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A Master of the Tenth Order, Chapter 7 By ThePhallocrat - thephallocrat@gmail.com
The next few months were some of the busiest of Claudio's young life. He would have described his studies before the incident as rigorous and demanding, but they seemed downright relaxed compared to the daily endurance test that were the private lessons he now received. Usually his teacher was Benedict, but not always, but whoever led the instruction did so with equal intensity, drilling him on new inclinations, incantations, memorized words, metaphysical gestures, and elaborate rituals. He achieved the Sixth Order within a month, and the next six were dedicated to ascending to the Seventh; a process which, under normal circumstances, might have taken him three to five years of gradual study and learning.
Four months into the accelerated training, he was thoroughly exhausted and close to begging Master Benedict for a few days of rest. But it was that exhaustion, in the end, that caused a breakthrough in his magickal understanding.
He was finishing up a grueling four hour session with Master Portia on healing incantations one day, fingers and lips numb from drilling and repetition, when Benedict and Paelomon barged into the room carrying a young boy, each master holding one arm and leg. The boy, an acolyte of perhaps six or seven years old, was weeping in pain; and then Claudio saw that one leg was obviously broken, sticking out at such an unnatural angle that he winced to look at it.
"Forgive us, Master Portia," Benedict said, bowing to the female magicker with great respect. Portia was a formidable older magicker with greying hair and an air of dignity and authority almost to match Master Paelomon. "Lorenzo here has had a little fall from one of the trees in the orchard."
"After being warned about climbing so high," Paelomon added severely. The boy could only blubber and wince in response, so great was his pain.
Portia sighed and stood, "Of course, bring him here and lay him down, and we shall set him right immediately."
"Forgive us, my dear," Paelomon said, "But we were hoping that Claudio here could do the honors of working the healing ritual."
Claudio jumped to his feet in surprise. "Me!?"
"Show us what you have learned in your lessons with Master Portia."
Portia herself nodded contently. "It's a good idea," she said, "He's had enough of the theory and the practice, what he needs is some proper application." The two men set the wounded boy on a blanket nearby while she continued to explain. "A healing in this situation will require confident application of dual incantation, a concept on which you are still somewhat shaky in execution, young magicker."
"But... if I mess it up," Claudio protested, "I mean, he really needs to be healed quickly, I think, he's suffering."
The older woman merely nodded. "Of course, that's the idea."
Benedict saw his pupil's confusion and added, "The urgency may help you, Claudio, no time to overthink it. You must act. We know you can do it or we would not have asked."
As if on cue, Lorenzo cried out again. His leg really did look awful, and Claudio's big heart jumped into action. He had to help if he could. He had been studying the technique for the proper ritual all day, after all. But to study a thing and then to do it are very different matters. Still, he had to at least try.
He moved to kneel near the boy's injured leg and raised his hands into the proper positions. What were the words again? Damn it, hadn't he just spent all day memorizing them? Why would they desert him now? Lorenzo's weeping was quite getting on his nerves now, actually. He was exhausted, he just wanted to sleep. Couldn't the boy have fallen earlier in the day? Or tomorrow?
And then he felt the magick. It existed in the tension between two separate, authentic, but contradictory and competing emotions. He felt genuinely sorry for the boy and wanted with all his heart to help him -- he also, at the same time, was annoyed by him and felt like the pain he was feeling was a bit deserved for ignoring the warnings of his elders. He felt both those things at once, fully and completely, and was two things simultaneously. He didn't know if his intention in the ritual was to help or hurt the boy. It was somehow both.
The magick flowed into him as he accepted this ambiguity, this dual reality. The words he'd memorized all day just seemed to tumble out of his lips as he moved his fingers and hands through the right inclinations without thought, so practiced were the motions. The magick suddenly linked him to Lorenzo, very similarly to how it happened during sex magick, but far less intense and intimate, and the magick pulsed out of him and into the leg gently. The boy's weeping quieted and then stopped, and when Claudio realized he'd completed the ritual, he looked down to see the leg looking straight and true.
