That was a strange sight, Karim thought amidst all of the excitement and celebration. Maybe because of his watchful nature that he spotted it. What looked like a semi corporeal for barely a few seconds and then a stoke of movement on the stage. Like a flash and then nothing that he could see any more. For a moment, he questioned what he saw and if it was just him seeing things. But Karim heard a girl say just a few bodies down, what was that. Turning his head towards her and then back at the stage. So it was not him seeing things. But, now that he thinks about it. He can't quite remember what he saw. There was something there right? Why can't he remember it? Karim looked at the Zenith and the Arch Zenos to know if they seemed concerned by this if they sensed it. They did not see that bothered on stage though there were a few glances between some of them, and one looked sweaty. But that could be the heat and being out in the sun.

Either way, they seemed unbothered for the most part but should he be worried about it if the strongest mages seemed like nothing happened? Maybe nothing did happen but, that familiar feeling at the back of his mind started to appear. That paranoid thought from after that ambush almost ended him. Perhaps it was something, and he should keep an eye out just in case. Appeasing the paranoid thought and he pushed it out back into its place in his mind. I can't do anything about it now, only enjoy the rest of the ceremony. So Karim went back to enjoying himself but with a hint of watchfulness.

---

When it came time for the Zenos to pick their students, Karim was ever listening. Waiting to see who his teacher would be and after Zeno Sienna Afrava, a Torragonese woman came up and picked her students. The next Zeno was one that Karim was a familiar name to him. Zeno Hamir Zemana, a man that Karim's family has done business with and has a good partnership with. Though he never met the Zeno in person before and it probably should not be a surprise that Hamir chose him to be his apprentice. Given his parents' good relations with the Zeno, that meant that Karim should not let Hamir down. Karim already has the rare situation of being on his master's good side before even meeting him before, and Hamir knows his parents. So that is a pressure and a desire not to let that good situation change.

So Karim went up with a smile to meet with his now fellow apprentices. Not realizing at first that he is with two nobles due to thinking about his new master, and hopefully, none of them are the stereotypical nobles who are full of themselves. Karim can hope at least but, who knows. He is not going to judge right off the bat right now. Give Mayu and Manfred a chance, at least.

After Eun-Ji introduced herself to the group, Karim spoke, "It is an honor to meet you all and an honor to be your apprentice Zeno Hamir Zemana." Karim crossed his right arm over his chest and did a short bow to the group. "It is a pleasure to be learning with you all and towards a good partnership with each other." Smiling while thinking at the back of his mind that it will be nice to learn with these people and not an unlucky arrangement.

After Arch Zeno Hugo Hunghorasz did a rather impressive teleportation spell and ending things with a final speech. Karim looked up at the fireworks and thought that he is finally here in Ersand'Enise, and now is his time to shine. To learn about magic and become a skilled mage like the others before him. Like his great grandmother and now him. Time to start a new chapter in his life that will shine in comparison to his life before. Taking a deep breath and with a big smile, Karim is eager to begin, and he only has to wait for tomorrow for it all to start.

Ardredelle Latvar was sweating.

Carmillia found it odd but dismissed it. Karan Harachorra had just finished his speech and Zenith Upta had taken the stage. She had just announced the start of the apprentice selections. This event would dictate much of a student's future life at Ersand'Enise and it didn't take a genius to understand that. Even the two seated on either sides of her were had stopped their yapping, albeit for different reasons from her. They were paying attention to see if they were fortunate enough to be grouped together with any handsome young men.

She had already tasked her underlings from The Crimson Hand to identify prospects amongst the student body but it paid to be prudent. The selections allowed her to observe the students first-hand. She could observe how they carried themselves as well as which Zeno favored them. She needed to understand which pieces were worth procuring. Diplomacy was not unlike a game of chess; the first few moves often dictated the course of the game. The Doge of Revidia was a prime example of this. His time at Ersand'Enise no doubt laid the foundation that led to his rise to power.

Carmillia made mental notes of the students as time passed and names were called. She could make out whispers of conversations as some grew restless. With five hundred new students, it was a given that selecting apprentices one at a time would have been a lengthy procedure but nobles had to maintain their appearances.

With the current round of apprentices chosen being of lower castes, Carmillia allowed her attention to drift back to the Arch-Zenos. The seven mages who stood at the apex of magic. Despite the amount of time that had passed, they still maintained their grandeur and were imposing figures. Even Arch-Zeno Latvar was no longer disheveled.

Even Arch-Zeno Latvar was no longer disheveled.

Carmillia paused at the thought.

At the start of the selections, Arch-Zeno Latvar was clearly perspiring and ill at ease. The memory perturbed her. Why had she dismissed at the time? The Arch-Zenos who had started the procession off with a flamboyant display of magic. The Arch-Zenos who understood the importance of their image. And yet one had looked disheveled upon the stage that all the students had their eyes on? Carmillia was focused on the fact that she didn't seem to care at the time. No one seemed to care. Carmillia had been on alert since the ceremony began, paying close attention to prominent figures such as the five keeper of thrones and the Arch-Zenos. Arch-Zeno Latvar had looked proper at the time. And yet she couldn't recall when the transition from prim and proper to disheveled had occurred.

The gap in her memories. Her uncharacteristic behavior.

Memory and behavioral manipulation.

Carmillia's mind went into a flurry of thoughts.

Who? Why? When? If something had occurred during the ceremony and her memory had been tampered with, it was unlikely she was the sole target of the perpetrator. Given that no one seemed to notice anything amiss, this had been a wide scale spell. Who was the perpetrator? Arch-Zeno Latvar herself? She was one of, if not the most powerful chemical mage in the world. She would have been capable of such a feat. It would explain her fatigue. But that begets the question of why? What had happened? The Five Thrones were present. A thwarted assassination attempt? Though there was a gap in memory, it was small. A matter of seconds, a minute at most. Something had occurred in the midst of the ceremony and someone wanted to avoid any questions. What could-

"Are you alright?"

The questioned snapped Carmillia back to the present. She turned to look at Maddeleine.

"You seemed a little bit out of it," she said, hesitantly.

Without missing a beat, Carmillia composed herself and responded. "I'm just disappointed Yvette was picked ahead of us. I had hoped we would've all been placed in the same group."

"Oh, you! It's not like we won't be able to talk anymore just because we're in different groups."

Carmillia simply smiled back. With Maddeleine satisfied with her response, Carmillia turned her attention back to the selection. Trying to figure out what had conspired was akin to attempting to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, it would have to wait. She needed Bernhard and the rest to do more digging.



Fades-in-Moonlight or more commonly known by the moniker, Luna, was to be Carmillia's mentor. Prior to her arrival to school, Carmillia had gone through the profiles of the faculty. Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight was one of those that stood out. A mentor known for their unorthodox ways. She had one of the highest RAS amongst the Zenos despite being of the commoner caste. She was also a Greyborn.

The other apprentices selected along with Carmillia were Leon Solaire, Jomurr Ikon III and Ilannaq Sigmundottir. She had heard of tales of Leon from before and Jomurr was the son of a duke. Both would serve of use. As for Illanaq...

"A... ah... uhm..." stammered the girl. She was clearly flustered by Leon for reasons Carmillia couldn't fathom.

Ilannaq was a merchant. She had noticed her during the procession. Illanaq stood out due to her silvery white hair, not unlike Carmillia's own. She had also displayed her aptitude with arcane magic, conjuring out a pair of flaming wolves as a performance.

Her demeanor though... thought Carmillia. It was too soon to write Illanaq off but she was not a priority for Carmillia.

In order to spare herself and the rest from any more of the Illanaq's fluster, Carmillia proceeded with her introduction.

"It's a pleasure to have been selected by you, Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight, or would you prefer Zeno Luna? I'm embarrassed to say this will be my first time meeting someone from Nashibansek so pardon me if I display any ignorance for your customs," said Carmillia. She turned to her fellow apprentices. "Likewise, I am looking forward to studying along aside the rest of you, Leon Solaire, Jomurr Ikon III and Illanaq Sigmundottir."

Carmillia ended it with a small curtsy; just enough to show respect but without any indications of submission.

---

Leon was the first to take a seat and proceeded to sit right in the centre. The parade was a wonderful time, not just the light show but tossing roses to the adoring masses. But for all the spares he was given, he was now down to a single rose. Leon twirled the dethorned flower in his hand, wondering at the possibilities of what he could do with it.

Looking around, Leon got to look at all the arriving students. Who would he get along with? There were all sorts flowing in, beautiful, ugly, cute, scary, and worst of all, boring. There were some with standout clothing choices. None better than Leon’s own style, but that was an impossibly high bar to clear.

What he didn’t expect to see was a pair of piercing violet eyes.

For someone who travelled the world, Leon did not see a lot of people with strange eye colours. Not unheard of, but quite rare indeed. It intrigued him and gave him a fun idea of what to do with the rose. She ended up sitting quite a distance from him. But he was Leon Solaire, this wouldn’t stop him from doing something he wanted. Leon snuck the rose into his cape and made his way to the girl with the violet eyes.

When Leon arrived, the girl had people sitting on either side of her. This wouldn’t do. “Excuse me, may I borrow this seat from you.” Leon asked with a soft tone to the painfully ordinary girl next to Eun-Ji. The girl blushed and quickly left the seat to Leon. Leon smiled at her “thank you, I won’t be long.” Leon proceeded to take the seat in a laid back fashion before looking toward Eun-Ji.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but notice the colour of your eyes. They are very nice.” Leon said putting on his best smile. “But that isn’t why I’m here. You see, I believe I was fated to meet you… Let me explain.”

“I was throwing roses at the crowd during the parade and happened to see the most peculiar rose. I became drawn to its colour and decided I would keep it to myself.” Leon reached into his cape and drew out a vibrant violet rose matching Eun-Ji’s eye colour. “I love this rose a lot. But you see, when I saw your eyes, I knew it never belonged to me in the first place.” He handed the Eun-Ji the rose.

A simple binding spell developed with arcane theory was Leon’s Colour Change, the ability to change the colour of objects. Given the small size of the rose, it didn’t take too much energy. But still, it drained the last of Leon’s already dwindling magic reserves. For something like this, the trade-off was worth it in Leon’s mind.

“Well I best get back to my seat, I think the ceremony is about to begin.” Leon looked around at all the people staring at his display. [color=fff200[b]“And I wouldn’t want a lady such as yourself to be subject to needless rumour.”[/b][/color] Leon left and made sure to thank the girl whose seat he had stolen.

Leon had a moment to consider if he should have introduced himself. And decided against it, she knows who he is. Leon was certain of it.

---

The rest of the show was uneventful. Leon sat stylishly in his seat as he watched the kings take the stage.

Jobanzaggah and Rouis, now there were two rulers who knew to play up style. They truly wore the fashion of kings and wore them well. Leon suppressed the urge to clap with each of those two entering. Horik and Sancho, well, they tried. Or at least Leon hoped they tried. It baffled Leon that people withthe wealth of kings struggled to dress.

Leon’s mood changed entirely when Malatesta took the stage. Leon looked toward the stage with a serious expression of respect to the man. Malatesta could make out Leon in the crowd and they made brief eye contact. Or at least that is how it looked to Leon. He gave a small head bow to the Doge of Revidia. Leon had to make sure to show respect in the right places, hewas a piece on the chessboard of royals now.

Leon found it funny how far he had come within this last year. From just any great performer with a tendency toward exaggeration to a considerable political piece. In Leon’s mind, everyone was a political piece in the end. He just prefered to be a name rather than a statistic. Plus… plus… why was there a floating hand going toward the stage?

Leon was quite adept at the theory of illusion, so he could pick out a floating hand when he saw one. However, Leon never practised illusion. This is because he finds the replication of real-life objects to be boring. Leon is far more interested in using the power of light to create things greater than some boring old reality. So, when Leon saw some shifty illusory hand swimming through the crowd, he didn’t care. Probably some dorky younger student trying to pull a prank. How mundane.

Having been lulled into a sense of security from the boring hand trick, the boom on stage had Leon jump a bit. What was that? Was this some kind of attack? Leon was happy to see no one was hurt. But it left him wondering what had caused it.,,

What had caused what? What was he thinking about? In almost a split second, Leon had lost memory of the event. Initially, Leon struggled to recall what he was just thinking about, but couldn’t. Was he curious about it? Sure. Did it bother him greatly? Not really, no. Besides, stress causes wrinkles. Best to leave the matter in the past where it belongs.

Leon took out his hand mirror and checked his hair as he waited to get assigned a master.

---

Leon’s name was called first, but he waited for the others to walk first for dramatic effect. He stood up from his chair and strolled toward his group, playing up his approach for onlookers.

Leon reflected on the team names that were called. Illannak. That rang a bell. A faint one but it was present. Subject to the recesses of Leon’s mind full of hundreds of people, he couldn’t quite place it at all. On the other hand, Jomurr Ikon III needed no introduction. A noble with such renown and style, certainly the boy was after his own heart. Leon had few doubts they would make fast friends.

Finally getting a good look at the group, Leon developed an excited grin. They were all fashionable. Correct dress sense was a good sign for any group, it meant their priorities were in order. He wondered if any of them make their own clothes, Leon had dabbled with the idea before. It could be a fun hobby over the year.

Fades-in-moonlight had a very strange look to her though. Unaware of the term Greyborn, the grey skin seemed very unhealthy. Both Ilannak and Camille also looked rather pale. These ladies certainly could do with some time in the sun. Still, it was a small blemish in an otherwise perfect looking group.

Leon finished his approach with a majestic bow. “I, Leon Solaire, am present.”

During introductions, Leon couldn’t help but notice one of the girls looking at him. Managing a look toward her, something did spark in his head. Determining this was Illannak was easy enough, but figuring out where she was from was much tougher. She was a merchant girl so it’s unlikely he knows her from her name alone. He recognises her face, so she probably isn’t just another nameless face in the crowd where was she from. Where did he meet her? Leon hoped she wasn’t from when he was doing his service to Ipte, that would be very, very awkward. Instead, Leon gave her back a friendly smile before turning his attention to the group conversation.

Leon picked up from Carmilla’s introduction. “Why thank you Carmilla. I am also looking forward to this year with you all. We have already shown we have the most style. Now it’s a matter of letting them know who the best magicians are.” It was an egotistical statement, but Leon stated it with confidence.

Later on, Leon watched the fireworks show with the group. He was entranced by the majesty of the flying lights. Why did they have to fade so fast?

---

---

---

The parade proceeded forward, a living example why the street they trod upon had been named as it was, and truly giving it its purpose. Closer to the plaza, those mounted passed off their horses to the hands of others to be stabled; in Linah’s case Valverde had taken up that task.

