The clouds were funny here. Imogen tried to make stories out of them like she would with Caius, but all she could think of was how they weren't her clouds and this wasn't her mountain and she didn't like how holy this place felt. Oh, no! There wasn't like a holy spirit or some magic religion device that could detect, uh, non-praying people, was there? She'd never been the religious sort, not like old Angelica who went to church three times a day and liked to call her a heathen every time she said balls or bastard or dungheel. Sermons were far too dry and unexciting for her taste, and she swears that quoting a line of scripture to her would be enough to make her doze off.

Imogen stretched and didn't bother stifling a yawn. Wow! Even thinking about it was making her sleepy. She would have shut her eyes right then for a quick nap if it weren't for the sudden tapping on her shoulder, like someone was calling for her attention. But there was no one beside her? Imogen sat up with a start and looked around apprehensively—maybe there were holy spirits wandering around her after all! A chill ran down her spine. Everyone in town often made fun of her for being such a scaredy cat when it came to the occult.

"Eeep!" Jumpy from her own overactive imagination, Imogen shrieked when something hit her head. They're coming to get me! She raised her hands in an offensive stance, frightened but stubborn and unwilling to back down without a fight, even if she has to punch something intangible.

Nothing of the sort happened, though. Instead of some angry spirit ready to smite her, Imogen was greeted by a soft yellow blur. It entered her field of vision for but a moment, then there was a thud as something—someone?—got intimately acquainted with the ground beside her. There was a split second of stillness in the air as the gears in her head started turning, processing the turn of events. Then, a peal of laughter as the ghost turned out not to be a ghost and was a classmate instead.

"Are you alright?" Imogen asked through her giggling, just as another person came over to help the poor girl up. Oh, it was Rai-Rai! From House Glowsomething. Lots of fancy words came out of him, though Imogen thought he seemed really nice all the same. And quite clumsy, apparently. She laughed to herself as she imagined him tripping over his own feet every third step he took.

Rai-Rai proceeded to apologize for his friends, and Imogen barely caught herself from slipping. She was going to remark about how they probably rushed out to sneak in some make out time, but she heard Caius in the back of her head tsk-ing in disapproval at her nosiness. There's a time and place, he'll say all quietly reprimanding while she mouthed the words along mockingly.

Clary joined their little group not long after, apologizing the same way Rai-Rai did, except she blamed Jory for not being able to keep it in his pants (at least, Imogen figured that's what Clary meant about 'whims overwhelming reason'). She shrugged, not really one to judge. It's sweet that he can't help himself around her, so long as it's not in a creepy way.

More introductions followed, and a contrast to Isolde's soft, polite one, Imogen's was upbeat and a bit informal. That was probably okay, right? They're all yellow deer people or whatever, so they’re already comrades in her eyes. "Oh, my turn! Hi, I'm Imogen. You guys seem great, I like you already." She'd already forgotten how the others did it earlier, with houses and titles and such. What she did recall, however, was a pressing mystery that needed to be solved.

"By the way, Rai-Rai," she turned to him, addressing him so casually one would assume she'd known him for longer than five minutes. "Earlier, did you say you were 'looking forward to the cafeteria to meet wyverns?' Like to eat them? I've been trying to figure out if that's gross or incredible."

---

Auberon should've expected Derec not to recognize her; they'd only just arrived and few had yet found time to socialize. Unless some informal congress of the lower caste was miraculously set up in under a day, the commoners probably didn't know anyone from outside their quaint little villages anyway. Unfortunately, that meant he was probably out of luck if he wanted to meet this Orhneaht girl before class started. Sure, he could go ask around for her, but fumbling around the courtyard just to introduce himself was overbearing at best and desperate at worst. Hardly the impression he wanted to give.

"I'm sure we'll see her later," Auberon responded dismissively. The icy reception must've thrown him off, coupled with the surprise of House Leader being given to him to begin with. Either way, he was getting distracted; if he tended to his duties, the rest would fall into place as it always did. "I need to speak with Professor Kalonic anyway. Even with the... laxness he displayed earlier, I can't imagine it's a good look to keep him waiting."

The boy took his leave from the classroom without regard for whether Derec was in tow and focused immediately on the professors gathered in the center of the courtyard. Luckily, someone already broke up Michail's little spat with the other teacher. He was likely a Golden Deer, judging by the skin tone, but either way Auberon certainly didn't recognize him from the Lions, which meant the young Galatea probably wouldn't be intruding if he stole Michail's attention. At least as long as no one started beating him again. What a strange way for faculty to act.

The rest of the courtyard was about what he expected. Students mingling much like they'd done in the classroom earlier, others that were simply wandering about with their heads swiveling like a flag in a tempest as they tried to take in the grandeur of Garreg Mach. Were he not on a mission of his own at the moment, Auberon might've joined them. He still hadn't seen all of the monastery and he doubted even the year he'd be spending in attendance would be enough to dim its allure. If the church elders - or the archbishop even - gave regular sermons, he'd probably have to be physically dragged off the grounds when he graduated. Nearby, Kellen seemed to have caught up with that pale-haired girl that had fled the room earlier. Auberon had to admit he probably misjudged the Fraldarius when he wrote him off as just shy, catching that girl on the way out could very well have been his plan all along. If Auberon was quick, that could be two birds with one stone. Hopefully his duties didn't warrant too much of an explanation on Michail's part.

"Excuse me, Professor Kalonic?" Approaching the group, Auberon announced his presence and offered a nod to the other student before refocusing on his teacher, "You told me to report to you."

---

@Hero@Obscene Symphony

As if a mere mention of her was a summoning ritual, Clarissa strode onto the grass field. Though she apologised with the expected courtesy, the decisiveness to her step told him Clarissa’s commitment to her goal had been unphased since they had first met. Each word she spoke was with intention - an admirable, difficult and terrifying trait at the same time.

Were he to be completely honest about it, Raimund would describe his relation with Clarissa as complicated. She’d been an undeniable part of his summer adventures in Derdriu; memories he wouldn’t trade for his life. Both shared a close friendship with Jorah, but when it was just the two of them, the air between Clarissa and Rai could grow thick enough to cut it with a knife. In the interest of the relation between Duke Gloucester and the Edmunds’ heir, he had decided to call Clarissa a friend. Rai shared this goal with Clarissa’s father, Margrave Beaufort von Edmund, whose penmanship Raimund had grown well acquainted with from numerous apology letters. If small expressions of familiarity helped encourage Ludger Gloucester to act with at least a modicum of grace towards Clarissa, Raimund didn’t mind if he had to play up their companionship in public.

Raimund nodded towards their ash blonde classmate, as to direct Clarissa’s attention to the girl when she was about to speak. In stark contrast to Clarissa, Isolde Ordelia looked to shrivel up further with every word that came out. “Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Isolde.” Raimund lifted her demure hand above his and mirrored her bow in kind. “Borrowing Clarissa’s earlier words, I look forward to the honour of working alongside you.” He added, deliberately leaving out the part about melding their differences. After all, Raimund was keenly aware of the tensions between houses Gloucester and Ordelia. He did not know how Isolde would interpret such a sentiment coming from him - but made a mental note to find out later.

In his periphery, the other girl had been itching to speak up. Imogen her casual mannerisms were both a surprise and an unexpected wave of relief that washed over ‘Rai-Rai’. Her question made him chortle. “Wyverns are proud creatures. If they could smell their kin being served in the cafeteria, we would soon find ourselves on their plates instead.” Raimund explained with a gleeful smirk. “Not to worry, you’re not missing out. Wyvern meat is quite chewy and hardly nutritional. They’re predators after all.”

