tagSci-Fi & FantasyMajgen Ch. 012

Majgen Ch. 012


I think this chapter of the Majgen series is also suitable as a standalone teaser, for those who have not yet read any 'Majgen'. Until now, I have kept the non-erotic Majgen-story to the Non-Erotic category, to not dilute the hotness of Sci-Fi & Fantasy category here on lit. However, since this series is science fiction I felt I could justify putting this one chapter in this category, even though it contains no sexual gratification.

Warning: Work in progress, this book(-series) is not yet fully completed.


Ottearon Weissme glanced towards his personal student and Syvaron Delk, they were out of his hearing range. Majgen stood exactly where he had parked her. She was the only tenth ranked student at this gala celebration. Her black Pompous Ceremonial uniform, with its grey and silver decorations, was quite eye-catching amongst the otherwise upper to high ranking mentarions present.

"...and I told him, that he would be better off seeking aid in the GHD. Seriously, what was I supposed to say to..."

Weissme turned his eyes back to Ottearon Kilten, who was talking to the small assembly of Ottearons - next to the table with cheese delicacies. The talking Ottearon was a short, vital, white-haired woman -- Ottearon Jarana Kilten -- she was in her late nineties. The story, she was telling, was thirty years old. Ottearon Weissme had already heard this story from her three times before. She only told it on rare occasions, but he had known her for twenty-five years.

Ottearon Weissme would have preferred to keep his eyes on Majgen Rahan, this was the first time he had left her side amongst mentarions since she had become his personal student. He had inconspicuously assigned trusted friends to take turns guarding her while he mingled.

"... and four days later I got a call from Caesar, it was..." Ottearon Kilten's story was nearing its end.

'Rico is quite capable of watching over Student Majgen,' Weissme thought, to himself, in order to resist the temptation to glance towards Syvaron Rico Delk and his student again.

Over the last two months his student's mood had improved greatly. The last traces of diagnosable depression had vanished five weeks previously. Student Majgen was not happy, but Ottearon Weissme considered 'sombre and serious' to be a distinct improvement to 'clinically depressed'.

"You are very lucky to have been transferred to get Ottearon Weissme as a personal mentor, Student Majgen," Syvaron Delk said with a humorous wink.

"Am I, Syvaron Delk?" Majgen made sure to keep her tone neutral, it was not easy for her to keep every hint of sarcasm out of her voice. It would have been wiser for her not to speak at all.

"Yes, Student, you are indeed." Syvaron Delk wasn't paying attention to her emanations, otherwise he would have noticed her disagreement. Delk turned his attention back to the two Seksarons - with whom he was having an actual conversation. By etiquette, Majgen, as a mere student, was required to stay silent unless spoken to by the graduated mentarions.

"It is a rare privilege to be the personal student of an Ottearon, being allowed to festivities like this was not something I could brag of back when I was in the personal student program," Syvaron Delk said, and took a sip of his drink.

"Indeed, Syvaron. As I recall there was very little glamour in my life back when I was in the program," Seksaron Ulpru commented with a smile, "For the six months I studied under Firearon Oneil, the closest I got to food which wasn't synthesised, was to drink orange juice from vendor machines." The other two high ranking mentarions laughed at the mimicry of remembered torment in Seksaron Ulpru's voice.

"Well, Seksaron Ulpru," the other Seksaron, Olav Heinz, started, "I can inform you that I never had a synthesised meal during my time as a personal student under Femaron Hap. I know this for a fact, for I cooked every single meal she and I ate. From scrap! Did I mention that Femaron Hap has the preferences of a gourmet? I spent almost half my waking hours shopping and cooking - while studying under her." Heinz sighed, an amused image of remembered agony.

"After my time with Femaron Hap," Heinz continued, "I developed a strong appetite for ready-to-heat partially synthesised meals, I would probably still be eating those if I hadn't married. I've never recovered from my dislike for cooking, but my wife gracefully accepted my offer to hire an educated cook to make meals for us every second weekday. Which is every day it's my turn to cook."

"I propose a toast to gracious spouses, Mentarions," Syvaron Delk said with a bow.

"To gracious spouses," the two Seksarons echoed, and raised their glasses.

"To gracious spouses," Syvaron Delk repeated while raising his glass.

After the toast, Seksaron Heinz resumed the talk:

"At least I don't have a phobia against brewing mocca, nor adding sugar to same."