Portia brushed past him then to poke and prod at the boy thoroughly, eventually nodding to the others with contentment. "Masterfully done," she said, "A bit rushed, but excellent otherwise. I'll add a little extra treatment to be sure, but it probably isn't even necessary. The leg should grow healthy as the boy grows, too." She eyed Claudio suspiciously, but with pride, "You have impressed me, young man."
Benedict, too, looked impressed. He pulled the boy to the side to allow Portia to finish her ministrations, laid a hand on his shoulder and gave him a significant look. "Some things have just fallen into place for you, I think. Am I wrong?"
Claudio searched for words. In the end, he only said, "People are so complicated!" Benedict laughed, nodded, and hugged him close. After that, he was finally granted a few days of rest from his lessons.
Some weeks later, the Commune was rocked out of its standard routine by the announcement of a Conclave, a gathering of all master magickers, even those serving posts or on missions outside the borders of the Commune. If necessary, a magicker can travel quite quickly, but it still took a few days before the gathering could take place, which was plenty of time for rumors to proliferate amongst the acolytes. To be considered a master and thus receive an invite to the Conclave, one had to have obtained the Eighth Order or above -- and thus Claudio, still working on the Seventh, was not privy to what would be discussed nor did he dare ask Benedict about it. But that did not stop him from joining in with the other young magickers gathering in clusters across the Commune grounds to swap speculations and fears about what it could all mean. None were old enough to remember the last time a Conclave had been called.
There was to be war, some said, though whether the Principality the Commune resided in would be a part, and as the aggressor or the defender, none of the rumors could seem to agree. Still others claimed war was unlikely but that instead the Commune would be called on to travel to new and foreign lands to ease communication and negotiation with previously unknown peoples. These stories Claudio found the most compelling; he loved imagining what new lands might look like and how magickers could help form good relationships with the people there. Like many other acolytes, the idea of war disturbed him. Though he had now studied the history of the world and understood that conflict was all too common, with some very recent examples, some part of him wanted to believe that was all in the past now.
No one mentioned a possible reason for the Conclave that Claudio most feared in his heart: that the gathering was somehow about him and the incident with Johan. It seemed unlikely, from a rational point of view, but poor Claudio was understandably paranoid. Everybody knew of the incident for all had sensed the magickal explosion, just as everybody would have been aware of a bomb going off on the Commune grounds. But, though he got many strange looks and curious faces, nobody had as yet asked him about it directly. Claudio had the feeling they had been directed by the masters not to harass him with questions (for which he was grateful) but the open secret that nobody talked about in his presence was almost worse sometimes. It hung in the air everywhere he went. Worse still was the lack of communication with Johan himself. Had his friend passed his first sex magick test? How did he feel about the Conclave? Claudio hated not knowing.
At least Johan smiled and waved whenever he passed Claudio on the Commune grounds, but he never really stopped to talk beyond a few pleasantries. Once he even hugged Claudio in full view of several of their friends from the dormitory days, as if to prove publicly there was no bad blood between them. But given how deep their conversations had once been and how regularly they had been companions, it left a kind of void that Claudio tried desperately to fill with his studies, lacking anything or anybody else.
He was lonely, it was true, though he barely had the time in his busy schedule to stop and acknowledge it. He dared not try to form friendships with any other acolytes quite yet, and Benedict had lately been all business pushing him through the course of accelerated study. His pursuit of the sexual mysteries had been effectively put on hold while he scrambled to learn all he needed to obtain the Seventh degree of his order. But he still practiced with the candle some nights, finding it easier and easier to ride the wave of pleasure to that point of communion with the Greater Mystery and channel the power accessible at that point towards the candle's wick, and feeling connected to all of creation during this ritual helped somewhat to ease his lonely aching. Sex magick had felt overwhelming, at first, like he could get lost in the flow of power, lose himself, the very thing that had once driven his fear; but to his relief he was growing more used to it, more able to stay in control while still surrendering (a contradiction he could not quite explain even as he did it). Further, he was becoming sure that there were greater levels of power yet inaccessible to him, just out of reach. This only made sense, of course, given he was still a long way from the Tenth Order, but to know it was one thing and to palpably feel the gap of his ignorance within the magick was another. It was like he could hear the echoes of some great chamber, feel its vastness, but couldn't quite find its entrance. It kept him focused, despite the rumors and anxieties rocking the Commune in the days leading up to the Conclave.
