"Alright, so… this should be my class," Enark muttered.
The classroom was already half full when he stepped inside.
A plethora of sound washed over him at once—chairs scraping, voices overlapping, pages turning too quickly. The space felt wide, sound stretching farther than it should have. He paused just inside the doorway, letting the noise settle into shape.
Thirty-seven students. One instructor at the front, arranging papers with deliberate taps against the desk.
Enark adjusted the strap of his bag and moved forward. The floor changed texture inside of the room—stone to polished wood. He counted his steps and slid into an empty seat in the middle row, folding his hands neatly atop the desk.
Enark kept his expression neutral, head angled forward, eyes hidden behind blue-tinted circular shades.
The door slid open again, and three figures stepped in together. Familiar scents cut cleanly through the air, carrying past the ink and parchment.
"Whoa—check it out. We're all in the same class," said the boy at the center, his voice bright with surprise.
"Hey, look, Enark's here too."
He was of average height and slightly chubby, with dark brown hair and warm yellow eyes that stood out against his brown skin. A cheerful presence seemed to follow him wherever he went.
"Oh, you're right! I didn't even notice him there," replied the girl beside him. Her hair, white as fresh snow, fell to the middle of her back, framing eyes the deep blue of lapis.
"Of course you didn't," the third girl cut in dryly. She towered over the other two, with black hair pulled into a ponytail with loose bangs at her face. Emerald eyes glanced down at them with faint amusement. "Not with that height."
"Archie, Suzune, Kirsty?" Enark greeted, a small smile tugging at his lips, "We're all really in the same class?"
"You look like you got jumped by your bed," Archie grinned.
Suzune leaned closer, lowering her voice. "What's with the bandage on your face? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Enark replied easily. "I just fell down the stairs."
"You've been saying that since we were kids," Kirsty commented, arms crossed.
Before more could be said, the instructor entered.
The man wore a pressed coat of deep charcoal, fabric heavy and cut in rigid lines that held their shape even at rest. Gold thread traced the academy's crest along his collar, stitched so cleanly it looked etched rather than sewn.
"Good morning class," he said calmly.
The door closed. Silence followed.
"I am Instructor Halbrecht," he said, "Your homeroom teacher for the next three years."
"For those of you who are not aware," he continued, "your tuition here at the Academy lasts for eight years. For the first three, you will be exposed to all manner of education and a variety of subjects. On your third year, you will select the courses you wish to study and spend your remaining five years focusing on that choice."
"Before we begin, I would like each of you to introduce yourselves," Halbrecht said, his voice calm but carrying easily across the room. "State your name, your place of origin, any prior experience you may have, and your goals for being here."
He paused, scanning the students with sharp gray eyes.
"Keep it concise. This is not story hour."
A few hands rose hesitantly.
"My name is Marcellus Dain," said a tall boy near the front. "I'm from District 30. I've been training in basic sword forms since I was eight. I'm aiming to be an Imperial Knight like my mother." His posture was rigid, shoulders squared.
A girl in the second row spoke next. "Elyra Vey. I hail from District 24. I plan on studying herbalism and medicine."
One by one, students spoke. Some stumbled over their words, some spoke confidently, and some simply offered their name before falling silent.
When Halbrecht's gaze swept to the middle of the room, Enark felt it brush against him. He stayed still, fingers folded neatly on his desk.
He heard Archie shift beside him.
"Enark," Archie whispered, nudging him lightly. "You're up."
Enark inclined his head slightly, voice soft but audible. "Enark Alasdair. From District 35. I don't have a goal yet--but in terms of experience..."
He paused briefly.
"I really love swords."
A brief silence followed.
Then the murmurs began.
"Swords?" someone whispered, not bothering to lower their voice enough. "That's it?"
A quiet snort followed. "What a weirdo."
Another voice, edged with amusement. "District Thirty-Five? Figures."
A few students laughed under their breath.
"Commoner district," a boy near the window murmured, tone lazy and disdainful. "No wonder he doesn't have a goal."
Enark heard all of it.
He didn't move. Didn't stiffen. Didn't respond. His hands remained folded, steady on the desk, as if the words had passed through the room without touching him.
Instructor Halbrecht let the murmurs linger for exactly one heartbeat too long.
"That will be enough."
The room quieted immediately.
Halbrecht turned slowly, his gaze settling not on Enark, but on the cluster of students.
"Ambition," he said evenly, "is not measured by how eloquently you announce it. Nor is worth determined by district of origin."
