Chapter Text
“Got mail, Leona! Package.”
In front of Ruggie, stretched out on one of the lounge chairs in the common area, Leona blinked open his eyes. Ruggie didn’t bother waiting for Leona to be ready, but instead just dropped the package on his lap, ignoring the glare he got in return.
“Palace?” Leona asked.
Ruggie yawned, plopping down on the adjacent lounge chair. “Seems like it. Normal care package thing.”
Must be nice, getting one. Not like Ruggie would know. Usually he’d be the one sending things home to Gram.
Leona had popped the tape open with his keys, was rooting around in the box. Pulled a letter out of it, tossed it down on the ground next to him, where Ruggie was happy to pick it up and start tearing it open.
“Cute little drawin’ from Cheka here,” Ruggie said, and laughed at Leona’s ears flattening as Ruggie held it up.
“Mostly snacks, this round,” Leona said, ignoring Ruggie’s words in a way that felt personal.
“Anythin’ for me?”
Leona made a disgusted noise, tossed a package of candies to the side. Ruggie, scrambling, caught them before they could hit the ground. “They’re Cheka’s favorites. Keep lettin’ the kid put ‘em in even though Neji knows I don’t like ‘em.”
Ruggie held up the bag, peered at the candies. Bright red, individually wrapped. Hibiscus sweets? Couldn’t be the spicy baobab ones, Leona liked those. “Well, luckily you got someone who will take them off your hands. At no charge, even.”
“They taste like eatin’ actual flowers. Actual herbivore food. You’re welcome to ‘em.”
“Hey, food’s food,” Ruggie said, pricking his ears at Leona. The growl he got back was just as expected.
Ruggie was having a good week, all told. Free food, not too many chores from Leona, and he even understood what was going on in history for once without Leona reexplaining in terms that made more sense to him. Just Spelldrive club practice to get through, and then Ruggie could usually convince Leona to buy the club members something nicer for dinner afterwards as a reward for getting through the week.
He’d set up for stretches near Leona, as he usually did. Made it easier to run and grab something last minute from the equipment room if Leona asked him to, as Leona often did.
Caught the look Leona was giving him, even before the lion beastman asked, “What you got in your mouth?”
Ruggie stuck his tongue out, let Leona see the candy rolling around on it. Watched, with immense satisfaction, Leona shudder and turn away, saying, “Don’t know how you can eat those, ‘specially before practice. Taste never comes outta your mouth.”
Ruggie shut his mouth, grinned. “Food’s food,” he said, echoing the previous day, and laughed, making Leona’s ears flick back grumpily.
“Better swallow that before you choke on it,” Leona said, jerking his head toward the field. “Laps first.”
“Yes, boss,” Ruggie said, and crunched the candy between his teeth.
Truth be told, they wouldn’t be his first choice for candy either. Hibiscus candies as Ruggie suspected, like they sell in the Raintree Market, but with the sweetness dialed up to one hundred, which was probably why a certain five-year-old prince liked them so much. A bitter aftertaste too, layered under all the floral notes that did, as Leona said, linger in the mouth.
Still, he was never going to turn down free calories, not when a next meal was never a guarantee. And annoying Leona was always a plus.
Ruggie cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled to the rest of the club, “Boss says lap time, cubs!” He took off running.
Midway through practice, a headache set in. Maybe reveling in the good week had been a little premature.
They’d been running drills, the kind of practice that got a little mindless after a while. Throwing discs, catching discs, speed drills on foot and on broom back and forth down the field. The last one, all sharp broom movements, could probably be blamed for the way it felt like a pair of fingers were slowly pressing harder and harder against Ruggie’s eyes.
Leona called a break before starting up a scrimmage match, and Ruggie’s head pulsed as he touched down. Stomach was starting to talk to him too. Hopefully wasn’t getting sick. Stomach bugs were a horrific waste of food.
Had to blink a few times as he grabbed his water bottle, trying to press away the pain with the pressure of his eyelids.
Didn’t notice Leona in front of him until the lion beastman was asking, “You good?”
“Mmhm,” Ruggie hummed, swallowing water. Lowered the bottle, continued, “Little dehydrated, I think.”
Leona’s eyebrows were lowered, looking at Ruggie with an expression Ruggie didn’t like. “If you take a tumble ‘cause you’re not drinkin’ enough water, I’m not catchin’ you.”
“Sure, Leona,” Ruggie said, capping his water. “Scrimmage orders?” Almost definitely the reason Leona had approached him in the first place.
Leona’s gaze rested on Ruggie a few more moments, then he inclined his head. “Want you on defense. Let the kids get more practice stealin’ the disc.”
