History

by Shadowy Star

Chapter 2

Building A Mystery

When Damien returned home that day, he was that much in thought he didn't even notice his mother was back already. Usually Nella di Chiari, the famous heart surgeon, returned home very late in the evening because of her busy schedule. Patients from the whole of Erna came to Jaggonath to be treated by the absolute expert on heart anomalies.

Entering the kitchen, Damien realized there shouldn't have been mouthwatering scents of dinner since it was usually his responsibility to cook it. He smelled fried chicken, potato wedges and salad with balsamico vinegar, and walked to set the table when it finally struck him odd.

"Damien, dear!" his mother greeted, turning around and passing him the bowl of salad.

"Mom," he answered, placing forks and knives in their appropriate positions. "How was work?"

She sighed.

"That bad?"

She shrugged sharply.

When he was done, he sat down, looking at her curiously. She looked tired, that stubborn line between her brows deeper, he noted – her day must have been hard. He silently thanked the Director of the 'Jaggonath Memorial' for kicking her into having a free afternoon. If only his work-obsessed mother would realize the man was hopelessly in love with her.

Damien didn't see any problems with that. Dad's been dead for years, he thought for countless time, wishing he could somehow transfer the thought to his mother, making her stop grieving. His father'd died in a traffic accident when Damien had been twelve but –work-obsessed or not– Nella had done everything in order for him not to feel lonely. And when sometimes work won out, she'd taken him with her. He remembered friendly nurses and intriguing things beeping or humming loudly, small ways in which he'd been allowed to help, countless times of falling asleep in Mom's chair with his head on her desk.

It'd been maybe then, he mused now, that he'd decided to follow his old profession. He had and still did like to help people. He grinned somewhat bitterly. And since Knights weren't needed anymore...

With some difficulty, he shoved those thoughts aside. This was completely Gerald's fault! Usually he was perfectly fine with all those memories, thank you very much!

"Trouble?" his mother asked.

Damien grinned. "If by 'trouble' you mean did I broke something, set something on fire or caused an explosion, then no, no trouble."

She laughed. "You never did such things though there's still that time you stole my car," she had to point out.

"I only wanted to take my friends home!" Damien protested, laughing. "And it was just this once and I was a child!"

"Fifteen."

"A child," he insisted. He'd chosen his pranks very carefully once he remembered he should be playing them. Therefore, no one had ever gotten seriously hurt in the process.

"That, my dear boy, was two years ago."

"Exactly."

She broke out laughing and he grinned, too. Ah, the sweet taste of complete success. He was good at the art of distraction, after all – had learned from the best.

"So, work?"

She launched into complaining about the new addition to her staff – a guy straight from the university, his knowledge all theory and no practice at all but the attitude of a star surgeon, and over it the meal was finished quickly.

Afterwards, Damien cleared the kitchen and went to do his homework, something his mother implicitly trusted him on. The history essay was a piece of cake and the math homework had to be delivered the day after tomorrow and could wait, he decided. Firmly putting the fact of Gerald Tarrant's sudden arrival aside, he tired to focus on the essay. Unfortunately, its subject was directly connected to said Gerald Tarrant which made focusing rather difficult, and he let his thoughts drift away to the first time they'd met in that past life.

Briand had long ago ceased to exist but in his mind the memory was as sharp and clear as back then.

He remembered that dae and his own very careful Knowing, remembered Gerald's obsidian glass shields, remembered how their eyes had met over the seemingly small distance of few meters and the abyss of nine hundred years. He remembered his own challenging smile and Gerald's sceptically curving eyebrow and those pale gray eyes. Learning the true identity of the man had made him despise the other but still, even then, he remembered wondering if something of Gerald's soul had survived and was worth saving. Then came the crossing of the Canopy and their bond and Gerald burning and by then, concern and compassion had replaced hatred and loathing so completely he'd wondered if he'd ever felt them in the first place. He remembered feeding Gerald his blood and his fears, remembered the cold touch of the other's soul back then in the Keeper of Souls' crystal fortress and how he'd welcomed it for reasons he hadn't dared think about until much later when it'd been far too late.

He drew a breath and shoved the memories of his past life aside, back where they belonged – in the past. Then, picking up his pen, he set to finish his essay, carefully avoiding things that could reveal the true extent of his knowledge.

The next day was Thursday and Gerald was early. Walking into their homeroom, he barely avoided a collision with a trio of girls when one of them stopped and turned. She was very pretty, with curls of rich brown hair and dark, almost black brown eyes that actually were drilling holes into him.

