A Bored Lich

Thomas sat in a dining hall. The high ceiling allowed for the chandelier embedded with light crystals. The white stone tables were covered with delicate velvet cloths. His plate and silverware were made of the same material, pewter and silver, he had back at home, yet some of the nobles were gawking at them. He simply shrugged and dug into the cooked meat that Owen had sent with him. A few of the nobles seem to notice, alternating their gaze between their pancakes and his meat, then wiping the bit of drool from their chin with the soft blue napkins.

"It's all a game," Thomas remembered the words of his father. "Nobles are always looking to make connections, which is one of the points of the academy. You'll make enemies, but more importantly, you'll make new friends. I'm not telling you to love them like brothers, but simply become acquaintances. These people will become lifelong friends in the court. If you hate them, force on a smile. You must fit in. If you don't, you'll become an outcast."

Thomas was still standing, scanning the room for who looked the richest. 'It should be the person with the nicest clothes,' he thought. 'No, it should be the person with the best appearance.'

While the fancy clothes, silverware, and manners may have fooled some, to Thomas, those were just a shell to disguise the ugly inside. The occasional glances that fellow nobles sent his way were like harpoons. They stuck to his mind, trying to pull him back to their group and pushing him away at the same time. His will was split into two. Become friends or enemies, you cannot become both to these people. There were over a dozen tables, and he couldn't figure out which one he wanted to go to. There was one person who was dressed in clothes that practically shown like the sun, but he was only sitting with only one other person.

At another table were ten people, laughing and talking, yet their clothes were shabby, unlike Thomas's. There was no room at their table anyway. It wasn't like he could just pull up a chair and ask for them to make space. 'I'm standing here for too long,' He thought, moving his legs forward in a direction, not to anywhere specifically. 'This is good, just move.'

His plate shook around like his food, which nearly fell on the floor. 'Maybe I should have gotten the food like the rest of everyone else. Should I brag about my wealth? Nobles are attracted to wealth, right? Maybe I'm the poorest here. What if they're testing me like Reginald said they would?' His head practically spun around the room, his thoughts ending up in a chaotic bundle of stress. His gaze got progressively lower, starting from the windows and ending up near the floor.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and nearly jumped out of his new shoes "Hey," a voice said. Thomas followed the arm to a person about his age. His red, spiky hair looked to be completely uncombed, yet it stood straight up on its own, which added onto his average height. He wasn't buff, but he wasn't skinny either. His eyes were droopy, the small bags under them indicative of his weariness, yet they shinned with a light greater than the great light crystal in the sky. He smiled with his pearly white teeth, which sparkled in the light. "My name is Jackal, Jackal Von Trike." He extended a hand, which Thomas shook reflexively. By now, his brain was complete mush. He had to make a conscious effort not to stutter or jump out the window and cry out in frustration.

"I'm Thomas Virility," Thomas said and immediately regretted, because nearly all the heads swiveled his way - their eyes opening wide. Whispers filled the room which he couldn't hear, so he assumed the worst. 'What did I do to them?' He turned in a complete circle, finding the looks to carry throughout the now-quiet room.

"The Virility?" The Jackal asked. "As in the actual Virility?" Thomas nodded. Jackal slapped his forehead. "Wow, I didn't think lord Virility had a son."

"Well," Thomas glanced around, finding that the looks on the nobles' faces were now stone, unchanging. "I exist so yes, he did."

Jackal laughed: "Sorry. It's just hard to believe someone so important had a son and I didn't know about it."

"Important?" Thomas was still recovering his mental state. "He's just my dad. What's so special about that? We sell roses."

"Important roses. They can be used for elixirs, healing, and poison. There isn't a person in this kingdom who doesn't know about your family. Come sit with us." Thomas followed Jackal to a table of three other people. Jackal pointed to one of them, who was dressed in nearly all black. His scowl looked to be a default feature of his face. When Thomas sat down next to him, he was much taller, even though he himself was off average height. The boy was the shortest at the table. "This is Dagger, but just call him Dag. He doesn't talk much but he's a good person deep down."

"Nice to meet you," Thomas put a hand forward, but Dag only looked at the hand, his downcast expression flinching a little.

"Sorry," Dag said after a delay and shook the hand. "I almost killed you by reflex."

"Ok?" Thomas raised his eyebrows and looked at Jackal, asking an unspoken question about whatever the hell Dag meant.

Like the others, Jackal's expression never faded, although instead of shock, it was his lips, curled up in a smile: "He's from a family of assassins which were turned into a noble family recently. Their lifestyle changed. So he'll do some odd stuff. He doesn't mean anything bad by it."

"Jackal, is he...a new recruit?" Dag asked. Jackal's smile twitched as he shook his head.

The only girl at the table coughed twice and glared at Jackal, who laughed. "Sorry Molly, I was just excited I forgot to introduce you first," Jackal's smile stiffened as a thud came from under the table. "Ow," He groaned as he leaned over, holding his shin. The girl puffed out her small chest. Her long pink hair, tied in pigtails, bounced at the sides of face, which was covered in makeup.

"I'm Molly," she said. Described in a word, she was pink. Her clothes, her hair, the color of the makeup she used, all were pink like the princess in Thomas's books. She didn't look one bit like a knight.

'Actually,' Thomas took a quick glance around the room. 'None of these people look like fighters. They look like…me - they wouldn't last in a one-on-one fight. They don't give off the same murderous aura which lingers around Frey or Doevm.' He turned back to the table and hesitated to put his hand forward. Molly grabbed his hand with the delicate tips of hers. Thomas shook but Molly didn't let go. In fact, her grip was constricting his blood flow. "Uh, Molly, that's starting to hurt."

"I know," Molly replied.

Jackal moved his head above the table, the pain in his shin forgotten, and whispered into Thomas's ear: "You need to kiss the hand. She's a princess, although don't tell anyone I said that." Thomas's eyes went wide. By pure instinct, he nearly bowed, only to stop himself one inch away from faceplanting into the meat on his plate.

"Nice to meet you," Thomas brought up the hand and tried to kiss it, but Molly pulled back her hand.

"I knew you would try something like that," Molly pouted.

'What did I get myself into?' Thomas thought back to what his father said and glanced at Dag and Molly. 'These people aren't like that at all! What kind of game am I supposed to be playing? Who the hell acts like that and expects me to befriend them!?' He turned to the last person, pleading that he be like a normal person.

He had a bowl haircut, was tall, lanky, had his shirt tucked in, and topped it off with glasses. He shyly put forward his barely scratched hand. Thomas shook it, surprised to feel that his hand was as soft as a baby's skin. "Eugene Froom." Eugene said.

'Hooray for normalcy!' Thomas internally cheered. 'He doesn't look like a standout guy but I'll take it!'

"Well then," Jackal clapped his hands. "Now that introductions are out of the way, how about we eat." He looked down to his food, finding that it was a clean plate. Dag sucked down the last of his pancakes. "Dag," Jackal glanced at Dag, his smile stretching out an unreasonable amount to his lips. "Did you just eat my food?"

"Yup," Dag licked his lips.

"I'll just get more," Jackal abruptly stood up, his chair scraping against the wood, hard. His smile kept stretching. Looking at it, Thomas felt that the strangest one at the table, was Jackal.