“Got it, boss.” Ruggie could handle that.
The freshmen were getting better, all things considered. Ruggie had to dip his broom, sink down quick to prevent the disc being snatched by Epel, who had been coming at him at a speed that Coach Vargas would’ve probably gotten worked up over, had the man been there. One of the fastest freshman fliers indeed.
Good thing Ruggie was quicker, even on a bad day. The disc was winging out towards the other side of the field before Epel could turn his broom around, and the unchecked rage in the kid’s eyes made Ruggie laugh.
Defense wasn’t his favorite, not when the best part of Spelldrive was pushing his broom to ridiculous speeds, but with how queasy his stomach was starting to feel, perhaps it was for the best.
You could usually track the disc not by looking for the flying bit of metal, but the way players moved around it. Rookie mistake was rushing for the disc no matter where it was on the field rather than waiting for opportunity, but the disc still made ripples through the players on the field, like they were drawn in by the gravity of it whether chasing it or not.
Where was the disc? A Savanaclaw second year zipping up the field confirmed it, even before the second year turned and caught the disc in a pass up the field. Coming back towards Ruggie’s team’s goal.
Ruggie ducked, swooping under a few other players to take a space that’d been left empty by a defender rushing to confront the second year. Backed himself out enough that he had a clear view of the field.
And —
A flickering, at the corner of Ruggie’s vision. A creeping sensation on his skin. Felt almost like — like —
Ruggie shook his head, ignoring the pulse of pain. Reality snapped back together, sound Ruggie hadn’t even realized had faded coming back in a roar of wind and spells and player shouts. He glanced aground.
And the disc was on the opposite side of the field again? When’d that happen?
Ruggie didn’t realize his broom had stilled until a blur of Scarabian gym clothes went whipping by him. His stomach churned, a sour taste creeping up into the back of his throat. Had to swallow hard a few times.
He was —
He was —
Someone called his name, and he jerked his broom around. Spelldrive, right. Where was the disc?
A shot with Leona’s crushing power launched the disc up the field towards Ruggie’s goal. Ruggie’d thought they were letting the freshmen get some practice, but Leona could never help himself.
Ruggie threw out a burst of wind magic, strong enough to knock the disc off course, sending it titling towards one of Ruggie’s teammates. Only got a split second of satisfaction, and then pain lanced into his skull.
His hearing went out with a wash of noise like static, and he had to slam his eyes closed as his stomach rolled again. Almost gagged, but choked it back. For one long, unsettling moment, it was like he was floating in untethered space.
And then things faded back in.
There was yelling, when Ruggie could hear again. He’d pulled his broom up and away from play, something automatic and unthinking. His stomach hurt. Something was up, huh?
Needed to get through the game. Would deal with it then.
Near the goal, Keeli, the Savanaclaw third year that’d ended up with the disc, was whirling in the air, looking for someone with a clearer shot. It was a free patch of air Ruggie’d drifted himself into, up above the majority of the movement. Meant a clear line from the third year to Ruggie, and from Ruggie to the players on the other side of the field. He was the logical pass to make, and Ruggie was calling, “Open!” before he could stop himself, more habit than conscious thought.
But his vision rippled again. Blinked once, twice. And then Leona was level with him, a handful of meters away. Ruggie hadn’t even seen him move. Hadn’t even realized he was on this side of the field now.
“Ruggie! Here!” someone distant shouted.
There was a look on Leona’s face. Something was wrong?
Where was the disc?
Leona, shouting — “Ruggie, oi — ”
And the disc slammed into Ruggie’s shoulder, knocking him off his broom.
They’d trained the soft-fall spell endlessly. On themselves, and on others. No room for mistakes, not when play was sometimes five stories in the air, and so all the more chance for an unbroomed player to fall safely if everyone was trained, knew to cast it as soon as someone was unseated. It was an automatic reaction at this point, at least for Leona.
Ruggie dropped too quick for Leona to move his broom the few yards to catch him, but spells moved quicker than brooms. Ruggie wasn’t even halfway to the ground before Leona’s spell hit him, shortly followed by a flurry of others, and the spells brought him touching down gently to the pitch, back to the grass.
Leona barely realized he was diving to the ground until his feet hit the field. Ruggie was already trying to get up by the time Leona landed, but it was like his arms couldn’t hold him up no matter how many times he tried to prop them under himself. His feet scraped the turf ineffectually.
“Stay still, idiot,” Leona said, dropping his broom to the side and kneeling in reach of Ruggie’s shoulder. “What in the stars was that? You’re supposed to be the one I can trust on a broom.”
