"So, what did he say?" Timothy asked, sipping a goblet of some blue drink.

"He asked me a few questions about myself and told me not to lie again..." Ermand paused before he continued drinking the blue liquid from the goblet on which his fingers were twirled around. He couldn't help stop thinking about why professor Lewcent wanted their conversation to remain a secret and too personal at the same time.

"He's a nice man. Chelsea said that he's the best Professor you could ever find in this college. Boy, I really wanted to see that Qorder's face that time," Charlie laughed with the soup in his mouth.

"Hey Odin, I haven't seen you today at the class. Where were you?" Timothy lightly blew on his spoon.

"At the end. The clan studies teachers seemed a bit strict."

"He's not that strict, he's just trying to lead us to the right way," Emile commented after finishing his white porcelain bowl of vegetable soup.

Charlie spilled out his soup through his nose and mouth. He excused himself and walked toward the washroom.

"Goody two-shoes," he muttered before he got up.

When he returned, he gently slammed his hands on the table. "You're impossible!"

"What?" Emile asked, placing a bowl, a plate and a goblet in a silver tray.

"This is the least I can expect from you," Charlie muttered, slicing a part of his fried beef steak.

"I don't understand you. I'm done eating. So, see you guys in the next class." Emile got up from the bench and walked to a counter and gave his tray to a slim man in his spotless white shirt.

"I've already had enough of the three hours I have spent in Chestnut's horrible theory class!"

"Is Clan studies all about theory?" Ermand asked, eating the last piece of vegetable in his soup.

"Yeah... I don't understand why everybody wants to learn this muck," Charlie sighed.

"It is because of the education ministry. My father works in the economy ministry, but he knows a few things about the other ministries. He said that they've made it mandatory for every course in our country. It's the same here in Tawarn I'm assuming," Timothy mentioned.

A boy's squeal echoed through the hall. Ermand turned straight behind Timothy and Charlie, who was seated opposite to him.

"What's he doing?" Charlie almost whispered.

A scraggy tall boy with rough black hair that hid his eyebrows, lay on the floor. He had a few blemishes on the corner of his pallor face. Damien walked near him, his polished black shoes on either side of the boy's face.

"Next time you walk, make sure you have both of your eyeballs fixed tight!" Damien shouted. Some students cringed at this and immediately grabbed their silver trays to escape the scene.

"Forgive me, sir," the boy quivered as tears welled up in his eyes.

"I'm not known for my kindness but rather for what I do. What are you?"

"La-lapel," the boy stuttered, his legs shivered uncontrollably.

"No wonder that you have these... shabby dress."

"Poor guy, why don't anyone call in some Professor?" Odin whispered to his friends.

"No use. His father is getting himself ready for the coming election and he's damn certain that he's gonna win," Timothy warned him.

"Any boy who dares to hit me like that, knowingly or unknowingly needs to bear the consequences, Lapel." Damien produced a flickering green blue yellow light in his hands and smirked at the boy.

When Damien's words echoed in Ermand's ears, the horrible past of being bullied by the high rankers swam into his head.

He was just five and he was sure he didn't do anything to insult the Qorders. He only remembered throwing stones into a small pond and watching it sing a beautiful melody for the pond was known as the pond of melody. Ermand didn't know the water body belonged to the Qorders. When he was tapping his hands on the ground and swaying his head side to side according to the sweet music producer by the ripples of the pond, a harsh and scary sound for a five-year-old interrupted his entertainment.

"Hey! Catch him!"

He heard some boyish voices and immediately turned backward. Four or five boys ran toward him. Ermand was scared, he didn't know what to do. For a moment, he thought that he should've listened to Jason.

"Don't go out or bear the consequences..." he said when Ermand forcefully opened the main door with his tiny hands.

He gulped as the boys circled around him. They seemed to be of the ages between six and eight, and he knew they were the Qorders.

"You dare to come to our pond and hear it sing, huh?" A blonde headed boy asked him.

Ermand got up and watched the boys nearing him, with horror.

"I-I'm so-sorry," Ermand replied through sobs. His heart beat fast when a blonde boy came near him.

"What are you?" He asked in a harsh tone.

"Ch-ch-ss-chisel..." Ermand sobbed. Tears ran down his eyes like a waterfall.

"I hate these people!" Another boy barked, his cheekbones twitched.

"F-for-g-give... m-me... p-p-lee-ss," he implored, his limbs were shaking.

"I've learned this spell from my dad. He uses this upon these vangrats," The blonde boy said.

"What are you gonna do?" Another boy enquired.

"Wait and see," he smiled.

He closed his eyes and chanted something, but no sound escaped his mouth. When his finished chanting, a tiny, round green light evolved in his hands. He threw it upon the sobbing little five-year-old.

He screamed and cried as loud as he could when the light hit him. He wriggled on the grass, the pain shredded all of his body. He felt as if he wanted to die. The boys watched him, guffawing.

"Hey, leave my brother alone!"

The voice was familiar to Ermand. It was Jack!

Jack dashed towards the boys, a tiny brown light evolved around his hands. He threw the ball at the boys who dodged it off, and continued laughing.

Jack looked like a bull that had seen red. He pulled the collar of one of the boys and hit him on his face and pushed another one into the pond with his leg. When the other three boys walked toward to launch an attack on him, Jack punched the stomach of one of the boys and twisted the hand of a boy, causing the magical charm he produced to hit the other boy.

"Come Ermand, let's run!" He held the tiny arm of his sobbing little brother.

When they reached home, a few men in their posh clothes stood outside with their car parked at the sidewalk beside their home. Mr. And Mrs. Chisel and Jason were standing on their small patch of yard, their heads bent down.

"Is it him?" A man asked a bleeding boy.

"Yes, it's him, dad!"

"Come here, you Chisel!" The man barked at Jack, who obediently walked to the man.

"You need to be seriously punished," he snarled at Jack.

Ermand ran after the Qorders' car barefooted while Jack was made to crouch in the trunk of their car. After finally managing to reach the Qorders' home, his tiny soft foot, pierced and cut with minute sharp stone pieces and gravel, Ermand was depressed to hear his brother crying out of pain in the Qorders' backyard. He was probably flogged. His screams still echoed in Ermand's ear.

As Ermand's breathing became heavy, his hands clenched into a very tight fist, he suddenly stood up.

"Stop!" He shouted, his voice reached the far end of the mess hall. Everybody stared at him with bulging eyes.