The academy staff had been working tirelessly, day and night, to prepare for the upcoming event. Every hallway bustled with cleaners and instructors, all meticulously scrubbing every speck of dust. Even second- and third-year students were roped in to help with the preparations, each of them contributing to the academy's polished appearance.
Everyone had a task—except for the first-year students who had just started their semester. Their only job was to sit quietly and listen.
In Class-C, the first-year students stood silently, as instructed by Headmaster Gideon. They had been drilled in the art of remaining quiet in preparation for the event. Yet, all eyes were on Akshar, the purist barbarian who had disrupted their practice more than once with his random outbursts of laughter.
The students were well aware they could get away with whispered conversations, but Akshar's sudden fits of laughter had repeatedly broken their focus, forcing them to restart their drills.
They all watched the stopwatch in the instructor's hand as the seconds ticked down, and simultaneously, they kept an eye on Akshar, hoping he could hold it in just a little longer.
3...
2...
1...
At last, the timer beeped, and everyone sighed in relief. Akshar immediately bolted across the classroom, screaming from the effort of having restrained himself for so long.
The students didn't bother to complain. They knew it would all be worth it once the event finally arrived. Though most of them were excited beyond belief, they struggled to contain themselves in the classroom.
"I hope I get a chance to talk to him tomorrow," one student murmured.
"No way," another replied. "You know the kind of people he talks to. We're nowhere near that."
"Still worth a try," the first student insisted.
"Please don't embarrass us. Akshar might do that for us already. We don't need another clown," a third chimed in.
"Yeah, you're right."
Just then, a student raised his hand, catching the instructor's attention. "Sir, I think someone's missing."
The instructor nodded, unbothered. "George has leave. It's all taken care of."
A murmur rippled through the class. How had George managed to get leave from such an important event? It was common knowledge that his family was no longer around, so how could he have connections?
Yet, a small group of students nodded knowingly. Jame, the class gossip and information broker, had already sold the news to a few of them. It was a lucrative business—though crime often became a factor when the trade grew too large.
"Hey, Peyton..." a kid whispered, nudging Peyton, who barely remembered his name. Since day one, the kid had acted like they were best friends.
Peyton raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"I've got some pretty interesting info," the kid said, leaning in. "I know why George isn't here, and I know how he got the leave."
Peyton's interest piqued. George Sterlinguard had become a mysterious figure in just a few days, his name whispered in every corner of the academy.
"So, spill it," Peyton said, leaning back in his chair.
"I can't give you all the details. I've got an agreement, you know? But I can tell you where to get the info."
Peyton gave the kid a side-eye. "Where?"
"Look at the seat next to George's. See that guy? That's Jame."
"Jame? Not James?"
"Yeah, weird, right? But he's the one who digs up all the rumors, confirms them, and sells the info."
"And how do you know he's telling the truth?"
"It's a family thing. They're into information trading."
Peyton stood up, intrigued. "Alright."
He approached Jame, who was scribbling in his notebook. As Peyton got closer, he noticed how messy Jame's rumor notes were compared to the neatness of his school assignments.
'He makes it messy on purpose to keep people from reading it for free… Smart,' Peyton thought.
"Hey," Peyton called out.
Jame looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Yeah?"
"I want to buy some info."
Jame perked up. "Which one?"
"The one about George. Why he's not here."
Jame quickly scribbled something down on a fresh piece of paper and handed it to Peyton. "That'll be one silver shilling."
Peyton reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold coin and flipping it to Jame.
Jame's eyes widened in shock. "A gold coin?"
"Keep it. And keep feeding me any new info you get on George for the next three months."
Jame grinned, tucking the gold coin into a hidden pocket. "You've got a deal."
Peyton glanced at the note Jame had handed him. *So, George has connections with the Emerald City Castle… Interesting.*
He tore the note into tiny pieces before leaving the class, satisfied with his new discovery. Meanwhile, Jame sat back, smiling wider than ever at his newfound wealth.
"Hey!" A booming voice startled Jame, making him jump in his chair.
"Akshar?" Jame stammered, scooting his chair back as the barbarian loomed over him.
"I hear you have *information*." Akshar placed a silver coin on Jame's desk and slid it toward him. "Give me what you gave *him*."
Jame pocketed the coin and quickly handed over another note, identical to the one he'd given Peyton.
Akshar squinted at it. "I can't *read*. Read it to me."
Suppressing a sigh, Jame complied. "George has connections with Sir Michael and was seen…"