life, marking the beginning of Jacques’. He hesitated, unsure if he was killing or birthing himself, but as quickly as the thought arrived, it passed—he had buried his last doubts a long time ago. Full of newfound determination, he forced his foot to touch the ground and blended into the crowd, waiting for the Lawfullian princess to leave before approaching the imposing gate.

Jacques Dreux’s life as a student at the Miraval Academy had just begun.

***

A myriad of millennia-old oak trees obscured the side view, forming an open-sky aisle paved with yellow and red leaves now crossed by new adepts ready to be indoctrinated by a modern idol deemed infallible—Education.

The temple they were approaching wasn’t, originally, a pagan one. As tall as the monuments to greed called skylines but stripped of any source of pride, this circular colossus was built, stone upon stone, by sinners as penance for having eclipsed the sun in their era, but now admired by thousands of bewitched infidels. However, there was an exception. A lone devotee who kept his eyes down, afraid of being uncovered by the ’Wicked Heresiarch’ now spying through the temple’s small-round eye.

Consequently, his gaze fell upon the holy temple beneath, founded by exiled priests guilty of pledging allegiance to an author rather than accepting ’Chaos’ as the ruler of their lives—’La Sacrée Cathédrale Notre-Dame des Saints Miraval.’ The legendary cathedral possessed half the pagan temple’s ambition but ten times its magnificence, renowned across the continent for its façade, which was composed by a mosaic of millions of tiny and colored glass pieces depicting the first ’Inquisitors'—the 'Twelve Holy Heroes.'

At the center of the massive stained glass proudly stood their leader, the first Emperor of the Holy Rolandish Empire—Hero Roland—and beside him, his beloved Queen—Heroine Stella Von Sternenstaub. Their love story had warmed millions of young girls’ hearts and thousands of booksellers’ wallets.

Around them proudly knelt the eight ’Loyal Heroes,’ each depicted with a different combination of colors, but all pointing at the Emperor their flaming heart amidst their hands.

Conversely, at the bottom of the stained glass, with only their upper bodies visible, somberly lingered the three so-called ’Rebel Heroes,’ all depicted in glass tiles of cold and dark colors. The leftmost was the thirteenth hero, the traitor who contested Roland’s ascension to the Imperial Throne—Heroine Korinna—founder of the ’Eleutheria Republic’—the current ’HRE’s greatest threat. In the center was Roland’s rival in power, leadership, and love, but loser in al—Hero Nagoe—founder of the ’Evernightmare Kingdom’—the everlasting thorn in the ’HRE’s’ side. And lastly, on the right, the one who wasn’t originally a Holy Hero but took Korinna’s place after her betrayal—Hero Mario—the founder of the ’Free City of Maria’—by far the ’HRE’s’ most infamous city, but also its wealthiest. Since childhood, people have often pointed out the striking resemblance between Jacques and his ancestor, even going so far as to call him ’Mario Reincarnation.' He couldn’t object, as his face perfectly mirrored the one on the cathedral.

*Tweet!* A little bird flew over the mosaic, capturing Jacques’s attention. It was as blue as lapis lazuli, as small as a house sparrow, and as flashy as a peacock—the ’Phoenix Caeruleus Minimus,’ literally the ’Little Blue Phoenix’ but commonly known as the 'Bluegale.' As its name suggests, it was as rare as a phoenix, believed to have gone extinct two thousand years ago, and Jacques couldn’t believe his eyes. His gaze followed the Bluegale left and right, so bewitched by the little blue bird that he failed to notice the girl standing in front of him—committing a fatal mistake.

*Bump!* As Jacques’s eyes reopened, he gazed in awe at the golden ones of his victim, believing a brain injury was making him see double because there was no difference between the lady in front of him and the one depicted on the stained glass. The same golden hair—though short, and not long—the same empress-like face—everything about her looked noble—and the same shimmering skin—radiant as a star. Heroine Stella had resurrected, but unlike her glassy ancestor, the lady on the ground didn’t need the sun’s help to shine. After the magic faded, Jacques quickly rose to his feet, and. being the Marian gentleman his uncle taught him to be, offered her a hand backed by a gentle smile. However…

*SMACK!* Sadly, his good deed wasn’t met with the best feedback. A servile reaction—perfect! The girl thought, watching as the poor fellow responded at her slap with confused silence and trembling eyes. Had he insulted or ignored her, the predator would have chosen another prey. However, Jacques had, unknowingly, given his consent. ”Do you think I’m naive?!” The light released by the girl’s skin got stained with a reddish hue. ”You’ve tried this trick to start a conversation with me, haven’t you? Tsk, pathetic!” Her large eyes were enough to convey all her disgust without risking ruining her radiant skin by grimacing. ”At least, do you know who I am? Astary Von Sternenstaub, daughter of the Empire’s Münzemessermarterrittert!” She yelled, making sure the students around heard it and successfully drawing a small crowd. ”Your filthy clothes betray your inferior blood, and yet you still tried to hit on me? And in doing so, you even hurt me? From today on—your life is over!”

