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tixdixl · 8 days ago

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Rule 153 - TWST Ficlet

Words: 3300

Characters: Wén Xiáng, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Riddle Rosehearts, Gia Yugo [ @ramshacklerumble ]

CW: Descriptions of dissociation and memory loss

The sound of turning pages accompanied the murmur of studious whispers. Steam rose from their collective teacups as the smell of peppermint and lemongrass wafted in the air. As the two of spades took a sip of his tea, the Scarabia freshman leaned over his textbook. His finger dragged across the page as he pointed at the text. Xiáng had been explaining the linear progression from one of their homework assignments for Deuce, who seemed to be going up against his personal weaknesses and disabilities as they reared their ugly heads. He barely noticed the porcelain clink against metal as the ace of hearts stirred his tea with a need to fidget.

“This is so boring…” groaned Ace, “why do we even need to learn this stuff anyway?”

Xiáng glanced up from the textbook, catching a glimpse of the frustration written all over the card soldier’s face.

“Dunno,” he answered with a shrug, before resuming his explanation to Deuce.

From across the table, he heard the grumble of disapproval before the ace of hearts interrupted him again, “No, because actually- I’ve never once used the pythagorean theorem outside of school. So then why do teachers act like we need to learn it if it's meaningless? This is no different than a normal school. If I knew college would be like this-”

“What?” came the soft, yet tremoring voice of the Heartslabyul housewarden, “You’d never have come?”

His voice had this quality that could shake mountains. Even when he didn’t raise his voice, he spoke like every deliberate word commanded a space. Few times had Xiáng actually heard the softness of volume actually match a softness of tone. Moreover, Xiáng doubted he had the capacity to truly be soft.

“H-Housewarden Rosehearts!” both card soldiers sounded like they’d been spooked, prepared to be roasted alive.

“Hi Riddle,” piped up the Ramshackle Prefect, who had been largely silent this entire time.

“Good to see you, Gia,” Riddle offered them a smile. A flicker of warmth entered his being as he acknowledged the prefect, before a wave of frigidity overcame his disposition. His gaze resembled wild fire as he reverted it towards Ace. Xiáng couldn’t stop his passive contented smile from falling as he continued, “Don’t tell me you’re planning on skipping, or are you considering quitting altogether?”

“What?” Ace growled, “No- I just don’t get why we have to do this stupid assignment. It’s not like it’s going to help us at all.”

Xiáng and Deuce exchanged a look. They had all collectively just recovered from Riddle’s Overblot. Riddle had stated that he would work on himself and his rigidity. But also, there was a truth that Ace had said some pretty horrific things aimed at Riddle; they both had said things, and truthfully, since he didn’t live in Heartslabyul and wasn’t there when the events unfolded, the Scarabia freshman couldn’t tell to what extent either of them meant it. To what extent they resented each other. And truthfully, he hadn’t even considered it until the two of them shared a look. The thought hadn’t occurred to him that heads could roll until the housewarden had spoken up.

“Have you considered that perhaps you have to learn the foundations before you can apply them?” Riddle challenged him, his ire seeming to lessen slightly- a feat Xiáng couldn’t recall witnessing before.

He blinked, glancing over at Ace to witness the shift in his expression. His brows furrowed, and the slightest bit of a pout threatened to appear on his face. His scarlet eyes, devoid of empathy, grew colder.

“Foundations, my ass,” Ace growled, “it’s just an excuse to have us do busy work.”

With a condescending smirk immediately rushing to his face, the housewarden placed a hand on top of the stack of grimoires seated firmly at the corner of the table. He leaned closer to the card soldier, his face only a foot away from the other’s.

“Then why is it you can’t already enchant a broom to autonomously sweep the space without your presence?” the housewarden taunted him, “If it's so easy, why haven’t I seen you using that charm during your daily duties?”

“...just get a Roomba,” the prefect piped up once again.

Everyone collectively froze. Various expressions of confusion littered the room as the collective turned their gazes to the prefect. The prefect, who had not looked up a single time during this entire exchange, seemed to realize what was happening without seeing it. They raised their head with a completely blank, almost vacant expression - almost akin to Xiáng’s - washed over their face.

“...does it for you,” they explained in monotone, “No magic needed.”