Finally, Raimund turned to Clarissa. “Ah yes, Derdriu. That takes me back.“ He reminisced, then his eyes briefly wandered to her posture, then the scabbard attached to Clarissa’s belt. “Have you picked up swordplay? I can tell by your stance. Balanced, yet limber. It suits you well.”

Jorah nodded along with Euphemia’s explanation, paying a modicum more attention than he had back in the classroom—if only because at this distance, she’d probably be more likely to notice when his attention wandered from her words to things more… exciting. He got the gist of his new duties, at least: weekly meetings with the professor (which he certainly wouldn’t be missing), monthly conferences with other House Leaders, and assigning group tasks. He had to wonder whether he’d get in trouble if he assigned himself to stable duty each week; if the knight on Euphemia’s shoulder was to be believed, Jorah was eager to acquaint himself with Garreg Mach’s horses. Would rides off monastery grounds be okay? He was never really one to ask permission before asking forgiveness, but it’d be useful to know in advance if his casual afternoon rides would be interrupted by a game of hide-and-seek with the Knights of Seiros. He didn’t even know the nooks and crannies of this place yet—they’d have an advantage!

His wandering thoughts were interrupted by the last thing Euphemia said, and he had to contain a laugh. She had high expectations of him because he was heir to House Riegan? For “proper conduct” of all things? She really must have been guessing when she claimed to know him before; either that or she was parroting whatever his father had said when he bribed the Academy into making a leader out of his good-for-nothing son.

But that did leave Jorah at a crossroads: Embrace his role as House Leader and all the responsibilities (and hopefully, perks) that went along with it, or go his usual airheaded way to spite his father? The latter would usually be the obvious choice, and Jorah couldn’t deny that there was a not-so-small part of him that got some sick satisfaction from the idea of his father wasting a king’s ransom on tuition and bribes only for his son to come home just as useless as he started. But on the other hand, shirking his duties would get Clarissa up his ass in riding boots, and surely displease his dear Euphemia. The idea of detention with Professor Euphemia and Priscilla might have been intriguing enough to make his decision for him, but something told him this whole “monastery” business would probably take the fun out of what he had in mind.

Ugh, all this thinking made his head hurt; yet another reason all this “heir to House Riegan” nonsense was better left to Delia. Luckily, an excellent excuse to shelve his indecision came along just then, in the form of a very uptight-looking blond who gave off the same reverent, duty-bound aura as half the clergy, asking after Professor Kalonic. Jorah returned the boy’s nod with a raise of his brow; wasn’t Euphemia Professor Kalonic? Unless she wanted a blond on each arm—which Jorah certainly couldn’t fault her for—he was pretty sure it was him she’d summoned in class, not whoever this was. Then again, it was very possible she summoned him for something else that he’d missed while he was daydreaming.

Strangely, though, the knight she’d been beating was the one who spoke up, introducing himself as Michail Kalonic. Wait, he wasn’t Euphemia’s husband, was he? Jorah wouldn’t mind, but he’d prove an annoying obstacle if that was the case. But no, he couldn’t be—same hair, same eyes, same skin tone, he was probably her brother or cousin or something. Luckily for Jorah, he seemed a pretty good sport; he’d been chased off by more than enough angry brothers to last him a good while yet.

By the sound of the conversation, Michail was the Blue Lions’ professor—and delegating his explanatory duties to yours truly. Jorah wasn’t sure how he felt about being relegated to errand boy—or Little Riegan—but he supposed he’d been called worse. Besides, as Michail said, part of his duty as House Leader was to foster good inter-house relations, and he’d never turn down an opportunity to make himself look good in front of Euphemia.

Tapping his chin, he peered at his stiff new fellow House Leader, eventually giving him a nod of approval. “Galatea, that’s that family that broke off from House Daphnel, right? We’re practically cousins!” he exclaimed, standing on his toes to throw a friendly arm around the shoulders of his taller, as-yet unidentified friend. “So then, cousin, it sounds like our new duties as House Leaders are pretty simple. We’re the ones our fellow students follow into battle, the ones they look to when all seems lost, the ones who get things done when no one else can. Pretty cool, right?” Jorah wasn’t sure if he agreed, but the way he said it all in his storytelling voice did make it sound pretty glamorous.

“Otherwise, we do have some more mundane stuff to do,” he continued. “There’s meetings with our professors on Mondays where we get to practice the storied art of paperwork by letting them know what our underlings are working on; monthly conferences with the other House Leaders where we bring an assistant and solve some problem to get the three countries chummy with each other; and then we assign two students each week to do chores for the monastery on Saturdays. I think the three we choose from are stable duty, weeding, and sky patrol.” He counted each duty and task on his fingers, pausing a moment at the end to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

When he was satisfied he hadn’t, he threw a grin at… whatever his name was. “Not too bad, right?” he asked, not entirely sure of the answer himself. He looked around the courtyard, frowning thoughtfully. “Have you seen the Eagles’ leader yet? What say we track them down, get these inter-house relations rolling?” he tossed a wink Euphemia’s way at that, finally releasing his new friend and putting a hand on his hip. “Oh, and what did you say your name was?”

---

Auberon looked between the two professors with momentary confusion displayed clear across his face at Professor Ka- Michail’s insistence on calling him by name. He caught on quickly that the two were related; he hadn’t noticed prior. Not that he’d seen much of… female Professor Kalonic to begin with. It explained why she was so comfortable whacking his teacher with a stick, in any case.

As far as names went, though, Auberon couldn’t say he was fond of ‘Little Galatea’. At least ‘young Lord Galatea’ or even just ‘Auberon’ if Michail wanted to veer away from the strictly formal. (Un)fortunately, his irritation didn’t last long; any displeasure at Michail evaporated once Cousin von Riegan started getting handsy. Was this what passed for proper decorum in the godless wastes of Leicester? No wonder his ancestors made the wise choice of splitting from their house and swearing vassalage to the Kingdom of Faerghus. He was so preoccupied with the arm fondling his shoulder he almost didn’t catch his fellow House Leader’s explanation of their duties. This was considered a respectable peer that he needed to work with? The Goddess continued to test him, it seemed. Thankfully, nothing Jorah had described seemed beyond his abilities, and if this guy was deemed fit for the task, Auberon had no doubt he’d be up to the challenge.

When Jorah finally released him, Auberon kept up his uncomfortably stiff posture for a few moments more before he cleared his throat and allowed himself to relax. Now Jorah wanted to try this stunt on the other House Leader? Goddess above, the Riegans were either managing a zoo in place of a family or this guy had a very odd method of politicking. Auberon’s first thought was to answer with a decisive ‘no’, but he had to admit, getting acquainted with the Black Eagle leader was probably prudent. If he didn’t find an island of sanity to cling to during their House Leader meetings, he’d at least have fair warning in the unlikely event their third compatriot and House Riegan’s court jester got along swimmingly.

“I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting anyone outside my own house yet, I’m afraid. I’m Auberon Casimir Galatea. It’s been… an experience meeting you,” The blond finally answered. It was probably the nicest way he could put it; he didn’t realize any among the nobility allowed themselves to act with that much eccentricity in public until they were old and half-mad. He sent a longing gaze toward Kellen and that ashen haired girl briefly before continuing. This was his punishment for putting duty first, it seemed; if he’d tended to his housemates first, Jorah might’ve already walked off by the time he approached Michail. “Which classroom belongs to the Eagles?”