The crowd trekked slowly toward the center, but the closer they got, the more frenzied it became. The students begun fighting their way toward the front, and as Linah mimicked them instinctively, she saw what it was that was so coveted. An array of seating, best spots being fought over not-quite-rowdily.

Smirking at the idea of uppity nobles engaging in a behavior that they would surely term lowborn in other circumstances, Lin began weaving her way through the tightly packed group. If one ignored the scale of it, this was not all that different from making one’s way through a sale at the market. After her own judicious application of elbows and knees, Linah earned herself a decent enough spot. Close enough to serve as a good vantage point, but not so close that she’d be exposed.

Soon, speeches begun to be made, and Linah kept her gaze affixed forwards. She half-listened to the words being said, but mostly took in the atmosphere. Some were tense, some bored, some excited…But all of them select few from all across the world, there to attend at the best magical academy in existence. Despite everything, Lin was a tad proud to be there. It may not have been entirely on her own merit to have made it in – then again, who did? No matter the hows of it, she was eager to make a mark of her own, here. She would use this opportunity, and it would be to her benefit.

As the current speech dragged on, Linah noticed someone close to her left turn slightly towards her. She curiously tilted her head left, smirking and lifting an eyebrow as she caught the assessing gaze of a pale noble girl. The other girl was looking around at her peers, it seemed. Lin mentally shrugged, and righted her position until she was once again facing the current speaker. On a certain level, she could understand that girl’s fascination; seeing so many foreigners was a novel experience for her as well. In fact, it was so bizarre as to be nearly overwhelming. However, Lin had got used to it during the parade, even if it did admittedly still feel strange.

After the lengthy introductory address, something more rousing was announced: The five monarchs. Linah clapped sedately, though she was as invigorated as the rest of them. These men were all powerful; they knew it, and so did everyone else. Even if she personally didn’t care for any of them, felt bitter towards them for disregarding so many as worthless due to being so far beneath their notice, Lin couldn’t deny that they carried themselves well. They were so well practiced, one would be hard pressed to call it posturing – except in the case of the King of Perrence, she thought.

As soon as the second to last monarch of the Thrones was declared, Linah stood up. So did select few people, all Torragonese. It was a sign of respect for their king. She’d never thought about their nation’s ruler all that much, truth be told. She could see now that compared to the ostentatiousness of the others, Sancho VIII was dressed pragmatically, with little embellishments. His address had been short and to the point, only the pertinent points present, as it should be. This, at the very least, she was now able to recognize and reluctantly respect. It spoke to her Torragonese spirit, she supposed.

(Nonetheless…that ruby alone could feed hundreds of mouths for who knew how long, and that golden thread could do just the same. It irritated her.)

When the Torragonese King sat down, so did the rest of his countrymen. Once again seated, she clapped for the Doge.

When the other representatives begun appearing, Linah relaxed her hands, and simply observed. In mere moments after President Yibozo sat down, there was a shimmer of something odd nearby. Looking at it sharply, she saw the moving outline of a not-completely-disillusioned hand. An illusionist… Someone nearby asked if she saw something, but Lin didn’t have the occasion to answer. Her body had automatically tensed, and she was beginning to stand up-

-unimaginable power spiked -- light flashed -- a series of blinks-

-…Linah found herself half-crouched above the bench, as if ready to rise herself. She couldn’t fathom the reason, so was deeply confused, and sat back down. Three of the Arch-Zenos had a brief silent communication, perhaps, but she had no idea what that was about. There was no reason for her discomfiture and unease. The inconsistency reminded her of something, but she couldn’t quite put her mind to it, and the feeling of wrongness was fading rapidly. It seemed insignificant now. Lin told herself she might ask around later if anyone had experienced something odd during the ceremony. That was enough to dismiss the matter from her conscience.

Now that the brief bout of worry had passed, Linah directed her attention to the present. The most personally relevant part of the event for the students begun: the assignment of each initiate to a master. Lin amused herself playing the classic guess their age-height-weight game – but with a twist. She focused particularly on how those students carried themselves, how observant they were. She thought about how easy of a mark they’d be. If she could steal from them without notice – not that she would, of course not. (Unless someone was being unaccountably stupid with their possessions, and even then…)

Hours passed, and only a dozen of them or so remained. Now that the time of her choosing was night, Linah fully straightened up in her seat – she hadn’t exactly been slouching, but she’d relaxed. Now, she was ready to walk up to the stage the moment her name was called.

A royal Torragonese Zeno was the one to pick her. She may be a royal, but Linah though it appropriate to be with a kinswoman, especially given the recognition of their national bond. Lin walked briskly towards her new master, only peripherally observing her teammates. One was an Eskandish woman, one a small helmeted Joruban, and one a Perrench missing a leg. All of them were a curiosity in their own regard, though admittedly Linah was surprised to see someone disabled.

Regardless of newness of these people, and their peculiarities, Lin’s gaze was leveled centrally on Zeno Afraval. As her approach brought her near, she briefly greeted her in Torragonese, “It is an honour.” Turning towards the rest of her group, she switched to Avincian, “Pleasure,” and summoned a small smile for their sake.

Onarr

Interaction with: @Noxious, @Force and Fury and @SilverPaw

---

Onarr wished he could go back to his dorm, boil a nice cup of fermented Daggen, revise his manuscripts and take a nice, long rest after today’s events.

Instead, he has to ignore the stares from other fashion-blind students towards his glorious helmet, continuing to watch through his home-fashioned periscope. Every now and then, he has to pipe up to make little “Excuse me’s” and “Please don’t step on me” to ensure he isn’t crushed by the crowd of students in the plaza as they scurry like rabid mice to grab empty seats . Eventually, all of them were packed in there like pickled muskfish. It would be almost stifling in his helmet if he hadn’t forced open a small porthole on the upper metallic cone to allow some air through.

Onarr then made a promise to himself that if he ever became the Arch-Zeno of Ersand’Enise in the future, the next thing he would institute was the installation of raised platforms made of oak and castle-forged steel works everywhere to assist the physically diminutive like himself. This wasn’t out of compassion. It was simply because he was tired of seeing the asses of nobles and commoners all the time. Literally and figuratively.

It was an odd medley of mages around him and to Onarr’s relief, for once, not overly crowded by the sick stench of royals and nobles. His mind quickly picked out the few in the bustling crowd that he had spotted in the parade earlier.

He turned the periscope behind him and honed in on a waifish looking Revidian with a splotchy bruise on his eye. Ah, that one. He must have been the one to cause all of that ruckus behind him. Onarr silently bid him a half-hearted Shunic prayer and hoped that a binding healer would see to his injuries. It wasn’t that often where you witnessed worse luck than yours in Constantia but Onarr wasn’t the type to take solace in it. He’d had a taste of that once. It was satisfying at first but it slowly curdled you on the inside.

He then swung the periscope forward to the front of the plaza where all the nobles, royals and merchants congregated, resplendent in their most luxurious clothes that would be worth hundreds of Kizan. Solaire was the one he immediately picked out with his eyes. His initial performance at the parade had seared himself within everyone’s mind. Onarr snorted. What a showboat. He turned slightly to the left and spotted the Eskandish noble……Bjelke, was it? She was the only other remarkable one but all Eskandish were notable, given their political standings in Constantia. There was an ethereal nature about her that made his stomach lurch slightly, her complexion reminding him of the marble statues that stood tall in the Stresian temples his mother brought him to when he first learned to walk. Her countenance was collected and mostly disguised under that silken hood of hers. Onarr remembered a fervent argument between two Stresian historians which he observed whilst eating flatbread in the privacy of a library. One was arguing fervently that one could learn from the Empire of Eskand in Joruban’s future whilst the other argued that extenuating factors for both of the nation’s circumstances would soon lead to divergent futures. He wondered if perhaps, one could gleam the future of Joru in -

He blinked and shook his head, smiling to himself in nostalgia and heartache for those simple times.

When the five kings eventually arrived one by one, the clamor of the crowd around him grew, erratic whoops and hollers added to the melody. Onarr felt contempt rising in his throat as he watched each and every one of them pompously stride by, adulation and adoration in their wake. Next were the various representatives whom Onarr ignored as well. Only the presence of President Yibozo is enough to make him conduct a half-hearted Joru salute out of a habit his father had drilled into him. The lens of the periscope suddenly flared and wobbled just as he looked at the stage. Odd. He was sure he had calibrated it precisely this morning. He yawned, blinking a little, as he kneaded his tired eye with his closed right hand.

Perhaps he drank too much Daggen this morning.

By the time the parade had stopped, the sun bled indigo into the blue skies above. The next phase of the ceremony took place. It was the part that made his hands wring together and the inside of his helmet feel like a Belzagg savannah. His heart beat rapidly as he listened carefully to the syllables every Zeno that walked upstage announced. Everything seemed to pale in comparison to the importance of this small yet profound proceeding that would determine the next several years of his life.

As if some joke were being played to him, it came down to him and 15 other Biros out of the hundred or so that were in the parade. With bated breath, he watched pointedly as a Torragonese Zeno walked up on stage, a smile tilting her cheeks, and read out the four names.

"Anesin of House Bjelke, Penny Pellegrin, Onarr Yidlob, and my countrywoman: Linnah Aranda. It will be my pleasure to serve as your master and mentor."

“ PRESENT!” Onarr breathed out, remaining still for several moments, before collecting himself and waddling off the benched seat. He walked as resolute as he could, the stares of disbelief at his vertically challenged status bouncing off the shimmering steel of his bascinet.

A bead of steel awkwardly rolled down on the inside of his bascinet as he realized three important things about the group he was in.

One, that he was the shortest one in the group by far.

Two, that everyone in his group except him lacked basic common sense in terms of safety apparel.

Finally, the last being that he recognized no names that were distinctly Joru in origin.

There might have been other differences that he might have missed but these were by far the most obvious, worrying ones.

Not bad, not perfect either. Rarely all things were. The Eskandish noble he observed earlier in the parade was somewhat troubling for him and the Torragonese was not of any royal stature or of mercantile background given her state of similar dress to his. His mood darkened over seeing the Perrenchwoman’s crutches, unpleasant memories arising in his mind.

Mechanical diagrams and postulates about disability soon appeared in his mind and he tossed them away. He wasn’t here to change the life of one person and give them hope. Still, his heart skipped a beat as he watched her walk with her crutches on stage.

He wouldn’t be much of a good Streisan if he didn’t make an attempt to talk with her first.

Onarr stopped first in front of his Zeno before crosses his arm, fist clenched, over his chest in the Joru salute, and bowing.

“ I am glad to be your student, Zeno Afraval.” He paused for a moment before speaking what he thought was a Torragon greeting to his teacher. “ May your cattle be well-bred.”

He then turned to Anesin next, deciding whether or not to give a Joru salute. He wasn’t sure if it was an offensive remark in Eskandish culture. A few seconds past before Onarr decided to give a little bow, speaking in both Avinician and adding a little Eskandish at the end for formality. At least, what his father told him was Eskandish.

“ It is an honour to be in your presence, Lady Anesin of House Bjelke. May your ancestors shear sheep for all eternity.”

He turned to Penny next, bowing so low that his helmet nearly collided with her chin. As the Eskandish had worked out well, maybe, Perrench was in order too.

“ I look forward to being your fellow Biro, Miss Pellegrin. May you find safe harbour at a campfire.”

He then swiveled around to Linah, giving a nod to her reply, before bowing the same and replying in Avinician.

“ It is good to see a neighbour of Joru. Pleasure to be with you as well, Miss Aranda.”

He shuffled in line with the ready of the apprentice group and waited for the next batch of Biros to be called.

Well, that hadn’t been as bad as he expected. It looked as though his language skills hadn’t rusted over the years, no matter how many times his father tried to tell him.

As the fireworks turned the evening briefly into day, Onarr wondered briefly about the future and it’s possibilities with his fellow Biros before halting it. He’d been worrying constantly from his journey to Joru to Ersand’Enise. Now, it was time to relax.

A brilliant crimson bloom flushed the night sky pink, catching the attention of Onarr’s analytical mind.

Red colouration….Combination of magnesium? No. Must be tin and a hot oxidising - Ah, can’t think now.

He would figure it out and everything else in due time.

Interesting times were ahead.

---

Zeno Mozaru was… rather handsome. Marlijn strode right up to the stage, feeling like a thousand neskals. She curtsied deeply, flicking a few locks of auburn hair over her shoulders. “I’d say it’s an honour to meet you, Zeno Mozaru, but it’s more than that. I want to thank you for seeing something in me. I won’t let you down.”

The Zeno, taken aback at first, smiled thoughtfully. “Thank you, Marlijn, and I know you won’t. I promise to be worthy of you as a mentor.”

Rising, she blinked. Her grandmother always went on about how snotty and arrogant Greenlanders were, but this one was humble. She was a sweaty mess in this still-dissipating heat, but she couldn’t stop smiling. They saved the best for last! She thought.

Then, her fellow apprentices appeared and she wasn’t sure what to make of them, to be honest. There was a tall solemn-faced Torragonese, a simply-dressed Rettanese girl who looked a dreadful mess - or how Marlijn often felt inside on Dalldays - and then there was that scraggly boy with the limp and a black eye who she’d been convinced was a street urchin earlier. His name was unmistakably Ath Eskandish, yet he didn’t seem much like an Eskandishman to her. Could he have been… she started to wonder, but then, Marlijn remembered her manners. With little else to go on she merely cleared her throat and offered another curtsy. “Marlijn Vaanse, undoubtedly from a place much colder than you two gentlemen, if not my fellow lady.” She rose, smiling, and for some supid reason, offered a little wink. It was corny, but she did it. Before a blush could turn her entire face into its canvas, she took her place, rubbernecking this way and that occasionally for glimpses of her brother and friends.

---

---

---

They had insulted him. Jomurr knew how not to disgrace his family, of course, so he composed his face - mostly. It was proper to let some hint of your displeasure to show: enough that people would understand that you were only being friendly out of etiquette. Still, this could be little other than a calculated insult intended to chastise him for some sin, real or imagined. Why the Academy would do this, or who the bad-faith actor within it was, presently escaped him. He rose to his full height, bearing dignified as always. He was with Leon Solaire and some riffraff. The latter, to be expected. This was an insult, after all. The former, as well, for Leon - a mere performer, even if one of some renown - had led the cohort through the New Gate when, by rights, it should’ve been him: Jomurr Ikon the Third, future Prince of Zowenga, a brother or two notwithstanding.