Jacques skeptically glanced at his clothes. Hey, they ain’t that bad! He fully acknowledged that his shirt and pants weren’t the best available on the market, but he was proud of his Basilisk-Skin Overcoat, which had been crafted nearly two thousand years ago by Hero Mario himself and passed down through the generations of the Di Marios—defending the honor of his scaly outfit was a matter of patriotism. Nevertheless, the more attention he got, the more he was at risk of being unmasked. ”Let’s all calm down. You’ve clearly misunderstood my intentions, it was all an accident. I saw a little blue bird and got distracted, an innocent mistake.” Jacques presented his point of view calmly, showing her his open palms to exude transparency. Be patient, always smile, and reply with their words—let them doom themselves. That was how he’d learned to handle troublesome customers. However, his strategy was based on a false premise, and it backfired when Astary used her most lethal weapon against her unlucky prey—society.

”What a pathetic excuse. Since when does lack of money also mean lack of imagination?” She increased the intensity of her light, bringing the crowd to attention. ”Did anyone here witness what happened? If so, step forward and tell us who’s telling the truth.” Immediately, dozens of witnesses came forward, each confirming Astary’s version while embellishing it to the point of absurdity. The result was that hundreds of hateful glares now pierced Jacques, and every attempt he made to soothe their boiling spirits only worsened the situation.

Change of plan, crying and begging, plus telling her she remembers my dead sister. However, as he was ready to capitulate, a miracle happened.

”Stop, everyone,” a mighty voice roared. ”Asty, he is telling the truth. I saw everything—it was just an accident!” Like in a fairy tale, a charming prince had come to save the princess from the evil witch. The hero of this story was taller than everyone in sight, sporting a perfectly sculpted physique that could have put a marble statue of a mythological hero to shame. By extending his mighty arm, he shielded Princess Jacques from the evil witch’s light, and with a stern gaze, he forced the passerby to resume walking.

”He’s totally right. An innocent sin I have already engraved in my heart, and I swore to the Holy Trinity to never commit again,” Jacques proclaimed with a hand over his heart, and, despite the girl continuing to murderously glare at him, the prince’s presence made her relent a bit.

”C’mon, Asty. Aren’t you getting bored of wasting time here?” Said a young lady on top of a huge white wolf, guffawing at her friend’s pathetic expression. Her bulky physique and the wildness of her crimson hair contrasted with her elegant school uniform, creating a peculiar mix best described as a bourgeois barbarian. Nevertheless, it was the large dog that stole Jacques’s attention, awkwardly smiling at the beast as it bared its sharp fangs—large enough to crush a man’s bones with a single bite. ”Calm down, Reinenne. He’d probably taste as ugly as his face.”

”Aren’t you two supposed to be on my side?” Astary yelled at both.

”Sadly, it was my mistake, too. It’s our first day, so I wanted to take some photos, and, perhaps, forcing you to stay still in the middle of the road wasn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had.” He innocently rubbed his head. ”Astary, I know it might be difficult for you, but…we have to apologize!” After another lethal glance at the plebeian, the shining lady lowered her head in silence, her light dimming out as Jacques noticed her long nails digging into her palms.

”The mistake is mine, too, so there’s no need to apologize. Let’s just forget about it, shall we?” Astary didn’t reply. Instead, she silently mounted the giant wolf, and after nudging her Barbarian friend, they vanished into the distance.

”Sorry for what has happened. She’s not bad, just…ahem...stressed,” he sighed. ”By the way, I’m Chad Rolandsson,” he carelessly announced as he extended his hand.

”Chad Rolandsson? The Scion of the ’HRE?’ Our prince, right in front of my eyes?” Jacques knelt, lowered his head, and animatedly shook the prince’s hand with both of his. ”It’s an honor, His Holiness.”