"So if any of you believe lineage or geography will carry you here," he continued, "you will find yourselves corrected quickly."
His eyes flicked back toward Enark.
"Sit."
Enark inclined his head and did so, the chair creaking softly beneath him.
Beside him, Archie leaned over, whispering fiercely, "Just ignore them, buddy. They're just stupid."
Enark said nothing.
"You three next to him, begin," Halbrecht said.
Suzune raised her hand immediately. "Ooo. I'll go first."
"Suzune Kiyomi. From District 32. I have studied philosophy and logic with private tutors, and basic swordplay." Her tone was ambitious and there was an edge of confidence that could not be mistaken.
Kirsty, as usual, made no effort to hide her presence. "Kirsty Bronte. District 30. I'm here to become the best in combat and strategy. That's all you need to know." She leaned back slightly in her chair, emerald eyes scanning the room as if silently daring anyone to challenge her.
Archie chuckled under his breath. "Of course she says it like that."
"You there—boy," Halbrecht said. "Speak."
Archie straightened at the call, nearly knocking his chair back in the process.
"Uh—right. Sorry." He cleared his throat and stood, hands clasped awkwardly in front of him. "Name's Archie Calder. District 29."
He hesitated, then smiled. "I'm aiming for law," he continued. "You know, judicial work—stuff like that. My family runs a small legal office back home. I've been around contracts and courtrooms since I could read."
A few students blinked, surprised.
Archie scratched the back of his head. "Not exactly flashy, I know. But someone's gotta keep people from stabbing each other over paperwork."
A quiet ripple of laughter moved through the room.
Halbrecht regarded him for a moment longer than the others.
"Admirable," the instructor said finally. "Sit."
Archie did so, exhaling softly as he leaned toward Enark. "Hey, don't worry. If liking swords is a crime, I'll represent you."
Suzune smirked while Kirsty snorted.
Enark said nothing—but the corner of his mouth twitched, trying to hold in a laugh.
Halbrecht's gaze flicked back to the them. "You four—Bronte, Kiyomi, Calder and Alasdair. Do not let familiarity breed complacency."
Halbrecht continued down the line, occasionally interjecting with questions about prior training, asking students to demonstrate small gestures of form or technique. Most complied with varying degrees of awkwardness.
The first hours of the morning passed in careful observation, each student introduced to the rhythm and flow of this new environment.
When the bell signaled for lunch, the room erupted into the low hum of conversation.
"Come on," Archie said, already rising from his seat. "Let's hit the café. I hear the fried fish there never survives past lunch."
"Blegh—fish?" Kirsty wrinkled her nose. "Really?"
Suzune tilted her head, amused. "That's odd. I faintly remember this one time you were demolishing dried eel like a hungry slime back in elementary."
"That was survival food," Kirsty shot back, "Completely different."
Archie laughed, "Academy rule—complaints don't count once you're hungry."
They filed out together, Enark falling into step just behind them. The corridor swallowed them immediately—students were already flooding the halls.
"Crowded already," Suzune muttered. "First day and it's chaos."
"Give it a week," Archie said. "You'll stop noticing by then."
Enark stayed close to his friends, listening to their chatter.
"You're quiet, Enark," Suzune said as they walked.
"When has he never?" Kirsty responded.
"Just listening," he answered.
Suzune smiled knowingly. "Of course you are."
After collecting their food, they stepped into the courtyard. Open air softened the noise. The scent of bread, roasted meat, and sweet fruit mingled with the metallic tang of the fountain.
They found a bench near the edge, away from the traffic.
Archie sprawled out, already halfway through his meal. Suzune arranged hers carefully. Kirsty scanned the courtyard, eyes tracking older students performing controlled bursts of energy—the strange power the freshmen had only heard about in stories.
"So," Archie said between mouthfuls, "anyone else feel like they're being watched?"
Suzune rolled her eyes. "You always feel like that."
"I'm serious!"
Enark tilted his head, listening beyond their voices. The courtyard was crowded, but too crowded to single out a presence.
"No," he said honestly. "It's just alot of people."
Archie huffed. "Guess it's just me, then."
The conversation shifted to lighter matters. They discussed instructors, course expectations, and the unusual rules of the academy. Kirsty was overly joyous talking about the strange powers the upper classmen wielded.
Around them, the academy moved like a living thing: alliances forming, rivalries budding, futures unknowingly colliding.
And the weight of what shall come next had only just begun to take root.