“Riiiight…” Ace coughed, disbelief radiating off his posture.

Xiáng immediately reverted his attention to the Heartslabyul students. Realizing he would have to wait for them to finish before he could continue, he slumped back into his seat, no longer leaning over Deuce’s textbook.

“I never said it was easy,” Ace retorted, scrunching up his face at the housewarden, “Just that I didn’t understand what linear progressions had to do with magic.”

“Would you believe that magic, like science, is mathematical?” the sneer grew ever so largely on Riddle’s face.

“I’m gonna hurl,” the card soldier slumped further into his seat.

Across the table, color drained from the fact of the two of spades. As if hope itself were air, the spades soldier deflated further in his seat. The Scarabia student attempted to offer him the slightest bit of consolation as he placed a hand on his shoulder. They both then perked up just a tad as they caught movement in their periphery. Pulling a seat from across the common room, the housewarden pulled up a seat beside the struggling freshmen.

“What’re you doing?” Xiáng asked genuinely.

“Assisting you all,” the housewarden replied with the smallest of smiles, “It’s my responsibility to ensure that every one in my dorm is able to succeed academically. Ace’s lamentations aside, it looks like your little study group could genuinely use some help.”

“It’s mainly me…” Deuce admitted, nervousness and shame creeping into his posture, “I’m just not getting this sequence right.”

The housewarden glanced up at the Scarabia student, “I take it you’ve been explaining things to him, Wén Xiáng?”

As the housewarden addressed him, Xiáng felt a bead of sweat emerge on his brow. He offered Riddle a nervous smile as he replied, “Trying to anyway.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“I only really understand this method the way that our instructor presented it?” he stated, unsure of himself, “And somewhere around the movement from step 2 to step 3 has Deuce here all stumped.”

“Let me see…”

Riddle gently took the book from Xiáng’s hands. As he watched the moment of his eyes, sweeping over the pages with a speed unparalleled, he felt himself almost zone out momentarily. Time and focus seemed to completely slip away from him until the moment Riddle gently cleared his throat.

“Hey, Ace,” the housewarden asked quietly, “Would you mind pouring me a cup of tea?”

“Sure, is peppermint fine?” Ace asked nonchalantly.

That question seemed to tear Riddle out of his concentration. He paused, slowly raising his head and looking Ace in the eye. Xiáng blinked. Instantly, he felt confused by the expression on Riddle’s face. He wouldn’t have described the expression as cross necessarily. The twitch in his brow almost preparing for the switch to flip. But why?

“Is it herbal?” Riddle asked, his tone a twinge darker than before.

“It’s peppermint and lemongrass,” Xiáng explained, confusion dripping from his words, “It’s a green tea.”

A brief pause fell between them as a rose tint began to flush the housewarden’s cheeks.

“...is that… bad?”

“...Boys,” Riddle addressed Ace and Deuce directly, “Want to explain to me why you didn’t educate the outsider on Rule 153?”

The confusion on the Scarabia student’s face immediately dissolved into a blank stare, devoid of any emotion.

Rules… the silly Heartslabyul rules that he honestly forgot existed. And whenever anyone reminded him that they existed, he not only found himself punished for his ignorance, but when the rule was explained, he found that the rules were… at their core, arbitrary. The sorts of rules he expected the upper courts would use simply to control the average common folk. And worse, while Riddle Rosehearts could run around playing pretend, pretending to be the ruler of a non-existent kingdom and punish those who slighted him with fake beheadings, Xiáng for once recalled the treatment of those back home. Not quite beheadings, but the cruel reality that the imperial courts cared little for the wellbeing of those from his home.

It took little time dwelling on the line of thought before he felt a small surge of magical energy, like a sharp, swift zap of electricity, traveling from his head down his spine. Certainly, this wasn’t the worst reaction his curse had inflicted in recent years. However, the quickness of which it reacted caught him completely off guard. A throbbing sensation in his eye and in his head tore him away very abruptly from his line of thought. Whatever conclusions he had been drawing, whatever dots he had connected, all of it had been knocked away. Like a leak in a dam, his attention now stolen away to try and alleviate the discomfort.

