As soon as the boy was through the front entrance of the Academy, something was blatantly obvious from the start; the aura here and in the cathedral he had just passed through was nothing alike. Though the appearance and emotions were the same, you could tell who was a Porcelain and who was strong. One, in particular, exuded that aura in indescribable amounts; a seemingly young man who looked surprisingly similar to his examiner, Mr Smith, yet was far different. The examiner felt like he was examining you in a way that was indiscriminate and fair, rather than in spite. This man was a God, looking down upon us like ants ready to be crushed on. His eyes were of a deep rich blue hue, yet felt truly dead, a flowing black hair that was like a lion's mane, and his expression was as grim as death itself. But, as soon as he realised he was being looked on, not just by Daniel, but the other Porcelains passing by, he instantly put up a happy facade. It was far too jarring to be real. This man who looked like he was about to murder every single person in the building had just put up a childish, sweet smile. However, the facade wasn't near perfect enough for Daniel and some others to see through; for his eyes didn't lie. And, for that reason, those who had noticed him, were frozen in absolute fear for what this thing could do. Who on Alium is this man?
After what felt like an eternity of waiting, the entrance corridor finally began to move again, that thing walking away and into a side-room going upstairs, while the other porcelains who hadn't seen through his facade made their way to what seemed like a reception, yet Daniel, and the others who had noticed, were paralysed in not just awe but sheer fright. Eventually, the frozen Porcelains began to move again and slowly trickled into the main atrium and reception, where Daniel had also found himself, unconsciously moving away from the threat that was that thing. It was a large yet simple and modest collection of various tables and chairs and a small central desk, where a man who seemed too tired to even talk sat at, restlessly calling estranged porcelains from where they stood and pointed the porcelains on their way. Soon, Daniel found himself at this very desk, nervously awaiting what class he would be sorted into. In the Academy, the classes are sorted by their expected rank that they will achieve (1, the highest, to 5, the lowest) and then further allocated by tiers, how high or low their rank would be, (A, the highest, to B, the lowest). This much he knew from what Igo had informed him off after their talk of the ranking system. Well, I hope I'll get sorted to in at least 4-B, Daniel thought, after all I'm artl-
"C-Cla... Class! 1-B!" the old man sleepily shouted.
The entire room went silent. Class 1 was the pinnacle of all Porcelains, since they were not expected to do not just their best, but exceed that. They were expected to become high golds at the very least, or high platinums at their absolute best. A Platinum. The mortal Gods of all of Alium itself. Those who could challenge the Gods themselves, and even slay them. And, Daniel, an artless fool, was expected to do that well.
"M-Make... Y-You! Your.. way to... Atrium C! Follow! the signs... GO!"
Not just that, but he was the first porcelain of the day who had been sorted in Class 1. The teachers for the higher echelons of the Academy were not just the run-of-the-mill guild members who have been told the basics of teaching, but the teachers who were likely of their same potential; meaning high golds or platinums; they were of such a higher class, that only guild members of their potential could not just properly teach them, but make them flourish. Daniel was frozen, but this time it wasn't that Guild Member near the entrance. It was by the fact that he was now expected to become someone of that calibre, someone like that thing. It was a sight to behold, that shuffling over to the navigational signs that had been awkwardly placed in the middle of the corridors of the building. The shaking hand that made its way down the sign in search of the way to 'Atrium C'. And then, the shuffle back, and stumbling up a set of stairs to the side of the main atrium, that creaked up every step. It was, to be frank, ridiculous. That person, someone who could be that easily disturbed by such a fact, was going to be among the greatest ranks of The Guild. It was absurd! Yet, it was irrefutably true, and irrefutably terrifying all the same.
The upstairs of the Academy was far more old and dusty than the ground floor, since it was not some place where the average individual would find themselves. It was home to the one of the two large lecture hall of the building, since the others were large classrooms stitched together, and it wasn't unnatural for the classes to be split and have entirely different teachers despite being of the same bracket. It was a short, yet long walk to the lecture hall, for the shuffling Daniel, who was more akin to a penguin than a man expected to become a platinum. It was directly in the middle of the second floor after all, yet there was only one entrance, on the other side of where the stairs were. Whoever had designed the building or even just the second floor was obviously not considerate or even thought of accommodating these porcelains. At last, the door was in front of the rattled boy, who seemed like his parents had just abandoned himself on the doorstep of some unfortunate soul's house. The doubled doors were a beautiful rich mahogany make, engraved with gold and silver livings, looping and crossing in the corners; the door handles were equally extravagant, made of what seemed like solid gold, with hints of brass on the actual handle of it. With a loud and creaky twist of the handle, and a thrust of it open, Daniel was welcomed by a familiar face, who had opened it themselves in front of the still delirious boy.
"Welcome! I assume you're the first, welcome to Class 1-B! Lanyon Pierce is at your service!"
The man in the door frame was none other than the Guild Member downstairs. It was that thing.