“Who’s Rolfe Primero?” asks the boy suddenly without looking up, his hand is still moving at breakneck speed.
“Wha-“ the headmaster is caught by surprised by the sudden question.
“Never mind, I need your signatures on all of these please.” smiles the boy as he hands in the documents that he has just finished writing.
For the briefest of moment, Headmaster Joss could have sworn there was a worried look on the boy’s face. But it has disappeared now, gone in a flash.
Interesting, the headmaster thinks to himself. Maybe I can use this to my advanta-WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? screams Headmaster Joss silently as he reads the contents of the message the boy had written.
And the headmaster’s thoughts on Rolfe Primero, the sixth year student from Class 6A, are completely forgotten for the moment.
Rolfe Primero laughs a little inside as he watches the boy cautiously exits Class 6A. What am I, some sort of wolf? Ah, that sure brings back memories, the diligent seventeen year old student smiles with amusement as his eyes are glazed over with nostalgia.
“Those were the days. Maybe at the next restart, I’ll get lucky and…” Rolfe murmurs to himself. He lets himself reminisce about his past(s) for a few more seconds before returning to the current situation, his upcoming study session with the boy.
Rolfe beckons a classmate to come to his side. The male student, a son of a famous noble from the Kingdom of Marak immediately approaches the diligent seventeen year old student and bows his head respectfully.
“Did you need something, Ser Primero?”
“How many times have I told you to drop the “Ser”. And call me Rolfe while you’re at it.”
“Ah but Ser, I do not dare.”
“What would your father say if he sees you grovelling in front of a mere commoner? He would have died with shame.”
“Begging your pardon, Ser Primero, but my father doesn't know you like I do.”
“Oh, but you do?”
“… I know enough.”
*laughs "That is true.”
“And let’s say your father was to cross paths with me one day and the man developed an issue against me, what would you do?”
“I would pray for his soul and hope he meets a swift end.”
“You do not want to avenge him? Your father would turn in his grave, his spirit restless if he discovered his own son would let the person who kills him walks free.”
“I think my father’s spirit should be thankful his son doesn't join him immediately on the journey to the other side."
“Such a "filial" son. But what you've said just now is also very true.”
“Besides, I don’t think the dead cares much for the living. Dead is dead. I believe there’s no coming back from that.”
*laughs "Gods. If only that was true for my case.”
“Anyway, the boy who visited me just now… I assume it’s “him”, the one everyone is talking about?"
“Hmmm, and I was just about to pay him a visit to see what the big deal is.”
“Seems like a decent enough fellow. Now tell me, what are your thoughts on him? And remember, speak honestly.”
“Ser Primero, I don’t…”
“How is your father, by the way? I heard Marak is nice this time of year. Maybe I’ll pay him a vi-“
“He’s like a younger you!”
*laughs "Looks like the son does love his father after all. Well, go on.”
“He’s like you when you first came here, five years ago. "
“Those were the days. You may not have noticed this but I have mellowed down a bit.”
“But without the control or the self-restraint.”
“If I was to put it in terms… he’s like a rabid dog while you are a trained and well disciplined attack dog.”
“Did you just call me a dog?”
*laughs "Relax. I’m just messing with you.”
“I love dogs. What’s not to love? The endless energy, the keen sense of smell. Wish I could become one again.”
Rolfe Primero looks down at the reference book on his desk. All these talk that’s bringing up memories of the past(s) has killed his mood to study.
“You've told me all that I needed to know. Thank you, you may go now.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“Would you be so kind as to wake me up in one hour?”
“It would be my pleasure.”
The male student bows, as if a noble taking orders from a commoner is a natural thing in the world.
Rolfe Primero closes his reference book and puts it away. He then lays his arms and his head on his desk and attempts to sleep. He doesn't have to worry about his classmates, the elite students of class 6A, making any noises to disturb him.
As the mind of the diligent seventeen year old student starts to wander, he recalls a memory of a cat lying on a windowsill with its belly upturned towards the sun, and soon the gentle sound of snoring could be heard reverberating throughout the quiet classroom.