"If di Chiari were to welcome me here like he did you, I'd be the happiest girl on this whole stupid planet!"

"Well, then it's fortunate for me you weren't in my place yesterday!" he retorted sharply.

If it were possible to kill with a look the one the girl gave him would be enough to make him drop dead right then and there.

"Youuu," she began threateningly.

"Rosiana, no!" one of the remaining two, a redhead with large light brown eyes, said after a quick look out of the room. "Mes Sander is on her way!"

The one called Rosiana gave him a grin that promised trouble in his near future.

He shrugged nonchalantly. That, in turn, did nothing to make things better and probably only the physics teacher's arrival saved him from some unpleasant fate.

Right behind the elderly shape of Mes Sander, a quite different trio of students entered, led –of course– by a certain di Chiari and the remark that vicious snake of a girl had made caused Gerald to take a closer look at the boy in question.

He was tall –he'd noticed it yesterday already– with the build on an athlete, all long muscles slightly outlined by his clothes, and sun-kissed skin. He wore his pale, almost white blond hair –like platinum, Gerald thought absently, or polished silver,–short which strangely suited his sharply cut face, longish whisps of it falling into the bluest eyes Gerald had ever seen. Broad chest, narrow hips. Yes, he was handsome, Gerald had to admit. Right now di Chiari was walking to his seat, slightly ahead of the twins, moving with an effortless grace unusual in someone this tall. When the other boy turned to place his bag on the table, Gerald was treated to the sight of a broad back and a really nice behind. Definitely handsome.

Then the female twin, Cianna or something, began to talk, drawing the boy's attention to herself. She had a roundish face and waves of reddish-brown hair that fell down to her shoulders and large pale blue eyes that didn't even came near to holding a candle to di Chiari's deep, sky blue ones. She also was rather short, even for a girl.

Her male twin was slightly taller –which still left him rather short for a boy– and had the same hair –cut much shorter– and eyes though his face was slightly more angular.

Then, the bell rang and everyone sat down as Mes Sander turned to the students, having completed a difficult looking diagram on the blackboard.

The class began and Gerald watched the blond boy starting taking notes. Since walking into the room, di Chiari hadn't even looked at him.

Gerald frowned and began to take notes himself.

Damien'd known he was being watched. After a lifetime of being a warrior he couldn't not know when he was. So, he'd watched the watcher in return but being much more adept at it this time, he managed to do so unnoticed.

What he'd seen had confused him. The black-haired boy had looked at him with interest in his pale eyes, yes. Being popular made you recognize those looks. But there had been some clinical quality to it as if he was a rare specimen under the other's microscope. Not even the slightest whisper of recognition he sometimes got even from Senza, not even the unexplainable sense of familiarity he knew he'd caused in Sesyri the first time they'd met. Not even that and he couldn't help but doubt if the black-haired boy was indeed the reincarnation of Gerald Tarrant. The profound relief he'd felt yesterday at finally meeting him melted away on his way to school this morning.

If da Silva wasn't Gerald Tarrant, how long had he to wait? Would they ever meet? What if they never did?

Meeting old friends, acquaintances and enemies had been comforting in a way, regardless the fact they didn't remember. Just meeting them had been enough, and he'd taken it as some kind of an abstract Fate's promise to bring Gerald back to him. For if they were reincarnated, then why wouldn't he?

And so, during an unremarkable physics class, Damien di Chiari, once called Damien Vryce, had to face the terrible possibility of being mistaken. Fate, after all, never played by anyone's rules. And now –unsurprisingly– Fate'd cheated again, giving him a hope, no matter how false, and taking it away the very next day. How very naïve to believe that. Like he was truly a teenager with no experience in life. He felt bitterness rise in his heart and concentrated harder and kept his composure, thanks to a lifetime of self-control and the good, old Church discipline that enabled one to remain calm on the surface even if on the inside, one's whole world was breaking apart. Staring unseeingly at the blackboard he bit the inside of his cheek. No matter what, he couldn't let his control slip. I'm sorry, Mes Sander, may I be excused to break down in the sports hall's storeroom because I just realized I've been completely naïve and stupid even for a teenager which, by the way, I'm not? Yes, I promise to do so quietly. For some reason he didn't think it would earn him anything.