When at last all living master magickers had returned to the Commune and had gathered within the oldest and largest building on the grounds, the atmosphere among the acolytes became hushed and solemn, as though speaking too loudly might distract the masters in whatever serious matters they were discussing. Rumors still flew, only now they were whispered. But the pressure amongst the young magickers was swiftly reaching a boiling point.
In the end, the truth was, at least at first, rather more mundane than many of the wilder rumors and many of the younger magickers found themselves vaguely disappointed. At a gathering of all acolytes, Master Paelomon explained the situation, using a tone that was quite businesslike and lackluster.
"The Commune will receive a special visitor in the next few days," the big man said, voice rumbling. Nobody's voice could carry as far as his, he barely needed to employ any magick to amplify it. "The High Marshal, a close member of the Grand Prince's inner council, will be staying here for several nights. He is to be treated with all due dignity and respect as befitting a man of his station. Complaints have been raised to His Grace, the Prince, that we are not welcoming to visitors or tolerant of outside views. This was no doubt the result of an unfortunate incident some months ago -- an incident, I shall hardly need say, that shall not happen again."
There were some murmurs amongst the acolytes. Despite himself, Claudio could not help but crane his neck around the gathering to look for Johan and see his reaction. He caught sight of his friend on the far side of the chamber, lingering near the back, trying desperately to keep his face neutral. Claudio could almost see the red on his old friend's face that he knew for certain was there and felt a pang of empathy. He had not wanted to stay the chief topic of interest in Commune gossip, but he also had no wish for Johan to take his place.
"If the High Marshal questions you, answer honestly. If you do not know the answer, fetch a master. But above all treat him with dignity and respect, regardless of how he treats you. That is all."
But it wasn't all, not for Claudio. Walking away from the gathering, the young magicker was ruminating on this news -- that last bit had sounded particularly foreboding -- when he was stopped by Benedict.
"Please follow me," his teacher said, kindly, casually, but it was clear it was not a simple request. The master magicker's face was carefully composed, revealing nothing. Claudio merely nodded and obeyed. Stomach tumbling, he followed his master into another, smaller chamber. There a small group of five masters, including Paelomon, had gathered. Also present was a young magicker Claudio vaguely remembered from back in the dormitory days, a young man perhaps two or three years older than him, whose name he could not immediately recall.
"I hope you both understand the importance of what was just announced," Paelomon said, diving right in without preamble, "And the importance of ensuring our guest has a smooth stay during his time with us."
The two acolytes nodded eagerly, though clearly still quite confused.
"I implied it was so to the others, but it is confirmed: complaints were lodged to the Grand Prince about the treatment of that visiting preacher," Paelomon sighed. "He has agreed to send a member of his council to `inspect' our order. The Marshal will be looking into the incident but also generally taking stock of our entire Commune to report back to His Grace."
"Report about what, exactly?" Claudio asked warily.
"We don't know. Some verification that we are no threat to outsiders or to other nations. Or to the Prince himself, one should think. We are assured that many guilds and factions in the Principality have been subjected to such inspection, and we are long overdue. But there has been no such inspection of our Commune since its founding, according to our records. However, the Prince implies the inspection will help him dismiss this formal complaint graciously, and we can only take him at his word."
"Who made the complaint, the preacher himself?" the other acolyte asked. He had a soft voice, but still deep and masculine, far deeper than Claudio remembered. But, to be fair, it had been some years since he'd interacted with the man.
"No, this comes from much higher up, I'm afraid. From the Divines of the Cult of the Double God. Their highest leaders, in fact," answered Master Roderick, an elderly magicker with kind eyes and a heavily wrinkled face who Claudio had spoken to only briefly before. Roderick had not been involved in training acolytes in many years now.
Claudio's brow wrinkled in confusion and disgust. Seeing this, Master Paelomon called him by name and said, "Do you have another question?"
"No, master," he started, but then added, "But does our Grand Prince really care what the leaders of some far off religion think or say?" He then realized he'd asked a question after all, despite saying he had none. "Sorry, master, I just don't understand."
