Page 8 of The Villains of Winter

The Common Room surrounded him with the fine smoke of Cuban tobacco. The caliginous haze settled over the dark, vintage artifacts that predated the establishment of the country itself. A second skin of bergamot and amber musk emulsified the atmosphere of refinement and class paradigmatic of Banebury. Brass embellishments reinforced the nineteenth-century furniture situated below the reticulated windows, impressively walled by ceiling-high burnished bookshelves, and adorned with decadently translated literatures of Latin, Old Norse, Old High German, and Old English. The antique fireplace churned warmth throughout the massive gathering area.

Despite its magnificence, the dormitory was encompassed by almost nothing but prairies and mountains outside.

People often confused Æscwulf for a small, rather empty college.

There were almost no buildings in sight. Not much more than a bell tower and a handful of established architecture–such as the dormitories, the amphitheater, and the refectory.

Not many citizens believed there was a college there at all, let alone confidently knew about it. However, Æscwulf College was where the generational decisions in the country were surreptitiously decided–if their children would be fed in hard times, if their taxes would be raised, if their communities received adequate funding.

The campus was split cleanly apart—the visible campus and the concealed campus.

There was an intricate labyrinth beneath the campus. Tens of dust-laden lecture halls; scores of ancient libraries; thousands of ritual wine barrels. Concealed entirely from sight.

James returned to Elliott’s dorm room with hard Scotch steeped in the coffee. Elliott’s dorm was a disaster of cassettes and bundled clothes.

As always, Elliott had left the window slightly open, and a spindle of autumn leaves of honeyed-golds, blazing scarlets, varnished auburns, and browned coppers had breezed across his teak floors. Nature flooded the room with its cedar scent.

James undressed, leaving his clothes in a pile. He rifled through the disorderly closet.

Buttoning himself, James was already reaching for a tie as sleepy, messy-haired Elliott finally stumbled through the dormitory when James offered an idea to him. “A student ran away from the College last night. Do you want to break into the office of the registrar with me?”

Elliott’s bloodshot eyes widened. “What?”

Once one was admitted into Æscwulf College, one was never permitted to leave. Not without explicit approval from the provost. The obsidian gates were a hundred feet high. Approvals were never given.

“I heard they climbed the gates to keep from being chosen for the hibernal ceremony. The secretary locked their file, but we could expunge the record.” James’s eyes landed on Elliott with mischief. “Will you come with me?”

As always, Elliott was pulled into the charismatic magnitude of James’s eyes. He would follow him off of a cliffside, if James wanted. He nodded.

There were very few things Elliott Archway loved on this earth. His sister, Halle Mercer, and the stars were most of them. His best friend was essentially the rest.

Yet Elliott braced himself for the unwanted attention ahead. He grasped James’s hand on second thought. “Everyone will see us. We could be reported.”

“Not if we move fast enough,” James smirked and fastened his belt for him with his palm on the leather. Sometimes Elliott forgot how deeply comfortable James was in the attention of the masses. “Get dressed.”

Elliott tugged on a woolen sweater over his head. “I’ll be seen then.”

James pressed his mouth against Elliott’s ear and Elliott was taken back to the crisp, cold afternoon in the whitewater rapids where they first met. “You’re always in your head, Elliott. Don’t you trust me?”

Of course, Elliott was in his head.

Whenever James was in the science annex of Æscwulf College, hundreds of eyes found him. A flock of students gathered around him like waves of hiereus. Which meant hundreds of eyes would be on Elliott as well. It didn’t help that James and Elliott were of patrician height. Elliott dressed himself all the same. Will a student be publicly punished even during midterms?

Elliott nodded. “I trust you.”

Elliott wore his normal fox-shaped pendant the same color as his wavy, smoke-brown hair, a herringbone tweed blazer patched at the elbows, and a linen shirt underneath buttoned with a crested tie and, last, a pair of pleated trousers. Æscwulf students were required to dress in the classic attire of the old century era of University of Cambridge in England with crewneck sweaters, starched ties, pleated trousers, and formal oxfords. English countryside attire was further expected as though they were on the hunt for pheasants and foxes throughout the year. The irony of the sartorial requirement of Cambridge did not escape Elliott when the English of the time would’ve despised Æscwulf College.

An institution that sent their own students to death.

​​ CHAPTER SIX

“ARE YOU DRESSED?” JAMES SOUNDED brash, injudicious, he teemed with rare excitement. He loved to break into the office of the registrar.

“Yeah.” Elliott fitted his gray hoodie over his college tie. He needed to figure out what to do about his erratic hair, it’d become wayward overnight, but it had to wait as anxiety snaked through his chest. “I am dressed.”

Elliott followed after the upperclassman.

Their soles crunched through the titian leaves on the campus lawn, a scathing wind clawing through their jackets like a bestial creature, forewarning the impending bludgeon of winter. The high mountain airs battered the throat. The low, plunging temperatures of the prairies froze the breath. The sound of the nearby Marlborough Mountains was a primitive beast that lurked impatiently for winter for its sacrifice.