But then Solaire showed him respect. For all of his fame, he stepped aside and waited for Jomurr to go first. The Belzaggicman found himself subtly impressed. Mostlike, the honour of leading the procession had been foisted upon him due to his renowned abilities as a showman. In truth, he should’ve refused it, but perhaps, Jomurr allowed, there had been mitigating circumstances. Perhaps it had simply appealed to his natural inclination to be the centre of attention. Performers were of that ilk, after all, and they could scarce help themselves. In any event, resisting his inner voice in this way was clearly a show of contrition and Jomurr accepted it as such.

Of course, that did not excuse the other part of the insult. The duke walked, composed, to the stage. This… ‘Zeno’, if you could call her that, was perhaps the poorest example of the species he had yet seen, and what sort of name was ‘Fades-in-Moonlight’!? It was an effort to maintain a civil - much less respectful facade. Facepaint? What was this? Eskand!? That slinky, slouchy posture? The utter disregard for proper etiquette and order of precedence? She stank of common. That Ersand’Enise was allowing this manner of trash to title itself ‘Zeno’ was a ill-portent and a reminder of how political necessity had begun to trump any actual respect for the practice of magic and the established order - which had been established for a reason.

He made it to the stage, unhurried, and took his place first - from left to right - among his fellow Biros, as it should have been. Truly, to call him a Biro was nonsense in all but the technical definition of the word. He was easily on the level of some of the lesser Zenos, like this one. The thought brought a smile to Jomurr’s face. “I am Jomurr Ikon the Third. You will have heard of me, I expect.” He let his eyes address each member of the group, one by one. “An honour to meet you Zeno… apprentices.” Then, other people opened their mouths and his moment of dignity died a quick death. “I, Leon Solaire, am present.” A predictable flourish for a performer. At the very least, he was stylish. Jomurr could appreciate style, even if his was a tad ostentatious. Everybody was ostentatious these days and understatement would be the next wave in courtly fashion - of that, Jomurr was near-certain. Bold contrasts, he thought, or else building around a centrepiece. He could forgive Solaire the minor fashion impropriety, however. The man clearly knew what he was doing on the whole and being a bit flashy was all a part of his job, Jomurr supposed.

---

---

---

“Anesin of House Bjelke, Penny Pellegrin, Onarr Yidlob, and my countrywoman: Linnah Aranda. It will be my pleasure to serve as your master and mentor."

Anesin Bjelke. A tightness formed instantly in Penny’s chest. It wasn’t as if it could be any other Anesin Bjelke, after all. She tried to control her eyes. They’d never met in person, of course, and the half-body sketched portraits they’d sent to each other in correspondence a couple of years back were poor representations of actual flesh-and-blood human beings.

Tall. She was tall. Penny had always considered herself tall, but Anesin was even moreso, and even by Eskandish standards. She noted that the other girl in the group - the Torragonese - was not short either. It was almost comical how small the lone boy was, though his… headgear certainly seemed to be designed to compensate. Men, she sighed inwardly, but stopped herself. He was probably insecure, just as she had her insecurities. Dami would be ashamed of her for her dismissiveness and lack of empathy.

It was but a brief distraction from something much bigger. Sienna Afraval was to be her Zeno. That she had expected for a while. Sienna - Zeno Afraval - was one of the few who was privy to her true identity, so it had been arranged. Anesin, though. Penny’s heart raced as she gathered her crutches and made her way to the stage. She could feel the eyes upon her: the pity, the disgust, the curiosity. They took a back seat, for once. What if Anesin recognized her!? What if she was outed, right here, right now, in front of her father who was pretending not to know her!?

Out of habit, Penny walked a bit quicker, ready to go first in the order of precedence until she remembered that, as a ‘merchant,’ she was to go after Anesin. The others… they looked to be lower merchants at best, perhaps even commons, and that made her wary. They could expose her - not that they’d want to for they both seemed decent people - but still, they could pick out the flaws in her act through a lifetime of familiarity.

She could practically feel the short boy - Onarr - staring at her through his bascinet and she was not nearly so vain as to think it was for the reasons that boys often stared at girls. Penny hurried up onstage, counseling herself to breathe. Truly, she’d had enough excitement for one day. It had gone from invigorating to stressful and she was more than ready to curl up in her dormitory bed with a good treatise or instructional and just read for an hour before sleep claimed her. Alas, that was not to be. She’d be headed to Sienna’s townhouse, where she’d likely share a room with the two other girls or at least Linah. A noble of Anesin’s stature might be given her own accommodations. At least Linah seemed the quiet type. That was to Penny’s liking. She could test the waters, dip her toes in, figuratively speaking, and come out of her shell at her own leisure. Perhaps, she imagined, Linah might even feel the same. The Torragonese greeted her countrywoman and it was almost jarring to hear Sienna address her back in their shared native tongue. Not wanting to seem like an interloper, the Perrenchwoman decided to keep quiet and not make it evident that she understood their language.

Linah greeted everyone else in that brief way that Torragonese usually did. Then, it was Penny’s turn to reply. Father was right there. She could’ve run to him across the stage, yet he was dressed in all of his grandeur and playing a role, as was she. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder at him and thought that she caught his eye. His head turned with feigned royal disinterest to watch this fourth-to-last group congeal. Penny curtsied towards her master and peers, rather proud of the skill that she had mastered despite having less to work with than other girls, and turned to face her new companion and likely roommate. “Likewise.” She nodded, inclining her head. “I’m not much for these sorts of things either.” She hoped they would come to an understanding of sorts. Perhaps even a friendship. Penny had never had a friend in person and she was presently uncertain as to how to approach Anesin. In the event, there was Sienna. “I would offer you something more formal, Si… Zeno Afraval, but I would feel remiss doing so. You’ve been ever so helpful a guide and mentor already.” Then, before she could address Anesin or Onarr, the latter - who had just arrived - spoke up.

He gave a Joruban salute and… “I am glad to be your student, Zeno Afraval.” After a brief pause, he switched to Torragonese and provided a very old-fashioned greeting in her language: “May your cattle be well-bred.” Penny’s cheeks turned pink and she puckered away the smile that threatened to explode across her face. Me! She thought, do me!

Anesin was his next recipient, however. “It is an honour to be in your presence, Lady Anesin of House Bjelke. May your ancestors shear sheep for all eternity.” Penny liked him! She didn’t even have the chance to take in whether it was a look of horror or approval on Ani’s face - it still struck her as bizarre that her long-time correspondent and confidante was here in person and yet did not know who she was - when Onarr fixed upon his next target: her!

He bowed deeply and she was forced to hop back as his helmet nearly caught her in the chin. “I look forward to being your fellow Biro, Miss Pellegrin. May you find safe harbour at a campfire.” It was an obscure greeting that travelers and soldiers sometimes gave each other in the evening. She supposed it was evening, after all, and was left unsure whether he was truly clever and was making a bit of a reference to their context or whether he was simply tossing out phrases he’d learned from a book. Either way, she bowed her head. “A pleasure, Monsieur Yidlob. Truly, I hope we can all find safe harbour shortly after such a day.” She stifled a yawn and he proceeded to greet Linah as well, as other groups began to be called. She made what conversation there was to be had with the others, feeling a bit of her wit returning, and glanced over her shoulder to see father rising and mingling as Hugo Hunghorasz gave his final speech.

Then, the fireworks started and hundreds of eyes turned to the heavens to watch. Father came by to shake Sienna’s hand, and he offered polite greetings to the students, standing momentarily beside Penny as the sky glowed. “Incredible how they get such a vivid red,” he remarked to nobody in particular but truly to her. She might’ve imagined Onarr glancing the king’s way at the remark. She could sense that her father wanted to reach out and show her affection - he was so different from mother in that regard - but both knew that he could not. Instead, Penny merely lowered her head in deference as he was about to ‘wander’ off. “It truly is a wonder, your majesty. I believe it is called strontium carbonate.”

---

Greetings were exchanged, some lengthier than others. When Penny addressed her, stating her dislike of the pomp and circumstance, Linah quirked a brow. “Oh?” she was understandably surprised. Besides her neat outfit, the girl had even curtsied to the Zeno; quite the feat, given the crutch instead of a leg. But perhaps all they’d seen was too much even by whatever nebulous standards the other was referring to. “Well, it was quite the ceremony,” she then commented, tone indicating something between agreement and amusement.

As Penny went on to speak to Zeno Afraval, Linah noted the familiarity. She wondered since when the older woman had mentored the girl, but regardless, this indicated that Penny had potentially intriguing connections.

Then, Onarr introduced himself. At his switch to Torragonese, she openly smirked. His salutation was archaic, and while correct in certain instances, it was utterly inappropriate here. Since part of her attention had been on Penny still, she noticed the other girl stifling a smile as well. Linah tilted her head at her knowingly, laughter sparking in her gaze. Then, she turned towards the Zeno, curious if the royal woman might correct the boy or not.

As Onarr went on, she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d butchered the Eskandish tongue as well. Most likely, and Lin was curious what the southerner’s reaction would be.

During the fireworks, the Perrench king approached, and Linah tensed up. She stood silent and still, pointedly not looking at anything beyond the spectacle in the sky. Zeno Afraval was one thing, but a king so close? She had no idea how to act. However, she did have to return the perfunctory greeting he offered. As she did, she noticed how much more human he looked up close. Sometimes, the power people wielded blinded her to the fact that in the end, there was a person just like any other beneath. Well – just like any other in some aspects.

A king greeting a royal was not all that odd, regardless of the politic situation between Perrence and Torragon. But Penny, a mere rich merchant’s daughter sassing the king himself? Linah twitched, but did all in her power not to react. Either Penny was pure steel and guts, or…Or, what? Could there be an acquaintance of sort due to her relationship with the Zeno? Or was her family so well-connected? In any case, it was a thing to keep in mind. This girl wasn’t to be underestimated, no matter that many – the vast majority in fact – would simply dismiss her as useless due to her disability. Clearly, that was not the case.

---

It was unfortunate that Anesin had chosen the path of appearance over comfort when the other students had pushed forward to gain the more treasured seats. The fact that Anesin had not appeared a fool in the many eyes watching did little to alleviate the oppressive temperatures, and the shade seemed to make the most pathetic crawl towards her throughout the proceedings. The thin pale hood she wore stopped the sun as a spoon would halt a flooding river. Even as Anesin likened herself to warriors of Eskandish legend, suffering the cleansing of the flame before she could step towards her future, she found no real solace. It was just going to be like this with the Greenlanders. Forever, hot as an arcanist's fetish den. ^{(or a Goose's hatred)} Either way, Anesin seemed to spend the entirety of the ceremony trying to look ever the regal child. She sat up straight, smiled, nodded and clapped; but she spent so much energy manifesting calm perfection that she had barely energy to spare for actual attentiveness. In fact, had she not been one of the last chosen she may have missed her calling.

As it was, Anesin remained one of a dozen when her name was called, and she stood stiffly. Her glacial eyes immediately clung to the Zeno; Sienna Afraval. Anesin's Mother had detailed a list of Zenos who would make appropriate leads for her daughter, most likely to the school itself, and Anesin knew of Sienna Afraval. The Princess of Pain. The stark white tattoo curled with her pale pink lips as she took measured and purposeful steps forward. It wasn't until Anesin was graciously bowing her head to the Zeno upon the stage that she allowed herself to size up her fellow disciples. And size definitely came to mind when the smallest of the group spoke to her. While Linah had been adequately brief in her introduction and received a sedate bow, Onarr had already garnered a raised brow before he started speaking.

"May your ancestors shear sheep for all eternity.”

If the brow had not been clearly noticeable prior, this time it twitched enough to shift the runes across her shimmering face. Confusion was present for a moment, but then it was gone and she regained her composure and offered the same gracious bow of her head. Examining the armored boy with trained indifference. As he began speaking to Penny, Anesin took the reprieve of conversational duty and took a quick glance at Penny. She received the same tilt of head as the other two. A perplexing group to be sure. Inwardly she pleaded that perplexing meant interesting and that interesting was a sure path towards being distinguished.

Anesin allowed her eyes to drift once more across the contents of her future before shifting them upwards; towards the light show and the continued spectacle their arrival had pulled forth. She took in the group’s actions and conversations through her periphery for the time being, content to rest her judgment elsewhere until it could be better sorted. Penny’s yawn had affected her, along with the day, and she was in no state to begin shuffling through everything.

Her reverie was interrupted, for only a flicker of a moment when the King arrived. Anesin offered him a bow of her head deeper than she had given to the other's, but likely not deep enough. It mattered not as he seemed preoccupied. All the better. It would be a curious thing to speak to the man she had heard about in letters, especially in such a public and exhausted setting. It seemed Anesin was dismissed from that awkwardness and her eyes flitted outward again. Superficially focusing on nothing and inwardly listening to the every movement of those near her to get some inclination of solidarity.

---

“ Oh! I didn’t mean to ....”

Onarr poked both of his index fingers together pensively, becoming more concerned with the state of his leather boots. A million calculations blazed through his head, trying to figure out what was the best way to remedy this social situation. It also helped to ignore the fact he may have made the same mistake with an Eskandish noble and a Zeno.

After a few seconds, he replied back.

“I’m glad you agree.”

The Joruban then kept mostly silent to himself, watching the fireworks alongside the rest of his fellow Biros. He was relieved that the helmet helped hide the blush of embarrassment on his face. Trepidation wormed inside his stomach as his stress began to amplify rumors passed onto him by older students. Would they drown him in the Arboretum for insulting one of the Zenos? One of the third years had mentioned passing by that those who insulted the Zenos would be executed during the Trials for their insolence? His stomach froze when he remembered the most outlandish rumor: that he would be forcibly fed to the Goose of Ersand’Enise.

What was to be his fate?

Then, the arrival of the Perrench King dissipated the paranoia that had fogged over his judgement. Onarr’s eyes flickered between the king and Penny, connecting their two erstwhile comments together. King Rouis deigning to parlay with the commoners? He would have expected him to converse with Anesin instead of Penny. There were a dozen other Perrench nobles in the crowd so why her?

More questions grew in Onarr’s mind. This was a riddle, the same as her crutches but only invisible in its evidence.

He coughed out politely to break the conversation, regarding Penny with a curious look.

“Ah, a student of alchemy. Not many Biros would make that observation.” He paused before adding another question in a slight hopeful tone. “Are you by any chance a Chemical mage?”