The taste of blood on his tongue snapped him back to reality. Looking down at his notes, he was surprised to see that –though short– they somehow managed to cover the subject of mass and gravity poor Mes Sander was trying to convey to her less-than-enthusiastic students. Physics and gravity – or rather victory over the latter – had brought Erna's first artificial satellite into orbit, after all. He was glad to be here, to live in this time and couldn't help but ask himself what his time's Gerald would have thought of all that. And Damien smiled.

For the rest of the class he resolutely tried not to look at da Silva which proved impossible when the other boy was asked about the equation of motion and from there on, it turned into a competition between them. When Mes Sander asked Damien the definition of escape velocity, he couldn't suppress his grin and neither could the teacher herself, adding fuel to the fire by asking just the two of them regardless of who else might have raised their hands. By the end of physics Damien's mood had considerably improved.

English and history classes passed uneventfully until in Rakhenese da Silva finally had to concede defeat, and Damien frowned. The whole thing had helped to shake off unwelcome memories and thoughts of things long passed, had reminded him that this was a life new and different – and despite Fate's untrustworthy promises it was a second chance.

When the morning classes ended, and they sat under a plum tree, sharing sandwiches for lunch, Cianna looked at him inquisitively.

"So, what do you think of the newbie? Found yourself some competition?"

Damien shrugged casually. He had to admit da Silva was indeed very good at physics. Even if he was a complete failure at Rakhenese. A fleeting memory of Gerald's telescope crossed his mind and he resolutely chased it away. Second chances.

"And where would be all the fun without?" he remarked dismissively.

"Ah, the star student of our grade finally found his match!" Cianna exclaimed, grinning brightly, and Damien silently and violently cursed the former loremaster and her infallible intuition.

Still, he hadn't been a Priest for nothing and his Church-polished rhetorics had saved his life more than once. "Are you trying to set me up with him?" he made, deliberately misunderstanding. "Ci, on his second day here? That's fast, even for you," he continued in mock disappointment.

Cianna had the grace to look sheepish. Her record of unsuccessful attempts on matchmaking was indeed long.

"And just so you know, Jen's better at it." Which was true. Jen's record of successful matchmaking was just as long if not longer. He gave his friend a challenging grin. "And what should I think of the newbie, in your highly valued opinion?"

Senza broke into laughter.

"Don't dare gang up on me, you two! Men, honestly!" Cianna demanded and an angry line appeared between her narrowing eyes. She disliked being not in control of a situation.

Damien allowed himself another tiny grin. The Ciani of old would have known the difference.

"And wipe that stupid grin off your face," she hissed.

"Don't worry, friend," Senza said, voice dropping dramatically. "She's just PMSing."

"Idiot!" Cianna screeched and threw her history book at him. With the same reflexes that made him such a good fencer, Damien reached out and caught the book before it could collide with his friend's head.

"Ci," he said, "don't you think he's got no brain cells to spare by now? Or do you want to saddle yourself with a demented brother?"

And just like that, her unpredictable moods switched. She broke out laughing.

"Good reflexes," Senza acknowledged, used to be the source of his sister's amusement.

"I believe, you're right, oh friend of mine," Cianna sighed dramatically. Then, she turned to her brother. "And what exactly do you think he's the captain of the fencing team for?" she asked dryly.

"Now who's ganging up on whom?" Senza complained and quickly changed the topic at the sight of another angry frown on Cianna's face. "Did anyone read that poem for the literature class?"

"Boring," Cianna said. "What do you think, D?"

"Boring," Damien agreed wholeheartedly. Post Third Sacrifice poetry attempted to be free-thinking and clear and straight-to-the-point but what it actually managed was to be empty and shallow, in his opinion at least. He'd always preferred Revival poetry with its many levels of meaning and emotional depth. Fortunately, Mer Chelny encouraged independent thought in his students and didn't care if they disagreed with him even if he himself was a fan of the former mentioned poetry – or Damien's dislike of it would have earned him his first 1. Not that he cared much but he wanted to study medicine and thus needed a high NC in the end exams as well as later in the entrance ones.

Therefore, without much enthusiasm, he opened the book on the page required and began reading the poem aloud for refreshing it in his memory.

"I like it," Senza said when he was finished.

"Ugh, Sen, how can you? It's so...!" Cianna protested.

Gerald had leaned against a tree, bored out of his skull, when the brown-haired girl's screech had caught his attention. After that, he found himself unable to look away.

The trio sat under a fruit-laden plum tree, three open lunch boxes between them.

He saw the girl throw the book and stared in awe as di Chiari effortlessly caught it before it could hit the male twin in the head.