"It's a reasonable question," Benedict assured him. "It's one many of us asked as well, at first."
"Firstly," Paelomon answered, "The religion is not so far off as it once was. It's spreading, quickly, and into some lands close to our Principality. Even, to some degree, within our borders -- though how deeply and exactly where we do not yet know. Their wandering proselytizers are surprisingly effective. Secondly, it's not just the religion our Grand Prince must reckon with, but the King of Remusia." He paused for a moment, letting that revelation sink in, then prompted, "Acolyte Claudio, tell us what you have learned of that kingdom from your lessons."
Claudio jolted, wracking his brain. "Everything?"
Paelomon smirked, a reminder of the stern man's hidden sense of humor. "A high level summary will suffice, I should think."
"They are one of the oldest kingdoms on the continent. Um... their lands were the center of a vast empire, a long time ago. They count a wide mix of cultures and faiths amongst their peoples." He trailed off, memory running dry under the scrutiny of so many masters.
"And their military?" Paelomon asked with heavy emphasis. Claudio shrugged and blushed, those details escaping his memory in the moment.
The other young magicker cleared his throat and volunteered, "Formidable, I believe." He shot a kind and apologetic smile towards Claudio for butting in.
"Formidable, indeed," Paelmon agreed, "What you might not know from your lessons is that this Cult of the Double God arose within Remusian borders and the bulk of its adherents are there. Furthermore, it would seem the King of Remusia himself is now a professed believer of their tenets. Or at least, so he claims. And it does seem the Divines of the Cult have his ear. And thus our Grand Prince cannot simply ignore their formal complaint without risk to our Principality's friendship with Remusia, a friendship maintained for our safety. He has already delayed the matter as much as he dares. Well, then. Do you now understand the situation?"
Claudio understood, and nodded to show it, but it wasn't a pleasant understanding. "Surely the Prince sends his representative as a formality? Just to placate them?" He hoped it was true. The Grand Prince had reigned all of Claudio's life and a great deal longer and had always been regarded as a friend to the Commune.
"So he claims," crusty Roderick grumbled, "He protests it often enough in his letter to us. But his choice of man to lead this inspection..." The older man trailed off, shaking his head.
"Little is known of this High Marshal," Master Paelomon explained, "He is a relative newcomer to His Grace's inner circle, having lived much of his youth abroad, serving in both our own armies and for a time, we believe, as a mercenary. Our own representatives have interacted with him but little. He represents something of a new faction at court, younger, ambitious, and not always in sync with His Grace's views."
"The Prince is getting old," Roderick commented. In his age, he seemed prone to add commentary on just about everything. "The young sharks are circling, waiting for the transition to a new age for our Principality, all hoping to be the next Prince."
"Be grateful we don't live in Remusia when the next ruler would be a foregone conclusion," Benedict smirked with crossed arms, "Their king's heir is reputed to be a psychopath. Things aren't perfect here, but at least the Principality has long since done away with this silly notion of the right to rule being conferred by a man's seed."
"The role of Grand Marshal is an important one." Paleomon continued, returning to the matter at hand, "He oversees our country's defenses and the palace guard. Our visitor has risen quickly through the ranks to be entrusted with this title. He has just been appointed Marshal after at last returning home -- before, he was most recently an ambassador."
"To Remusia?" Claudio blurted out, fearing he saw a pattern.
Paelomon blinked at the boy's precocious question. "No," he said at last, "But to Gaullia, which is close enough. He is highly connected on the continent and well versed in the political situation in Remusia and with this upstart faith, no doubt. Reason suggests he was chosen because Remusia and the Divines will be more likely to accept his word than anybody else in the Prince's council."
"You have not asked the most important question," Benedict suddenly prompted, looking back and forth between both boys.
Claudio thought hard. What angle was he missing in this geopolitical puzzle? What else could they deduce about the High Marshal and his intentions? But the other acolyte spoke up and asked, "Why are you telling us two about all this?" and then Claudio felt like a fool. It was a very obvious question, and he hadn't even stopped to wonder about it.