---

Penny blinked, outed, and father moved on as if it were nothing, meeting and greeting a nearby group. Still half-turned, she could feel the others’ suspicion. On her first day here, she had already damaged her cover. She gulped nervously, schooling her face and not yet turning to face Onarr if only so she could school her features.She forced a smile and twisted. Truth be told, she was already rather fond of Onarr and his peculiar ways. It was this fondness that caused her such distress for she could not bear his and Linah’s suspicion. “Oh no,” she chirped, “though I dabble… quite a bit. I’ve ever so much time and I’d love to learn more of its mysteries. Perhaps here -” She stopped to stifle a yawn. “Gods, I could use a drink, a book, and a bed. Apologies. But yes,” she continued, “in this place, the only limit to what we can learn is our desire to.” She let her eyes wander across the shadowy buildings of the academy, surrounding the grand plaza. “So wonderfully equalizing, don’t you think?” She regarded Onarr again, over her shoulder, blushing slightly at the moment of earnestness. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that, of course. So… would you be asking if I was a chemical mage because perhaps you’re a chemical mage?” There was a twinkle in her eye as she asked. Onarr struck her as the sort to focus in chemical magic. It would also be prudent to distract him from any suspicions he might have of her.

Onarr’s eye flickered to the side in perry as Penny hid her face from him. Was it something that he said? His fear was momentary as she replied back with remarks that made him nod in agreement, especially the fatigue that was already seeping into his neck and knees. Well, not everything. There were still some things that Ersand’Enise couldn’t make equal. It was evident in how the others towered above him. He wiggled his bascinet for a moment to relieve the itch from wearing it all day before replying back to her question.

Onarr then snorted at her question and hid a short chuckle. “I would be if my great grandfather didn’t electrocute himself whilst trying to pray to Shune two centuries ago.” His amusement died down as a note of regret entered into his voice. “Whilst I do practice chemical magic, magnetic magic is unfortunately my specialty.”

Onarr paused before deciding to rephrase. “What I meant is that chemical magic just seems much more interesting than magnetic magic. I find it to be the most diverse of the five magics. Natural talent in an area does not necessarily beget interest.”

He coughed before asking his next question with a deliberate slowness.

“If you are interested in chemical magic, I would be willing to share several of my notes. We are of the same master. It seems that cooperation would benefit us both.”

Penny blinked. Onarr’s suspicions, if he had truly held any, seemed to have been allayed. She was a fool for having assumed the worst, but then that was ever a struggle. He wanted to share notes with her. Truth be told, Penny kept extensive notes on every school of magic and not only Binding, but she was again struck with a wave of anxiety. Would that she could ask Anesin for advice on the matter, as she sometimes did by correspondence. She glanced in her friend’s direction and the girl looked to be occupied. Penny would have to navigate this on her own. That Onarr was intelligent, she could sense clearly. What if he reads them and… he wouldn’t laugh, she knew. He was too polite for that. He would say vaguely agreeable things and she would sense the subtle disappointment and she would lose his intellectual regard.

But then she looked out and saw the arch of Benedict the Blessed - her great-grandfather. You miss one-hundred percent of the shots you don’t take. She could have a friend here. She sensed that she and Onarr were of like mind in many ways. She was about to reply before it struck her how she towered over him. Perhaps he was just young or late to grow or perhaps he was a dwarf. In any event, she imagined that it must bother him to always have to look up everyone’s nose when speaking. Penny sunk into a crouch, letting her crutches down gently in front of her, and stifled a second yawn. It may have been her imagination but it almost sounded as if Anesin stifled a laugh when Penny knelt downward. Her guts turned to ice at the sound - being laughed at - but she pressed on. “I should very much like that,” she agreed, glancing toward Onarr at more-or-less eye level. “I cannot promise they will be of much quality… or legibility, but I can guarantee they will be diligent.” She flicked some hair over her shoulder. It wasn’t in its usual braid and it was becoming unruly. “And to what you were saying earlier…” My great-grandfather had a talent for magnetic magic. She almost said it. “I find that people often act in fervent and inadvisable ways in service of the Pentad.”

Perhaps that had been rude. Perhaps she had said too much. Anesin, she thought, do I even dare speak with you? Her good hand hovered over her crutches, ready to make a retreat should she need to, but it was not as if her unwitting friend would or even could be allowed to recognize her. Then, it suddenly stopped mattering. Their Zeno, who had been largely busy with being accosted by royals and students, was able to break away. “Penny, on your feet,” she scolded, quirking an eyebrow. Foot, Penny thought, but she dared not sass Sienna. “Everyone, it’s been a long day. I see plenty of tired faces and, uh…” her eyes turned to Onarr. “Body language.” She clapped, businesslike. “We’ve lots to do tomorrow. Plenty to learn. Let me show you to our townhouse. You’ll find your sleeping arrangements prepared and I’ve had keys cut for all of you.” She smiled, professional once more, but not without some warmth. “Come along now.”

---

---

---

When the dark-skinned boy finally introduced himself, oh shite... much to Anna's horror amusement, he really was literally named 'The Turd'. Yep, what's that about homonyms? Nah, it wasn’t a homonym. Did he really just expect people here to have heard of him as if it were everyone's gods-given duty to know? Was he for real? Anna couldn't help but stare in disbelief as Ikon the Turd locked his eyes with hers. "Who...?" was her only reaction to his self-serving introduction, well, that and a slight patronising tilt of her head, accentuated by her large headwear.

This one was an idiot, Jomurr decided: some merchant girl, by the looks of it, of some exotic extraction that he couldn’t quite place. Not only had it raced ahead of him without the slightest regard for decorum, it attempted to speak and failed most miserably. "A... ah... uhm..." To be either so flustered that one couldn’t form a coherent word, much less a sentence, or to be unable to speak proper Avincian was just unprofessional in this day and age. Jomurr Ikon the Third spared it a slight, frosty glance and what he supposed it could interpret as a nod of greeting were it so inclined.

"..." While her stammers eventually died down into contemplative silence with her blushes fading away from her pale cheeks, Anna's mind - a part of it at least - was still focused on the fact that Leon Solaire was here at Ersand'Enise, and not only that, assigned to the same apprentice group as her too! She had never met him again ever since that fateful encounter in the Rettanese port market, but it was one of her most memorable childhood memories, the sandy-skinned boy had left such an impression on her in no small part due to his appearance, then the performance of his traveling busker group made sure it became permanent. She only wondered if he had the same sentiment...

To Jomurr, the third common was somewhat of an improvement, as far as commons were concerned, disconcerting pallor aside. She had a way of dressing that he was rather fond of and a pleasing… shape. Such thoughts are beneath you, Jomurr, he chastised himself. Certainly, the lower classes were there for his enjoyment, but this one did not give any indication of being available. She addressed him and, impressive as her Avincian was, he still detected a hint of a Perrench accent to it. "It's a pleasure to have been selected by you, Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight, or would you prefer Zeno Luna? I'm embarrassed to say this will be my first time meeting someone from Nashibansek so pardon me if I display any ignorance for your customs." She turned to her fellow apprentices. "Likewise, I am looking forward to studying alongside the rest of you, Leon Solaire, Jomurr Ikon III and Illanaq Sigmundottir."

He disliked her, then and there. Jomurr decided that he disliked her. She had addressed him second. She was either a fool not to understand the order of precedence or else knew better and it was a slight, calculated insult. To address him after a Zeno of Ersand’Enise - even such a poor example as this - was proper. To once again place Leon Solaire before him was unacceptable. Carmillia Carbonneau, he decided, was an ‘it’ to him. Presently, Zeno Moon-whatever was assuring her - with a minimum of decorum - that ‘Luna’ was just fine as an address. It was of little matter to him.

When the albino girl - who was impressively even paler than Anna - began introducing herself, Anna was subconsciously thankful for the unintended reminder. Right, right, she needed to do that, huh? Since she had somehow managed to forget that basic courtesy, she figured it'd be prudent if she just did it last. So, this extraordinarily light-skinned girl was a merchant like her, neat! The fewer stuffy nobles in her group, the better. "Of course, likewise, Carmillia." The fellow white-haired girl nodded while tipping her pointy wide hat a bit. Anna didn't know her at all, but so far, the short-haired girl seemed to be fine, maybe a bit too polite for her preference, but that was mostly a non-issue.

Finally, it was her turn, and she didn't want to waste anyone's time with an unnecessary long introduction, so Anna simply said, "Ilannaq Sigmundottir, but just call me 'Anna', Arcanist and Chemist. Pleasure to be working with you all." then made a distinctly North Rettanese gesture of a friendly greeting.

Hearing Illannaq’s greeting to the group, something did spark a memory for Leon. Did she say her name was Anna? Something was reminding him of a time before he was a star. Such a time was nice to think back on, but seemed unbelievably distant. As if his real memories had only started when he became ‘Chosen of the Sun’. Leon remembered a nice moment up in Rettan, but it was all so hazy now. He felt bad for Anna that his memory had escaped him. Surely it was on good terms. Of course, none of these thoughts were shown in a visual manner. Leon kept his same smile and posture throughout. He didn’t want to show doubt in front of the girl who was admiring him.

If he had not been given the honour of speaking first, as he should have, then Jomurr Ikon the Third decided that he would send his own sort of message - strong and clear - by holding himself aloof and speaking last of all. He offered Solaire the slightest of nods, giving him leave to speak. The performer did not waste time in availing himself of the honour. Performers, Jomurr thought, such a charming yet predictable species. “Why thank you Carmilla, Anna. I am also looking forward to this year with you all. We have already shown we have the most style. Now it’s a matter of letting them know who the best magicians are.”

For once, a statement that Jomurr could heartily agree with - or at least indubitably, for personnages of his rank were not so uncouth as to do anything ‘heartily’. He decided to use this as his segue into the conversation. Only… he didn’t get the chance to.

When Leon Solaire spoke, Anna was beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was the very same Leon from before, just five years older, like herself. "Hey, Leon, remember me~?" The younger white-haired girl of the group curled a wide goofy smile, like an excited puppy hoping her master would recognize her after years of separation.

Once Leon finished his introduction, he found Illannaq asking if he remembered her. Oh shit… Leon took a noticeable pause trying to figure out how to go about this. He decided to address the issue directly. Making eye contact and keeping a friendly smile, Leon answered her. “Of course I remember you. Yours is not a face I would forget that easily…” Another pause occurred before Jomurr cut him off with his introduction. For once, Leon was more than happy to get the attention off himself. He gave a small head bow to Anna, then turned his full attention to Jomurr feigning a respect for nobility.

Oh... that was a painfully generic answer, Anna decided, one that a popular person would give to one of his fans that remembered him well, but not vice versa. A realization washed over her, an unfortunate yet logical one: Leon was a traveling performer, he must've met lots and lots of people from all over the world, accruing fans and admirers along the way. She likely was just one Rettanese girl out of countless others that he had met over the years, it wouldn't be farfetched to deduce that while he might remember her, she wasn't special. This fact stung, but one that Anna couldn't rationally deny. "..." Well, no matter, they could always start fresh. She might've put too much emphasis on that single encounter anyway, and besides, Eshiran would always be with her. Leon was a figure from a time before she realized her destiny. A fondly nostalgic memory, but one that wasn't strictly important for her future.

"But it was a long time ago, don't worry about it. We're all here to start fresh anyway." Anna flashed a solemn smile at Carmillia, closing the short conversation but about to segue into something else when The Turd just had to open his big mouth... again.

Leon had clearly needed rescuing, and Jomurr had found himself mildly amused. Should he have let the usually-silver-tongued showman flounder further or should he have jumped in? For whatever reason, he had decided upon the latter and was now delivering a further introduction of sorts. “It is as she says. This is but the beginning, and as he said moments earlier, everything now comes down to our abilities as a group. I expect that, after my lead, and with the wise guidance of our master -” much as it pained him to do so, he inclined his head in Fades-in-Moonlight’s direction (she was currently glancing down at her fingernails, disgustingly unbothered) “-we shall become a force to be reckoned with. Rest assured that I will more than pull my weight, and Monsieur Solaire’s reputation certainly precedes him.” Jomurr pivoted lightly on a heel, then, looking down his nose at the two women and clearing his throat ever so slightly. “However, of you two, I know yet little. It would be… preferable to learn more.” He had not, of course, provided them with an order in which to speak, and while it was a minor impropriety, that was part of the fun. Commons were ever in need of explicit instruction, else they faltered. He waited to see how they would navigate the impasse: which would stumble over the other, seize the initiative by the throat, or give way. Jomurr was so pleased with his cleverness, in fact, that he even allowed himself the indulgence of a smile.

Whatever else might’ve been said by herself, Leon, or Carmillia, that'd sadly have to wait, for now Anna had to contend with the fourth Biro of the group. To be honest, she had initially forgotten that he was even there, until he’d made himself unavoidable. What was his name again? Jam Icon the Turd? No... that couldn't be right. What kind of parents would name their son "The Turd"?

"Mmm..." Anna pursed her lips, she wasn't impressed with him, not at all. This Biro seemed to take everything she disliked about the pretentious nobility and put it all into one Belzaggian schmuck. "Eeeeh... nah, The Turd, I believe it's clear that Zeno Moonlight is to be our leader and mentor, not you. She then curled a devilish smirk as she debated whether to stop it there or continue, mmm... sod it, the prick deserves it, she decided. "Let me make myself clear, The Turd. This is not your fancy palace and we aren't your servants at your beck and call."

Jomurr had plucked a neskal from his coinpurse and was rolling it between his fingers. In truth, he nearly dropped it at the little beast’s words. He had intended to let Carmillia speak, for she intrigued him as much as she annoyed him. Truly, he had, but such impertinence was almost… amusing. This… ‘Anna’ character was precisely everything wrong with the modern merchant class: upjumped commons who thought themselves entitled to the respect due nobility while having done nothing to earn it. Why, with a tongue like that, he genuinely doubted whether this one had or would sell anything in its life. He tossed the neskal up and caught it, as was his habit and, momentarily, he addressed Carmillia. “Apologies for pre-empting you, my lady, but this requires I have leave to speak.” He twisted, chin still raised, towards the impertinent brat. “I had hoped to avoid such… unpleasantness, but it appears you’re the type who would prefer to draw conclusions about other people instead of answering a well-intended question. I’m not sure why I’d expected better but, to respond to your ill-conceived jibe, my servants are much more sensible people than that as, I sense, are the others in this group. As for your… charming accent, I well know that Rettanese often struggle to pronounce the ‘th’ as it is foreign to your language. I bear you no grudge for your unschooled speech.”

Jomurr wore noble authority well, Leon decided. The manner in which he spoke and the poise he held himself with. It was a good look on him and the performer could see it. Still, Leon ignored the mention of him claiming leadership. Leon had grown up in a place without leaders aside from whatever royal’s land they were staying on for the month. While he respected Fades-in-Moonlight as a Zeno, he did not consider her his leader nor would he recognize Jomurr. The suggestion was just trying to grasp a meaningless title in Leon’s mind.