They were too far away to hear their conversation but that didn't bother him. He spared the twins' banter a glance before his eyes again centered on the pale blond boy. Di Chiari was lazily reclining against the tree trunk, a book on his knees and a sandwich in his hand. With the other, he carefully turned a page, obviously reading a passage aloud. When he was finished, some kind of discussion seemed to break out, the girl gesturing wildly around. The blond boy smiled at that and Gerald's breath caught.

He knew that smile – this kind, beautiful, breathtakingly warm smile. He wasn't sure how but know that smile he did. He knew it by heart, deep down in his core where his being began. How was it possible? Had he seen the other smile? That must be it, he decided and before he could spare it a second thought, he saw the girl saying something to the tall boy. Di Chiari rose fluidly then and stretched, reaching up, back slightly arched, all those muscles taut, and closed his hand carefully around a ripe, deep violet plum. He presented the girl with it and that earned him a smile to which he bowed slightly like some courteous knight.

The male twin –Senza?– said something and Gerald easily translated it from his face. And what about me? Di Chiari grinned and collected more of the delicious fruits to be shared between the friends. Gerald watched the conversation and easy exchanges of smiles, watched the blond boy tilt his head slightly to the side when listening, watched a long-fingered hand sketch something on a piece of paper, watched an absent-minded gesture with which the other brushed his hair out of his eyes.

He watched, period.

"D, don't turn around," Cianna warned softly, "but I think the newbie is watching us."

Damien nodded, never sparing a glance in the black-haired boy's direction.

"I know."

"The question is whom of us he's looking at," Senza picked up her line.

"Well, me, of course," Cianna said, throwing her head back. The practiced gesture caused her hair to tumble down around her face in a cascade of brown locks. "Why would he look at you? Our friend here is a completely different story. He's handsome, for one," she went on. "Which doesn't apply to you, Sen." And she stuck her tongue out at her brother.

This might have resulted in another fight but the bell rang, heralding the beginning of the afternoon classes and the three rose, picking up their boxes.

On their way to class they were joined by Hassetha.

"I hate math," she complained for the second time this week.

"What else is new, Sessa, friend dear?" Cianna said, smiling and Damien watched the slightly hurt look in the golden eyes turn to adoration because Sessa was their sibling name for the other girl, given by Ci and himself in their third grade, according to rakhene tradition, and the closest Rakhenese had to a nickname.

He wondered if he should simply tell Cianna her best female friend was attracted to her but decided not to. Playing Cupid was something for Jen. On the other hand, he could tell Jen and let the little devil in disguise of his fourteen-years-old cousin decide what to do with that particular piece of information. Yes, he thought with an evil grin. Poor, poor Ci... On the other hand, Ci had tried to set him up with various girls and boys in the past and revenge was indeed sweet. He gave the rakhene girl a grin of conspiracy and support.

At that, Hassetha bobbed her ears twice – the rakh equivalent of a curiously raised eyebrow.

Damien turned his head slightly to the left, then nodded once, indicating that he didn't want to talk about it right now but might want to in the future. Had he been Rakh, complete with long mobile ears, he'd been able to transmit the exact degree of that 'might want to'. Rakh body language was completely different from human, or even feline one. Not that they relied on it as much as they'd done in the past, probably due to the loss of physical and cultural separation since the Canopy dissolved long ago.

"Are you sure you weren't Rakh in some previous life?" Senza asked, annoyed. "All that nodding and turning!"

"Completely sure," Damien answered, hiding his eyes. Conversations on reincarnation weren't on his top-10 list of favorite activities right now.

Gerald watched the little exchange between the blond boy and his rakhene friend with curiosity. His former school was for human students only –which at least in his well-qualified opinion explained him constantly failing to grasp the finer points of Rakhenese– and he found himself uneasy with the rakhene half of the student body. Di Chiari didn't seem to have that problem at all. Gerald wasn't good at reading rakhene body language but was sure something important had been expressed. Then the male twin said something and for some reason, the blond boy looked away as if hiding something that could be read in his eyes. He only saw it because he concentrated on the other boy since said boy's stupid friends didn't seem to have noticed.

Then, the four of them walked in and Gerald followed. Because he was closer now he was able to hear bits of their conversation that seemed to center on the rakhene girl's dislike of maths and the upcoming test next week – the first one this term, apparently.

"–so unfair!" the girl exclaimed.