Oooo, Auberon didn't like that, did he? Focused as he was on his performance, Jorah was a little delayed in noticing the subtle air of distaste coming from his new fellow leader, and had to contain his grin. The other boy almost felt like his father, in a way; a little quieter about it, but the same energy of shock and disapproval at his antics. Jorah wasn't sure how he felt about that, but decided to take it in stride. Much like with his father, if he couldn't loosen Auberon up, he could at least enjoy “surprising” him further.

At the question, Jorah spun on his heel, making a show of appraising the classrooms at the edge of the courtyard. He already knew The Golden Deer room was on one far end - apparently with a bit of a crowd gathering in front of it, he should probably check that out at some point before Clarissa dragged him over by the ear - and judging by the banners hanging next to each doorway, the Blue Lions room was right in the middle. Only one left then, and even he could manage the process of elimination.

Turning back to Auberon, Jorah pointed to the room at the other extreme of the courtyard. “Probably the one with the red and black banner,” he offered innocently, though his grin betrayed his amusement. Contrary to the other two, no one was really collected around the Black Eagles classroom; with any luck that meant most of them were still inside, and there'd be an audience to their introduction. The more the merrier!

“Hopefully our fellow leader is still home,” Jorah commented absently, not waiting for a response before strutting off in the direction of the classroom.

Rather than enter, however, he simply hung off the door frame, sticking his head into the room. Jorah recalled the Empire being touchy about their borders; it wouldn't do to impose. Inside, a few students were still in their seats (aside from one who was standing and looking full of herself), and judging by the queer combination of tension and haughty disinterest in the room, something awkward was transpiring. What an excellent time to interrupt!

“Afternoon!” Jorah announced cheerily, completely defying the uncomfortable feel of the room, “By any chance, would your illustrious leader be in? His or her humble contemporaries--” he punctuated the word with a weird sideways bow, “--request an audience.”

”So anyway, I just told the priest ‘if you’re going to be like that then just get out of here.’” The Prince remarked to the three Black Eagles who had given him their attention. He’d already agreed to go and have lunch with two of them. But everything seemed to shift when Veronica walked up to him and cooly announced she was to be his future bride. Needless to say, Kayden’s face went stark white, and he looked around for any means of escape before his salvation had appeared at the doorway.

“Yes!” He cried in a broken voice to Jorah, pulling at his collar. ”You can uh, my...yes we can speak.”

The Prince stood out of his seat as smoothly as he could, giving a bow to his fellows and Veronica, before all but scrambling out of the classroom and into the hallway, closing the door behind him like a caged bull had been at his heels. Once he was outside, his voice was noticeably more measured, his manner as fine as silk, though his foot stayed on the door.. “Yes, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance. Who might you be?”

The spike of excited relief that shot through Jorah as the dark-haired boy jumped to his feet was nearly enough to make him jump himself, and once more he had to resist the urge to laugh as the apparent final addition to their leadership trio tripped over himself in his haste to get out of the door. Judging by that and the pallor that covered his face like a shroud, Jorah ventured a guess that this was probably the source of that discomfort he’d been feeling. Weird, he would totally have bet it was the stiff one standing at attention or the girl shrinking into her chair, but apparently the Eagles were already full of surprises. He could only hope this awkwardness stemmed from some off-colour conversation he’d interrupted; one uptight peer he could have fun with, but two would just turn into a chore.

“Jorah von Riegan, at your service,” he declared grandly, punctuating his introduction with another theatrical bow. Goddess, at this rate he’d have his brain stuck to the top of his skull by the time the afternoon was done, but the flair was definitely worth it. Gesturing back toward Auberon, he added, “and my stately-paced friend there is the esteemed Auberon Galatea. It looks like the three of us will be the acting House Leaders this year.”

Crossing his arms, he couldn’t resist a little bit of teasing, raising an eyebrow at the man. “Not nervous, are you? You’re looking a little wan.”

Auberon, to his credit, didn’t even flinch at Jorah’s theatrics this time. The introduction wasn’t horrible, though the last bit could do with some changing - Jorah was the only one acting House Leader, Auberon was fairly certain he and this other guy simply were. As long as he didn’t become obnoxious the moment he came out of his shell a bit, at least; the Eagles leader was looking a bit tense even before he’d approached them.

“Don’t mind him. It’s nice to meet you,” he tacked on to Jorah’s prodding in an attempt to distance himself from… whatever the Riegan was playing at.

“House Leaders?” Kayden echoed, drawing himself to his full stature and actually giving the two a proper look. They could have been snake oil salesmen and he would have shot off with them, but this meeting seemed to be one he needed to be a part of. Taking stock of the two, he felt it made sense they were of their station. Their pedigree, or at least their manner was evident, and they were [i]nearly]/i] as handsome as he was.

“No I’m fine, I just saw someone that didn’t agree with my stomach.” He stated, not caring to further elaborate. Perhaps he would get to know her later, but having the future queen appear in the midst of his class without prior knowledge to it was not what he expected. His father had to have known, the bastard. “It is an honor to meet you two as well. I see you’ve already gotten acquainted with one another. How do you two feel on your houses this year? I haven’t spoken to many of my classmates, though...that is my own fault at this moment.”

Jorah really did burst into laughter that time, doubling over at the as-yet-unnamed Eagle’s comment. ‘Saw someone who didn’t agree with his stomach’? Oh, he was absolutely stealing that. Maybe for the next time he was forced to meet with Duke Riegan.

Ah, but this was more like it! Still a little stiff, still a little worried about something, but thankfully loosening up by the minute. Maybe Auberon would take the hint and let his hair down a little too, but Jorah wasn’t in much of a rush to see him change. He did need someone to ground the group for those monthly meetings, lest his every spare moment be filled with Clarissa’s voice in his ear, probably accusing him of converting his fellow House Leaders to his indolent, lecherous ways.

Oh, but the new guy straightened up soon enough, quick to put a damper on Jorah’s fun with formalities. Jorah still couldn’t quite wipe the joyous grin off his face, but he did deign to straighten up, stretching his arms up over his head. Hm, these two each had a few inches on him; maybe that’d make him easier to miss when he tried to shirk his meetings.

“I can’t claim I’ve met all my housemates either, but there’s plenty of time for that. Rushing around shaking hands and administering greetings isn’t much of a first impression anyway,” he reasoned, wrinkling his nose. He was a people person, yeah, but he wasn’t about to parade himself around like some Councilman at his debut. Besides, Clarissa would eventually drag him around to each student anyway. Speaking of…

“Still, I’m confident the Golden Deer will shape up quite nicely,” he added smugly, glancing between the other two. Into what shape, he wasn’t sure, but it was a good saying nonetheless. “Not because of me, Goddess knows, but luckily I have Fódlan’s most capable advisor to guide me.”

Well, at least Jorah had honesty where he lacked respectability. Though it was beyond Auberon as to why this advisor wasn’t given the position of House Leader if they were to be the voice behind the throne, as it were. At least Auberon didn’t seem to be behind compared to the other two. If anything, he was faring better than they were. Nevertheless, the Eagle’s question bothered him. He spoke to exactly one of his housemates, which was hardly in line with his earlier speech of solidarity. Fortunately, he had faith and sentiment to spare where concrete assurances had yet to be found.

“The Goddess would not set a pious man up to fail. I’m certain all the other Lions will find themselves quite up to the challenges the professors put before us, or She would not have brought them here to begin with,” he answered assertively, as if he had already convinced himself of the truth in his words, “I’m sure everyone will get to know each other soon, though I hope no one is too averse to cooperation. I think we’re responsible for inter-House mediation if an issue springs up.”

