The first few days had settled into routine across the academy grounds.
Admitted students unpacked belongings, explored corridors, and began the delicate process of establishing their place within the institution’s complex social hierarchy.
anwhile, carriages departed daily, carrying those whose tokens had remained dark back to hos where explanations would need to be made and futures reconsidered.
Morning rays slanted through the narrow window of Room 247, falling across rumpled bedsheets and scattered clothing.
The light crept steadily across the floor until it reached the bed nearest the door, where—
"Aaah!"
The strangled cry jolted Alaric from sleep.
He cracked open one crimson eye to see his brown-haired roommate pacing frantically around their small space, hands tangled in his disheveled hair.
"What happened to you now?" Alaric’s voice ca out rough with sleep, laced with mild irritation at being woken so abruptly.
Oliver spun toward him, eyes wide with panic.
"I overslept! My first lecture with Professor Aldwin, it started ten minutes ago and I’m still here and I haven’t even washed my face and—"
"Then why are you shouting around here?" Alaric pushed himself upright, stretching his arms over his head until his shoulders popped.
"Get ready and go if you don’t want to miss more."
"It’s not that simple!" Oliver’s voice pitched higher.
"This is my first lecture at the Phoenix Academy. What if they mark as unreliable? What if Professor Aldwin thinks I’m not serious about my studies? What if this goes on my permanent record and affects my final evaluations and—"
"Then don’t go."
The casual suggestion made Oliver’s pacing stop dead.
"Don’t go? I can’t just not go! That would be even worse! Missing my first class entirely versus being late, the implications—"
Alaric’s eye twitched.
"Do you want to go or not?"
"Of course I want to go, but the consequences of arriving late—"
"Right." Alaric sighed, swung his legs out of bed, and stood in one fluid movent.
He grabbed Oliver’s academy bag from the floor and thrust it into the panicking boy’s hands. With his other hand, he seized Oliver by the collar of his nightshirt.
"Wait, what are you—"
Alaric hauled his roommate across the room and shoved him bodily into the hallway, tossing the bag after him. The door slamd shut behind him with a loud click.
"Figure it out yourself," Alaric’s muffled voice ca from inside. "Don’t disturb again."
Alaric dusted his hands off, then yawned widely as he shuffled toward the washbasin and splashed over himself.
The cool water felt good against his face, washing away the last remnants of interrupted sleep.
Outside in the hallway, he could hear Oliver’s continued muttering and knocking.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Hey, co on man, don’t do this to !"
Oliver’s frantic knocking echoed through the door. Alaric ignored it, focusing on his reflection in the small mirror above the washbasin.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
"Fine, fine, I’ll go! Just let change into my uniform. I can’t attend class in pajamas!"
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The knocking grew more desperate.
"Haa...!"
Alaric sighed and moved to the door, twisting the handle with deliberate slowness.
Oliver stood in the hallway, breathing hard from a mixture of panic and mild rage at his roommate’s thods.
Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the morning chill.
"You—" he began, voice tight with indignation.
Alaric raised an eyebrow. The single look was enough to make Oliver’s accusation die in his throat.
"What?"
"N-Nothing." Oliver stamred, then rushed past him toward his wardrobe.
Alaric watched with mild amusent as his roommate yanked clothes from hangers with shaking hands.
The Academy uniform was practical rather than ornate, dark blue tunic with the phoenix crest embroidered on the left breast, matching trousers, and a light gray coat for cooler weather. Simple leather boots and a belt completed the ensemble.
Oliver struggled into his clothes with the kind of frantic energy that made simple tasks unnecessarily complicated.
Buttons fought him, sleeves twisted wrong, and his coat ended up inside-out on the first attempt.
anwhile, Alaric dressed with unhurried precision.
The uniform fit him well, the cut emphasized his fra without being restrictive, while the coat settled naturally across his shoulders. He fastened his belt with practiced ease, checked his reflection once more, and deed himself presentable.
"Ready?" he asked, though Oliver was clearly still wrestling with his appearance.
"Almost... just need to—" Oliver patted down his hair, which had developed several rebellious cowlicks during his panic.
"Do I look acceptable?"
"You look like soone who overslept and panicked about it."
"That’s not helping!"
"It’s honest."
They stepped into the hallway together, joining the flow of students making their way to morning classes.
The corridors buzzed with conversation as new students compared schedules and older ones discussed assignnts with the casual confidence of experience.
"I really should have set multiple alarms," Oliver muttered, checking his pocket watch for the dozenth ti.
"This is exactly the kind of mistake that—"
"You’ll be late either way if you keep standing here talking about it."
The observation seed to jolt Oliver back to reality.
"Right. Yes. I should, no, I need to—"
He broke into a jog, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls as he hurried toward whatever room his class was.
Alaric continued at his normal pace, hands sliding into his pockets as he navigated the corridors with casual confidence.
Other students moved around him, so hurrying like Oliver, others maintaining the unhurried stride of those who had planned their morning properly.
The Great Hall served as the academy’s primary dining space, its high ceilings and long tables accommodating hundreds of students across multiple al periods.
Essence-powered braziers provided warmth while large windows allowed natural light to supplent the magical illumination.
Alaric claid a spot at one of the less crowded tables and surveyed the breakfast offerings.
Fresh bread, porridge with various toppings, fruits from the academy’s gardens, and what appeared to be several types of preserved ats.
He selected items thodically, assembled a plate that would sustain him through his morning lectures, and began eating with the sa unhurried precision he brought to most activities.
Around him, the Hall filled with the sounds of academy life, conversations about upcoming assignnts, speculation about professors, the student concerns.
But...
His eyes narrowed as he got a few pairs of eyes, at his back.
What’s wrong with them?
User Comments
0 comments from readers