"Ears loose, Sessa," the female twin said and the other girl relaxed slightly which made Gerald remember the saying's meaning.

"Don't worry," the male twin said. "I believe the test'll be easy."

"Easy for you, you mean," the female Rakh said.

"I'm sure Ci here will help you," di Chiari remarked lightly, a slight smile curving his lips. This smile didn't seem familiar and Gerald dismissed the earlier feeling completely.

And then they walked to their respective seats and the conversation was obviously postponed.

Twenty minutes later Gerald was still staring down at the text he knew he should be reading. Literature wasn't exactly his favorite class and he disliked post Third Sacrifice poetry passionately but that made a poor excuse for his current inability to concentrate. Sure, his new class mates were a real pest, still, he should be perfectly able to follow the teacher's voice.

Somehow, all he could concentrate on, was one head of pale blond hair two seats to the left. Damn it all, he thought when the other boy was asked to recite a passage from memory – most probably the same one he was reading during the break.

Di Chiari stood and began, the rest of the class turning their heads to look at him.

When the first words left the blond boy's lips, Gerald forgot how to breathe. It wasn't a voice a student should possess – di Chiari's deep tenor flowed like cream and warm honey. The schooled, refined cadences were more fitting of a stage actor or someone used to giving public speeches. His intonation was perfect, catching and carrying the rhymes of otherwise unremarkable piece of poetry, his voice rose and fell, somehow filling the lines with undeniable energy, strength and feeling. Gerald could have listened to that voice for hours.

"Thank you, di Chiari," Mer Chelny said with a grin far too mischievous for a man his age. "It pleases me to know that you can put some effort into this even if you strongly dislike the subject."

A wave of chuckles swept through the class – apparently the boy's opinion was well known as well as the teacher's sense of humor. Such a shame, Gerald mused. If the other wasn't interested in literature... He himself loved Revival poetry and a few chosen authors of the era that ended with the Second Sacrifice. Such a shame, indeed... A small part of his brain piped up and wondered what the thrice damned Hell he cared. He shook his head to silence it.

"And now, my students, care to tell me the poet's intention?"

The male Blackwood twin raised his hand and then stood, launching into explanation and Gerald tuned him out.

Di Chiari chose this moment to turn his head and their gazes met. The other's eyes were laughing and Gerald felt as if charged with a great amount of electricity. He tried to stare the blond boy down – just to prove a point and challenge entered those blue eyes. They looked away at the same time when someone two seats ahead dropped their book so it could be considered a draw. Damn! Was he bound to expletives each time he looked at the other? He shook his head again, and with a lot of determination managed to immerse himself in the lesson. The last twenty-four of the class' fifty minutes were spend with alliterations and other forms of metrical speech and busily avoiding looking at the blond boy.

Then, biology class came and di Chiari obviously had decided to surprise him even further – probably just for fun, Gerald thought grimly ten minutes into the lesson. Biology was his strongest subject and his absolutely favorite class. However, he seemed to have found himself some competition again because the other boy had just very swiftly and effectively proved his own expertise. He refused to be impressed.

"We're back to different ecosystems of Erna this year. Consider it revising for the exams," the stern-looking biology teacher, Mer Larking, had begun. A collective groan had swept thorough the biology room. "Mes Tavir, please enlighten your classmates on the different kinds found on Erna and summarize the differences from Earth."

A strawberry blond girl had stood and explained as she was asked, clearly familiar with the subject and enjoying it. Her answer was profound, Gerald had to admit.

The teacher nodded.

"Very good, Mes Tavir, a 5. And now, di Chiari, please explain to your incompetent co-students by which external factors ecosystems are controlled and how, again outlining the major differences?"

"The most influential factors are climate and the parent material which forms the soil. For example, climate determines rainfall patterns and temperature which, in turn, determine the amount of water available and the energy supply due to influencing photosynthesis rates. This, in turn, has a direct impact on phases of reproduction as any potential offspring will have a better chance to survive during periods warm and rich of nourishment. On Erna, contrary to old Earth, the third important factor is the fae. As seen in many examples, it can and did increase the speed of the evolution itself. While it cannot alter the soil on its own, it can be used, as seen in the creation of the Forest, to alter it accordant to the fae user's intention. It has been also discussed if large amounts of minds set onto the same goal – whether consciously or not – might be able to change even weather patterns over long periods of time, an assumption that might prove correct, seeing as the former rakh lands had a distinctly different climate that was more accommodating to their physiology."