If Jorah was the norm for the Alliance students - or worse, a paragon of behavior by their standards - Auberon had a feeling he’d be involved in quite a few of those. At least he seemed relatively harmless; anyone that was feeling mad over words could just take swings at him during combat practice. The Eagle seemed a bit too uptight to be causing many issues - he was too frazzled to even introduce himself properly, it seemed - but he was by his own admission preoccupied with whoever ‘didn’t agree with his stomach’ in there. Definitely a good idea to establish a rapport with the Eagles quickly and hopefully pressure Jorah into falling in line, in any case.

The Lion’s Leader seemed a little put off by his question. Kayden had a tendency with being a bit too casual to people whom he just met. He always liked to appear as if he knew someone so they would feel more comfortable around him. It was how he was taught to interact with soldiers in the army. “Forgive me, I’ve a military mind and should not treat this academy at such, at least in every sense. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kayden Von Hresvelg, Prince of the Adrestian Empire. And it truly is good to meet you both. I hear this is the first year the Academy is divvying up into our respective classes, which implies we’ll likely be in competition at some point. I’m glad to meet here rather than in some contest our professors pit us in.”

He gave an easy-going smile, though as usual there was a fire in his eyes that spoke he wasn’t too put off by the prospect of a competitive arena. He looked Jorah’s way, referring to the fellow’s earlier statement. “Believe me, a good advisor is worth a hundred loyal swords. Count yourself lucky, my friend.”

Despite it all, he was carefully watching their mannerisms and the way they moved and spoke. Kayden didn’t like to think he was paranoid, but he did have a healthy level of awareness. At least, that’s what he liked to think. Had any of his siblings survived the plague, he would have had a slightly less strict upbringing, but being the only child his mind had been sculpted to think of anything in either an administrative fashion, or a military one. Well, most things. Women, food, and nice music were generally when he let himself relax.

Jorah nodded along with Auberon, even if he didn’t personally think much on either side of the matter of piety. It was good to see his initial appraisal of the boy was pretty close, but more at the forefront of his mind was that Clarissa would probably get along well with him; maybe he should try to introduce them before their first meeting. Unless they met in the Cathedral first, he supposed.

But Auberon’s piety was quickly overshadowed by the new guy’s - Kayden’s - introduction. Prince of the Empire? Jorah could have sworn all the imperial children died of the plague, though he supposed that was pretty silly in hindsight; even he knew that the Empire would have been consumed by civil war if the Emperor ran out of heirs, and it would have been pretty hard to ignore if the Alliance’s Western neighbour suddenly caught on fire. Still, this guy must have lost like, all of his siblings, right? Did that make him the crown prince? Was he about to be having monthly meetings with the future Adrestian Emperor?

Huh. Cool!

Jorah had to grin. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell his father all about drinking and singing with the next Adrestian Emperor. Maybe he’d finally learn there were other ways to network than over the Roundtable’s… well, table. Kayden’s whole “military man” outfit might get in the way of that sort of merriment, but it wasn’t like Duke Riegan could tell the difference.

He was well enough aware of Clarissa’s value; he’d have considered her a friend first, but even the blind could see that she was the catalyst to every one of his rare “noble” successes. She was better at dragging him to his classes than any of his tutors ever were, but he wasn’t about to sing her praises any more; if it got back to her that he was lauding her as a saviour, she’d be so smug he’d never hear the end of it.

Instead, he considered the comment on competition. “You’re right; it’s much more fun to compete with people you know,” he agreed, donning a mischievous grin, “though I must warn you, if it’s hunting we’re competing at, my fellows and I will put up one hell of a fight.” He shrugged, letting out a chuckle. “Or dancing on tabletops, but I think that competition might have to happen off the record.”

Auberon did a double-take toward Kayden at first. Well, that explained the lack of an introduction - he’d probably never needed one before in his life. All the more reason to ingratiate himself with the Eagles’ leader - this was quite the opportunity, even outside the Academy. Even more so if he managed to outclass the future sovereign. Not that he was one for boasting, but he’d seen that glint in Kayden’s eye when he brought up the competitive aspects of their education, and the blond was more than prepared to reciprocate. Honestly? He kind of wanted to take them down just for the experience.

“Apologies, Your Highness, I didn’t recognize you,” Auberon admitted, but made a point not to bow or make any other submissive gestures. A prince that was not his prince was no man to cower before. “I hope your military mind won’t be too wounded when my Lions prove themselves the rulers of the animal kingdom in all our mock battles, though.” The boy gave the two a pleasant smile, just enough to make it clear the sly determination written across the rest of his face didn’t come from a place of malice.

Surprisingly, Jorah was almost enjoyable when the prospect of besting him in combat was set before Auberon. At least his seeming disregard for every facet of his station didn’t apply to his position as acting general to his House in their metaphorical war against the other two - a neutered deer with no antlers was hardly a worthy adversary, and defeating the Eagles alone was only half of a full victory.

Kayden was amused at their different approaches to future contests. Not in a disparaging way, but it was nice to see neither of them were domineering about it. He shook his head and held a hand up at chest level to indicate apologies weren’t needed. He truly wasn’t used to introductions other than at peace summits, he needed to get more acquainted with such things.

“You might be right,” He said to Auberon. “As you said, you don’t very much know your classmates and I’m only getting to know mine. Maybe yours are born for this and mine aren’t. Or maybe you’re a better leader than I am. I know something for a surety though…” He said, looking Auberon directly in eyes. “I intend to find out.” His easy smile had never left his face, and now both his arms were behind his back. He felt like he needed to leave soon, else the door behind him would open again and she might pop up. He’d meet her on his own terms at some point. For now he was too hungry and in too good of a mood for that. “But that’s a worry for tomorrow, eh? It’s refreshing to meet you both. So, how do you like your teachers? Mine is apathetic to most everything and I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Jorah crossed his arms as competitive tensions rose, glancing thoughtfully between the two other leaders as they shared their little moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d call himself competitive - Delia would probably sooner use the word “reckless” or “showoff” - but if there was really going to be competition between the Houses (which, by the sound of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion, there’d be at least one sizeable one), he wasn’t about to throw the match. He liked to think of himself as more of a lover than a fighter, but he had been hunting ever since he’d learned to keep his balance on horseback; it was one of the very few skills of his that the Duke deemed “fitting of his station” or whatever such nonsense he always spouted on about. Maybe he could translate those skills into those mock battles, although he struggled to think of a way to convert arrows into something less deadly. Maybe the monastery had some proprietary magical method; maybe they just replaced the broadheads with feather puffs covered in chalk dust and tallied up the dots to choose a winner. He had to smile at the thought - and was suddenly very interested in finding out.

“Our teachers?” he interjected at their mention, nudging Auberon playfully with an elbow. “Well, as luck would have it, it seems ours are siblings! I don’t know if you saw earlier, but mine was the captivating one beating a Knight of Seiros with a stick; his was the one receiving the beating.” Jorah laughed, giving Auberon a wink. “If that’s the rivalry we have to look forward to, then dare I say it should be a very exciting year!”

Oh, Auberon was definitely not losing to the Eagles now. Kayden was clearly goading him and he was never one to turn down a challenge like that, even if he had to personally drag every Lion out of bed in the wee hours of the morning to train. Fortunately, Kayden moved on when it seemed everyone had made their point; no reason to let friendly tension become unfriendly. He let out a brusque hum as Jorah nudged him, clearly unamused with the resumption of his earlier touching, even if tame by comparison. The fact that the Riegan had the audacity to wink sent Auberon into a state somewhere between mild revulsion, simmering irritation, and considering the ramifications of punching a fellow House Leader in the nose on day one. Of course, he’d only consider it - he was raised better than that even when the competitive spirit was overriding his higher thinking.

