Harvest 18, 855
Buu’s old clothes felt rough and scratchy against his skin after a week in soft student robes. Standing straighter, Buu pulled on the fabric, adjusting it for the hundredth time. How could clothes he wore for months suddenly feel so alien? Had he grown that soft so quickly?
Tuag lay on his bed, watching Buu get changed with a bored stare. The small room served to make the grimm look even larger, and Buu had to glance away before an animal part of him could start to panic. He wondered if Tuag could read his mind, as in that moment, a wolfish, self-satisfied grin spread across his face.
“Shut up,” Buu mumbled in return, placing his neatly folded robes on his neatly made bed.
Cleaning up the mess from Tiy and his cronies had taken hours, but Buu wanted to leave the university as he had found it. He left the scrawled graffiti on the wall above his bed intact to act as an explanation to anyone that might wonder where he had gone, saving himself the struggle of writing a letter himself. The bold letters scrawled out ‘MURDERER,’ which neatly summed up the opinion of many at the school.
Scooping up the sack of meagre supplies he had arrived with, Buu took one last look around his temporary room and left it behind. He headed directly for the front gate, trusting that the dawn hour would protect him from too many curious eyes. No grey figure waited outside the library this time, and Buu felt his shoulders loosen, forcing his mind to focus on Tuag’s eerie silent footfalls rather than remembering the attack in the workshop.
His steps grew lighter as the front gate came into view, homesickness dragging him forward with such force that he had to remind himself not to run. He could leave the bullies behind. The grey students. The nightmares. The experiments. Even the books and classrooms and lectures would all fall away once he stepped out that gate.
The journey would be dangerous, he knew, but he didn’t care. No one would bother him with the grimm at his side, and if he paced himself he trusted that he could make it back to his uncle. Hunger and cold seemed like distant, manageable problems just then.
“Buu!” Idah’s voice rang jarringly against the morning silence, startling him. Turning, he spotted her running towards him from the girl’s dormitories. He wished dearly that he could have outrun her. Talking was the last thing he wanted right now, but he knew that any effort to escape a conversation would only see him winded and embarrassed.
“Buu! Where are you going?” Idah asked as she caught up with him, grabbing his sleeve as if she could hold him there. To be fair, she probably could.
“Home.” Buu shrugged, feeling the answer in the scratch of his shirt and the soles of his shoes. “I hate it here. I’m going home.”
Idah’s face scrunched up like it did when he got a homework question wrong. Like she wanted to call him stupid but was too kind. Maneuvering herself between Buu and the gate, she released his sleeve.
“You can’t do that,” she said, crossing her arms. “It’s stupid.”
Maybe she wasn’t that kind after all. Heat rushed across Buu’s cheeks as he glared at Idah. Balling his fists at his sides, Buu wanted to punch her. She didn’t deserve it, but he didn’t really care. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that she would likely punch him back, and hers would hurt more.
A tingle crept up Buu’s spine as, unbidden, he remembered his magic. He could hurt her, or his professors, or Tiy and his stupid friends. He had not practiced his magic much since arriving at Three Lakes University, but he knew he could do it. The rush of strength and energy that always came with using his magic would dispel, however temporarily, the aches and chill that had settled back over him. It probably wouldn’t even be difficult.
Buu shook the thought away, hugging himself tightly. He stared at the ground, wishing it would open up and swallow him. Trying to keep his breathing deep and even as Tuag prodded him none too gently with his snout. The grimm wanted him to use his powers, he knew, which drove home how important it was not to use them. Especially not for this.
“Unless that’s an enchanted bag, you don’t have supplies. It could blizzard at any moment, and what are you going to do? Just walk in with the grimm and hope your neighbours are okay with it?” Idah berated, obviously tired of waiting for a response.
“I know it’s stupid!” Buu yelled in her face, the words burbling out of him like water from a spring. Once he began, he couldn’t stop, face heating up as he balled his fists. “But if I’m going to be an idiot, I’d rather do it somewhere without ghosts and stupid lectures and people that hate me. Somewhere that I won’t be someone’s experiment or a curiosity or a freak. Or at least somewhere I don’t have to be all those things at once! I’m not even learning anything — nothing makes sense here and I hate it!”
Hot tears pricked at Buu’s eyes and he dashed them with his sleeve, not caring if he looked childish. Breathing hard, he felt another rough nudge from Tuag, goading him. Unthinking, Buu shoved back, actually knocking the grimm back a step. They both blinked at one another in surprise before Tuag released a bone-deep growl that turned Buu’s bowels to jelly.