“Don’t know,” Ruggie said, more a whine than anything else, eyes pressed shut tight, ears back against his head. Leona didn’t love the way his chest was heaving, exaggerated, labored breaths.
“He said he was open,” said a voice behind Leona, the Savanaclaw third year that had whipped the disc Ruggie’s way, and Leona would deal with that later.
He should’ve called a time out, he’d known something was up with the hyena as soon as he wasn’t playing right, the weird stuttering broom movements, the sudden pull away from play. “Open your eyes, Ruggie,” he said, tapping at Ruggie’s arm a couple times. “Need to see something.”
Something was still up with the hyena, more like. When Ruggie complied, opened his eyes with a near immediate wince, his pupils were blown wide. Ruggie blinked a couple times before he was able to focus on Leona, saying, “Leona, what…?”
“You hit your head or something?” Leona asked. It didn’t make sense, was the thing, no one had seen him get clipped by the disc or tapped with a broom handle, and all of that was an immediate grounding if it happened. They had to take that seriously, that far up in the air. But what else — ?
“Leona?” Ruggie’s eyebrows were pressed close together, gaze unfocused again, flicking back and forth like he wasn’t even seeing Leona. Chest heaving, like he couldn’t get enough air.
Leona’s stomach churned, frustration swelling. “Where are you hurt, Ruggie? What’s goin’ on?”
Ruggie’s hand was grasping at his stomach, rather than, as Leona would’ve expected, at the shoulder that had recently had a metal disc slammed into it. “Don’ know,” Ruggie slurred. “Hurts, boss.” And then his eyes rolled back in his head, ears going slack.
“Hey. Hey! Ruggie, I need your eyes open, now.” Leona jostled Ruggie’s arm, only succeeding in knocking his hand off his stomach. And Leona’s hand was on Ruggie’s cheek, tapping, tapping, tapping. “Ruggie, can you hear me?”
No response, Ruggie’s eyelids fluttering, but not opening. Leona’s hand went to under his chin, finding a pulse that was rabbit-fast.
Leona jerked his head up, looked around. Eyed a Heartslabyul sophomore that he knew was fast and would listen to directions. “Ira, run, get the nurses,” he ordered, and the boy nodded and took off running.
His eyes swept around further, landing on a freshman, one of the closer players that had slowly surrounded them as the club members sunk back to the pitch.
“Epel, c’mere. Got your phone on you?” At Epel’s nod, Leona continued, “Need you to write some things down, got it?”
As annoying as the multitude of first aid courses Leona’d been required to take to be team captain had been, at least they made the steps rote and mindless. He gave Epel Ruggie’s heart rate (too fast) and breathing rate (too fast.) How long for Ira to get to the mirror, then over to the infirmary to get the nurses? Five minutes at a sprint?
Leona’d unbuttoned Ruggie’s gym uniform, pulled back the collar of his undershirt, trying to get a look at his shoulder, when Ruggie’s breath hitched, his eyelids shuddering again.
“Ruggie? You hear me now?” Leona asked, tapping lightly on the side of Ruggie’s jaw with the back of two fingers. Waited a second.
And, suddenly, the hyena’s whole body jerked, his belly heaving. He spluttered, and bloody chunks of something spattered from his lips. “Shit,” Leona snapped, grabbing at Ruggie’s shoulders and heaving him onto his side as the hyena convulsed again, vomiting up more bloody puke.
Leona had to keep one hand on Ruggie’s shoulder to keep him from fully collapsing into his own sick, trying to keep his own stomach from rolling as Ruggie’s emptied itself in front of him. Finally, after a few more heaves, nothing more than bloody bile dribbling to the grass of the Spelldrive pitch, Ruggie went completely boneless. Unconscious.
“What’s wrong with ‘im?” Epel said next to Leona, his voice small and stunned.
Great question. Leona tugged Ruggie backwards, away from his own vomit but keeping him on his side. Ira better hurry his ass up —
A couple pops, air suddenly forced out of a space, and they were surrounded by school nurses.
With them came a flurry of movement. One nurse was suddenly between Leona and Ruggie, saying, “You’ll need to give us space to work, folks.”
Something in the back of Leona’s brain — some sudden voice, irrational and loud — wanted to protest, to refuse to let Ruggie’s face out of his sight. Still, the rational won out. He let himself be shepherded back, even hooking Epel’s collar and tugging when the freshman didn’t get back quick enough.
And Ruggie was surrounded. A knot settled somewhere in Leona’s belly.
“Mr. Kingscholar?” a nurse was asking him, clipboard in hand. “I understand Mr. Bucchi fell from his broom. Can you give us any more detail?”