Majgen caught the referral to Syvaron Delk's time as a personal student. She had long since learned that Syvaron Delk on many occasions openly joked about his time as a personal student under Femaron Baglian. Apparently the Syvaron's ironic recounts of time spent with Femaron Baglian was a quite efficient icebreaker at social gatherings. Majgen had difficulties keeping her emotions sufficiently calm for them not to be clearly evident through her raised mind shield. She did not approve of the way Syvaron Delk described her former mentor to high ranking mentarions.

"Do you have any phobias against brewing hot beverages, Student Majgen?" Seksaron Ulpru asked. Previously in the conversation, Syvaron Delk had revealed the low ranked student had studied under Femaron Baglian.

"No, Seksaron Ulpru, I do not," Majgen said with a bow.

"After studying with Femaron Baglian, it must have been quite a change to be transferred to Ottearon Weissme," Seksaron Ulpru concluded.

'She has never even met Femaron Baglian,' Majgen thought to herself, still struggling to keep her emotions under control.

"Yes. It was quite a change, Seksaron Ulpru," Majgen said.

"You need not be so timid on this matter in present company, Student," Seksaron Heinz said, "We have all spoken freely of our old mentors. It will not be inappropriate of you to follow suit - even though you are still a student. Feel free to enlighten us of your time with Femaron Baglian."

"Thank you for the gracious offer, Seksaron Heinz."

Seksaron Heinz kept watching her, expecting her to continue. Majgen, however, remained silent. She had been offered to talk, not ordered, etiquette did not demand her to speak.

"Tell me, Student Majgen, while you were with Femaron Baglian, did he still seduce a new woman every chance he got?" Syvaron Delk asked. Majgen bowed deeply to Syvaron Delk in response to the question, however she did not reply until after straightening her back and raising her eyes to meet his.

"That is none of your concern, Syvaron Delk." Her current feelings of anger and contempt towards the Syvaron had become evident in her emanations. Delk noticed this, same as the two Seksarons.

"Don't forget your place, Student," Syvaron Delk warned.

Majgen lowered her eyes and assumed a humble pose.

"As you command, Syvaron, so I shall try to comply, Syvaron Delk," Majgen spoke the standard mentarion phrase in a neutral tone. Making her voice affect humility would be wasted at this moment, where contempt was still emanating from her.

The Seksarons pretended not to notice the Students feelings of contempt towards the Syvaron. In spite of their discomfort they politely continued to converse with Syvaron Delk, for a few moments, before excusing themselves and moving off.

"If you humiliate me like that again, I will request permission from Ottearon Weissme to beat you senseless, Student Majgen." Delk delivered the threat in a low voice when they stood alone.

"I am sure the Ottearon would give you his permission already now, Syvaron Delk," Majgen said, she was in no mood to quiver in fear at the mention of a beating, "However, Syvaron, if you wish for me not to despise you, It would be more advisable to not act so despicably, Syvaron Delk." Majgen clearly felt Delk's anger accelerate to the level of rage, but she did not back down. With her empathic senses she checked that no one was within hearing range. Assured they could still speak privately she spoke on.

"Are you aware, Syvaron, how many of Femaron Baglian's memories of your time with him, I have absorbed, Syvaron Delk?"

"What is that supposed to mean, Student?" Syvaron Delk kept his voice low, but his eyes narrowed to angry slits.

"It means that I know exactly what studying under Femaron Baglian did for you, Syvaron Delk."

"So, you have adopted Femaron Baglian's views as your own, have you?" Syvaron Delk said and thought:

'Immature pup, still wagging her tail for her first master, unable to grow an opinion of her own.'

"I do have an opinion of my own, Syvaron." Although Majgen could not sense with which words Syvaron Delk had phrased the concept to himself, she was perfectly able to follow his thinking through his emanations. "Especially after meeting you in person, and gaining many of your memories of your studytime, Syvaron Delk."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, Syvaron Delk, that without Femaron Baglian's training you would not have been half the mentarion you are today." Majgen raised her head to stare directly into Delk's eyes again.

"It means, Syvaron, that when you ridicule him and what he did for you; you are acting like an immature child."

'That does it,' Syvaron Delk decided, and punched Majgen in the stomach, just below her ribs.