Oh Gods! Anna thought, The Turd truly had a personality that matched his name. The dark-skinned boy had a stick so deep into his ass that she bet it was longer than her broom-staff. This Ikon character represented everything wrong about the nobility and why their status quo must be kicked from under them, the world no longer needed people who were proud of wealth, status, and achievements that they didn't even deserve, just who in their right mind would think that being born into wealth meant they were above others who didn't? The nobles, obviously. With an attitude like that, Anna wondered just how long this schmuck would last before he felt a knife slitting his throat while he's sleeping. He surely couldn't have many friends, she imagined, but certainly no shortage of enemies.

The little neskal play didn't impress her either, merely showing that the prick compensated for his lack of real self-worth with his family's wealth. The veneer of decorum and thinly-veiled faux civility held no sway over the Fireblood. "Heh~ everyone here knows that you talk big because underneath all of that, there's nothing, you are nothing. You try to compensate for that hole in your soul by thinking you're better than others, but take away the undeserved status and wealth you were born into, there’ll be nothing left but a sad empty shell." Anna laid all of her opinion bare, sparing nothing for the noble drunk on his perceived authority.

Give a fool enough rope… Jomurr thought, but he was honestly tiring of idiots. He raised an eyebrow: a tired, patient eyebrow as if dealing with a petulant child. “Unlike some, I’m not so presumptuous as to make assumptions about what ‘everyone here knows’.” He turned to face the others, putting his back to the little beast. “I will only say that, with my talents, it is natural that I take the lead amongst equals, under our Zeno’s guidance, for of course she is more learned in the ways of magic.” He nodded deeply in her direction. She had straightened and her eyes were flicking tiredly amongst the students. “A good leader, of course, should lead by example in his conduct and in his strength, where you shall find that I excel.” His face became earnest, “but I assure you that does not preclude listening to the concerns and recognizing the strengths of my fellow apprentices. Truly, I believe the both of you gifted mages, else you would not be here.” Feigning absence of mind, he turned halfway on his heel, towards but not towards the brat, and flicked the neskal up into the air once more. Only, this time, he reached into its very atomic structure and tore apart the matter behind its eyes to produce a flash of unmistakable deep arcane power that made it glow momentarily. He drew the energy out so as to remove the threat of radiation, and caught the still-warm thing in his palm. He smiled. “I certainly hope there is no misunderstanding among us.”

Anna, however, was unimpressed. As The Turd made his deep arcane display of a shiny skull-shaped neskal, she reciprocated in return by freecasting a palm-sized fireball on her right hand, the flames licking directly at her skin. Yet, Ikon would surely notice that it didn't burn her, she could do this all day, "Oh no, there's none indeed..." She imagined sparks flying between their eyes, finishing her demonstration of defiance by 'crushing' her fireball between her closed fist to extinguish it.

The arguing over leadership had reached a fever pitch. Anna protested against Jomurr’s self-bestowed crown. Leon cared little for it. He had no skin in this game, it wasn’t like he was going to follow anyone if either result occurred. Leon just started wandering off.

If Carmillia was unsure of his personality before, Jomurr Ikon III had made it apparent. He was your stereotypical high born noble who thought himself the better. Even his acknowledgement of Zeno Fades-into-Moonlight was poorly disguised; he was blatantly disgruntled to be under the tutelage of a commoner. Despite that, Carmillia was sure he was giving himself a pat on the back for ‘expertly’ maneuvering the conversation. No doubt he thought she was unaware of his lewd gaze earlier.

Illanaq Sigmundottir, however, had managed to change Carmillia’s initial take on her. Gone was the flustered girl swooning over Leon Solaire, now replaced by a more audacious one. She made it very clear she was unimpressed by Jomurr’s pompous speech and that she had no intentions of accepting him as their leader. Carmillia found the nickname she had bestowed upon Jomurr amusing. Turd was indeed very fitting. Illanaq displayed no respect for nobles and Jomurr believed anyone of a lower caste was beneath him. Pots and kettles.

Still silent, Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight continued showing her disinterest in stopping any of the posturing. So, before the rabble could continue blabbering, Carmillia decided to interject. Jomurr’s archetype was painfully easy to deal with as such people often twist reality around themselves to fit their personal narrative. He was the easier to handle of the two hence Carmillia chose to address him first, intent on showing him what true eloquence was.

“Atomic magic! It's very rare for someone of our age to dabble in it. And you handled it with such precision." First, she had to satiate his ego. Jomurr wanted them to know he was special.

To Anna’s mind, Carmillia had gotten in-between the shit-slinging contest by... uh... groveling before The Turd's feet? This indeed gained the albino a raised eyebrow from her Rettanese peer. She was a fellow merchant so why was she rubbing this fool's dick?

"-I've met less than ten such people.” Carmillia continued, “Even then, only Benedict and Armand could do what you just did. I'm not sure if you've heard of them. Benedict of House Laurent and Armand of House Delacroix." But she also needed him to know he was not that special. And that she had encountered such people before.

"-It makes me ecstatic to be studying alongside you." Carmillia was toying with him. Fanning his ego, blowing it out and rekindling it. All the while stealthily pushing and pulling on his emotions with her chemical magic.

Oh right, Anna realized, she's one of those merchants, huh? The ones who preferred to stroke the ego of nobles so they could sucker them into one-sided business deals and buy off their property and titles. The fact still stood that she must stroke this insufferable idiot's ego, though, and that was a very shameful look. Anna wasn't sure how to feel about this. On the one hand, Carmillia looked like a cheap whore, but on the other, she approved of her end goal. One could say that Anna liked the ends, but disliked Cammie's means to achieve them.

"-Ah! Where are my manners?” Carmillia continued, “I'm sorry for rambling. You said you knew little of me earlier and as fellow apprentices, that simply won't do. If you'd like, we could get to know each other better over a meal." Taking advantage of his earlier lewd gaze, she ended her sentence alongside stimulating his production of testosterone. Jomurr was conscious of maintaining his 'dignified' appearance and that wall would be much easier torn down in private.

Jomurr blinked. This girl was smooth. He had to hand it to her, but she also knew her place… for now. He sensed a social climber, though he also had nothing in particular against that. It was only natural that one should want to better their station. He smiled deferentially. “Yes, dare I say that working together should be a learning experience for us all.” Some more than others, he thought. “I must admit to being surprised that old Benny has managed to dabble in Atomic with a capacity like his. Impressive.” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I shall talk craft with him next time we meet.” Against his better nature, he found himself strangely fond of Carmillia. Certainly, she had been stroking his ego while subtly asserting herself. Still, he respected it - appreciated it, even. A woman is no fun if she gives herself over too easily. “As for dinner -” his voice became silky and smooth, “I am certain the opportunity will arise soon. I look forward to it.”

And well, what do you know? Anna found herself thinking, It had actually worked. This Ikon the Turd had all but reinforced Anna's belief that he indeed had nothing to stand behind that veil of authoritative ego. Judging from his response, Carmillia also knew she had won him over. The next thing was to deal with Illanaq.

"And Anna!" said Carmilia, as she turned around to face the girl. "Let's not pick fights. I believe Jomurr had good intentions for wanting to be our leader. He is talented in magic. That said, I'm not sure if it's necessary to have a representative amongst us but that decision lies with Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight."

The older white-haired girl addressed her, much to Anna's surprise. She’d sworn the albino would never take her attention off The Turd. "Pffft, right, and I'm the Empress of Tan-Keoul." The Rettanese shrugged, "But yeah, precisely: Moonlight is our Zeno, not him."

Carmillia had tossed the matter to their mentor. From what she knew of Luna, she was not going to indulge Jomurr with the role of being their leader. It would be better if she broke the news to him instead of the apprentices arguing.

“Oh, what? A leader? Gods, you’re not even busy smiling at each other and polishing your knives like most kids do.” Leaning against the lectern, Fades-in-Moonlight rolled her eyes. “You’ve practically already reached the stabbing point. So I’m gonna uh… say enough is enough.” She paused for a moment, grumbling under her breath, “Goddamned noble and merchant kids.” The Zeno pushed off of the lectern and stood, suddenly a more imposing figure than she had been moments ago. “So we’ll table that decision for later. Cool?” She looked directly at Anna. “You need to dial it down about three notches, hun, and not let him goad you, okay?”

As it turned out, the Zeno had no interest in taking sides, nor humoring any of them. Well, that was unfortunate, Anna thought, barely suppressing a scowl, as The Turd was clearly the wrong party in this. Didn't she care about asserting her - deserved - authority over the jumped-up noble? But then the Zeno turned to Jomurr and met his gaze. “And I’m sure a ‘team player’ like you can understand the need to listen to the coach, hmm?”

If Jomurr felt slighted, he hid it well with a tight smile and a nod. “But of course, my master,” he replied, eyes wandering towards the Belzaggic delegation. “I leave all decisions of import to your boundless wisdom.”

Oh wait, nah, she did chastise The Turd, just in her own indirect way. Very nice! Anna thought. Very nice indeed, Zeno! You showed him, ha, just look at the dog with his tail between his legs.
Thank you for that, Zeno Fades-in-Moonlight, thought Carmillia. Now that it’s been settled… Without missing a beat, Carmillia slid her arms around Illanaq's. Playing nice with Jomurr might have made her lose a few points with Illanaq but earning them back would be easy. All it took to make up with a girl in love was to give her a friendly tease. That and a little bit of emotion manipulation magic.

"So what's all this with you and Leon?" She asked aloud, making sure everyone heard the question.

When the older girl wrapped her arms around hers, it caused the witch-hatted Arcanist to blink in mixed confusion and curiosity, "Oh... well, I met him when he visited Rettan around five summers ago..." She wasn't sure if she should tell anymore than that to a stranger, but she did glance at Leon to see his reaction first.

The only problem was that Leon was gone.

In fact, he had made it no more than a few steps, mingling with some fans, when someone in the crowd brushed him. It was a nondescript figure and he found something shoved into his hand: a note. “Act normal,” a voice said quietly but oh-so clearly, almost as if it were speaking right into his mind. “Don’t turn. Read it later.”

It was at that precise moment that Luna called them all back together. “Alright, you little shits,” she said. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, or maybe a whole week. What say we get back to my humble abode and catch some sleep?” She paused. “That was uh… an order, by the way, just in case I had to make myself clear.”

---

---

---

There are many things here not to like, Manfred had decided. He had sworn to Dami and Shune both not to let his preconceptions blind him, and yet… there were many things here not to like. Something had happened during the speeches. It had been subtle and jarring and important and… he had been uninterested in what it was. Normally, his retention was excellent. For a magusjaeger, the ability to notice and recall every minor detail was centrally important. Yet, here he was: unable to remember. He scowled. Then… the way that… actor had acted so familiar with Eun-Ji. It was no business of his - they were both mages and therefore a part of the problem - but something about it had still rubbed him wrongly.

She was speaking now, her Avincian surprisingly good for someone so foreign. The words had been paired with a bow in the style of most Rettadish cultures. The sincerity of it was enough to excuse the improper form of address. Graf, Manfred thought. Graf Manfred Hohenfelter of Meckelin-Thandau. It had been drummed into him many times during his youth, when he would’ve rather been out hunting, exploring, or building lean-tos in the forest. It was a bit of a mouthful, he decided. "I am Seung Eun-Ji of Tan Keoul. It is an honor to be picked as your apprentice, esteemed Zeno Hamir Zemana; and to be your peers, Ms. Mayu of House Iovina, Mr. Karim Nazeri, and Mr. Manfred of House Hohenfelter. I am looking forward to a fruitful cooperation among us."

The Zeno nodded and smiled, inclining his head. “Fruitful!” he practically shouted. “I like that! Let us hope, hmm? Pleasure! Pleasure to meet you.”

The Virangishman or perhaps Paggonian with the striking scar was next to speak. Manfred’s parents had engaged in dealings with Paggonian trade guilds. They were a vicious lot, Hexaists too, though this one seemed decent enough upon introduction. "It is an honor to meet you all and an honor to be your apprentice Zeno Hamir Zemana." Karim - Manfred thought it was - crossed his right arm over his chest and bowed briefly to the group. "It is a pleasure to be learning with you all and towards a good partnership with each other."

“Thanks, my boy,” the Zeno responded. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’d heard your old man’d had an heir. Now I see the orange didn’t fall far from the tree.”

The other, smaller, Rettanese girl - Manfred recognized her as the one who’d been hiding a cat - still seemed hesitant to speak, so he went next. “Manfred Hohenfelter,” he said simply. “It is an honour, master Zeno.” He removed his hat and bowed deeply. “And my fellow learners.” He straightened and addressed the others with a polite nod. He settled the hat back on his head and was done with introductions. Should these people wish to speak with him, Manfred would of course make himself available. Should they not, so much the better. His mind was far more concerned with what was being hidden from him and possibly the entire student body.

Mayu, who had been quiet the entire time, finally decided to speak out. "It's a pleasure to meet you all, my name is Mayu Iovina. I may be young and inexperienced but I'll make up for it with hard work," she said, finishing off with a small bow to show respect.

It didn’t take long for Eun-Ji to get out of her melancholic mood that was inadvertently caused by the fireworks. In any case, she had politely responded to each of her peers’ introductions by repeating her formal, polite bow at them. Afterwards, she had mostly averted her gaze away so as to not make any direct eye contact with the others; again because staring without any reason was a very rude thing in the culture of her people. In her mind, however, she had once again been taken over by her curiosity towards the other soldier in the group. So far in her life, whenever she met other soldiers that were not of loyalty to The Cruel, they had always been enemies to her.

Manfred, on the other hand, was no such thing. He was not an adversary for Eun-Ji. Quite the opposite in a way, as he shared the same master as Eun-Ji herself. Thus this became the very first opportunity she'd had to possibly get to know a non Tan Keoulian soldier. Yet she was feeling a bit confused about it all… And as she was contemplating this, she found herself staring at Manfred for a brief few seconds again. "Ah.” And again, she failed to muffle her surprise. Furthermore, she assumed that Manfred must have noticed her staring considering the close proximity they all currently shared; thus she immediately apologized, bowing at him again a bit deeper this time at an inclination of about 30 degrees. "My deepest apologies, I didn’t mean to stare. Please forgive my rudeness.”

Manfred had noticed the girl’s eyes on him. He knew little of faraway places like Tan Keoul - only where they were on a map and that the people there both looked different from him and had profoundly different ways of doing things. He’d assumed that might be the reason for her uncomfortable staring and he had tried not to be rude himself by making clear he’d noticed.