“Sure.” Leona gave a quick rundown: the off behavior pre-scrimmage, the confusion while in the air, the collision with the disc. His heart and respiratory rate, Epel rattling off the numbers dutifully. The vomiting, and Ruggie’s potential aspiration of it.
“Did he hit his head?” the nurse asked.
Leona shook his head. “No, or if he did, it was when no one had eyes on him. We take that shit seriously.”
“I’m sure you do, Mr. Kingscholar.” The man said it genuinely, not meanly, but it still made Leona’s teeth clench, his tail flick. And then, “Give me a moment please?” The nurse was turning away from Leona as he said it, his attention flagged by one of the other nurses kneeling by Ruggie. He crouched down next to the woman that had called him, had a quick, whispered conversation. Like this, Leona could only see glimpses of Ruggie through the flurry of movement.
The nurse was back soon enough. “Do you know the last time Mr. Bucchi ate or drank? And what?”
“Been drinkin’ water all practice,” Leona shrugged. “Don’t know about eatin’. Why? What’s wrong with him, you think?”
The deep breath the man took felt loud in Leona’s ears. “Too soon to say for sure, but when we see respiratory distress, regurgitation, rapid heart rate, dilated pupils, we start to look at possibly ingesting something toxic.”
“Toxic? What, like he poisoned himself?”
“Yes, or possibly an overdose. Is there a chance Mr. Bucchi has eaten something unfamiliar lately? Or didn’t mind lab safety in alchemy?”
“I mean, Ruggie’ll eat anything, but he’s not stupid about it. He’s not gonna — ” A spark of a memory, the exchange before practice Leona hadn’t thought twice about. “Wait, he was eatin’ — eatin’ candy — ”
Candy from Cheka —
“Epel!” Leona snapped, too loud.
The kid appeared at his elbow near instantly, all anxious energy. Probably had never gone all that far to begin with. “Yeah, Captain?”
“Get Ruggie’s stuff from the locker room. You know which locker is his?”
“Yeah,” Epel confirmed, and was immediately running across the field.
“Mr. Kingscholar?” the nurse asked, looking at him with eyebrows lowered.
“Got a hunch. You get what maybe poisoned him and you can figure out what it is?”
“As long as it’s not completely obscure, yes, we can test for it. Poisonings aren’t as rare as they should be at Night Raven.”
Wouldn’t be, not if Leona’s theory was right. Didn’t need to go obscure when trying to take out a five year old.
The nurse had more questions, and Leona found himself answering with only half his brain on. It was hard to ignore Ruggie and the nurses that surrounded him, the way one had a magestone pen out and was moving it at a hover over the hyena’s limp body, saying things that Leona couldn’t hear. Some diagnostic spell or something.
Respiratory distress, nurse had said. That explained the mask that was now over Ruggie’s nose and mouth, and why one of the non-mage nurses had a stethoscope pressed just under one of Ruggie’s shoulder blades. Another nurse was unfolding a stretcher. Leona had to set his jaw hard, enough that his teeth creaked against each other.
Epel was back, Ruggie’s bag slung over his shoulder. Leona crouched down next to it as the kid dropped it to the ground, worked open the zipper. Ruggie’s food anxieties were nothing if not reliable. Always had food squirreled away somewhere, usually easily accessed in whatever he was carrying around.
The candy was no different. Leona extracted the bag of red sweets, still mostly full, and hefted them in one hand. “Test these,” he said, holding them out for the nurse to take.
If the nurse had any sort of skepticism about the whole thing, he didn’t say anything. Just accepted the bag with appropriate gravitas, tucking it into the crook of his arm on top of the clipboard.
Ruggie was on the stretcher now, being lifted up. His eyes were still closed. The nurse was stepping away from Leona, saying, “We’ll take care of him, Mr. Kingscholar. You should be able to see him in the infirmary once things are stable.”
Something ached, right at the base of Leona’s throat. “Yeah,” he said, and the word sounded stupid to his own ears.
And then they were taking Ruggie away towards the mirror portal, the hyena beastman unnervingly still.
Leona was left alone, the team scattered around the field. They’d moved into little clusters, whispering to each other, as he’d been distracted, but with Ruggie now gone, all eyes turned back to Leona.
Someone, someone Leona should’ve been able to put name to but couldn’t, asked, “Captain?”
Leona’s ears flattened without him asking them to do so. Snapped, “We’re done for the day. Hit the showers.” It was too sharp, too pointed.
“That’s it?” asked a voice, and Leona was already done with this whole thing.
“Is Ruggie gonna be okay?” asked another.
“He looked bad,” a third replied.
Leona’s tail flicked back and forth, his jaw tight. “Quit it with the speculation. We’ll know when we know. Go hit the showers.”