After making her short speech Majgen had little air left in her to be pushed out, and now she found herself momentarily unable to breathe in fresh air. The young woman sank to her knees with a severe pain spreading through her abdomen, which still refused to perform an inhale.

Standing next to her, Syvaron Delk breathed heavily. His fists clenched tight as he fought the desire to beat her further. Majgen was the personal student of an Ottearon. Even though that Ottearon was a friend of his, he had no right to beat the personal student of a higher ranked mentarion -- without permission.

The hall was completely quiet, every mentarion present had turned their attention to the Syvaron and the tenth ranked student. Those who had not seen the violent blow themselves had been made aware of the scene by emotions of surprise emanating from those who had.

Ottearon Weissme hurried to his friend and the young woman.

'Is she emanating?' Weissme wondered with a tint of fear. It was not like his friend to lose control of himself even for a second.

"My apologies, Ottearon Weissme," Syvaron Delk said, as soon as his long time friend arrived, "I should not have hit your student without your permission." Delk forced his fists to unclench, and likewise willed the rest of his body out of its rigid aggressive stance.

"The fact that the student was will-fully and deliberately insolent does not excuse my actions, Ottearon. I beg your forgiveness, and will, of course, willingly submit to whichever punishment you should find suitable for my offence, Ottearon Weissme." Syvaron Delk stared into thin air - above Student Majgen's crouched body - while addressing his older friend.

In the silence after Syvaron Delk's apology, Majgen re-found her ability to inhale and did so with a loud hissing gasp. It was as audible as a scream in the quiet hall. That, and the hissing and gasping noises from her continued breathing, left none in doubt that the student had received a hard blow to the stomach.

If Syvaron Delk had not been his friend then Weissme could have sent the Syvaron on his way, with words of returning to the matter at another time. However, Syvaron Delk was his friend. If Ottearon Weissme should settle this matter in private, then rumours of inappropriate lenience -- towards a personal acquaintance -- would begin to spread.

Ottearon stood still next to his friend for a moment, looking at Majgen while she struggled for air. Then he turned to Syvaron Rico Delk - his friend through many years.

"Face me, Syvaron," Weissme ordered.

Delk obeyed.

"Fold your hands behind your back, Syvaron Delk." A feeling of regret churned within Ottearon Weissme as he watched his friend obey his second command.

'Whatever Majgen Rahan did to cause this, she will pay dearly,' Weissme thought, this promise gave Weissme the strength he needed to punch his friend in the stomach. The younger man fell to the floor in a breathless hump. Ottearon Weissme knew how to put force behind a blow, in his younger days he had taken every single course available to mentarions, including the classes in corporal punishment.

"This settles the matter between us, Syvaron Delk," Ottearon Weissme informed his breathless friend, and every other mentarion in the hall. Still speaking to everyone present he formally addressed Delk again.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I have certain matters to discuss with my student, Syvaron Delk."

Weissme went to Majgen and pulled her to her feet - by her left upper arm. She hardly had enough air to stand. Yet, she managed to stumble out of the hall with her mentor partially pulling, and partially supporting, her left arm.

While Ottearon Weissme pulled her through the halls of the mentarion conference centre, Majgen bravely fought a strong urge to vomit. She still hadn't regained her breath, the pain in her stomach was causing a strong nausea. On top of that, walking, while being dazed from lack of air, induced motion sickness.

Weissme was headed for a taxi gate. At an elevator, Majgen finally got a few moments to catch her breath and get her nausea under control.

'What's wrong with me,' Majgen thought to herself, 'I should know better, I do know better.' In the past, she had inadvertently insulted mentarions on many occasions. But, until a few moments ago, she had never been intentionally rude towards a graduated mentarion.

Ottearon Weissme still hung on to his student's arm.

'She forced me to chastise a friend in public.' Weissme's anger towards Student Majgen burned inside him, he was planning to contain it till they were in the privacy of his apartment.

'I don't know what she did, but Rico would never have lost control without a very good reason. Whatever that reason was, she is going to pay dearly.' Ottearon Weissme felt unusually calm within his rage. Determined. Right then, Weissme felt more clarified and at peace with himself than he had for a very long time. However, he was too furious to notice and wonder why.

Majgen noticed.

'He has semiconsciously longed for something like this ever since I became his personal student,' she thought, 'I've known that for a long time.' Fear was coursing through her, and sadness mingled with the fear. 'I'd wish I hadn't been right. I'd wish Ottearon Weissme was more like the person he wants to be, and less a victim of semiconscious urges.'