“Indeed, Professor Ka- erm, Professor Michail wasn’t what I was expecting from Garreg Mach, but I trust in a Knight of Seiros’ competence regardless of demeanor. Hopefully I’ll be able to say the same about Jorah at some point.” He met the Riegan heir in question’s gaze with a shit-eating grin unbecoming of his status briefly.

Laughter threatened Jorah once more at that, but he managed to retain a bit of composure and settle for an amused shake of the head instead. Auberon really was like his father; that spike of irritation at the slightest step outside of propriety, that vaguely warning, vaguely disappointed tone veiled by a thin smile; of Auberon had brown hair, gold eyes and a sharper chin, he'd be ready to rule Derdriu by the end of the week. The similarities probably should have irritated him, but there was something fun in the idea of a proxy of his father kicking around to antagonize without consequences. At the very least, he wouldn't feel homesick.

“You and me both my friend, though we’ll certainly be waiting,” he chuckled, playfully grasping Auberon’s shoulder. This aversion of his to touch would certainly be interesting; he wondered if that ran down to the core or if there was any way to help him let his hair down. He’d find out sooner or later. “I really should get you acquainted with my friend, you and her would get along splendidly.”

Kayden liked these two. They would certainly be fun to have as rivals and peers. As the prince went to speak again, the bell rang just beside them. He blinked, realizing he would certainly need to get used to that. It was only when he realized the class behind him was about to spill out that he got nervous though. He turned and faced the two leaders politely.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to get the fuck out of here.”

---

@Kestrel@Hero@Eleven

Surprise and curiosity, and a touch of guilt at that, bloomed at Isolde’s introduction. House Ordelia’s disastrous fall happened before Clarissa stepped fully onto the political stage so she’d only really known Jorah at the time. They’d crossed paths of course but only briefly at Roundtable and even then, she’d normally spend her time with her childhood friend. She only remembered Isolde being the child that hid behind her father’s legs whenever she could. Perhaps she ought to have committed more to memory; Clarissa felt awful she hadn’t even remembered her name, had no passing twinge of recognition.

Honestly, Clarissa hadn’t thought about the other at all since she was eleven at least but now that she had an Ordelia in front of her, she couldn’t help but be curious about their circumstances. Was she here to learn tactics and warfare to be useful to her family? She seemed shy and withdrawn but it didn’t mean she didn’t have potential; she could just need to adjust to shine. Or was she here to find a marriage partner? Clarissa seriously doubted that the family’s official innocence shone brightly enough to distract from the blemish on their recent history but someone outside the Alliance would likely focus on the connections they could offer, especially if Isolde commanded a crest. What better time to cultivate an arrangement than a year of forced proximity to potential suitors?

“It’ll be an interesting experience learning together, Isolde, Imogen.” Clarissa kept the questions that were burning on the tip of her tongue at bay. No need to pry so early on but she was so, so curious. Imogen, on the other hand, inspired none of that. The pink haired girl dispelled her earlier thought that she may belong with the Gonriels with her informal introduction and Clarissa commended herself for resisting the urge to frown. They were classmates but they hadn’t even known each other for half a day. Nicknames already? And what kind of nonsense was she spewing? Of course they weren’t eating Wyverns. Clarissa could feel future headaches coming already; it was a different shade of Jorah and one already made her consider a long walk off a short pier sometimes.

“Thank you. Father recommended it as a way to clear my head when I couldn’t afford a few hours of riding but I’ve found it more enjoyable than I thought I would.” Clarissa nodded her appreciation at the observation. This group would prove… interesting this year. Clarissa was confident that they could overcome anything that the other House threw at them but she also hoped that the Goddess blessed the Black Eagles and the Blue Lions with some airheads of their own. Preferably several.

---

Clarissa permitted herself a moment to bask in the tolling of the bells. Hearing them was always a comfort, like a brief moment of sunshine on days the cold seeped wet and bitter deep into the bones. The sound drew her attention skyward. Her smile softened involuntarily from polite and pleasant to something smaller, more personal and warm. As a child, she always imagined the voice of the Goddess whispering in the bells of her church at home. It was a comforting belief and despite having put that away as childish fantasy, the security and relief it provided still crept back in. Now she just heard it as the soul of the church, an extension of everything it stood for to offer those who needed it most a moment of respite in the chaos and confusion of the everyday monotony.

She only lingered a moment though. Once she’d collected herself again, she briskly settled at the front of the classroom. She found she didn’t quite know what to make of Professor Roland. He seemed soft and absent headed but the solemnity with which he opened the class stuck with her. He spoke of impending discord and instability in the same breath as unity and togetherness and it was quite the emotional back and forth. She did strongly agree on one point; the time for tradition was over. As they entered new territory, they would have to adapt and grow and shed the trappings of yesterday for the sake of the future. And if the Church believed something darkened the horizon, then the sooner they embraced it, the better.

Though she wondered why the Archbishop himself felt the need to organize this unit. If fostering unity between the nations was the Professor’s goal and he already admitted there were several heirs and royals in attendance, it would have made sense for the Professor to put anyone would would have even the slightest impact on national policy in the same unit. Why did the Archbishop feel it necessary to intervene? The question bothered her but she’d put it aside for now. She’d ask Professor Roland after class.

The other professor proved an interesting collection. While she didn’t get much other than a growing distaste for being here from Professor Malathice, she certainly agreed with his sentiments about Professor Michail. Boisterous and sophomoric, she would prefer to impale herself on her own sword than allow him to treat her like a six year old on her first social outing. He was not her parents and she certainly didn’t need him facilitating her social connections anymore than she needed a horse panicking while she tried to bush it. She’d hoped any of the other Professors would have shut it down but each one fell dutifully in step with one another despite the jabs taken at Michail. She sighed and stood, smoothing her skirt to collect her thoughts before she spoke.

“Clarissa von Edmund, heiress to the Margravate of Edmund of the Leicester Alliance. I enjoy horseback riding, scripture reading, and debating over evening tea but I despise liars and the indecisive. I fully believe that whatever distresses our Professors, the Goddess has put us all here for a reason and I am honored to have the opportunity to grow into those expectations with all of you.” Clarissa bowed her head and curtsied as she finished, settling back into her seat for the next person to introduce themselves.

Jorah expected the bell to indicate freedom and a chance to explore the monastery grounds, but as luck would have it, his unit apparently had the distinguished honour of attending extra classes. Great. Being hand-picked by the Archbishop himself was cool and all, but less free time and closer supervision? How was he supposed to sneak out of class now?

Ha, but at least he probably wasn’t the only one put out. Kayden couldn’t have been pleased either; it was hard to get a read on him with so many other people close by, but judging by the haste he’d tried to make away from the Black Eagles classroom at the bell and the fact that a good chunk of his house’s students were in attendance, he probably hadn’t been able to make the grand escape he’d been hoping for. Clarissa’s mood, however, surprised him: he’d expected her to be happy enough to sprout pegasus wings and fly off to the Blue Sea Star at the idea of having been hand-chosen by the Archbishop himself, but the mood emanating from her was much closer to that businesslike way she got about her during Roundtable debates than anything he’d call ‘joyous’. There was something on her mind, but for the life of him he couldn’t guess what. They were chosen by the Church to handle upcoming discord or something; it was practically a fairytale written and addressed to Clarissa von Edmund personally! What was there to be so concerned about?