He grew stiff, trying to hide the sensation from those around him. They seemed too engaged in Riddle’s rant about the rule to notice. Then again… he wasn’t watching. And the words coming out of Riddle’s mouth had momentarily resembled the sound of a voice reverberating down a tube.

“It is your responsibility to know and abide by the rules,” Riddle snapped, “Even if he is in Scarabia, he is a guest in our house, which means he abides by our rules.”

Xiáng blinked. His body relaxed slightly as he attempted to loosen his limbs. His eyes drifted toward the cross housewarden, though the right side of his vision had grown blurry and difficult to see.

“Sorry- what’s Rule 153?” Xiáng asked, interrupting the rant. He didn't intend to fully admit his disconnection with the moment, and yet, he genuinely didn’t know and likely had missed it being outlined.

With brows furrowed, the housewarden’s eyes pierced through Xiáng’s head like nails in a coffin. He seemed to study the Scarabia student briefly before his brow twitched, relaxing subtly. Clearly the housewarden interpreted his blank expression and genuineness in his tone as they were, rather than insubordination.

“Rule 153: The only tea you may drink in the evenings is herbal tea,” the housewarden stated matter-of-factly.

“...and who does this rule benefit?” Xiáng asked in a monotone.

Riddle blinked, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“To whom does this rule benefit?” he repeated himself, “I would expect that the aims would benefit the drinker, but in reality, it makes no difference on your health what type of tea you drink. Caffeine intake aside, all of them vary in their beneficial effects. So if the rule pertains nothing to the drinker, who does it benefit? What purpose does it serve?”

In the blur of his vision, he swore he saw the prefect raise their head from their book. And simultaneously, the two card soldiers exchanged a look.

“The Laws benefit those who serve the Queen,” the housewarden stated with full sincerity, “The Queen was always right, and it is our duty to uphold her traditions.”

“So the benefit then has nothing to do with the tea itself,” he remained monotone, “Rather, the benefit to the tea drinkers is remaining in the queen’s favor. Am I mistaken?”

“But of course!” Riddle gleamed, “The Queen’s ways are the only ways! Those who fail to oblige will lose their heads!”

“And what if the Queen’s ways are unjust…?”

“What do you mean?” the housewarden snapped, his frustration slowly beginning to grow like a strangle weed to a flower bed, “The Queen’s ways are just. By keeping rigid order and making sure those who fall out of line are prevented from creating trouble.”

The Scarabia student paused. The mild throbbing in his eye a painful reminder not to let himself get wound up. As he drew in a deep breath, he cleared his mind a moment. Clearly, the conversation failed to make any progress. A brick wall would have moved sooner than their discussion, like a dog chasing its own tail.

Opening his eyes once more, the Scarabia student picked up his cup of tea. A few fragments of leaves floated in a lull across the top of the murky liquid. Its aroma nevertheless potent as it had become lukewarm. As he took a sip, the flavor felt reminiscent of an elastic band to skin. Obviously, he had yet to fully recover. And yet despite this, the flavor seemed to bring him back to center. As much as any roller coaster would, he felt the exhaustion creep in.

Once he had carefully placed his tea cup back on its saucer, his gaze returned to Riddle, who had been expectantly waiting for a response.

“Let’s back up a bit, shall we?” Xiáng offered, deceptively handing the housewarden an olive branch as he smiled gently, “I want to understand what you mean by ‘the Queen’s ways being just’. Can you lay out for me how the system works?”

“Naturally!” Riddle exclaimed, his condescension drenching his words like a towel that’d been dropped into a sink. The housewarden glanced at the card soldiers, “And you both would do well to pay attention.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

He cleared his throat, “The Queen’s Laws have been written in permanent ink since as far back as evidence goes of her reign as one of the Seven. Each of these laws were representative of the culture and the needs of the Queen at the time. Citizens and guests, much like the Curious Girl, were expected to know and uphold these laws at all times- and ignorance was not permissible as an excuse.

“When a law was broken under the watchful eye of the Queen and her Card Soldiers, a trial would often not be deemed necessary unless requested by the defendant. After all, if the Queen saw it herself, there would be no question as to whether or not a law was broken. And by this understanding, many were sent to beheadings on the spot.