The elevator arrived, Weissme pulled her in with his hard grip on her arm, ignoring her attempts to obediently move where he wanted her to.

Majgen focused on gathering courage as the elevator took them to a taxi gate.

The elevator doors opened Weissme pulled her out with him, into Taxi Gate 11. There he let go off her to activate his communicator.

"Taxi gate 11. Now," was the only instructions Weissme offered his Chauffeur.

Ottearon Weissme walked through the taxi gate hallway, and his student followed. None of them spoke as they waited for the hired Chauffeur -- who arrived after a few minutes.

The Ottearon and Majgen left the taxi gate and entered the first class private transportation wagon. Once seated Weissme activated the intercom.

"Home," he said, trusting the Chauffeur to interpret that as Weissme's nearest apartment. Turning the intercom off he looked at Majgen. She returned his gaze. Her mind shield was still raised, but that didn't hide her fear, Weissme easily sensed it through her emanations.

'Of course she is afraid, she knows what is coming,' he thought to himself.

"What did you do?" Weissme was sure she would understand he was referring to her interaction with Syvaron Delk.

"I insulted him, Ottearon Weissme."


"I told him, he was acting like an immature child." Majgen felt a fresh surge of anger pulse in Weissme. Through his emanations she followed his interpretation of her words. 'He is assuming my insult was spoken in front of an audience of Syvaron Delk's peers.'

"I made sure that no one, other than Syvaron Delk, heard my comment, Ottearon," Majgen knew her words would agitate Ottearon Weissme further, rather than appease him.

'The fact that I can follow his line of thought through his mind shield bothers him immensely,' Majgen thought, 'Emotionally that weighs heavier than the fact the insult was not witnessed.'

"For months you have been waiting for an excuse to beat me to a bloody pulp. Now I have handed you that excuse, Antwoine," she said, she almost managed to keep the fear out of her voice. Majgen had never addressed her teacher by his first name. To speak to him without adhering to mentarion etiquette -- to call him Antwoine -- had required a genuine effort of will on her behalf.

"Yes. You truly have," Weissme said, observing his student closely while speaking, "And I will beat you. Severely."

'She is as afraid of pain as she has been all along. Why is she bringing this upon herself?' he wondered.

'I am not too sure myself, Ottearon,' Majgen thought to herself, her growing fear reduced her ability to analyse his emanations, but she was not yet completely unable to follow his line of thought.

"I will do that later," Weissme said, Majgen caught his semiconscious regret at delaying the beating, it was unmistakable in his emanations, he only intended to wait till they were safely in the confine of his apartment.

"Right now," Weissme continued, "I want an explanation for your behaviour. Have you got any excuses to offer for your insolent behaviour?"

Unlike Majgen, the Ottearon had no trouble expressing himself without adhering to the mentarion rules for proper form of address.

"I have no excuses, Ottearon Weissme."

"Any explanations then?" Weissme scrutinised his students body-language, in spite of her fear he had a feeling that she would take this opportunity to get herself into even deeper trouble.

Majgen opened her mouth to reply, but she closed it again without making a sound. She was loosing track of Weissme's line of thought. Her fear had grown to a level strong enough to obstruct her special sensitivity, reducing her knowledge of what went on inside his head to the level of what any mentarion could read from emanations.

'I don't need to sense it to know it though,' she thought, 'but somehow it is worse to assume, even though the knowing is horrible; when what is coming is pain.'

"I do not know why I chose to speak my mind today, Ottearon Weissme. I do not know why I find myself unable to grovel for mercy either. I cannot offer an explanation, Ottearon." Majgen was telling the truth, she didn't understand why she was suddenly acting rebellious.

"In that case: Shut up student," Ottearon Weissme said, and leaned back in his seat, preparing to ignore her presence for the remainder of the ride.

They sat in quiet. Majgen got her fear under control, and regained her special perceptive abilities.

'The Ottearon isn't evil, he just isn't perfect. He can't stand living without privacy. He hates having me as a personal student. And I hate being his personal student. I can't stand his constant guilt for everything he has done to me, I can't stand feeling sorry for him for hurting me. Nobody is perfect. I am not perfect either, but I should try to convince him to transfer me back to Femaron Baglian.'

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