Strength of the Dragon

By RaistlinofMetallica

January 5th AC 205

I have returned to classes at the Saint Anastasia Academy for Boys and Girls. These are the final months of my high school education. I’m not quite sure what I’ll do with myself. I haven’t really made any plans. I told them I was deferring from going to college directly so that I could figure out what I was going to do. I’m not even sure if going to school is what’s right. I seem to like it here too much. This town, Raccoon City, is very small and quaint. It’s only major point of interest is the Academy, a private boarding school. I enjoy it though. It’s quiet and beautiful in the winter, as most out of the way upstate New York towns are meant to be.

There’s a new boy at school. He’s about my age and is in all my classes. He’s very cute and the school uniform compliments him well. He’s muscular and tanned, as if he’s been exercising outside a lot. He’s got the most beautiful chocolate eyes, like dark chocolate. And his hair! What I wouldn’t give to touch that short black stuff! It looks spiky but I can tell that it must be very soft. He’s also got the most lovely name I’ve ever heard: Merllun Uth Velgar. He comes from the colonies, apparently. L2 cluster, I think. It fits with his odd accent.

But, he seems kind of odd. He really suffers around machines. Sometimes, I think the lights scare him. He really seems to have a problem with any electronic devices. It’s like he’s jinxed or something. I’ve really never seen anyone break a brand new calculator but, somehow, he did.

We also have a new modern history teacher. His name is Father Maxwell. He seems to be really young to be teaching us. He can’t be more than twenty-five. He’s really nice and laughs very loudly. He doesn’t seem like a Father, either. He wears his hair very long and I can say I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It is a brilliant chestnut color and he keeps it in a braid, a very long braid. I swear the man has more than three feet of hair.

I got a sense of something from Father Maxwell. He seemed to have an almost predatory air about him, as if he was a wolf or something wild. I noticed he had scars on his hands and arms. When I looked into his purple eyes, I saw something in there: the scars were not just on his arms. I saw a darkness borne of struggle in there, faint hints of hope bursting here and there. But, I looked away. There was something else in there, too. Something that was too cold and dead for me to want to see. I wondered if he had been a soldier in the war. That might explain that pain I saw.

Father Maxwell immediately informed us of our new assignment. We would be studying the war in detail. The way he said we were to approach it as if it were a lesson in and of itself made me think. He had to have been in the war. He must have lost someone or something precious. He spoke of it with an angry respect in his voice.

Merllun did something very stupid and pissed off Father Maxwell. He asked a simple question, really. “What’s a Gundam?” he asked with a confused expression. “I’ve heard about it from other kids.”

Father Maxwell gave him a look that could freeze over hell. “A Gundam,” he began through clenched teeth. “A Gundam is a machine of war. They were instrumental in the course of the War for the defense of the people, colonies and Earth itself.”

Merllun seemed a little startled by the fury of our new teacher and bowed politely to him. “I’m really sorry, Father Maxwell, sir. I kind of had amnesia from a bad fall. I don’t remember a lot of things. I didn’t mean to offend you, sir.”

Our new teacher arched an eyebrow. “Very well. I’ll excuse your ignorance. But I expect you to work harder to remember.” He returned to the whiteboard and began to speak. A long lecture about his expectations, as I recall. Merllun seem to smirk from his seat. He had avoided disaster, for now. He had really irked Father Maxwell. I suspect our teacher was a soldier after all. Maybe he had a link to the Gundams, too. I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.