Resolving to ask her later, Jorah did put in a token effort to pay attention in hopes he could avoid another tongue-lashing before he got his answer. Lysander’s speech wasn’t what Jorah would have called ‘riveting’, but Michail’s suggestion afterward certainly got his ears pricked. Introductions, eh? Jorah would usually have waited to take the spotlight at the end, but something told him that the room might need a little more encouraging than the verbal stumbling of the professors. He didn’t need to wait for the students’ response; he already knew a good show was just the spark they’d need!

“What a splendid idea, Professor! Allow me to add to my housemate’s introduction,” he exclaimed, raising a hand and throwing all pretense of staying in Clarissa’s good graces to the wind. Rather than stand, he leapt out of his seat in one smooth motion, jumping up and planting his feet unexpectedly delicately on the bench behind him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I am Jorah von Riegan, House Leader of the Golden Deer, connoisseur of Derdriu's market district, and foremost thorn in Duke Riegan’s side,” he introduced himself boldly, giving a cocky flourish like a tavern bard rounding up an audience. “I love tavern songs in good company and long rides in the woods—and I’m pretty fond of horses as well.” He punctuated that comment with a wink to the first girl he laid eyes on, a tiny little thing with candy-pink hair, before shrugging. “I’m not too fond of bland food or instruments played off-key, but get me into a celebrating mood and there won’t be much you can do to get me out of it. I do hope our paths will cross in good spirits again throughout the year.”

He concluded his introduction with a satisfied nod and let himself fall back down into his seat, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin and a knowing, mischievous look shot at Raimund. He wasn’t sure if his friend had gone and re-learned his manners in their time apart, but surely he wouldn’t let himself be upstaged—and if Clarissa’s head was going to explode, he wanted someone else with him in the splash zone.

If their joint class was a diplomatic move, Raimund couldn’t tell if Lysander Roland had properly realised the weight of his decision. Unlike an established court to bring young lords and ladies into, Garreg Mach had little of a mold to speak of. Two of the professors expressed disdain for a third in their very introduction. Perhaps, as Duke Gloucester could say, Raimund should not expect proper bearing of those of a lower station. If these words flickered in the back of his own head, Raimund could scarcely imagine what thoughts now raced throughout the more traditionally-minded.

When student introductions started, Clarissa was quick to set the tune and Jorah was about as quick at dancing out of it. Raimund could scarcely hide a smirk at their clashing theatrics. All of a sudden, it felt truly like old times… And if Jorah's present day-grin conveyed the same message it would have two years ago... Challenge accepted.

“You may find yourselves coloured surprised,” As if rehearsed, Raimund carried on the Golden Deer introductions before Jorah had even returned to his seat. “Perhaps bewildered even. I would not blame you. Still it falls onto me to assure you, there is no better way for us to introduce the Leicester Alliance. Diversity is our strength - we wield both the minds of the righteous and devout Clarissa von Edmund and the sociable and free thinking Jorah von Riegan.” Raimund briefly paused to seek eye contact with Black Eagle and Blue Lion students. “A diversity of strength we wish to extend to all who would cooperate with us. If I may be so free to speak for all us deer.”

“As for my humble self,” The devilish glint in his eyes would surely forewarn Jorah and Clarissa of upcoming mischief. “I am Raimund Kent, endorsed by House Gloucester to be here at Garreg Mach. I enjoy falconry, dancing the night away and hopefully your wonderful company this very evening, so that Jorah and I may set the stage for a taste of true Leicester hospitality. I would grossly dislike it if none responded to my invitation.” Raimund winked at no one person in particular. “I won’t spoil the surprise, but wear something easy to move around in.”

---

When Kellen had realized the joint class would be meeting in the Blue Lions classroom, he had thought he might be able to take his previous seat, but Auberon had chosen to sit at the front, and while Kellen was not at all attuned to his House Leader’s desires, something told him that a drubbing would come were he not to sit with his fellow Blue Lions – or more scandalously, at the back of the class. So, there he was, situated between Lienna and Auberon and doing his best not to turn around and gawk at classmates from across the continent. It was a mostly successful effort, in no small part thanks to the meandering yet compelling words of Professor Roland.

A change in tradition made some sense, particularly with the state of the Empire, Alliance and Kingdom. The grim warnings of the future to come – and Kellen and his fellow classmate’s role in it – might have once fallen on deaf ears, but for some reason they stuck with Kellen. ’The time will come sooner than later where faith and morality will be tested.’ Kellen wasn't sure how much he liked Fodlan's odds at passing that test.

Shaking his head, Kellen brought his focus back to the class. Archbishop Ioannis had specifically put together this class? This time, Kellen did turn around in his seat to look at his classmates. A first look didn’t present anything that made them stand out from the other students he had seen in the courtyard. The Professor had previously mentioned royalty and heirs, and Kellen supposed that made some sense, but Lienna, seated on his right, had claim to neither. Nor did he recognize the red-haired youth sitting on the other side of Auberon and therefore must have been one of the Blue Lions. Frowning slightly, he puzzled over the issue but was forced to snap back to reality when introductions began.

The first student to stand was Clarissa (Kellen mouthed the name to himself several times to commit it to memory), who spoke eloquently about the future and the Goddess and seemed nothing like the caricatures of Leicester Nobility that some in Faerghus chose to propagate. Jorah and Raimund were quick to correct any false impressions about how the Golden Deer would conduct themselves. Their House Leader was more bard than lord, but seemed affable and easy to get along with. Raimund was almost too quick in picking up the presentation, and while it was not like anything Kellen had seen, a smile broke out across his face at the gall of the two boys. An evening invitation to experience ‘true Leicester hospitality’ seemed bold to offer to a group of strangers from across the Fodlan, but Kellen wasn’t about to rule out the prospect of getting to know his classmates better.

The small ball of anxiety that came with having to speak in front of a group showed no signs of dissapating. For the many times he had had to introduce himself today, he had hoped he would get better at it. As he stood up and began to speak, he realized this was naïve. “Hello, I’m Kellen…” For some reason, he could never get out his last name without hesitation. ”Fraldarius. I’m Faerghus – from Faerghus, sorry. And I’m part of the Blue Lions.” He wiped his brow with a too-long sleeve. “I’m looking forward to learning with you all. I enjoy…” What did he like? The past year spent with his uncle had involved precious little recreation. And while he might have once said fighting, that was not longer true either. “I don’t much like surprises.” The words came out unintentionally, and a bit quieter than the rest of his stumbling introduction. Afraid of embarrassing himself further, he bobbed his head up and down quickly before settling back into his seat, staring straight ahead and hoping that someone would interject quickly and take the attention off of him.

---

In hindsight, Auberon had met the day's events with far too little suspicion. He'd barely batted an eye when a change in tradition was announced, or when their class and their class alone was summoned, and now he learns the archbishop had apparently selected them all by hand for some nebulous higher purpose yet to come. At least the Goddess' intentions for testing him so were made clear before it was too late. This wasn't some diplomatic exercise by the Church, it was divine providence.

Other pieces were falling into place as well, to Auberon's surprise. The Lions in the room had crowded around him at the front, even the girl that had fled their first class in seeming disinterest. Explained why he couldn't find the Orhneaht girl earlier; she'd excused herself before he had a chance. Whether they acted out of Faerghus solidarity or simple tribalism and fear of strangers, Auberon was grateful for the perceived support - a group that rallied around him instinctively would at least listen when it mattered - and it did much to assuage his earlier misgivings. A small blessing from the Most High in the face of the world-shaking challenges She had put before them, perhaps.