"Again, a 5, di Chiari," Mer Larking said, his tone clearly showing he'd expected as much. "Now open your books on page 14. We'll be looking into the ecosystem rain forest first."

Writing down the main characteristics of rainforest, Gerald mused he'd need to study harder, with a competition like this. And still he refused to be impressed.

Damien noted the annoyed frown on da Silva's pale face with pleasure. If he'd ever needed proof the black-haired boy was Gerald Tarrant that was it. Gerald had always hated being bested at something, competitive down to the core.

But what if the other wasn't Gerald? What would he do then? Because the similarities were strong enough to slowly drive him insane. Even the other boy's physique reminded him of his Gerald. Da Silva was slender as Gerald had been if not as tall, pale skin like Gerald's, pale eyes like Gerald's. Those eyes... Damien swallowed against the pain. Da Silva's eyes were the same startling shade of light, almost silvery, gray he remembered so well.

He sneaked a glance across and saw the other immersed in his book. And even the tilt of his head was somehow …. well, not exactly familiar, he'd never seen Gerald Tarrant read or study after all but it was something he easily could picture his lost love doing.

Damien remembered realizing he was in love with Gerald. Nothing had happened, they hadn't even been in danger yet the moment he'd looked at the other and thought, Hell, I'm in love with him, was etched into his very soul.

"Mes Akava, Mes Peters, as interesting as new nail polish colors may appear, they won't get you a 5 in this class so kindly remove the magazine and concentrate on your work. Oh, and Mes Sagan, don't you forget I know exactly who said magazine belongs to," Mer Larking drawled, effectively interrupting Damien's trip down the memory lane.

For the rest of the class, he firmly made sure to concentrate on ecosystem parameters only. Even later, putting away his textbook and pens, he stayed focused on his friends, and dutifully laughed at Sen's jokes.

Naturally then, Fate –or God, or Hell or all the Iezu, long ago dead, or his own messy subconsciousness– made sure he failed.

Damn.

When classes ended, Gerald shot the blond boy a look from behind his book. Di Chiari was talking to the twins and the rakhene girl and the male twin was telling a clearly old joke because the group burst into laughter before he could even finish.

And didn't the blond boy's laugh do something funny to Gerald's insides. Then, an irrational thought followed – that the other didn't laugh enough and it was somehow his fault. He shook his head, dismissing it as completely illogical, he knew the boy for one single day and only in passing, how was he to know if the other laughed enough? And even now, di Chiari's lips were laughing but his beautiful blue eyes weren't and somehow it wasn't right, the other's laugh should be warm and honest and now it wasn't and where the Hell were those thoughts coming from?!

Angry at himself, he threw his bag over his shoulder and rushed past the group, looking anywhere but at di Chiari because it seemed like the best idea ever.

Of course right then, it turned out to be the worst idea ever as he stumbled over someone's stupid sports bag and would've landed on the floor face first if not for di Chiari's fast reflexes.

He found himself face to face with the other boy, a strong arm still around his waist.

Damn.

TBC...

Extra Notes:

1) The way students address each other depends on the level of familiarity: f.e. Damien addresses Cianna and Senza by their nicknames because he knows them from the kindergarten. He addresses his team members by their first names because they are friends or at least acquaintances. He addresses Jaxen&Co. by their last names because he doesn't know them well (well, he does but can't show it) and because he dislikes them. The usual way to get to call someone by their first name is simply to ask. This might remind you of Japanese schools (minus the honorifics) and correctly so. I thought it would make a good tradition in a school with students from different species. Standing up from your seat when called by the teacher is also a common practice around the world.

2) Yes, I picked a different academical grading than the usual A-D/E. This isn't Earth, people. In this, 1 equals E (failed completely), 2 equals D (below average/failed), 3 equals C (average/passed), 4 equals B (above average/good) and 5 equals A (excellent/outstanding). The grading system is in no way my invention – it's standard in some parts of the world. I left out the additional marks +/–, however.

3) The NC (numerus clausus) system I came up with is basically a crazy mix between Finnish and German ones. Simply put, in Finland you need to have high scores in your entrance exams and in Germany you need to have high scores in your high school diploma grades to gain admittance to study (of course, both methods are lots more complicated but I decided to ignore those parts for the Ernan system).

4) The whole biology stuff is straight from my own old biology textbook. Except the fae part, of course. *laughs* That's all my own and if you want to copy it be sure to ask for permission first.

5) Title from the eponymous song by Sarah McLachlan.