“But in the case a trial had been demanded by the defendant, the defendant would be sworn onto the stand and several members of the community would be brought forth to testify. The jury, while present to take notes, often played no role in the determination of the case. This was of course because the verdict came after the sentence. Of course, the King had an opportunity to request witnesses, evidence, or even offer his own opinions. But when it came down to the sentence, the Queen always had the say- the only say, and the final say.”

“So… if I understand correctly, the legal system functions solely based on the decisions and perspective of the Queen, regardless of the evidence, testimony, or actual innocence of the defendant?” The Scarabia student asked before bringing the tea to his lips again.

“That is correct,” answered the housewarden with a smile.

“Then, if the trial has nothing to do with justice, and everything to do with keeping ‘order’ and satisfying the Queen’s whims, how does this constitute a just legal system, with laws that are designed to benefit the people?” asked Xiáng, unwavering in his smile and his tone, “Wouldn’t it be inaccurate, or worse, dishonest, to account the system as such?”

The break in the conversation felt like glass shattering against stone. The color from Riddle’s face drained, as his eyes grew wide. He expected Riddle to fly off the handle in a rage. To sit there, call him insolent. Even go so far as to collar him again. And yet… despite this expectation, Riddle did nothing of the sort. Sure, he stared with an expression of undeniable disbelief but he didn’t immediately scream. He didn’t immediately set fire to the place. Instead, a slow, quiet, almost resistant breath entered his nostrils. His eyes flitted around like a fly, between staring Xiáng in the eye and the teacup in his hand. Another breath entered his lungs before he paused fully. He lowered the textbook in his hands to the table. With a clear attempt to pull himself together, he clamped his eyes shut. His hands wove together with a gesture of regathering composure.

“Well…” he finally said, opening his eyes, “I suppose if we are to use ‘justice’ by its dictionary definition, in which ‘justice’ is defined by upholding and behaving based on what is morally right and fair, and respectful to the people…”

He paused, clearly fighting with himself.

“Then by the logic you have proposed, and the definitions therein, no. It is not a “Just” system.”

The housewarden then smiled, a mixture of genuineness and cocky attitude, “but it is orderly though, by the circumstances, cultures, and needs of the era.”

The opposing freshman held up his hands, as if to indicate backing off.

“For sure,” Xiáng agreed, “I never intended to deny that. She absolutely kept things orderly and lawful.”

“...to your point though,” Riddle cleared his throat, “I do have to wonder… what does justice have to do with keeping people in line?”

The freshman hadn’t fully expected to be hit with the same sort of energy that he was dishing out, especially not by the infamous “Rose Red Tyrant” himself. After the times he’d spent seeing Riddle while studying with his classmates, however, he had come to expect a wit and a keen eye for dissecting the things he faced academically. He had reason to suspect that Riddle probably handled himself in similar fashion when it came to other students too. So… on second thought, maybe he should have expected this.

“Where I come from, people are most willing to agree and comply when they don’t have to question if they’re going to die tomorrow… when they know where their next meal is coming from…” he stated, “People tend to be afraid of what they don’t understand, and resistant to what they don’t know...”

He lost his train of thought. The thoughts in his head felt scrambled, but he hoped that what he could convey made enough sense to answer Riddle’s question. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he rubbed his eye. And as he looked back at the housewarden, he noticed an internal struggle occurring behind those usually piercing eyes.

“Well… even if we don’t agree,” the housewarden side stepped his comment, as if to avoid diving any deeper into that, “I do ask that you try to follow the Rules as you are made aware of them. If nothing else to respect the traditions and culture of our dorm.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ace commented with a groan, “Like he’s aware of literally anything— OW!”

Deuce swatted at the other card soldier, in defense of their friend.

“Be respectful to our guest,” Riddle chastised him, “At the very least, he’s offered to help study with you, which is welcoming enough. Which– we have carried this on for far too long. We’re collectively getting distracted.”

“...and whose fault is that?” Ace grumbled.

The housewarden shot him a glare, as the Scarabia freshman chuckled lightly from across the table. Flipping to the next page in the textbook, Riddle resumed his explanation, as he began to demonstrate a different method of problem solving for their assignment. None of their heads rolled. And… for once, Riddle’s presence overall felt far more helpful than detrimental. Maybe he was starting to change, even if he was kicking and screaming internally the entire time.

~~~

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