“You are a foreigner in a foreign land,” he replied briefly. “It is natural.” He inclined his head slightly, not sure what to make of her ritual of apology. He remembered hearing somewhere that many Rettandish cultures did such things. He blinked. There was both an earnestness and almost… a fear to her. But then, a particularly loud boom echoed from the sky - more fireworks - and Manfred flinched visibly, his mind snapping back to a place where he’d been three years ago. He closed his eyes momentarily and took a bit of a breath. Why was he here? Already, something had happened during the ceremony, and they had hidden it. He wasn’t sure what, but it had happened all the same. Now, he was playing the good scion of a noble house and he had some foreign girl who he did not know bowing to him over an imagined slight. The sky reverberated with fireworks in a celebration that, truly, he did not feel. He was tired. He imagined he would be tired as long as he remained at Ersand’Enise.

The girl was still there. Manfred reminded himself that he was not here to make friends. She was pretty too, in an exotic way, but he dismissed the thought from his head. Best to sink his teeth into the mystery. He half-turned away, the brief eye contact and her earnestness making him mildly uncomfortable. “It may be strange to say this, and you may tell me if I’m daft - crazy,” he corrected, using a simpler term, “but I got the impression you were martially trained.” His better judgement told him that he shouldn’t be speaking of this matter, and not to a virtual stranger, but he pressed on. “Earlier… during the ceremony, did you see or sense anything unusual? I cannot remember details, but I’m left with an impression that something… unplanned happened, and that does not feel right.”

In response to Manfred's words, Eun-Ji bowed yet again, this time back to the one with fifteen degrees of inclination. "My humble gratitude for your understanding, Mr. Manfred of House Hohenfelter. Thank you." Yet again even her words were formal. She had always been rather formal even for Tan Keoulian standards; sometimes to the chagrin of others. She then wondered if there was anything she could or should say further to Manfred, but then the loud boom that made Manfred flinch had evoked a reaction out of her as well. She stared at the fireworks again for a few seconds before taking a single deep breath in and out to remind herself not to return to her own contemplations. That done, she turned her gaze back to Manfred, noticing his eyes closed.

In truth, a certain sentiment was shared between the two. Eun-Ji did not fully realize it consciously, numbed as she also was to such a thing, but she had subconsciously found Manfred to be handsome in his own way despite how foreign he was to her. It truly took some effort for Eun-Ji not to lapse to another bout of staring, and this was something she found somewhat confusing as she could not fully grasp the reasons. Fortunately, it was then Manfred who decided to speak again, allowing her to look at him directly without feeling awkward. She found it unexpected that he took notice of her martial bearing. Quickly however, she reasoned. Then again, I myself noticed that side of him. So perhaps it was only logical that he too would notice the same about me. She continued listening intently to his words, finding herself even more surprised of Manfred mentioning the unusual happening. She spoke no words in immediate response, but her eyes lightened up in recognition. It wasn't until a few seconds later that she nodded in response. "Yes, I am indeed martially trained." Of this, her words were spoken without pride or reverence. Quite the opposite, despite her attempt to show no emotion, it would be noticeable to those of perceptive eyes that her honest nature had given way to small gestures upon her expression and body language that implied her resignation to her role. "And I would not dare to think you daft or mad... I myself felt something similar... Like... Like an emptiness in my mind. Something had happened, but I cannot recall what. As if my recollection of it had been stolen from me."

Manfred nodded tightly, solemnly. “It is as I thought, then.” He spared an uneasy glance at Eun-Ji. “Something is being hidden from us," he continued. "There is a girl in another group - Marlijn Vaanse - who I know in passing. She’s an illusionist and one of us should speak with her later to see if she has any insight. As for the others in our group, I think it best not to -”

“Alright, apprentices!” shouted Zeno Zemana’s booming voice. “I see lots of sleepy faces, and I thought the young had more energy than I did!” Appropriately, he paused right then to stifle a yawn and Manfred couldn’t help but shoot an amused look Eun-Ji’s way. “Hhhwaah, phew. Sorry about that. It didn’t happen!” The Zeno winked, taking in all four of his students. “Anyhow, you’re tired, I’m tired, and even if you’re not, you’re going to humour me and pretend that you are because I’m the boss, right?” He grinned and crossed his arms, regarding his apprentices. By instinct, Manfred stood at near-attention. “My boy,” laughed Zeno Zemana, “I appreciate the spirit and discipline. Dare I say I’ll ask a lot of you, but you’re not in the army anymore.” He pivoted halfway on a heel and jerked a thumb in one direction. “Come on, I’ll show you to your sleeping quarters. Ladies in one room, gentlemen in the other.” Zeno Zemana did not wait. Whether his students were ready or not, he started walking.

When Zeno Zemana started walking off, Mayu realized how uncharacteristically quiet she had been. She had come to Ersand'Enise to change herself. She wanted to become a confident and respectable mage but instead found herself behaving like the exact opposite. She was doing nothing while being swept along by the current. Who am I? Who do I want to become? With those thoughts, she steeled her resolve. As she followed the Zeno who was now marching ahead to lead them to their new quarters, she glanced at the Paggonese male who had introduced himself as Karim Nazeri. Like her, he had remained silent for the most part after introducing himself. Despite the intimidating scar covering his left eye, he had looked friendly enough with his big smile when he was gazing at the fireworks.

Seizing the opportunity, she started walking up towards him in hopes of striking up a conversation. Unfortunately for her, Cumin jumped out from under her mantle onto his shoulder just as she approached him. The white kitten who had been patiently waiting under her cloak was no longer content with her simply chilling the air and wanted out. Cumin!! What do you think you're doing?! she screamed internally. She hurriedly grabbed him by the scruff and stuffed him back under her mantle. "I'm so sorry that happened. He didn’t mean anything bad by it," she whispered quickly, her gaze darting back between Karim and Zeno Zemana who was still ahead, hoping the latter hadn't seen the cat. “Please keep him a secret-,” she continued and handed him a small pouch filled with cookies she made the night before. “-in exchange for this!”

---

---

What unbelievable luck, it almost startled him to hear his name, but as usual, things always seemed to work out for Vyrik.
Somehow despite everything he had been through he still wasn’t late. That caused a proud smile to tug upon his lips.
He looked up and pulled back his hood to greet the teacher and each of his other classmates. He kept it to simple introductions and light pleasantries. A few words of choppy Eskandish for the noble girl and some fluent if not common tongue Revidian for the boy.
He guessed himself to be the oldest of hos fellow students but doubted that would give him any advantage when it came to magic. He was however excited to see a fellow Revidian and a girl from Eskand but already felt like he would probably get along better with the one called Yimu. Still, two pretty girls in a group of four wasn’t something the the young adolescent would complain about. As much as he wanted to start talking to them all he was also super eager to get moving onto the next part of his adventure.

Vyrik hadn’t opened the note he was given earlier, yet still, coupled with Zeno Zander Mozaru’s greeting words, it left him with an sense of unease. How had that person known who he was, or even found him. Why couldn’t Vyrik hear his footsteps. Why was this Zeno even worried about him. These were thoughts he pushed aside to ponder on later. Tucking the parchment into his belt he followed along.

Curiously he opened his mouth and let his questions spill out.

”So, what do we call you? Master? Teacher? Zeno? What are you going to teach us? Where will we be sleeping and eating? What’s your specialty? How long have you been teaching here?”

Karim was just following Zeno Zemana, thinking that things so far were going well, when he felt a sudden presence on his shoulder. He initially thought it was a hand but, when he turned his head to check. Instead of a hand to his confusion, it was a white kitten. Before he could say anything about the mysterious feline. Mayu came up and snatched up the feline. Putting it under her mantle, and then came the apology from her. Which again, before he could say anything, came the bribe of cookies? Where did she get cookies, did she bring them with her from home or something? Karim just stood in place for a moment, looking down at the cookies in his pocket to gather himself. Are cats or pets allowed at the academy? He asked himself, knowing that he had no idea.

Either way, Karim chose not to tell Zemana about Mayu's kitten and resumed walking with the group. Still a little confused, partly because of the bribe though Karim would pick one up and take a bite. To his surprise, it was actually good. Though he would put the cookie back in his pocket. There was a better time to eat his bribe. So a second weird thing to happen today, Karim thought. Only this one was the innocent one compared to the other. Hopeful there will not be any more weird things today. One was enough, and three just means his time at this academy just might be more... interesting than he thought.

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As Zeno Zemana started to walk off, Eun-Ji followed him with the other Biros of the group. Walking backmost among the group, she had been more or less quiet, thinking on what Manfred had told her. She kept in mind the name he had mentioned to her; Marlijn Vaanse. In truth she still wasn't sure yet whether or not this was something she wanted to or should look into more, but she was also unable to deny that her curiosity had been piqued, even more so now that she knew she wasn't the only one who had been affected by whatever thing it was that caused the mysterious dissonance within her memory. Regardless, all these will have to wait. She definitely can use a good night of rest to invigorate both her body and her mind, especially considering how busy tomorrow likely will be. Putting all of these out of her mind for now, Eun-Ji decided to just enjoy the quiet walk through the streets under the night graced by the presence of three beautiful moons.

As the group walked through the streets, a white little furball had suddenly clung itself onto Karim Nazeri's shoulder. Eun-Ji noticed the little creature before Mayu quickly snatched him back, putting him under her mantle. Oh, what an adorable little one. Eun-Ji had always been fond of animals, something influenced by her background of living in her family farm for fifteen years before being drafted. She actually didn't know whether pets were allowed or forbidden within the academy, so that line of thought didn't cross her mind at all. Instead, her mind were filled with a little bit of urge to pet the fluffy little thing. Still, it would require the permission of her fellow Biro for that, and she didn't quite feel like disturbing the peaceful quiet. Perhaps later... she thought in her mind.

It didn't take much longer after the little happening for the group to arrive at their destination. A house of Virangish architecture and design, belonging to Zeno Zemana himself. Finally it seems that the group will be able to partake in supper and rest, as was proper to finish this eventful first day.

As much as Yimu tried to focus on her reading she found herself frowning a little as each noble had their name announced. She’d never really understood why nobles felt the need to announce their names and lineages. Being proud of something they had achieved themselves would be one thing, but gloating about something they had had no say or hand in bringing to fruition was simply absurd! Especially if that something was as trivial as being born, something which literally every person, of every class, has done. Perhaps a life without hardship skews one’s idea of just what constitutes an achievement…

Sighing to herself Yimu glanced up from her book to briefly cast her gaze around at the various impromptu displays of magic put on by the other new arrivals. For the most part these seemed to be simple displays of power and though a few were somewhat impressive or showed some degree of skill, it wasn’t like watching the displays was going to grant her any special insight, so she simply dismissed the displays as more showboating for her to tune out. Maybe if commoners weren’t the last to go I’d do some magic of my own, put some potholes in the ground or something, Yimu mused to herself, not that she had any clue how she’d pull that off without getting caught but the thought was fun.

Eventually, Yimu managed to tune out most of the sound and action going on about her in order to focus on her reading, if only because the whole ceremony was drawn out so long. Like this Yimu spent the majority of her time buried in her book, only finally being drawn out by a massive if very brief energy surge from the direction of the stage. Glancing about for a cause, it didn’t take long for Yimu to conclude that it had been a flashy way for the Arch-Zenos to get their attention, much like the display of clearing the weather earlier. Yimu couldn’t help but be a little disappointed at having missed whatever display had been made, but that disappointment what quickly forgotten as the assignment of zeno was announced.

Though she’d never admit it, Yimu started to get a little nervous as the names were called out, worried that some clerical screw up might have resulted in her not being on the list. She was pretty confident that even if that were the case she would be able to sort things out, perhaps even twist the mess up in her favour, yet against all rationality, she couldn’t help but feel butterflies in her stomach, a mounting unease that only grew until finally, fourth from last, her name was called.

Some part of Yimu’s mind urged her to simply run up onto the, but that might give the impression of her being excited to be there, which while admittedly true, would no doubt be interpreted by the nobles as her being excited to be in their presence or something equally stupid. Instead, Yimu made a show of continuing to read even as she got onto the stage, feigning complete indifference to Zeno Mozaru and her fellow biro.

Only once they were all exchanging greetings did Yimu look up from the book to take in her peers, though she didn’t bother to do so herself, considering their names had only just been announced. Yimu found the other girl, Marlijn’s embarrassment at her own greeting to be particularly amusing and took that as her cue to stare at the girl, frown and then quickly avert her gaze as though she’d seen something on Marlijn’s face but didn’t want to say anything. Turning her attention to Vyrik, Yimu felt some sense of relief, she wasn’t going to be stuck in a class entirely comprised of nobility, which based on the student body wouldn’t have been unlikely, and he was asking important questions which suggested he wasn’t entirely useless.

The sun had set, the fireworks were over, and the crowd was beginning to disperse, but it was no quiet night or traditionally contemplative moment. Rather, there was a sort of buzz in the air. The plaza was a battleground of dislodged and toppled benches, its ground strewn with bottles, rubbish, and dropped or misplaced possessions. Had the guards and the stern eye of the academy not been present, the scavengers likely would’ve come out. As it was, some of the bolder ones did.

People walked about in groups of five - surely pleasing to the Pentad - some with a bounce in their steps, others stifling yawns and smiling. Still more hurried after their fellows, trying to catch up, while others groaned, stretched tiredly, and lamented one thing or another. It had been a long day: a fulfilling one, but long, and despite the light snacks brought out on silver platters by uniformed servants during the reception, many were hungry.

Sienna Afraval’s apprentices were one such group. Onarr Yidlob shambled along, his heavy bascinet-style helmet bobbing and wobbling tiredly as he went. Penny Pellegrin’s steps, laboured at all but the very best of times, could best be described as trudging. The tall Perrench girl’s hair was a sweaty, unruly mess. She glanced glumly down at her stomach as it made unhappy noises.

Only a few steps from her, Lady Anesin Bjelke was holding up little better, her stoic dignity starting to falter under the triple onslaught of exhaustion, aches, and a burning hunger. Only Linah Aranda, who was perhaps more used to deprivation and exhausting days than her peers, appeared to be holding up well, though one could not be sure if it was merely a convincing act.

“Ah look,” Remarked Penny to the others, “She is talking!” Her stomach let out a particularly eloquent gurgle and she patted it. “Would anyone like to hold this kind of conversation?” It was perhaps only 20:00 or so and she was already in that giddy late-night state that she’d had rare cause to find herself in previously but nonetheless recognized.

Anesin was, in fact, absolutely famished. The growl that had come from Penny’s stomach had spoken to her own and reminded her that she could not accurately recall when her last meal had been, though it seemed to have been in a different world than this one. Anesin nodded sympathetically to Penny.

“Penny dear,” began Zeno Afraval, pivoting briefly and walking backwards. “I have pastries at home and some stew in the cauldron, ready to be warmed. We draw near even now.”