Swallowing, Buu pivoted slowly back to face Idah, turning his back on the grimm in what he hoped was submission and not insult. If Tuag did want to kill him, Buu decided, he would rather not see it coming. When a few moments had passed without pain or sudden death, Buu calmed enough to meet Idah’s eyes.
Her brow sat high in surprise, mouth forming a little ‘O’ as she processed both Buu’s tantrum, and the grimm’s reaction. Face pale, she tried to speak, failed, cleared her throat, and tried again.
“Buu…” she seemed at a loss, until an idea lit her face. “If you could learn about your powers faster, would you stay?” Idah must have seen the look on his face, quickly adding, “Without more books or lectures.”
Buu had expected Idah to simply drag him back into the school or run to tell an adult to stop him from leaving. Being offered an alternate option threw him off balance. If there was another way to learn, why did they have him in a classroom in the first place?
Buu opened his mouth to ask as much, but another voice cut him off, calling his name. Turning, Buu found himself face to face with Captain Riying, polished and perky despite the early hour.
The captain still baffled Buu. Shortly after their confrontation, Buu sheepishly confessed to Aru that he could not tell if the captain was a man or a woman, hoping for some guidance to avoid putting his foot in his mouth the next time he came face to face with them. But Aru only laughed and answered, ‘neither’ before excusing herself to her work.
As a result, he’d taken to copying everyone else, referring to them as neutrally as possible whenever he thought about them at all. He supposed it was a Thaven thing — once you let women in the army, after all, why bother with other boundaries? The captain’s appearance disquieted Buu, but he supposed if it didn’t bother the Thavens, then it ought not to bother him. No Zadyan was ever going to marry a Thaven captain after all, and if it made the westerners happy, Buu supposed that was their business.
“Buu, there you are. Heading somewhere? Perhaps we can walk and talk.”
Buu took an involuntary step back, the captain’s venom from Buu’s first day still fresh in his mind, though it seemed completely absent now. If Captain Riying noticed his reluctance, they showed no signs of it, turning calmly to Idah and asking, “Would you mind excusing us, Miss Tono? I need a private moment with Buu.”
Idah’s glare told them all exactly what she thought of that suggestion, but she acquiesced with a stiff nod. Turning on her heel, she ran away from them at a sprint, feet spraying snow as she went. Without a doubt, the headmaster would know about the captain’s sudden interest in Buu within minutes.
“Shall we?” Captain Riying gestured toward the gate and they began walking at a sedate, considerate pace, not looking over their shoulder to see if Buu followed.
Feeling awkward and strangely exposed in the snow, Buu hustled to catch up. Tuag padded beside him, any menace leftover from Buu’s shove now honed and aimed directly between the captain’s shoulder blades. Buu fell into step as they reached the gates, the guards there scrambling to open them. Buu wasn’t sure if the soldier’s eagerness stemmed from wanting to please their boss, or to get the grimm outside.
“I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I wanted to apologize for doubting you,” the captain began when they had passed out of earshot, walking a wide circuit around the school’s wooden walls. “Only General Ido had any ability to control this beast, and even then it would still kill my soldiers whenever it could. I admit I was skeptical when I heard that a child could manage the beast.”
They walked in a slippery trail of packed snow, carved out by regular patrols. Buu had to concentrate on his footing, worried that if he fell, he might slide down the hill dropping steeply away from the university on two of its four sides. Tuag, in contrast, seemed to glide over the snow without leaving a hint of a track in his wake.
“I couldn’t condone letting a creature that had just slaughtered so many of the fine men and women entrusted to my charge loose in a building full of bookish children. Most of them can barely throw a punch.”
Buu listened without knowing how to respond. With everything that had happened in the last week, he had almost forgotten about the hostile welcome he and the grimm had received. When Captain Riying looked at him expectantly, Buu shrugged.
“S’okay, I guess,” he murmured. Buu couldn’t hold the captain’s actions against them. They didn’t act alone, and the grimm was a murderous, unstoppable monster. “People do stuff when they’re scared.”
The captain’s grin lit up their face. “Exactly! I’m so glad you understand. Very mature of you.”
They stopped walking directly behind the school, pausing to take in the view. The meadow and more distant trees sparkled in the sunlight under a snowy shroud, the sun’s early light throwing shadows from the scattering of homes and barns. A woodcutter forged a path from house to forest, struggling as the snow reached her waist in places. Would Buu really be able to make it back to Red Birch in this?
“You were leaving, weren’t you?” Captain Riying asked, breaking their reverie. “When little Idah intercepted.”
