Additional Recollections Collected

-- A Life on One's Own --

When I reached 16 years of age, mother determined that my education could no longer be fulfilled by private tutors, and arranged for me to be sent to boarding school. Because I did not come from vassal or noble stock, the Opleneer Junior Academy, generally regarded as the finest institute of juvenile instruction in the Empire, was not open to me. Instead, I secured a seat at Neerhemhind's Dandleknack School. Dandleknack, or 'Dandy' as it is affectionately dubbed by its alumni, boasts a curriculum and sense of dignity that are unmatched even by its more famous counterparts. The school itself dates to the reign of when Agatar Dandleknack founded the Neerhemhind Institute for the Enlightenment of Youthful Minds with the singular purpose of creating a new educational model. While most other schools of the time limited themselves to curricula based heavily in the classical literature of Elothnin, etiquette, and the moral improvement of children through hard labor, Dandleknack sought to incorporate the new fields of mathematics, natural philosophy, and a brave new discipline called broad history -- the study of foreign nations and Elothnin's place among them. Although his ideas were initially spurned by our country's hereditary elite, the new school attracted the offspring of the rising mercantile and official classes whose influence was growing at unprecedented rates. Over the coming years the school's reputation and enrollment ballooned until it achieved its current rank as one of Elothnin's finest. Indeed, I may add with not immoderate satisfaction that many of the schools that decried Dandleknack's theories quietly incorporated them into their own curricula a few decades later.

Bidding my mother and home farewell was perhaps the most difficult experience of my life to that point. Though the temptation was nigh overwhelming, I had sufficiently mastered my emotions by this point in my life that I did not shed a single tear. She didn't show it at the time, but I'm fairly certain that the parting was just as difficult for Mother. She and I were as close as mother and son ever were. I was her confidante, bosom companion, and most earnest supporter. A smile comes to my face whenever I think of the meals, irreverent gossip, and lofty conversations that we shared over the course of my childhood. Nevertheless, I looked ahead to the new chapter of my life, even as I bid a reluctant goodbye to the previous one. I knew that the time had come to truly begin my life as a man.

Students at Dandy live in Harplay House, a stately old building that exudes an air of the classical period of Elothninian architecture. It is a sprawling facility with long winding hallways lined with rooms that vary greatly in terms of size, shape, and ceiling height. I was assigned to a two person room on the fourth floor of Harplay. It was already furnished with a pair of narrow beds, desks, and book cases, all of which were bathed in the light of two enormous South facing windows. I will admit that I suffered from no small amount of trepidation when I learned that I was to have a roommate. I had never lived with anyone beyond my family and the servants and never shared a room. Mother had always been particularly discerning in terms of the people with whom I spent my time, and made it a matter of principle that my morality and health should not be sullied by too much interaction with other children. Indeed, apart from a few illicit rendezvous with the local boys, my experiences with my peers were severely limited. So, it was with some surprise that I found myself immediately enamored of Dyles Montarington, my roommate.

I uttered a sound of surprise when I entered our room for the first time. It was neither the beauty of the architecture nor the quality of its furnishings that elicited this response. Rather, it was that Dyles was quite naked when I opened the door.

"Well what are you waiting for?" he asked as I stood there gaping.

"Pardon?"

"Are you going to close the door? You're letting a draft in.”

"Oh, of course, yes." I shut the door, and tried not to stare directly at him. It was an entirely new experience for me, being in the presence of a naked body other than my own.

"Well, I suppose introductions are in order. I'm Dyles," he said, pulling on a pair of the school-issue trousers.

"Atelon Scrudton," I said, not sure whether I ought to shake his hand or offer him a shirt.

"Nice to meet you, Scruddy." He resolved my ambiguity by firmly grasping my hand in greeting. His grip was as strong as you would imagine from such a fine, young fellow as him. Dyles was a study in that athletic grace and dignity that many associate with Dandy students, his thick blonde hair fell just short of his warm brown eyes. His face was handsome, and his shoulders broad. He seemed to fit better in a classical painting than our humble lodgings, and I felt strangely giddy as he sized me up. "Do you play football?"

"I can't say I ever have." Mother had specifically forbidden me from organized sporting. Such pursuits were dangerous frivolities in her mind.

"You look like you might be alright at defense. Let me see your legs."

"Pardon?"

"Your legs, Scruddy! I need to see what we've got to work with," he said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure that I understand --"

"Bloody hell," Dyles said, striding towards me, his shirt as yet unbuttoned. Before I could utter a word in protest, Dyles yanked my pants to the floor and was appraising my physical proportions with the expert eye of a butcher. I later learned that his father was a tremendous enthusiast for athletics of all sorts, and made his fortune by organizing amateur sporting groups in Neerhemhind. His son had apparently inherited this interest, and was eager to organize an interscholastic league, an idea relatively unheard of at the time. "Not too shabby, could stand a bit more meat on 'em, but we can take care of that. You quick?"