At least one of the others seemed to have caught on to the gravity of the situation as well - a Golden Deer, of all people. Clarissa von Edmund; he needed to remember that. With luck, she was the cherished advisor that Jorah had boasted about and not just the underappreciated island of sanity in a sea of Alliance eccentricity. The other Deer seemed every bit as misbehaved as Jorah, and Auberon debated whether politely declining their invitation of 'Leicester hospitality' was an acceptable option in the face of Professor Lysander's urgings to get along.

Kellen's introduction confused Auberon as much as the boy himself did. The blond still had no idea how to read him - he seemed shy, but he'd jumped up to introduce himself unprompted twice now. Squirrely and awkward, maybe, or sheltered, or even just slow to settle in to life at the monastery. If he tripped over his words to that extent after volunteering himself to speak with ample time to ready himself beforehand, Auberon had no trouble believing he didn't enjoy surprises. He'd clearly given no thought to what he was going to say before he stood, and the introduction was quite frankly embarrassing. Not in the way the conduct of Jorah or - Goddess forgive his insubordination - Professor Michail was embarrassing, but in the uncomfortable, sympathetic way one might feel watching a friend accidentally trip in front of a crowd and become a laughing stock.

Auberon hoped he wouldn't be overstepping his bounds if he suggested Kellen work on public speaking later.

He stood shortly after his housemate sunk back into his chair, posture impeccable as he turned around to address the room behind him. Making the same speech twice always made him feel uncreative and boring, but he supposed introductions were important enough to repeat. "For those of you I haven't met yet, I am Auberon Casimir Galatea, heir presumptive to the Countship, appointed House Leader of the Blue Lions, and bearer of the Crest of Daphnel. For Professor Kaira's sake, I'd like to note I also enjoy prayer, along with the feeling of a weapon in my hands. Sometimes both at once." That sounded a bit dark in hindsight, but were the Crestbearers not the weapons of the Goddess? A prayer on one's lips with every swing seemed fitting enough to him. "I'm pleased and humbled to be working alongside you all. As Lady von Edmund said, the Goddess has brought us here for a reason, and I can think of no better compatriots than those She deems worthy of undertaking a task in Her name."

He dipped his head in a minimalistic bow toward the class before he returned to his seat. His gaze flicked over to Kellen briefly, to whom he offered a lighthearted shrug. Hardly a reassuring gesture, but it was the best he could do without words. With how close they were to the professors, he certainly wasn't going to risk whispering while someone else presented. Someone around here had to act like a noble, at least.

---

Lienna followed the current of students drifting back into the Blue Lions classroom, and whether it was because she’d started out nearest the door or she’d subconsciously stayed near Kellen, she’d ended up at the front, to her slight chagrin. Not that she overly objected to it, nor that she felt the need to sequester herself away in the back, but something about being essentially on display in front of a panel of professors made her feel a little exposed for her liking. Then again, maybe that was just how it felt to sit in a lecture hall; she wasn’t exactly used to it either way.

She didn’t hide the look of skepticism that came over her face as Lysander’s speech went on, platitudes about unrest in between countries she’d never seen and nations she’d never heard of, doubtless over tensions no commoner would bother caring about anyway. She supposed she should have expected as much when she came to a school known for its highborn student body, but for all the Academy’s assurances over welcoming the lowborn among the high, they displayed more than a passing misunderstanding of what actually mattered to them. Life in Hima was a daily struggle even with a family to rally around you, let alone as the sole caretaker of an ailing loved one; if the Kingdom at large experienced any trials or triumphs in her lifetime, they made little difference to her. What did she care of tensions in other nations? The wind would still blow, the snow would still fall, and night would still pass into morning; that was all that ever mattered to her.

But, with a reluctant inward sigh, she supposed it was probably counterproductive to think that way. After all, she’d gone to great lengths to escape a life that revolved around keeping the fire burning; she doubted she’d get anywhere fast in the world of nobles if she tackled it with a commoner’s mindset. Still, she couldn’t resist a snide roll of the eyes at Lysander’s last words. “The time will come when faith and morality are tested.” Lienna wasn’t sure where Lysander had spent his life, but the past four years had been a veritable gauntlet of ‘faith and morality’ for her, and she had precious little left to give.

Hmph. At least that Professor Tomai seemed to hold a similar sentiment, albeit probably directed at Professor Michail’s inane introductions activity. She didn’t even spare a glance back to the nonsense coming from the Golden Deer—now there was a brand of mirth only affordable to the wealthy—and she was honestly considering keeping her head down and hopefully avoiding the whole charade until Kellen spoke up. For all his eagerness to stand, the poor boy barely managed to stumble through his name, and it only got worse the longer he went on. It was so vicariously painful that Lienna considered standing up next just to give the poor kid a break, but was fortunately beat to the punch by none other than their House Leader himself.

Auberon gave a short version of his speech from earlier, along with a list of titles Lienna only marginally understood. Should she mention her titles, too? Did she even have any? ‘Future Countess of Southern Gautier’, perhaps, but she had no idea if that was a real title or if she’d only get laughed out of the room. And what of likes and dislikes? She had a list of dislikes a mile long, but it had been years since she gave much thought to things she liked—her primary concern had always been things she needed. She wasn’t too eager to stand up and list anything, really, but the more people to get between Kellen’s introduction and the present, the better; she didn’t miss that sympathetic look Auberon sent his way, she could do him that one kindness.

Making up her mind, she stood as elegantly as she could manage, folding her hands in front of her with her back stiffly straight. “I am Lienna Orhneaht, future Countess of Southern Gautier, and also bearer of the Minor Crest of Gautier. I like hearty meals and warm hearths, and I dislike indecision and the cold. It is my hope that we all form lasting bonds over the course of the year, to the benefit of Fódlan’s future.” She finished her introduction with a glance around at the other students behind her before sitting as smoothly as she stood, wondering if that was a flowery enough phrasing of “I hope to make friends I can count on for favours later” to satisfy the nobles in attendance.

---

Kayden was in an absolutely boorish mood. Mostly for his lunch being postponed unexpectedly. The Prince had nearly gone and found food anyway, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it from the students and faculty much less his father. The man was impatient at the best of times, and doing anything that reflected poorly on him was a quick way to get on his true bad side. Kayden knew the hunger would pass over time, and indeed it did as he strode into the room, now more intrigued than anything at the curious collection of teachers and students that had been gathered here. He took his seat near his fellows, hoping the future princess wouldn't arrive. Even if she did, he'd ignore it for the moment, curious on the meeting itself.

With the proclamation it was made for diplomatic reasons, Kayden found himself not entirely surprised. Though the faculties manner was pretty amusing, in it's way. He wondered if they acted in such a way to make the students think they were harmless. All but Tomai, who really looked like he did not give a shit. Eyeing the tracher's manner, he couldn't help but notice Kaira was fairly cute. She looked around his age too, though she looked somewhat stodgy, even stiff, albeit in a droll way. It was plain to see who Euphemia was based on Jorah's description, and Michial looked like an older, bigger clone of Auberon, which explained why the stick in his ass didn't effect him as much. There was far more room.

The students that ascended to introduce themselves did so in the way he expected, at least when it came to the ones he had met previously. He could tell he was going to get along with Jorah quite well, and he thought Kellen was a nice lad. He'd met people like Auberon and Lienna a thousand times before, but he admitted they each had a quality that made them stand out. Auberon with his earnest drive and Lienna with her blatant honesty. Even being as imperious as any noble, she wasn't trying to shit on anyone as she held a poise of gloriousness.

