Adam arrived at the college gate, where Astride and her fiery-eyed colleague awaited students. Though dawn had passed and early light gilded the college's enchanted walls, he didn't see other students or hear their eager chatter. Instead, he realised he had come first after leaving the event at the plaza—if it could be called that.
As he helped Quintella down from his shoulders, Astride stepped toward him. Her burgundy eyes darted between them before she nodded.
"In advance?" she said, a smile playing on her lips. "I like students who follow the rules. And you—you have drawn my attention."
Adam raised a brow. "I'm flattered you remember me, but I've heard it was best not to draw it."
Quintella nodded beside him, while Astride made her auburn hair flutter with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "Well, too bad for you. It's too late. You've made quite the impression on Matthew and the other magi." She retrieved two rolled parchments from beneath her robe and handed them to Adam and Quintella. "But enough with the useless chatter. Take them. Your schedules—general courses."
Adam scratched his head as he unfurled his parchment. On top, he read the seven days of the week. The left column listed the hours, starting at seven in the morning and ending at four in the afternoon. But what drew his attention were the boxes in the center.
"Empty?" he muttered, confusion guiding his hand to Quintella's parchment.
In it, he saw the same symbol in every box—a curled biceps towering over a name: Grimhilde.
A frown creasing his brow, he asked. "Something's not right with our schedule. Mine's empt—"
"As it should." Astride cut him off with a shrug. "Or did you miss the general courses part? Fill your schedule yourself after the ceremony. As for her." She pointed at Quintella, shaking her head with disappointment she failed to suppress. "Not even one pushup. Can you even lift your arms, girl?"
"Of course I can!" Quintella raised both her arms, her voice rising to meet the provocation. "What's one pushup? I'll soon do seven million! Big Brother told me I could!"
Astride's eyes widened. For a moment, she observed the eight-year-old girl fighting against the laugh tickling her throat. Then, she failed and clapped. "Seven million? Hahaha. Good luck with that."
While her voice echoed across the gate, drawing her colleague's attention, Adam rubbed his forehead. "Thank you, Astride."
"Teacher Astride." Her laughter instantly stopped as she corrected him, eyes narrowed. "The college doesn't tolerate disrespect. Address the staff by their titles if you don't want me to visit you." She pointed at the gate. "Get in. Teacher Maxwell will guide you to the common hall."
Adam walked inside, nodding while Quintella glared at Astride as if to tell her, 'just wait.'
The moment they stepped inside the college, Maxwell, a middle-aged man with blond hair poking beneath his hat, was draped in the college's somber staff robes. He waved at him.
"Over here, students." He called out, tapping the pavement with his right foot. "I can't believe it's already eight, but you're the first ones who arrived. A month of vacation is all it takes for discipline to fade, I'm telling you."
A sharp noise made Adam's open mouth snap shut.
Maxwell just slammed a wand on his palm with enough strength to break rocks. "I don't need your enlightened opinion or feelings, student. If you understand, shut it and follow me."
Along the way, Quintella clutched Adam's sleeve, flinching each time Maxwell turned to see if they followed in silence. They were both learning the rules. Though they were stricter than anything Adam had ever known, he didn't mind following them until he got the knowledge he wanted.
Silence lingered as they crossed the fragrant garden, their hair fluttering when they walked by the helix of multicolored petals. The sweet fragrance of flowers filled their nostrils, but Adam observed the facilities.
A greenhouse filled with potted plants, some familiar, most he had never seen. Where the pavements and lush grass faded into brown soil, he saw a training field. Wooden obstacles, ropes tied at their top, training dummies, and metallic weights arranged in what looked like an orderly mess. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs NoveI~Fire.net
Of course, he saw the reward hall as well, along with the towers, three large, emblazoned buildings, and other facilities, whose use eluded him for now.
Once he reached the central building, a towering structure designed more like an extravagant castle than a college, he noticed other fields behind it. Mana circles hung in the air, and platforms supporting stone desks that looked strangely familiar rose over the empty plains.
Maxwell cut his observation short.
"Here we are." He slammed his wand against his palm, the shrill noise startling Quintella. "Teacher Isold, I'll leave them in your care."
An aged lady nodded at him, the wrinkles at the corner of her lips twisting into a smile. Her eyes whispered tales of old, of an experienced life, yet her light tone and words almost made Adam stumble.
"Thank you, Teacher Maxwell. I'll take good care of these cuties." She winked... coquettishly. "Sky-blue hair. That's first. Can't say I dislike the color. The pink-eyed lady is interesting, too. Reminds me of the fallen Reverie dukedom."
While Quintella hid behind Adam, his breath caught in his throat for a split second—Isold was dangerous. She knew about Allistair's house. Her coquettishness? A probing act, not innocence. But she was most likely not the only one.
In a heartbeat, he released his breath, tilting his head in a silent show of confusion. Quintella reacted the same way naturally since she didn't know yet. Even Maxwell frowned at the unknown name before he returned to the gate to guide the next students.
Isold nodded at Adam and Quintella's reactions as if she had expected them. Quintella was a descendant of Alistaire. She was sure of it. Yet as long as she remained clueless about her ancestors, no one would care, not after fifteen millennia.
After a brief silence, she grinned like a teenager. Her robes fluttered, and she secured her hat as she spun with the speed of a whirlwind. "Follow me. Older students who deemed vacation a waste of valuable research time are already waiting."
Sighing in relief, Adam passed beneath the old stones of the arched door, arriving in a long corridor lit by a row of chandeliers, each pulsing a soft light. His step met a red carpet embroidered with the same three insignia, among which he noticed the horned mask he had seen four days ago.
At the end of the corridor, he emerged in a broad hall that almost made him gasp. Quintella gasped enough for two, though.
Meanwhile, students scrambled to the college gate, sweating and cursing the long banishment event. The ceremony would begin in half an hour.
AN: The teachers' weird reactions are intended.