The Perfect Knight and the Illusionist (BL)

MARIUS

I sat next to Hilda, the student council secretary, only two chairs away from the president, Mikael, who sat at the head of the table. I was acutely aware that I was far too close to the head position than I had any right to be at this stage, having joined the council only the week before.

There wasn’t overt hostility or envy about it, but I would be naive to think that it didn’t rub anyone the wrong way. As always, there was only one solution, the Valenkraft way: prove my worth.

But here I was, my mind foggy with images of Skylark turning his back on me and running away, and words from Falken and Thomas. It was really straining to keep up with the discussion about the upcoming Autumn festival.

"So, as some of you already know from last year, it is not an easy task to get the art club to cooperate. This is a sore spot for us. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t mind at all whether they do their exhibition or not. But this year... we need them to do it, so we will MAKE them do it," Mikael said, his face full of determination.

"Isn’t it just their loss if they don’t exhibit? We can let their work just rot in obscurity and no one would shed a tear," a male senior, Luka, who sat a bit further away from the head, spoke up.

"I wish it was as simple as that," Mikael said, pinching the bridge of his nose a little.

"How is this year different from last year?" Avril, who was assigned to organizing club event schedules for the festival, asked.

"We have been informed that a special guest will be attending, and she—yes, it is ’she’—is very fond of art. It’s her personal passion," Hilda said next to me.

"Who is this lady?" Luka asked this time.

"A special guest. That’s all you need to know. Special enough that we have to meet her wishes," Mikael squashed any potential challenges to the topic before they could be raised any further.

"Now—does anyone have connections with Fabian, Liesel, or that... Blanche?"

The table went silent. The new members from my year, like me, looked around to see if anybody knew. The seniors, on the other hand, had expressions that said, ’You know the answer is no already, President.’

"If only we had someone who could convince their members..." Mikael sighed.

I didn’t know if it would really be possible, but this was a major challenge for the student council, and overcoming challenges was how a Valen proved himself.

"I know someone," I said.

"You know them?" Hilda asked, turning her head to face me with a surprised expression.

"I have talked to them before, but more importantly—I have a... good friend who just joined the club."

"Your friend is actually IN the art club?" Hilda asked again, raising both her eyebrows.

"Blanche allowed him—or her—to join?" The president seemed shocked as well.

"Yes, President."

The president then looked around the table, fixed his gaze upon me, and said,

"Marius. This is crucial to the success of the festival. Pleasing the special guest is our priority for the festival this year. We are going to arrange for music she likes, the drama performance she wants—she is rather... artistic. Paintings, sculptures—what have you, those are what we are missing."

"I understand."

"Can you really convince them?"

"I will do my best."

"That’s not good enough, Marius," Hilda cut in, then continued,

"If it is not possible, we will have to find a workaround. It will be a worse option for sure, but it would be better than planning for an exhibition only for the plan to collapse. If you are unsure, just say so now."

I clenched my fist under the table.

Blanche.

I wasn’t fully confident that I could convince her.

But at the same time—I wanted this for Skylark as well.

For him to have his painting displayed in an exhibition... that would be a wonderful thing, probably equivalent to walking up to the stage to receive a medal for a competition. Regardless of the reason he was avoiding me now, I wanted to do this for him.

"I will get it done."

Mikael gave it some thought, smiled, and said,

"We will count on you, Marius."

"Yes, President."

I left the room after the meeting was over. Everyone gave me a different look. Mikael’s expression told me, ’You can do it, Marius.’ Hilda’s face was saying, ’Do not fail.’ Luka seemed to be thinking, ’Let’s wait and see,’ while Avril’s eyes were filled with doubt.

Doubts.

I was starting to have them, and I tried my best to crush them and store them away somewhere in the back of my mind that shall not be opened again, except after I succeed, just so I can feel assured and say, ’Yes, I had them, but I managed to overcome them.’

Briant told me not to burden Blanche.

I wanted to make Skylark happy, but he was avoiding me.

My gateway, Skylark, was moving away from me while Briant, in my mind, was holding the door closed.

I shook my head and focused.

The best solution was always the simplest one.

I would address this challenge head-on.

So I headed towards the art room. I thought about how I had walked this path the night before in darkness, only to find that the room was empty and Skylark wasn’t there.

Then there was the picture—a cryptic picture that Blanche was painting—that had left a deep impression on me.

I knocked on the art room door and heard Fabian say, "Come in."

I bowed politely to greet everyone as I entered, only to notice that Skylark wasn’t there.

"If you are looking for the Cheese Boy, he hasn’t come here yet," Liesel said, stretching her neck out from behind the canvas to look at me.

"He hasn’t?" I asked.

"No. I found it a bit odd ’cause I thought he enjoyed it here," Fabian said.

"Skylark will come. He doesn’t quit like that," I made it clear.

My eyes then drifted to Blanche, who hadn’t said anything yet and was just focusing on painting her picture—presumably the one I saw yesterday.

I couldn’t tell her that.

But I needed to talk to her.

"Blanche, do you have a moment?" I asked.

"For what?" she said, without taking her eyes off the canvas.

"It’s about the upcoming exhibition," I decided to be straightforward about it.

"The answer is still no."

"Let’s talk it through first."

Blanche then finally looked at me and said,

"That student council badge looks good on you. You must have gotten it today."

"Thank you."

"And it kind of makes me not want to talk," she said in her flat tone.

I was thinking about how to respond to that.

"What a pity," Blanche murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

She really had no interest in the exhibition. I was going to fail at this rate.

Honest and direct—that’s what I would do.

"Would you be more willing to talk if I said it was about Skylark?" I asked her.

Blanche stared at me. Not quite a glare, but a cold stare-down.

Then she said,

"Tsk. Let’s talk outside."

She put down her brush and headed out of the room, walking straight past me.

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