"Quick enough, I suppose," I said nervously.

"You'll be coming out for the team then, and I won't hear otherwise."

**** An Inauspicious End Begets a New Beginning

Despite some hesitation on my part, Dyles made good on this threat and dragged me out to the pitch that weekend for the first practice. About twenty eager young men arrived at the large open field a mile west of Dandy designated as our facility. Football was new to the majority of those who decided to attend, and our faces betrayed a mixture of curiosity and anxiety as Dyles explained the game to us. "Football is the greatest test of athleticism, skill and strategy ever devised," he began grandly. "There are 11 players per side, one ball, and two goals. The point of the game is to navigate the ball, using anything but one's hands or arms, into the opposing side's goal as many times as possible over the course of the game." Dyles spoke at length about the various tactics, formations and finer points of the sport that left those of us without prior experience quite confused. Fortunately, however, Dyles soon had us engaged in such vigorous drills that we didn't have the energy to worry about our own ignorance.

I found football to be simultaneously difficult, exhausting, invigorating, inspiring and enlivening. I was charmed. Over the next few weeks we practiced 6 days a week, honing our skills, and sculpting our bodies through countless hours of physical exertion. I was pleased to note how favorably my body responded to this vigorous exercise, clothing my hitherto bony arms in a rippling layer of sinuous muscle, and granting me a new found endurance. This experience imparted to me the deep importance of physical culture, a facet of life. To this very day, I engage in a ritualistic adherence to a scientifically designed program of calisthenics, deep tissue massage, and vigorous bouts of physical exertion with an almost religious fervor. I credit this exacting regimen with my excellent health and superior resistance to all manner of illness. If more of our young men were to embrace these habits, I do not doubt that the well-being of the nation, both moral and physical will be greatly improved. But I digress.

Two nights before our first game of the season against the Elmont Institute, Dyles let us go from practice early. He said we all ought to blow off some steam before the match, to stave off the unfortunate effects of nerves, and forge our bonds as a team. As I am sure the reader has gathered, Dyles was a rather indelicate fellow in some respects, not nearly as refined and sophisticated in his habits as one might expect from his family's material wealth. It was from him that I truly learned riches alone do not a gentleman make. Nevertheless, he was a good-hearted boy in his own ribald way, and I do not doubt that his suggestion we, as a team, visit a local pub was made with the best of intentions.

We made our way from campus into the city. Dandleknack lies in what one might consider a suburb of Neerhemhind, occupying a sprawling stretch of vibrant lawns kept beautifully manicured by the school's more unruly charges as a form of punishment. All fifteen of us wound our way behind the high hedges that protected the playing field from observation by the uncompromising teachers who monitored the grounds, and saw that we young men didn't get into too much trouble. The blood pounded in my ears, and my entire frame was enlivened by that first thrill of deviance. Until that point, I had never considered breaking a rule, Mother instilled in me a tremendous respect for authority, and the example of my father provided ample evidence of delinquency's folly. However, there, with a pack of young men, thirsting for freedom and independence at my back, how could I decline a little innocent fun? We hopped over a low stone wall, and managed to escape through a narrow gap between the hedges, twenty yards away from the gate. I was astonished that our giggling and half-hearted attempts at concealment were not more easily apprehended, but I have since become acquainted with the deficiencies endemic to pickets.

With Dandy behind us, we marched happily towards the outskirts of Neerhemhind, the lights of the city our beacon. We sang as we walked, a few of those raucous tunes that are popular among students, and engaged in the requisite amount of horseplay and tomfoolery before we found a large public house, its stone walls fairly vibrating from the laughter and good cheer it encapsulated. We spread ourselves across several tables, trying our best not to get too close to the locals who held a rather negative view of Dandy's affluent student body. We ordered ale from an attractive barmaid, and she brought us trays of enormous brimming tankards. It was not my first taste of alcohol (I’d had a glass of wine during the holidays), but I was not prepared for the full effects of an evening's worth of ale. The first tankard went down easily enough. I felt exhilarated from the conspiratorial nature of the whole affair, and intemperately engaged another round with my comrades. And another. And another. With each passage of the barmaid we grew louder, more confident of our brilliance. By the fifth round, my stomach was on the verge of violent protest, but my thoroughly addled mind insisted that my digestive tract was just being a slouch, and that more ale would quash its rebellious spirit.

Aside from Dyles, who apparently was more practiced in the art of imbibing, the rest of the team was in a similar state, half-way between enthusiastically drunk and painfully ill. While he was only just crossing the threshold of confident inebriation, the rest of us were on the precipice of over-consumption. He called to a pair of attractive young women who had just entered, offered to buy them a drink if they joined he and I at the table. By this point, I was sufficiently overstimulated as to be numb to the enticement of conversation with even the Queen herself, but I did not protest. I don't remember their names, but they seemed nice enough. Dyles immediately engaged the blonde in conversation, leaving me to entertain her brunette friend.