Raimund however. He didn't know if he would enjoy his company or want to run him through with his sword before the month was over. Only time would tell.

Once it was his turn, he cleared his throat and slid out of his chair with a powerful grace. As much as he had hated the constant lessons on etiquette, they helped when presenting in front of a crowd of his peers. He gave a calm, easy smile to the professors and turned, looking at his fellow students as if he already had won some contest none of them knew they had been participating in.

"Hello everyone. As some of you might know, I am Prince Kayden Von Hresvelg, son of his Imperial Majesty of the Adrestian Empire." He paused for a beat, having had met a few who had not believe him before. He didn't say it to make them feel inferior, but it would have come up at some point. "I also have the honor of bearing the Crest of Seiros. As for my likes well..." His tone changed to a far more nonchalant air, speaking to friends now rather than an audience. "I like dueling and board games. Hawking is fun-" He pointed at Raimund. "Dancing and drinks too. Hopefully there's time for all of that down the line this year, and with some of you fine folk too. Thank you for allowing me to introduce myself."

With that, he bowed like a soldier rather than held his head high like a prince. A contradictory man, as ever.

Supplementary classes already! As she reluctantly headed to the designated classroom, Imogen wondered with growing horror if the academy received records from her previous school. It's no wonder they've preemptively enrolled her in these extra classes then. Still, she tried to find the silver lining. Like how this was a chance to meet more people! Jory, Clary, Rai-Rai, and Iz were an eclectic bunch that she had taken to almost immediately, despite their limited interactions. They seemed fun and interesting and she never doubted what her gut told her.

She arrived to class in high spirits, only for it to promptly get depleted as the professor droned on about the current state of Fódlan. It was boring to listen to back in her small-town school, it was boring to listen to now in this grandiose monastery. Imogen pinched herself multiple times to stay awake and resorted to prying her eyes open with her fingers when her lids became heavy. Despite all her efforts, her attention slipped and her thoughts drifted to another of imaginary her high seas adventure, this time with her fellow deer people on board. Oh wait, Iz just tumbled over the railing of the ship and fell overboard! She has to save her or—

Imogen snapped out of her daydreaming when her chin slipped off her hand, giving her a minor scare. For a dizzying second, she thought she had actually fallen in the water as well! She barely caught the tail end of the handsome knight-professor's introductions—huh, she swears she's seen him somewhere recently—and found herself more alert now that the discussion seemed to veer away from any heavy topic. Were they doing introductions again? Fun!

She cheered after each professor's turn and laughed out loud at the continuous piling on Professor Mik. "I like a lot of things, too!" she called out after Professor Kaira, hoping to help put her at ease. And, "hey, you're that drawing on the board!" to Professor Mik after recognition hit her.

Clary was the first of the students to speak, and despite having known her only today, Imogen couldn't help but think this was just like her. "Yeah, Clary, liars suuuck!"

Next came Jory and Imogen just knew she'd found her kindred spirit. She pretended to swoon when he gave her a little wink and whooped as the end of his turn seamlessly blended into Rai-Rai's. Imogen's commoner brain was harder pressed to comprehend all the Noble-ese that came out of his mouth, but she was pretty sure she got the gist of it: "Woo, deer party!"

The next person wasn't one of her deer people, but as soon as Imogen saw him, she'd gotten the strangest urge to squeeze him. Kel reminded her so much of the stray cat that wandered about town, the little black fuzzball that was always so wary and shaky around people (except her, she liked to brag). "Surprise parties can be fun though, Kel!" she offered when she realized he was shyly sinking back into his seat.

Giant, golden-haired Obi was another not-deer person and holy crackers, he sounded like a professor. Imogen resisted making an indecent crack at his "both at once" line as something told her he wouldn't appreciate that at all.

If Jory reminded her of sunshine, the next lion to introduce herself definitely reminded her of the moon. Lin was pretty and somehow mysterious, like she was actively making sure no one would glean any information from her face or from her gestures.

When it was the prince's turn, Imogen noticed that both he, Obi, and Lin had mentioned the crests they bore. How odd. Caius had explicitly instructed her not to tell anyone about her crest if she could help it, but it didn't seem like it was taboo to do so. Maybe Caius just meant hers? She shrugged off the thought and refocused her attention onto the next person to go.

Imogen cheered for Der as she did after everyone said their names, and made an offhand comment about making her a necklace if he was bored one day. Like everyone else in the class (except perhaps Kel, who was more kitty cat-like), Der had an air of nobility about him, even if he didn't say his fancy titles like the others did.

She'd been putting off doing her own because she was having a lot of fun listening to everyone else's, but Imogen figured she might as well take her turn. Instead of just getting up from her seat, she hopped up and stood on top of hers. Not for any theatrics like Jory's and more for logistics? Seated in the row furthest back, she felt like she was mostly hidden from view, especially behind giants like Obi and Rai-Rai.

"Hi, guys, I'm Imogen!" she greeted cheerfully, as casual as always. "I'm from this tiiiny town right next to Fódlan's Throat. I like going on fun adventures, climbing up high places so I can look at the sky, bad jokes, and funny people! Hm, what else? Oh, I like my deer people already!" Imogen beamed and waved at them. She wracked her brain for her dislikes and came up with three, which she counted down with her fingers. "I hate scary things, boring things, and terrible moms."

Before the bells trolled, the young man once again wandered the grounds of his new home. He had come across a pound next to a greenhouse, he had never really had much interest in plant life nor in fish. His mother would scold him for such thoughts, she always had encouraged him to try new things. Though this whole experience was new to him so he could pat himself on the back for that at least. He did find a nice quiet place to open his journal up and write down a few ideas, that soothing quiet was interrupted by the demon wails of the tolling bells... “Oh crap, not again!” The poor lad was already having issues keeping track of where his homeroom was, but now even more?!

Valerian had slipped in the back during the first part of the speech and took a seat next to his sister. After listening to the Professor give their introductions he felt like he had gotten the short end of the stick with his professor. Having a former Knight of Seiros would have been a great chance to practice his swordplay, though learning more crests may give him better insight into how it may affect him and his sister.

Saskia took in the professors' introductions with interest. A unit mixed between the nations was an oddity that peaked her interest, though she did little to point that out. If it wasn't for her brother's delayed arrival she'd have thought him to be the first to jump up for introductions. Likely he didn't want to be noticed and called out by one of the teachers. Once again she'd manage to be the first to stand up of the pair, having been too busy listening to even think of a proper introduction but not wishing to miss her chance.

"Saskia Aegir of the Adrestian Empire. I bear a Crest of Lamine and study many books." The words came simple and true, but short and lackluster. Something she then followed up to try to better. "Times have been unkind and not allowed for much else, but I hope we all can learn and show each other things this year." She grasped for more words to not be so short but they eluded her, simply sitting after. At least the ones she did give out were... pleasant? A look almost unconsciously went to her brother to take the scene.

Valerian felt his sister's eyes on him and leapt fourth from his seat. “I am Valerian Aegir, also of the Adrestian Empire. Unlike my sister here I’m not much of a fan of books and I believe myself to be quite good at my swordplay. Such that I believe it would rival a former Knight of Seiros like Professor Michail in a duel.” Words just kept spewing from the nervous man’s mouth... It’s like an outside force had put the words in his mouth. The following set of words should have never come from Valerian’s mouth. “If Professor Michail is willing to show us his skills it would be an honor to duel him.” The lad shut his mouth, bowed, and quickly returned to his seat as he started to fully understand the magnitude of what he said.