”Please, you’re embarrassing me. Inside the Miraval Academy, there aren’t such differences—just call me Chad, okay?” He helped Jacques to rise, and then their eyes met, leaving the young man speechless—the Scion’s diamond eyes were so beautiful they almost felt unreal.

If he is the future Emperor, that means that glowing whore is the future Queen…I am so fucked. ”Jacques Dreux, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my Em…I mean, Chad.” They shook hands again. ”If it’s not too much trouble, would you tell Miss Von Sternenstaub that I am going to pray for her forgiveness?” He bowed again, lowering his head as much as possible.

”Are you really going to take the blame? Despite how badly she has treated you?” The Prince asked skeptically.

”She is the Queen—she needs to protect your honor. If I had such a responsibility on my shoulders, I would have, undoubtedly, done the same,” Jacques humbly explained, only to be met with Chad’s broad smile, which felt weirdly unsettling.

”Just out of curiosity, are you from any noble family?”

”No, I’m an orphan.” Chad whistled. ”Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s still a tragedy…but…how can I put this…you are like an angel sent by the Holy Trinity, someone who embodies all the qualities I’m seeking in a partner for a little project of mine.” Chad placed his massive hand on his new friend’s shoulder. ”Jacques, how about helping me?”

”It would be the greatest honor of my life!” Jacques bowed again, his body trembling with excitement.

”I appreciate the enthusiasm, but first, you must pass a simple test of mine to see if you’re a good fit for the job. Don’t worry, it’s nothing too complicated. But before we begin, one question—have you ever read a mystery novel? You know, the books where the protagonist is a detective who solves murders and other crimes using logic alone?”

”Absolutely. Mystery is, by far, my favorite genre.” At home, Jacques possessed the complete collection of all thirty-seven volumes of 'Ispettore Casanova,' the most prolific book series in the Free City of Maria. Spoiler warning—the culprit is always a Suzerain.

”Same, bro, but let’s talk about it later. Now, imagine walking through a forest, kilometers away from any sign of civilization. Suddenly, you hear a scream, so you run through the trees toward that sound, finding a man bleeding on the ground whose life is slowly fading from his eyes. There’s no way to get him to a doctor in time, but you’re a detective, so, at the very least, you might bring peace to his soul by bringing the culprit to justice. How? With his last breath, the victim can answer one final question, and that brings us to your test. Assuming he won’t lie—what should this question be?” Chad’s carefree expression faded, replaced by an emotionless stare.

”Ahem…is that all? No more details?” The Scion’s silence was his answer. Jacques didn’t waste any more time and began to think. Should I answer with—'Now do you feel it? Her pain?'—or maybe—'You aren’t real. It’s all in my head, isn’t it?' At first, he feared a trick question, but, ultimately, he decided to settle on the most logical question he could find.

”What’s your name?”

Chad’s diamond eyes shone as they sank into their sockets. Then, he scratched his square chin. ”Is this your answer? Why not just—’Tell me the killer’s name’—or something like that? Please, elaborate on the logic trail that has led to your choice.”

”I’m a detective, I don’t need that—finding the culprit is my job,” Jacques casually replied. ”Besides, the killer could easily have hidden their identity, and even if the victim can’t lie, a dying person isn’t exactly in their clearest state of mind. That’s why I went with the only question I was sure he couldn’t get wrong. Moreover, we’re in a dark forest, far from civilization. If the victim has no documents, do you know how hard it would be to identify him? And even if his answer doesn’t match his official records, since he can’t lie, it would still be interesting.”

Chad turned into a marble statue, the green veins bulging beneath the surface of his massive arms were now stiffening to the point of near explosion.

Maybe he just wanted a stupid minion for his plan. That’s fine. The less attention I get, the better it is f— Jacques’ thoughts got abruptly interrupted by hearty laughter from the charming Prince, followed by loud claps.

”I want to be honest with you. This test has no real answer because its purpose is to evaluate how people think. But you actually found one—I’m impressed.” He bowed before placing both of his massive hands on Jacques’ shoulders. ”From this moment on—you are mine!” Jacques gulped, awkwardly smiling at Chad’s eerie smirk. ”I still need a bit of time to wrap up the preparations, but I’ll contact you soon. There’s so much we’re going to do together—but no spoilers. See you later, Jacques!” With a final friendly pat that nearly shattered Jacques’s spine, the Scion of the Holy Rolandish Empire walked away toward the Academy.

Perhaps I’ve just made the greatest mistake of my life. Jacques thought as he headed toward the most important event of his new life—the Class Assignment.

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