Chapter 19: Learning of Honor

By the time Ronan had dragged his feet to the dining hall, Trainees were already chowing down.

Big vats of steaming eggs, sausages, bacon, and biscuits lined the wall near the plates and utensils, and Butterfly Trainees formed a single-file to get their fill.

At the sight of Ronan, the clamor in the hall stopped, and somebody dropped their plate to the floor. After a second of hushed whispers and dirty looks, a fit man with shining red hair hurled a buttered biscuit at Ronan.

Ronan barely needed to lift his face to pinpoint the biscuit’s location. He swiped it out of the air before it pelted his head. Two more biscuits and a sausage were chucked at him, but Ronan snagged these out of the air too while proceeding to the line to get his food.

“Who knows where The Black Snake will slither to next!” a woman murmured in his ear from behind.

A man who had just got his tray of food approached Ronan then sneered, “A creature that crawls on the ground doesn’t belong around those with wings.”

But Ronan ignored these insults and kept his head down. He took an empty plate and loaded up on a huge pile of food. His plan to get rid of his frustrations and fears was to train, black Hellblade or not. Ronan crammed food onto every inch of his plate; if he was going to train from sunrise to sunset, he would need plenty of energy.

Ronan poured himself a coffee from the percolator over a stone fire beside the food vats, and he walked past the long tables filled with Trainees. They still stared and shared nasty words, but this was different than when he was chastised in the Temple of the Serpent. There, people treated him with cruelty because they didn’t respect him.

But in the Temple of the Butterfly, Ronan saw that as Trainees darted their eyes away from his, people lashed out against him because they feared him.

Was he really so monstrous?

Ronan passed a smaller, more exclusive table of Rank 3 Trainees. Alfred wore a white doublet that had a spot of red blood seeping through his bandage on his shoulder. Strapped to the burned portion of his face was a glistening white mask that made Alfred look like some theater performer reject.

With his one good eye, Alfred glared at Ronan but said nothing. He took Freya’s hand and squeezed it.

As Ronan wandered further away, he heard Freya curse his name repeatedly.

Finally, he took a seat far from everybody else at an empty table. For the first time, it was difficult for him to eat. He had to force down each bite, reminding himself of how a full stomach would serve him during his training.

That is, if he wasn’t apprehended by the Elders and exiled for drawing on the powers of the enemy. Or, even worse, if Maritza and Farrier sided with the Elders’ decision, and he had no allies whatsoever.

Ronan heard heavy breathing to his right. Clove limped over, her long black hair unbrushed and slightly knotted after the altercation. The shin Ronan had nastily cut was bandaged, and her pale blue eyes were dulled, as if she was exhausted from too much thinking.

With a tasked breath she huffed, “May I sit?”

Ronan blinked and arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not here to cause more trouble,” Clove added. “I’m here to apologize.”

It was then that Ronan realized that despite the harassments he’d received in his life he hadn’t received apologies before. More importantly, after feeling Maritza’s touch and her support, he felt as though he was worthy of accepting apologies.

He thought too that Clove was worthy of forgiveness.

“Yes, please,” Ronan stammered, extending a hand. “Take a seat, Clove.”

She set her tray down and accepted Ronan’s hand. Her eyes watering from pain, she knelt and swung her leg over the bench to join Ronan. There were trickles of fresh blood leaking from her bandage, staining her beige fencing pants.

She set herself stiffly into place then said, “I thought about what you said to Freya, about not having any honor.”

Clove blinked hard and continued, “You were right. There was nothing honorable about the way we acted. It was despicable.”

Ronan was flabbergasted. It felt satisfying for her to realize the error of her ways, but it also saddened him that she appeared so lonely and without anybody to provide solace.

“Clove,” Ronan said, “Alfred and Freya are people who are very mixed up. It’s better you stay clear from them.”

Clove nodded and her bottom lip quivered. “I know that now. They didn’t even check on me in the hospital ward. All they did was holler your name and how they wanted vengeance. And whenever I was with them before that, they only wanted to order me around and tell me what to do. I guess I stuck around for the attention.”

Ronan sympathized with the woman. Had he grown up in such an environment, would he have acted just like Clove? What mattered now was that Clove was changing.

“I feel so weak after all this,” Clove whimpered. She cried silently and let hair cover her face.

“This isn’t weakness, it’s growth,” Ronan said, placing a hand on the bottom of her arm. He jabbed his thumb towards Alfred and Freya. “Those are two arrogant hotheads. People who can’t control their emotions try to control the actions of others. I’m just sorry you got mixed into all of it.”

Clove snapped her head up, and Ronan could see how genuine the woman was being when she said, “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for treating you like that, and for being a part of something so vicious.”

Suddenly, pale blue Essence started to trail around Clove. She sat back startled, and Ronan watched as the Essence etched its way beneath her Mark of the Butterfly, filled her progress bar, and a third tally mark formed on her shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Ronan laughed gently, “Looks like you’ve just hit Rank 3.”

“I’ve been stuck at Rank 2 for months,” she mumbled, patting her shoulder in disbelief.

“Well, we should celebrate,” Ronan said, raising his coffee mug. The two clacked their mugs together.

Ronan said, “To Clove’s progress.”

“And to Ronan for getting me there,” she said.

The two took long sips, warmed not only by the coffee but by each other’s company.

Several tables away, Alfred and Freya rose up with empty trays. They commanded attention of the room with their bombastic and cocky motions, and the two exited the dining hall.

“I should tell you what those two are planning,” Clove said with a gulp. Juice from a sausage squirted out as she cut it with a knife. “It would be the honorable thing to warn you of what’s to come.”