Indeed, they had turned off of Parade Street and the crowds were thinning. Gas lamps provided feeble light but, luckily, three of the moons were out tonight and one was full. “But it is so far,” Penny whined. “Truly, master, you are the princess of pain for a reason.” She stifled a giggle.

Linah glanced from Penny to the Zeno, smile automatically forming upon her lips as she judged it to be the appropriate expression given the joking mood. Privately, she thought Zeno Afraval was more indulgent of her student than her moniker merited. Perhaps because it was Penny in particular, perhaps because the woman knew the time for levity allowed for a softer hand. Maybe it was because she seemed so personable outside of teaching that people were then surprised to discover how strict she was when it mattered. In any case, she offered no comment, as this was between the master and the student.

“Patience is a virtue,” Sienna replied. “Be virtuous, Miss Pellegrin.” She twisted to regard the others. “I’ll advise you now not to follow your peer’s lead,” she warned, a smirk nonetheless creasing her lips. “She is truly a horrid example of proper conduct and only gets away with it because her brother and I are old friends and she’s been knocking about campus for a week, trailing me like a duckling.”

“Oh, or a goose!” squawked Penny. She glanced impishly at her fellow apprentices, a twinkle in her eye. “Have you heard, pray tell, of the demon goose of the Arboretum?”

“The demon goose is not real,” Zeno Afraval warned.

“I beg to differ, madam.” Onarr piped up, annoyance edging into his tone. “I’m afraid that it is real. It led me on a wild goose chase with my bascinet in its beak.” His skin shivered at the memories of having to dive into the lake and retrieve the helmet. “I was fortunate that it didn’t eat me like the seniors said it would. That avian had a pronounced intellect for its species. I believe it warrants serious study from the Zenos.”

Penny nodded enthusiastically, though it may not have been clear whether it was out of genuine agreement or because she simply wanted to egg Onarr on out of boredom and the sense of mischief that occasionally manifested itself in her. “I, too, have seen it! Why, the beast went for one of my crutches,” she wailed. “I profess no idea as to its motives but, clearly, it is no ordinary bird. ‘Twould have rendered me even more a cripple had I not smacked it with extreme prejudice and held it at bay with my magic whilst I made my escape.” Her face became earnest and she glanced Onarr’s way. “Truly,” she insisted.

“I’ve only heard of it, but is there truly so formidable an animal that no one could hunt it down and have it for dinner?” Linah interjected, voicing the question that had first occurred to her when discovering how commonly this so-called demon goose was mentioned.

Anesin had hardly recovered from her thoughts of food and the thought of goose, however demonic, was too cruel for her to focus on for the time being. She began thinking of all the ways one could prepare a goose. Of course, roast goose was the best. Perhaps a coating of sugared butter would round out the demonic undertones?

“There are any number of ornery avians on campus,” Sienna Afraval assured the two students. “And plenty of white geese with a foul disposition: consequence of the magic, some have theorized, but the demon goose is no more than an old legend. It was around when I was a Biro. I’ve heard Arch-Zeno Intaba speak of it. Even the Paradigm,” she sighed, stifling a slight chuckle. “Now, tell me: what sort of goose lives that long, hmm?” She smiled reassuringly. “Fun as it may be to make storylines and, far be it from me to take that joy from you, rest assured that it is only a legend.”

”People must rather like that rumour, then,” Linah concluded. Given Afraval’s words, she couldn’t help but wonder if any of the Arch-Zenos, or the Paradigm, were responsible for keeping the legend alive. She had no doubt geese could be a menace, but would be surprised if one so malevolent not only existed but persisted through long past what its lifespan should be.

“And dark magic isn’t real,” whispered Penny to Onarr just loud enough to be overheard. She drew a look from Sienna and immediately apologized: “Sorry, ma’am.” She focused her eyes down and away for a moment. “Binding magic is not used for offense,” she whispered in a quieter voice once the Zeno was looking away, but then they were there. Anesin’s thin fingers curled and clenched subtly at the comment, but her expression remained affable, if not focused- likely still on goose. Zeno Afraval held up a hand. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a key. It was a large, imposing townhome of three full stories and a loft. The barred window of a cellar peeked out from just above ground level. Sienna ascended the three steps to the door and it creaked open moments later.

There was a swirl of magic and a brief chill. Then there was light. Oil lanterns lined the hallways in their sconces, rich scalloped paneling and wallpaper revealed in pattern if not in all of its vivid colour and grandeur by their flickering illumination. The floorboards creaked lightly as she hung up her riding cloak and led the students inside, past the sitting room and towards a large kitchen with a cold, quiet hearth. There were keys on a table - four sets of them on their own keyrings, and a half-dozen spiral-shaped Ensaïmada - a traditional Torragonese pastry from the island of Zalamaija that Linah would likely be familiar with. Zeno Afraval stopped in front of the large oaken piece of furniture. “Welcome home,” she announced, spreading her arms in a gesture of welcome. “Your beds and a meal await and your bags have already been brought to the upstairs landing. First, however, a bit of housekeeping, if you will.” She let her arms fall. “I have, upstairs, two bedchambers, save mine, two dressing rooms, a reading room, and two privies. As befits her status, I would like to give Lady Anesin a choice: would she prefer to share a single large room with the other ladies? If not, the second dressing room or the reading room can be made into a bedchamber quite easily.”

Anesin had lingered in the doorway longer than the others. She was unsure of dwellings that structured their being around so much wood. They felt weak. It amazed her that these people felt any superiority over her own. She ran a finger across the wall, and while appreciating the decorative nature of it all, it was hardly practical. But that summed up the Greenlanders pretty well. She would have to work to grow accustomed to these things. She knew that much, but what a weird choice. How safe were they inside a wood box filled with fires? A mage, one trained correctly, could surely bore through stone, but wood? Hell, a simpleton with an axe could gain access to such a place. Her thoughts would return to the trouble with safety of the dwellings later, for her mind quickly shifted once she took sight of the pastries. Anesin’s lithe figure had started taking quiet steps across the creaking floorboards towards her prey but then the Zeno had addressed her. It took a greater amount of willpower to focus on the question than she put into most of her magical endeavors. Anesin bowed her head to the woman in respect and spoke with a surety provided by royal heritage.

”If it is not too much to ask the Master of the house, would it be alright if we tabled this discussion for tonight? I do believe my mother has set up arrangements in the Noble dormitories, but I do not mean to be any trouble. I do not require a private room for tonight. I would like very much to be among my peers.” Anesin offered a genuine smile to the group. Nobility was different in Eskand. She knew that much. Those who fought and rode together, they should dine together, share their lives. A bonding of battle.

Onarr raised his eyebrows at the noble with mild surprise, though it was hidden underneath the metallic brow of his helm. Nobles like her would have taken their Zeno’s offer without a second thought but then again, not all of them were Eskandish nobles. Maybe, Shune did exist after all by blessing him with an odd group of fellow apprentices tonight.

“I believe all of us appreciate your sentiment, Lady Bjelke.” He then coughed awkwardly as he addressed another matter. “I realize that my choice in apparel may be off-putting for many of you. As such, if no one dares share sleeping quarters with me tonight, note that I will be completely understanding of your decision.”

Linah quirked a smile at Onarr. “I do believe the custom is for the girls to room in one place, and the boys in another. No doubt you’d enjoy so many beauties sharing your quarters, hm?” she teased.

“Don’t take me for one of those braggarts in the parade.” Onarr gruffly replied, crossing his arms though his cheeks glowed red. “I merely seek to preserve the cohesion of our apprentice group.” Linah didn’t respond further beyond a light chuckle, and a dismissive shrug.

Anesin dared not ask for worry of being rude, but she hoped and prayed in that moment that someone would see if Onarr intended to sleep in his armor? She had seen it done by the old school Eskandish during the lengthy hunt, but nothing so uncomfortable as that head piece.

For her part, Penny merely suppressed a grin - and not very well. “Truly, Onarr, you are perhaps the best thing about today. Never change, I pray.”

Then, the Zeno posted her hands on the table, leaning back slightly. She smiled good-naturedly, taking in her four apprentices. “Well then,” she began. “The second matter -” she glanced back at the cauldron hanging over the unlit hearth, “is much simpler: somebody please light that fire or else find another means of warming that stew. I, too, am hungry.” She smiled with a certain sort of impish pleasure. “Who’s going to be the first to impress their master and earn her regard?”

Linah had stood at attention when Zeno Afraval began speaking, gazing at her as the older woman relayed her directions. Upon the request for a fire, she immediately nodded once and got to work. She walked towards the hearth steadily - her steps would have been quicker if she hadn’t been already converting her own kinetic energy to magical, storing it - and knelt next to it. She drew upon her recently filled stores, and easily coaxed the wood aflame. Since that in and of itself would still take a while, she lay a palm upon the pot, directing heat into it. She wound her arm as necessary to get that kinetic-arcane flow going. Once the pot was sufficiently heated, she took upon herself the more mundane task of stirring the stew so it would not burn.

Onarr’s own talents at arcane magic were amateur compared to specialists but thankfully, his father’s drills in the smithy had allowed him to do this much. He took a glove off his right hand, stuffing it into his pocket, before concentrating charge into his hand, the wift of ozone popping into his hand.

“Allow me,” He said to Linah in Avincian. “I’ll keep the temperature steady while you stir. Having both of your hands is easier than using one. Trust me.” His voice then took a faint tone. “I’ve got experience.”

He closed his eyes, forging the chaos of magnetic energy into the rudimentary, fleeting energy of arcane. To him, it was transitioning from playing a flute to a set of parade cymbals. Louder but more monotone and inflexible. He pressed his calloused palm against the pot and continued on from where Linah started, ensuring the cauldron remained steadily hot.

“Oh, of course,” she nodded in thanks to the diminutive Joruban. Removing her palm from the pot as Onarr took over, she focused solely on the stirring. It was odd for a person to remain helmeted while not in battle, and especially indoors, she thought. It wasn’t any of her business, but if she were to guess, the boy wore the helmet to double his height. She couldn’t comprehend doing such a strange, surely inconvenient thing. She took it as fact that she’d never see Onarr’s face though. It did stir a mild curiosity as to whether he slept with the thing on, but not so much that she’d be redirected from a more relevant matter. “What do you draw from?” she asked him. He was, after all, now also applying his own magic. So far, she’d heard him and Penny previously discussing chemical magic, but didn’t get the sense either of the pair specialized in it - though perhaps they wished to.

“Magnetic magic. The iron holds a little charge but my helmet however…..” Onarr replied briefly, tapping on the rim of his bascinet. “My blood allows me to sieve through potentials more easily but I’m converting more brutishly than you are.” He then nodded towards Linah with a grunt of admiration. “A very apt use of arcane magic. My father tried to instill it into me but I could never progress beyond the basics. Even so, they are useful in stances like this.”

“Ah, so the helmet is a focus point,” Linah realized. That was at least another point towards the thing’s usefulness. Still, to have a bascinet fashioned for such a purpose spoke of eccentricity. In response to the compliment, she smiled. “Thank you, arcane is my primary. Magnetic, however,” she trailed off, barely refraining from sighing. “Well, let’s just say I frustrated my previous teacher’s attempts at instructing me in it. It is a delicate thing to balance,” she commented. She did not think it unwise to admit such a weakness; for one, Onarr had done the same, so in a way she was merely reciprocating, and for another, her magical strengths and weaknesses would soon become apparent anyhow. Besides, they were here to learn and overcome such deficiencies.

A sigh escaped Anesin’s tattooed lips, she was appreciative that the fire and the cauldron were being tended to, but she had the gnawing realization that this placed the pastries on the back burner for decorum sake, so her almost outreached fingertips sank away from the plate and she focused instead on Penny. She moved closer to the girl, leaning in so that her curled lips could whisper directly into her ear. ”You know, I had also envisioned myself crouching for our new…” Anesin struggled for a moment with a word in Avincian that grasped her meaning and settled, perhaps awkwardly.. “battle brother.” The same sort of unrefined chortle escaped that had in the plaza as a hand flew up to cover her mouth. She composed herself rather quickly as she watched Linah and Onarr work. The smile that now curled the runes on her face was one of pride, pride for the possibilities this group contained. Her voice was no longer a whisper when she next spoke. “They both seem rather efficient and comfortable with their magic. We shall be scoring top marks without a doubt.” Her gaze flickered back to Penny, taking her in. She was quite pretty, not Eskandish, but pretty all the same.

At Anesin leaning in, Penny seized up for the barest of moments, a sort of guilt and apprehension grabbing her. Then, Anesin was Anesin. “Truly,” she whispered back, “you shall break my composure.” Her mask of polite anticipation cracked a touch. “I imagined it a kindness, but the image was…” She turned her face only to Ani and grinned, but then her friend had a statement for the entire group, perhaps cognizant of the appearance of the two of them whispering and giggling. “Honestly, I adore this group,” she replied. “Dami has smiled upon us.” Still, she noted the taller girl’s gaze upon her, and her good humour began to shrivel under it.

“Exactly!” Onarr replied to Linah with a bit of fervor in his voice. Finally, someone who saw the bassinet for what it truly was. However, he restrained himself from explaining the ingenious methods of his helmet’s construction and simply decided to explain in layman’s terms. “You can’t even begin to imagine how much effort it took to meld quartz and feldspar with steel. Ugh, my hands were like turtle skin after three days in the forge.”

He then raised a finger, letting a wave of jagged blue waver between his helmet and the fingertip before allowing it to disappear. “If you want, I can teach you magnetic magic.” He spoke the next sentence with a smug tone. “You are looking at the best the Republic of Joru has to offer.”

Linah hummed to show she was paying attention as Onarr explained about forging the helmet. It was interesting enough to discover he’d forged it himself; that must also mean his father was a smith and that was why the boy had mentioned him previously. At his offer to teach her, though, she directed a dubious expression Onarr’s way. “Quite the boast,” she judged. “However, I do not mind the practice or the tutelage, as long as our master deems it acceptable.” She briefly looked at Zeno Afraval to ascertain whether the woman was paying attention to their words or not and the Zeno nodded.

“So long as you’re not probing the depths of the deep arcane, you’re free to collaborate with each other. Under my watch the first time, though, hmm?” Linah nodded in acquiescence, and went back to watching their supper.

Onarr then turned his head back to Anesin, now held deep in the embrace of social conversation. “And you? What is your specialty exactly?”

