@Sifr@Psyker Landshark@ERode@AThousandCursesCAMPUS GROUNDS, LEYLINE ATTUNEMENT ZONE
The remaining compacts would ramble on to varying lengths, some promising better futures or making grand promises of greatness, while others settle for few words. Some notable standouts would be an orc girl from Compact 4, who simply stated, "I'll win," before attuning and leaving, or a twiggy-looking gnome from Compact 6 with hair that resembled a vanilla ice cream swirl, who read a full page from his favorite adventure novel before Raja hastily moved him along even as he swore he, "Hadn't gotten to the big reveal yet, the main character's arc climax all ties into my motivation for the school year!"
Different priority was given to Compact 8, 9 and 10. Notably, the students from each wore a silver pin on their chest. There was a shift in the air as they all approached in a marching formation as one, with Valen taking to the front of them. Raja raised an eyebrow as this transpired, crossing her arms as she awaited an explanation. The Leuvalt heir would step forward and take to the podium, locking eyes with the principal with a nod before turning to the crowds of Wund and Nero each. "Explain this, Leuvalt," Raja would spit, waiting for the boy to begin speaking. After another moment to take in his surroundings, he would.
"It is not through arrogance or ignorance that I stand here to speak, but through power. At the age of nineteen, I already stand at the apex, ready to seek contest with the strength of Dandelily's finest, Strigari's finest, and beyond that, even breaching the realms of the four Mirrisian Stalwara. Were it based solely on merit, I would rival the capital's arcmages, and an arcmage's cloak would grace my back. I, as the reignited hope of Leuvalt, am indeed he who triumphs, and none can argue such claims," Valen would declare, back straight and chest proudly puffed, looking across the students of both sides - taking an extra second in particular towards Otis and Iraleth, were they to catch his eye. He would sigh, his shoulders sinking a moment as if contemplating something, before continuing.
"And yet, merit alone is not what brings us success. We live in a world of titles, struggling through its muck - many of us swallowed whole by the maw of unequal birth. Those in power across the many societies of this planet are not always there through merit, but often through title, through wealth, through happenstance, through nepotism, through misfortune of the capable, and more. I count myself among those who received a voice through titles and wealth, initially. Yet, such things gave me the chance to demonstrate merit, ability, and ambition. Is it fair?"
He would give a moment of pause for the crowd to take in his words, Raja at his side tapping her foot as if waiting for him to wrap things up. Such a gesture would then encourage Valen to proceed after another moment, shaking his head.
"...It is not fair. Wund? Nero? Those, too, are equally determined through title. Shaktis Wund as the pioneer of spellcasting, and Nero as the great martyr who burned for his beliefs. To stand behind them and their truths is admirable, but outdated. There is no merit in continuing the path of a predecessor's success - no new ground to be tread by reopening the old wounds of the world. And so what do I propose? A new beginning. It is here that I announce that Compacts 8, 9 and 10 will not be partaking in this pitiable faction war. As the classes that make up the Iris Record, we will carve our own path."
Discussion would perk up amidst the crowds, with reactions ranging from disbelief or mockery at the ridiculous long-windedness, to anger and confusion at what seems to be special privileges, to some of the more competitive folk seeing it as a challenge. Raja herself stood there, her face contorting in frustration, putting her foot down. The imp cackled lowly, but was ignored as the principal leaned in towards Valen. "What? This wasn't in any documentation I was told of, Leuvalt. I'd expect-"
Just then, Raja opened her Adapa and began reading a new notification that had arrived, her eyes going wide. "I see..."
Valen nodded, and looked towards the remaining Compacts wearing silver pins, as he withdrew one from his own pocket and placed it on his chest. "With permission from the board of directors, I, Valen Leuvalt, will act as representative of Wingram's third faction: the Helm of Kastrus. With a legacy of pain and hate, Kastrus Aishblut had regardless done more for the people of this country than either Wund or Leuvalt. He is why we enjoy luxuries that Mirris and Rekordia struggle to maintain, and it is through the will of the forgotten prince that we who claim the Iris Record shall find the future."
At that, the remaining 23 students making up the Iris Record would march and encircle the attuning pillar. Valen himself would turn away from the crowd towards the pillar, and all at once as if rehearsed, each of the 24 Iris Record students would touch their palms to the pillar. An immaculate burst of energy would ring out as they attuned, and as Valen closed his eyes, a smile would briefly grace his lips - so sudden as if it were almost a trick of the light. Upon the completion of attunement, Valen would bow to both crowds of Wund and Nero, and then make his way off the podium after one final statement. "That will be all. This is a declaration of intent: the future will be ours to helm." He would state this plainly as he walked off north of the pillar with the rest of the Iris Record students, presumably back towards the tower.
Raja would stand there, gritting her teeth as she read an email in utter disbelief, seemingly unable to dispute the declaration in the slightest with whatever information she was presented. Regardless, she would look towards the remaining students and shrug. "Well... that will be all for the ceremony. The full details of your faction choice and what it entails will be delivered via essence mail by evening, but for now, all further classes for the day will be canceled. The effects of attunement are sometimes wonky on your prime essence, so we'd like to give you lot the rest of the day to adjust to and report any complications."
The crimson-haired principal would storm off, stomping towards the Iris Record, yanking the shade imp along with her.
@EstylwenWINGRAM LIBRARY
As Ciara entered, the library would be notably empty - predictable, due to the ceremony. Sitting at the checkout desk, legs propped up on the desk itself as he leaned back in the office chair, would be the familiar cloaked, hooded visage of Michael. His eyes would initially be closed as if napping, hands propping his head up in sheer comfort, but would awaken and dart towards Ciara as she entered. The same easygoing smirk he always wore would be present as he nodded in her direction, scratching at the scraggly stray chin hairs on his face as he withdrew a book from his pocket.
"You ever read, 'Scented Pawns', by Henora Milby? Absolute classic of Rekordian literature, never knew it had respectful depictions of werewolves in it. Crazy shit, that. Shame those dudes ain't around anymore, I'm sure hollerin' with the wolfpack would a real riot. Umbralism, eh? Whaddya do."
With a small chuckle escaping him as he haphazardly tossed the book onto the desk, he rolled his shoulders and looked back towards Ciara. "Buuuut, spoilers: all the main characters die in the end. In the book, I mean. Henora had a real mean streak, she loved killing off her darlings. The werewolves in particular got it
really bad, but I guess that's what a period piece'll get ya."
Michael would lean up in his chair and kick his boots off the desk, finally sitting like a normal person. "Sudden arrival though, kid. I'm guessing you weren't here to talk literature, and I ain't here any longer than I'm required to be, because good
lord am I losing it sitting here. Just browsin' and want me to shut up and leave ya be, or is there somethin' you're itchin' for?"
Apart from Michael, Gulliver Bronsteel would be visible at the other end of the library, though he didn't seem to be paying attention to the conversation; he was instead nose deep in a book in the corner.