Benedict nodded. "The High Marshal has sent ahead letters of instruction with requests for his accommodation." He held aloft the letter in question, made of fine parchment and written in a flowery, extravagant hand. "He claims that due to old injuries suffered abroad, he is in need of assistance and that his usual assistant cannot, for some vague medical reason, accompany him on this visit. He has asked very kindly for us to provide him with patient, capable young male aides during his time with us."
Despite their relative unfamiliarity with each other, Claudio exchanged shocked looks with the other acolyte. Claudio's face was pale dismay, whereas the other young man's reaction showed more amused surprise. His wry smile, Claudio could not help but notice, was actually quite attractive. He did not remember the young man being so good looking back when they'd both resided in the dormitories either.
"You've put it together, then," Master Paelomon pressed on roughly, as was his usual style, "Good. I've told the others you are bright and perceptive acolytes and I wouldn't want you to make a liar of me."
"Why must his aides be male?" Claudio asked suspiciously.
"Outsiders have a strong sense of propriety about gender, especially in Gaullia where he has long resided. Your duties will have you working in close proximity to the High Marshal's person and he would not accept this as appropriate from a female magicker. One of you will attend to the High Marshal constantly, working in shifts to relieve each other. Your duties shall consist of helping him into and out of bed, which he claims his poor leg makes difficult, accompanying him on tours of the grounds and navigating stairs and any rough terrain, and running small errands for him so that he may rest and not unduly tire himself. You will also sleep in his chambers on a cot so that you will be close to hand should he require anything in the night. There's some flowery double-talk that basically says in as dignified a manner as possible that he's up twice the night to piss."
This was a lot to take in. "How old is the Marshal?" Claudio found himself asking aloud, imagining from that description of his ailments a wrinkly old man with a big white beard doddering along.
"He's barely seen forty summers," one of the other magickers said with a grin, "Some injury he must have. Allegedly." The master snorted then in sarcastic disbelief.
"It's highly likely the injury is real, to some degree," Paelomon countered him, then added, "But we don't believe for a second no suitable young servants of the Grand Prince's staff were available to fill in for his aide. He no doubt wants access to some of our younger magickers, to get to know our up and coming generation. He may assume that you, being younger than the masters, will be easy to get some secrets out of. Well, let him try -- for we have none. He will no doubt question you, examine you closely, test you. Let him. Answer his questions honestly. Hide nothing. Stay patient, humble, gracious. But report the slightest mistreatment to us. We will not tolerate it if he abuses you in any degree -- but I think he knows that should he do so, the Grand Prince will not take kindly to it. Everybody shall be on their best behavior, I have no doubt."
Silence in the room, everybody contemplated the task ahead, and fervently prayed in their hearts that Paelomon's assurances that all would be well were true.
"You still haven't answered my question," the other acolyte said, "Why us? Why were we chosen for this duty?" and Claudio was shocked. He spoke to the masters like he was one of them, but then being a few years older than Claudio he might be close to achieving the Eighth Order and joining their ranks. Still, the confidence from the quiet young man was impressive.
"That is, finally, the right question," Benedict said, smiling.
Paelomon's gruff professional demeanor, the one he adopted when fulfilling his official duties, faded away and the big hairy man grinned widely. He strode forward to lay one hand on each boy's shoulder. "Because," he said softly, "Claudio. Luca." He looked at each acolyte as he said their name. Luca! That had been the boy's name, it had been on the tip of Claudio's tongue since he'd walked into the room, and it was a relief to finally have it. "You are two of the best of us. If he wants to see what the Commune is about, what it truly is, the full potential of our guild, let him see it in you two." The master almost sounded emotional at that last. The other masters present nodded and murmured their assent to the sentiment.
Claudio didn't know what to say. Instead, his mouth just sort of hung open dumbly. Fortunately, Benedict was there to ease the tension by messing the young man's hair with affection, as he often did. "No pressure," his teacher said with a wry smirk.
Later, debriefing about everything over their usual pot of tea, Benedict surprised Claudio further by asking, "What do you think of Luca?"
It was quite a change of topic from their discussion of the Marshal's upcoming visit. Claudio stalled by sipping some tea, then added, "He's grown a lot since we lived in the dorms together. I barely recognized him."
"Did you know him well, back then?" Benedict asked innocently. Too innocently.