"So...what do you do?" I asked in a slurred voice. My tongue felt heavy, and my brain was clumsy, fumbling through a fog to find something to talk about.

"I work on the high street. Me mistress is a woman o' means, his lordship being a very successful landowner," she responded in a chipper voice, taking a rather large sip from the ale Dyles had ordered her.

"Oh, that must be quite nice. Who is she?" She mentioned some minor dignitary whose name escapes me. Dyles, in the meantime, was moving rather faster with her friend. They had retired to a more private booth to engage in activities best not put to words. I will admit that the sight of Dyles' rapid conquest combined with the alcohol sloshing around in my stomach, aroused certain desires on my part. She was a fine looking young woman in the bloom of health, her dark hair cascading down milky shoulders, truly a vision of feminine beauty. She seemed a little unnerved, and I realized that I was staring at her. I quickly lowered my eyes.

"You're quite beautiful," I said.

She flashed me a nervous smile, and giggled a little. "Ye ain't so bad yerself. What do ye do?"

I cringed slightly at her ill-bred accent, but the fog of chemical and romantic intoxication pushed me on. "I'm a student at Dandy."

She looked impressed, and preened a little bit. I suspect that she was a little embarrassed that she hadn't realized she was in the presence of such up and coming young men as ourselves. I looked over at Dyles and his partner, enmeshed in a tangle of groping hands and hungry lips. I leaned towards her. I could smell the faint aroma of beer and soap on her clothes, and she blushed, but did not recoil from my advance. We stayed there for an impossibly long moment, our mutual desire steadily intensifying. Finally I made my move. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my lips. We were inches from an embrace when a powerful, unexpected wave of nausea washed over me. I managed to turn away just in time to save her from the bulk of the vomit that I expelled. I felt like my insides were in revolt, as I heaved up the contents of one of the tankards in a single go. I apologized to the disgusted young woman, and dashed out of the pub and relieved myself of a considerable quantity of the evening's refreshments, along with my supper onto the cobblestones. I stayed on my hands and knees, waiting to see if my body would be racked by further heaving convulsions, trying to catch my breath even as I sat in a pool of my evenings .

"You seem to be having a rather bad night," a deep, resonant voice said from just behind me. I was surprised by the richness of the voice. It was robust, without a hint of harshness just unadulterated baritone. My eyes slowly fell upon a pair of black boots polished to mirror sheen, connected to the long graceful legs of a dancer that supported a narrow-waisted, broad shouldered torso clad in fine evening wear. His pants were pinstriped, and tailored to a tight fit that highlighted the musculature of his thighs to great effect. He wore a jacket of a fine, black material that had an exotic shine to it evoking the finest Felin silk atop a rakishly loose white linen shirt with buttons of glimmering opal. Around his neck was a red kerchief, knotted tightly into place with a pearl topped pin. Finally I reached the face of this strange apparition. His features were perfectly chiseled, every plane of his face seemed to have been carefully calculated to maximize his beauty. His eyes, which seemed to laugh at me without a hint of malice, were the deepest, purest shade of blue I'd ever seen. An unruly mop of luxuriant auburn curls framed this portrait of a man. He extended his hand, which was large and strong, yet surprisingly gentle at the same time, and hoisted me to my feet. I stood there staring at him for a moment, uncertain as to whether my legs would be able to support me in my weakened condition. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. Thank you," I said, finally remembering that I had a voice.

"Too much ale?"

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, blushing hotly for no reason in particular. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of the alcohol, but he made me nervous and strangely excited just standing there staring at me, my pants legs damp with beer.

"It is, but that's to be expected of a frosh." I flushed and nodded, a little embarrassed that my inexperience was so apparent even to a complete stranger. "You do go to Dandy, don't you? You look familiar."

"Yes, yes I do," I stammered back.

He nodded approvingly. "I figured as much. You have the look of a Dandy man, even if you haven't yet acquired the stomach of one."

"Is there terribly much drinking required?"

"If you want to have fun there is. I'm Sacheverelle Lascenn, by the way."

"Atelon Scrudton."

"What's say we go in and get you some water -- you'll thank me in the morning," he said, guiding me through the bar's door. We sat down together and he procured a glass of water from the bartender. We chatted for a while about various frivolities. I found that, despite his somewhat sardonic demeanor, he was extremely solicitous of me. He watched me with a maternal fondness that immediately endeared him to me. When Dyles and the others told me that it was time to go I reluctantly assented.

"I hope I see you around," I said to Sacheverelle uncertainly. I desperately hoped the strong affinity I felt for him was mutual, and not some sort of inebriated illusion.

He gave me an enigmatic smile. "Oh, you will."