Buu nodded, shrugging again. He didn’t see a point in lying about it. Everybody seemed to want him out of the university, and he couldn’t agree more with the consensus.
“It makes sense. You’ve been quite the source of gossip since you got here. From what I’ve heard you haven’t had an easy time of it. Everyone scared of you, or hateful.” They paused, giving Buu an opening to disagree.
Buu chewed his lip, trying to see ahead in the conversation. Until this morning he would have counted the captain chief among the scared and hateful, so why the sudden shift at the last possible moment?
“I don’t think I’m cut out for it here. I want to go home.”
Captain Riying offered a sympathetic nod, resuming their walk when Buu started to shiver. When their eyes slid sideways to Buu, brighter than before, Buu knew they had finally arrived at the point of the conversation.
“It might be difficult for a young man to travel alone in this.” They gestured to the snow piled high in every direction. “But there is another option besides school and home. At least until the weather clears enough for you to make the journey safely of course.”
Buu stumbled, the path getting less defined on the windward side of the walls.
“Something outside the university?”
“Yes. You could join the army.” The captain’s voice remained so casual that a foreigner would have been forgiven for thinking they were discussing the weather, and not trying to enlist a nine-year-old in the military.
Buu stopped in his tracks. “The army?”
“It’s unorthodox, I know, but we could make an exception for your age given the circumstances. The soldiers are more used to the grimm, and I can give orders that you are to receive nothing but the utmost respect. I can’t promise it would be a perfect life, but it would certainly be better than you’ve gotten here. If nothing else, you would be well paid.”
Buu blinked, only realizing his mouth had fallen open when a breeze tickled his tongue. Horror crept up his legs and back, tingling as it reached the base of his skull. They really think I can control Tuag.
“You want me to join your army?” he spluttered out as his thoughts tried to catch up to events. “I’m nine.”
“Perhaps,” the captain conceded and smiled at him, “but you are an exceptional nine. With the grimm we were able to make more progress towards the end of this conflict — towards peace — than in any of the years before. With your help, we can turn that tide again and make the empire whole.”
“You attacked my village. Thaven soldiers started all of this — killed people I’ve known my whole life. Why in Anaya’s light would I want you to win?” The glassy stares of the fallen Red Birch woodsmen watched Buu from his memory, and he flinched as he recalled the emotionless beating General Ido had given him.
The captain’s brow rose as if they had never considered the possibility that someone might not want the Thaven Empire to succeed. They chewed on the idea for a few moments, taking their time as they swung their arms around for warmth. Finally, they released an opaque sigh that floated away from them on the still morning air.
“Well, because you’re a smart kid. You can see farther than a single supply raid. The empire is many times the size of your kingdom, with comparably limitless troops. The end of this conflict is inevitable, but you can limit how much more blood needs to be spilled to end it,” the captain explained.
Buu’s unease at this response must have shown on his face, as the captain quickly continued, hands raised as if calming an animal.
“And victory for us will be better than any other outcome. The empire has many wonderful benefits.” They began listing things on their fingers. “Low taxes, technological advances, access to our trade networks — and the empire allows near-total cultural and religious freedom. You could continue worshipping your Lady in Light without interruption, just like the Thiab have maintained their Family church. Everybody gets to keep doing what they want to do, just with different people in charge.”
Buu considered these offerings, unimpressed. He didn’t know a lot about taxes, other than that adults seemed to dislike them, technology and trade sounded fine but the abstract benefits of each didn’t mean much to Buu. When he considered religious freedom, he could hear the kitchen-lectures of Old Lady Fira berating the world over the years.
“Religious freedom isn’t a good thing,” Buu said, watching the captain’s expression morph from certainty to surprise. “Heathen faiths like the Family shouldn’t be allowed. I heard Thavens don’t even have a god, let alone a heathen one. If you don’t stand in Anaya’s light, then you are standing in the dark. Our god was flesh and blood once. We can visit her bones. The other religions are just made up.”
Even as he parroted, Buu saw the captain glance over at the grimm — a physical myth from the Thiab doctrine. Buu swallowed, Sister Moon’s visit still so fresh in his mind that he could feel her breath on his face. Not willing to recant himself, Buu stood taller, offering the captain a stare that challenged them to disagree.
“Okay, but consider—” Captain Riying started, but stopped when they spotted Headmaster Sanir storming across the snow towards them. “We’ll have to pick this up again later, but I do hope you will take some time to consider things.” Then to the headmaster they called, “Headmaster Sanir! We were just heading back…”