Anesin paused her examination of Penny. It was probably reaching a moment of lengthy awkwardness anyways, and so she turned her attention to Onarr. While it was slightly jarring the easy way in which he addressed her, she found herself appreciating the friendliness of it all. No “your Grace” or even a mention of title. “Nothing near as intriguing as you’d hope. Binding. But I can assure you that I am quite adept and will be more than happy to cover our defensive end.” She thought to mention the gift of the Snake, a spell she had recently found some obsession with, but decided now was probably not the time. It would be better to get a read on the group before rushing into a conversation just to make herself feel more worth.

Penny blinked and twisted Anesin’s way once more, feigning surprise. The guilt festered in her gut, but perhaps there was room for a conversation soon. If she could reveal herself to one person it would doubtless be the smallest of leaps for that to be her confidante and correspondent of nearly four years. “I, too, am a Binder!” she nearly shouted, bouncing up and down on her tiptoes. At this exclamation Anesin's attention snapped back to Penny and she was bestowed with a pleased look from the anything but icy Eskandish. Penny had already continued on, taking in the others. “I’ve done a great deal with Arcane and Kinetic, but I would love to learn more of Chemical, truly… and Magnetic.” She realized that she had just named all five schools and she blushed fiercely at her overenthusiasm. Then there was Blood Magic: forbidden fruit. Her and Anesin had danced around the subject in their letters, but the Eskandish woman hadn’t mentioned it, so Penny followed her cue in that regard.

“Anesin,” announced Sienna Afraval, “you look quite ready to gnaw a hole in this table. Why don’t you come enjoy an Ensaïmada?” She smiled and gestured towards the pastries, pulling a chair out with her other hand. “The same offer goes for the rest of you.” She focused for a second, and Penny realized that she was checking in on the heat of the cauldron’s contents. “Stew’s about warm enough and food is here to be eaten, after all.” She took a step forward. “Onarr, Linah,” she called, “watch out.” With that, the pot rose from the fire. A ladle, spoons, and bowls floated out of the cupboards. Stew leapt from the cauldron to fill them and they set themselves neatly on the table. Five chalices joined them, and a pitcher of water. Sienna sat herself at the head and scooted her chair inward. “Bon appetit!” she chirped.

An uncomfortably warm Stresia day had given way to a cool night, the way that days often did at this time of year. A fog had rolled in across the city, granting it an almost ethereal feel. Streetlamps glowed faintly within it, ghostly globes of light shimmering in the darkness. Voices could be heard in the arboretum and clusters of shadowed figures filtered through the streets. These soon went silent. Candles and lamps flickered in windows. One by one, they winked out. In contrast to the roiling, colourful sea of sound and motion that had gripped the city mere hours earlier, a stillness and darkness that was… almost eerie descended over Ersand’Enise.

Presently, a cart clattered solemnly down Parade Street, its owner busy sweeping up rose petals from the day’s celebrations. Geese nestled in the banks by Hedda’s Lake and lesser birds hunkered in the tree branches, clustered together for warmth and protection. The eyes of owls snapped open and their nocturnal hunts began. This would be a good night for them. The Grand Plaza was crisscrossed by rats, roaches, and other scavengers. The city’s cats and foxes had already been active, but the fruits of human excess had left more than enough detritus for all animals to profit.

Ersand’Enise had gone down for rest - blessed rest - and yet, there was one holdout: a mystery impossible to ignore. Ancient and gnarled, the Forked Tower loomed above the rest of the city in silent sentry, seeming almost to lean depending on the angle from which one gazed upon it. A lone light blazed in its uppermost window, slicing through the fog and shadow. What was taking place there so late into Dami’s hours, one could not say. It was only clear that something was.

Eight cloaked figures made their way through the darkness, their footsteps strangely inaudible. Threads of energy writhed and snaked around them: krakens’ arms visible only to one highly trained in the magical arts. These reached into homes and businesses, probing them, slithered into bedchambers, libraries, and privies, searching for something. Nobody would remember them the next morning but, for hours, they scoured the city. Then, they disappeared, back behind silent keeps, stoic pines, and tenebrous towers. It was unclear if they had found what they were looking for. Flags lay limp in the listless, shimmering air. Horses whinnied with soft unease in their stables. As Dami gave way to Ipte, the city slept.

Yet, just as there was more to Ersand’Enise than the academy, there was more to the city than what existed within its walls. On beyond the Forked Tower, the silent streets, and the cloaked figures lay the coast, where the plummeting temperature had called forth pounding waves that bashed against the cliffs and breakwaters.

The light of Cap de Bon Port reached out like a great, ghostly arm into the distance, guiding sailors brave enough to navigate the shoals by night. Caravels and galleons creaked tiredly at their moorings, barnacles reaching out from their sea-worn timbers with feathery tendrils to feed on the nighttime bounty of the ocean.

In the shadow of the light, at the convenience of the ships, lay a collection of huts, inns, and warehouses. There were no streetlamps here; no cobblestones or towers. They hunkered together around the harbour that made the city wealthy: essential to it and yet not part of it.

It was through here that a lone figure walked, a tall, crooked wizarding hat perched atop its head. To all the world, she might’ve looked like any other girl her age: a student out for some ill-advised fun or adventure in Mudville, but to one deeply versed in the magic of alchemy, she was a human inferno. Catecholamines and norepinephrine blazed within her mind and coursed through her arteries. That the day’s festivities had not gone well for this student was plainly evident. Yet, it was clear that she had a purpose for being here beyond mere anger. She, too, was looking for something. The light at Cap de Bon Port arced across the ramshackle collection of dwellings that sheltered around the harbour, its aged bronze bearings letting out a keening groan of metallic frustration as they continued their endless orbit.

The student stalked along the muddy streets, eventually turning off of them. A brisk breeze blew up by the coast. Waves pummeled the limestone cliffs and spray reached up to lick at her face, but she saw it: tall and thin and elegant. A slice of the purest blackness, absorbing all light, as if cut from the very fabric of reality itself: it waited by the coast, in the shape of a beautiful man, arms open in welcoming embrace. Excited, still burning with the emotion of the day and determined to make right that which she viewed as wrong, she began running to it.

There were precious few souls awake at this hour, even in Mudville, but one or two had noticed the student, so out of place here, so burning with energy. Had they followed her - had they looked her way, they would’ve seen her start running. They would’ve seen her disappear beyond the veil of mists and, sometime later, felt the cold sting of the wind as it blew that mist away. There was no girl, however, who emerged from it. There was nothing but the crash of the sea, a chill in the air, and a dim glow on the horizon.

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Morning dawned over Ersand’Enise much as the previous morning had dawned. Dew covered the lawns of the university grounds, fresh off of their first trim of the year. It sparkled on the leaves of maple and palm trees alike. Owls closed their eyes. Seagulls circled overhead and geese honked and fluttered - engaged in their usual jousts on Hedda’s Lake. Of the tenebrous fog that had held the city in its grip the previous night, there was no reminder. Sunlight filtered in through windows, roosters crowed, and the business of the day had already gotten underway as merchants and vendors bustled about the marketplaces and thoroughfares, setting out their offerings.

For most students, their first night as apprentices in the City of the Bells had been one of sound sleep. They had been so tired as to have had little other option. As the light hit their slumbering faces, however, most of them awoke. Others were pulled from their sleep by the smell of breakfast being prepared: the crackle and sizzle of eggs and bacon, the bubble of the cauldron, and the warm, rich aroma of steam, salts, and baking bread rising from the kitchen. Still, it took the bells for some. As the hours of Shune gave way to those of Oraff, they raised a great, clanging cacophony of welcome that may have snapped some of the young Biros back to their entrance the day before. It simply could not be slept through, much as some may have put up brief but spirited resistance. Besides, this also marked the limits of their mentors’ patience.

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OOC: Later in the day, as they are seated in the grand lecture atrium of Arc-en-Ciel Hall, the Biros will receive their course selection papers. They will receive brief explanations from the instructors of those courses on what they will learn (you will DM me if you want more info). They must choose their courses, sign the papers, and hand these in to their masters before 3:00 Shune the next morning.

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Yimu was awoken by Marlijn as the other girl made her way out of the room they’d shared for the night. She probably could have done with a little more sleep, but she was used to less, she’d ended up turning in early after finishing up both of the books she’d brought with her and revisiting a few of the passages that had eluded her the first time over. Besides, she hated going back to sleep, unless she was too tired to function it meant she was wasting time, and even when she was that tired it still felt like it.

Got to remember to ‘borrow’ more books soon, she noted to herself, watching Marlijn one-eyed as waited for the Eskandish noble to leave, getting up herself once Marlijn had done so. Yimu gave herself a moment to clean herself by drawing upon the dirt on her body and clothes, a habit she’d started first as a means of practice and later continued for the convenience of having her clothes last longer. When she was done Yimu got up to head down the stair herself.

Not planning to give any greeting herself beyond token responses to any that were sent her way Yimu quickly maneuvered herself towards the scent of food, plopping herself into the nearest available seat. “When do we start learning?” she inquired, turning towards Zeno Mozaru, even as she took her first bite, quickly pausing to go in for a second bite as she realised how good the food was.

Patience

If that was to be Vyrik’s first lesson then he felt he would likely fail. He had tried, for a small moment to display some control and patience after being told so, but he just couldn’t. It was like the wind was in his bones and the boy just couldn’t keep still. His excitement was palpable and a little contagious.

He wanted everyone to show him their greatest tricks and then explain how they did it. He wanted to know what people were reading. He wanted to practice language with the Eskandish. He wanted Zeno Mozaru to teach him something, something fun. And questions, he had so many questions and a few stories too, none of which were boastful and were usually humorous at his expense.

The Eskand Marlijn seemed nice, happy to answer a few questions about her homeland but Vyrik showed a protective fondness towards Yimu, trying to make sure she was ok.

Even in those few moments that he found stillness, like when he was supposed to be sleeping, he sent his hearing out far, listening to things happening in the far distance. Using his magic late into the night until it exhausted him to sleep.

Sleep was a generous thing to call it. His restless slumber was filled with visions and emotions seemingly not of his own, unpleasant, unexplainable but also unrecallable in the morning light.
He awoke groggily, eyes filled with sleep, movements slow and staggered, pulled by a single focus. Drawn like a zombie risen from the dead he groaned and followed the pull that had arisen him, the smell of oh such pleasant food.

Stepping down the creaky steps he couldn’t believe his eyes at the spread that lay before him. It was beyond anything he had ever eaten before. In fact breakfast took his full attention and he barely noticed the others starting to leave. He was absolutely horrified to discover he had no time to eat. Instead of getting ready with his last minute he just grabbed two handfuls of various foods and ran out the door after the others.

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Leon had never slept with curtains. He never saw the need. Privacy was no issue and having the sun wake him up was one of the most pleasant parts of his day. Like an alarm clock that provides a warm hug instead of the harsh noises that rip you from sleep. In fact, the only time he slept with curtains drawn is when his company insisted.

The first rays of dawn kissed Leon’s face letting him know it was time to get up. But his waking was hardly peaceful. Leon woke with a slight shortness of breath and a headache as if he had been drinking. It wasn't a good feeling, such was the consequence of using all of his magic energy last night. Leon thought back to the rose he had turned purple. If he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t be experiencing this right now.

Why did he do that? Was it for general adoration? No, he wouldn’t need to change the rose for that. Was it so that he could eventually date that girl? No, because otherwise he would have at least asked her name. It was for some kind of satisfaction that Leon himself couldn’t quite grasp or define. Still, just because he couldn’t define something doesn’t mean it is any less worthy of pursuit. Leon would take his magic hangover again and again for such a thing.

The expression Leon wore upon waking was a much more exhausted one. Rubbing his face as he got out of bed and stumbled to the mirror. He chucked on some stylish black pants and shoes to match. A few gold bands on each wrist, a necklace with the symbol of Ipte on it, and styling his hair just write. There was only one last thing to do. Eyes closes, Leon gave a long exhale in front of the mirror. When he opened them again, he was back to his regular self, chipper and optimistic with that characteristic smile. He was finally ready to leave his room, forgoing any shirt or covering for his top half. Jewellery and lean muscles were enough, it was the morning after all.

From the looks of things, Leon was the first ones up. Such a thing was expected when you wake up at the crack of dawn. With the light steps of a dancer, Leon made his way down the stairs and out the backdoor to see a very small backyard. It was only a garden full of various fruits and vegetables. At least, that’s what Leon hoped as he was unable to recognize any of those plants.

Hopefully, Zeno Moonlight didn’t have a problem with Leon sitting in her garden because he was doing it anyway. He spent most of the sunrise basking in the glow while eating a fruit he didn’t recognize but it tasted delicious.

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Leon’s sun meditation was disturbed by someone from the kitchen. By the sounds of it, Jomurr was already up and clearly bothered by something… again. Leon did know how long he could last with someone of that temperament. It seemed every little then produced a frown on the young lord. Maybe it was worth trying to show him the brighter sides of life. Hopefully, it could turn his disposition around for the better. It was unlikely he'd accept though. For now, he had to deal with regular old Jomurr. With a last meditative breath out, Leon rose from the garden.

“That is quite the list of food, Jomurr.” Leon stood in the kitchen taking a sip of some water he set aside earlier. “I hope you don’t expect for us to finish all that this morning.”

Leon took the note on the table and gave it a skim. Zeno Hamir Zemana, eh? Nothing sparked to Leon's mind about him. Unsurprising considering how little attention Leon gave the ceremony until his own name was called. “Maybe we can share it with Zeno Zemana’s group. You wouldn’t know anyone in that group, would you? I hope they’re cool.”

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Jomurr raised an eyebrow and smirked. "My good man, I know nothing whatsoever of Zeno Zemana or his apprentices, though I've certainly heard of the Iovinas and Hohenfelters." He pursed his lips for a moment and shrugged. "I suppose we'll find out once we meet them. It can't be helped. For now -" He pulled out a chair and rested his weight on the back of it. "-Let us simply relax and enjoy what we can of this feast. What is left shall go to the poor, as Oraff-Zept would will it and as is our responsibility as gentlemen."

That he was in a rather good mood, Jomurr could hardly deny. Perhaps it was the excitement of it all, perhaps it was the opportunity to provide for the others and meet his noble obligations, and perhaps it was simply the absence - however temporary - of that beastly Rettanese girl. Then, he paused, a second absence coming to mind. Taking a couple of steps, Jomurr furrowed his brow and craned his neck in the direction of the steps, positively unlordly for a moment. "By the by -" he half-twisted to regard Solaire "-you haven't caught sight of Miss Carbonneau yet, have you?" Normally, Jomurr would've sent a servant to fetch her but, alas, there were no servants to be found here. He had decided that he could respect Zeno Moonlight, but this was an issue that they truly would need to discuss at some juncture. Instead, he composed himself and decided to wait for the performer's answer.

(Interacting with @Jumbus & @Animus)