"Not really, he mostly spent time with the acolytes his age," Claudio replied, slowly.
"A good looking young man, don't you think?" Benedict prompted, sipping his tea with exaggerated nonchalance. Claudio cocked his head, then slowly narrowed his eyes at his master accusingly, who merely laughed. "What's that suspicious look for, young man?"
"Is Luca, by any chance, a child of the sun?"
"He is."
"And next you'll tell me he's available as a study partner, if I'm interested."
His master raised a hand in defeat. "You've seen through me utterly," he admitted, chuckling, "Though I wasn't trying to be discreet. He's studying towards achieving the Eighth Order. He's a gifted magicker. The masters think he would make an excellent pairing with you. And I agree."
Claudio felt a lot of things all at once. Excitement, sure, but also embarrassment and anxiety and even a little stubborn defiance. "Well, if it's all settled then," Claudio said, "thanks for letting me know." He downed his tea with a little extra edge of surliness.
Benedict, usually so jovial, grew serious. "Of course it's not settled. What I or any other masters think is ultimately irrelevant. The choice is yours. We have strongly recommended you learn the ways of sex magick with somebody who you don't have a strong bond with yet -- for your own safety and theirs -- but that does not mean it can be with just anybody. Or that your attraction, your connection to them, doesn't matter at all. You have to want him. Genuinely."
Claudio thought about it for a while. He tried to picture Luca naked, but only his lovely smile could be summoned up in vivid detail. "I barely know him, so how do I know if I want him?"
"You don't have to know now. I bring it up so you can ... think about it. See what you think, the more you interact with each other."
"Is this the real reason we were the two selected?"
Benedict shook his head. "A happy accident. Paelomon is right, you are two of our best upper acolytes. That's why the pairing feels natural, for both this special assignment, and also for your studies. I think you will get along very well." And on that cryptic note, Benedict sipped his tea and let the matter drop.
Claudio found he both very much did want to practice sex magick with Luca, and also simultaneously very much did not. He would pick his own sexual partners, thank you! But also it meant a lot that Benedict thought Luca was a safe and suitable match, since nobody knew Claudio's taste and needs better than he. A few weeks ago the conflicting feelings would have distracted and confused him far more, but he'd learned a thing or two about accepting two simultaneous and opposite things. For the time being, he tried not to dwell on it and instead focus on the big task again, but preparations for the visiting dignitary required Claudio and Luca to spend a great deal of time together as they learned about and practiced their shared duties. Now, as Benedict intended, Claudio could not look at the other acolyte without his mind wandering.
Did he find Luca attractive? He was a good looking man, certainly. But looking at him didn't make his heart race like when he saw Johan, or Benedict for that matter. He liked looking at him, but he didn't crave anything from him. Did that make sense?
"Of course it makes sense," Benedict said, when finally Claudio asked, "You care very deeply for people, and your sexual desire is intertwined with that emotional attachment. This is more or less true for everybody. Very much so, it seems, for you. It's precisely why it's so important you practice with somebody a little less close to you. Though, knowing you, I'm sure you'll get attached soon enough anyway."
Claudio smiled, not offended in the least. He accepted Benedict's gentle teasing about his quirks with affection these days, given the bond of trust that had formed between them. Not for the first time, Claudio found himself wishing that he could learn sex magick from Benedict directly rather than needing somebody else to partner with. After all, he'd had years to feel comfortable and safe with his teacher, and there was perhaps nobody in the Commune he found more sexually desirable. He knew it was impossible, however -- congress between masters and acolytes was highly discouraged and for good reason.
"Magick generated by a master is intense, it cannot help but be," Benedict had once explained it to him and a group of acolytes in class, some years prior, "For any master, and particularly for those of the Tenth Order, there is no more such thing as recreational or non-magickal sex. Sex magick can be dangerous if generated with a partner who doesn't know how to handle it. For this reason, you must be of the Eight Order before engaging in sex with a master. No exceptions." Benedict had winked at this point, a suggestive, teasing, confident, and kindly gesture. Claudio remembered it vividly, for it had been one of the moments he'd first felt his loins twitch for the man.
