Neela's sole reason for joining the Woodcutter's academy was because she needed money.. She had been living comfortably since her first day in Yanqiu. Her first job as a bodyguard in the harbor town of America had gone quite well. She had protected merchants during their slightly less legal purchases, making sure things went smoothly. However, after a slightly less then optimal deal, she had lost all of her street credit and been blacklisted from most bodyguard positions.
As her funds began to dwindle, she hitched a ride with a few gatherers, who's job consisted of seeking out stranded First Generationals, or Firsts. They had dropped her off in the farming capital of Yanqui, the prominent village of New Cambridge.
As I said before, Neela had very little money. Her only belongings were a few dozen Effessis, the liter of water in her safe, and the clothes on her back. Thus, her choices of occupation were extremely limited. She could try and get a job as a shopkeep's apprentice, or sign a contract with the Woodcutter's guild.
Her contract was fairly simple. In exchange for food, shelter and training, she agreed to go on at least three "outings" with the woodcutter's guild. These outing's consisted of heading to the Floral Forrests in the spring, exterminating hatchling Florals and collecting Effessis. She would get to keep 30% of whatever she collected, with the rest going to the guild. If she decided to continue after her three terms, living at the guild instead of the academy, she would get to keep 60%.
Main street was as crowded as usual. Farmers making their daily commute to the water bank flooded the streets, and shopkeepers opened their windows, hoping to attract young students from the academy who happened to be out for a morning jog. Across from the water bank stood the Woodcutter's academy, and in the doorway stood Neela, ready for her first day.
She pulled opened the double doors and stepped into the main office of the academy. The tall room echoed with her footsteps. The room housed a few tables with chairs, which were entirely vacant. Towards the back of the room were two doors, on either side of a reception desk. Behind the desk sat a male receptionist, dressed raggedly, who sat smiling at her. He looked young, likely in his teens.
"New student?" Asked the receptionist.
"Yes." Responded Neela meekly.
"I'll need your name, age and generation." The receptionist stated mechanically.
"Neela Hartbringer, Twenty Three, First Gen."
The receptionist began to fill out a form, his smile unwavering. "You're good to go." He said, holding out the paper.
As Neela reached for it he pulled it out of her grasp.
"Sorry, it's our custom around here to properly thank your superiors after they help you."
"Sorry. Thanks." She reached for it again, but right before she placed her hand on it, he once again pulled it out of her reach.
"Thanks, Master."
A bit shocked, Neela recoiled from the words.
"Thanks, master."
He dropped the piece of paper at her feet as someone else came in behind her.
"New Student?"
"My second term actually. John Jacobs, fifteen, Sixth."
"Neela, classes are on the left side of the building, dorms and meals are on the right." In a sing song tone, he whispered "I hope you enjoy your time at the Woodcutter's academy."
Neela had faced prosecution for being a First back in America, but she had never seen someone be so boldly open about it. She shut her anger deep inside her soul, and headed to her dorm.
Unsurprisingly, the dorms were split by generation. Forth and greater were the clear favorites, with pristine rooms, large beds, and spacious closets.
The Third and Second Generationals received slightly smaller rooms, which were still rather comforting and not at all distasteful.
As she reached the First Generation dorms, her jaw dropped, the putrid smell stinging her nose. It smelled like a morgue, and looked like a prison cell. The amount of light spilling out of the room was comparable to that of the ocean floor; unfathomably small.
It was from this day forward that her life became a living hell.