"And just in case anybody here was thinking of trying to circumvent this rule, using your youthful charms to seduce a master," Benedict had added significantly, staring down a few of the more sexually ambitious acolytes, "and trust me, you would not be the first to think of it -- no magicker would risk this, so please save everybody the trouble and wait until you are a master yourself. Enjoy your fellow acolytes only, please. I should think that will still provide plenty of outlet for even the most insatiable among you." He gave a significant stare towards Paulo, well known to be the randiest of Claudio's batch, always staring at the girls in the dormitory and often lustfully following some of the female masters around the Commune grounds. Claudio had always felt the little lecture had been for young Paulo's instruction, mainly, because he would never have even dreamed he or any of the other acolytes he knew well would be ambitious enough to try to seduce a master. But it had been at that class, ironically enough, that Claudio had first imagined himself sexually intimate with Benedict, the idea planted in his head precisely by the admonition that it was impossible, and felt the first powerful stirring of arousal from him that he had, at the time, still been too afraid of to acknowledge fully.
Now Claudio could look at his teacher with less fear and more self-aware desire, and think about how his accelerated course of study might mean he'd achieve the rank of Eight Order far, far earlier than he ever dreamed. And that would mean he and Benedict could -- if Benedict wanted to, and he had said once before that he did -- consummate their long relationship quite a bit sooner than either of them had expected. The thought excited him, far more than trying to imagine intimacy with Luca, who was basically a stranger. But if Luca could help him learn what he needed to ascend, to be ready to handle sex magick with Benedict...? It made sense, and he certainly had no objection to Luca (indeed, the choice could be far, far worse), he couldn't shake the doubt, the confusion, the feeling that taking Luca as a study partner would somehow be disloyal to Benedict and, stranger still, to Johan. He wrestled with it in the back of his mind all through the week.
Then, as if by fate, the night before the Grand Marshal was due to arrive, Luca nonchalantly strolled into the showers while Claudio was already there just finishing up his own bathing. He had never remembered seeing Luca there before, had not even considered it could happen. He had also never felt uncomfortable with the communal nudity of the showers before, but now he suddenly found to his chagrin that his face was flushed and his heart racing. Even more so when he saw Luca see him, recognize him, and saw his eyes explore Claudio's entire body, lingering at his crotch for just a second. Saw Luca's eyebrow's raise, suggesting he liked what he saw. The fellow acolyte said nothing, just nodded a friendly hello to Claudio and then turned his attention to his own shower, taking a spot quite nearby and disrobing quickly. Despite having been on the verge of leaving moments earlier, Claudio lingered. His feet seemed glued to the shower floor. His eyes wandered. Luca didn't seem to be going out of his way to obviously show himself off, but he made no effort to not be on display either. Claudio drank in his naked form for long minutes. He was suddenly vividly, viscerally aware of how lonely he had been these past weeks. The void within him seemed absolutely starving, directing its lustful hunger at the man showering next to him.
Luca had a pleasant muscularity, much more so than Johan even, and he wondered what chores or exercises the man did to achieve it. The young man's backside particularly was round and muscular and inviting, he wanted with all his heart to reach out and just give it a gentle squeeze, perhaps even gently part the cheeks to peer within... And his genitals! Claudio, who certainly had enjoyed looking at the private parts of other boys before, had never had the word "beautiful" come to mind in reference to a penis, but it seemed the only appropriate word in this case. Dizzy, sweating profusely and not from the heat of the shower's steam, he realized at last that he was openly and quite obviously staring. He met Luca's eyes, for the man had seen him looking and was happy to acknowledge it. When Luca displayed his warmest, handsomest smile, broad and confident, showing he was not offended to have been so closely examined, Claudio nearly swooned. Only then did he finally dash out of the baths before his arousal became too evident.
Within an hour, Claudio was knocking on Benedict's door. When he answered, the master magicker took in his student's wet hair, his flushed face, his wide-eyes, and above all the anxious aroused energy that rolled off the boy in waves, and correctly deduced more or less what had happened and what this visit was about.
"Luca will do," Claudio said without preamble, as casually as he could. Then he laughed at himself and covered his face in his hands, the blushing beginning in earnest.
Benedict laughed too, and then winked knowingly. "I had a feeling."