"Representing Cavalcade Academy," Renault says musingly. "What does that mean, you reckon?"
"No marking trees while in public?" Max suggests.
"No drinking people's blood and turning them into your thralls?" Sonia tries, pushing herself back to her feet.
"No hard liquor before noon," says Michelle decisively, still lying down.
"Basically," you offer, "I think it means we're to be polite, clean-living, and decent."
There's a pause as you and your classmates consider this.
"To hell with that," Sonia declares. "Come on; let's go traumatize the posh kids."
"Hang on," Max says, looking at the vampire with considerable distaste. "What are you talking about, 'posh'? I thought you vampires were all supposed to be loaded, living in castles and everything."
"Compared to you filthy mutts, of course we are," Sonia snaps. "But you can say that about just about any vampire: hard not to get rich when you live forever. There's no…" Sonia frowns, reaching for the word. "Inequality. Whereas," she looks at you, "what about you, human? You're not rich, are you?"
You shake your head. "My parents manage to enjoy three square meals a day. In terms of liquid capital, I've been reliably informed that I exist just above the poverty line."
"Exactly," Sonia says, nodding with approval. "Anyone with that short a life span isn't meant to have eight figures in their bank account. It's unnatural."
After a moment, Max shrugs. "Fair enough," he says. "Posh bastards."
"What?" you ask. "Werewolves aren't wealthy either?"
Max glances at you, exasperated. "Can't hunt or eat paper money, human," he says. "Personal worth more or less stops with these…" He points at his sharp teeth, then holds up a hand so that you can see his five long black claws. "And these."
Sonia mutters something to a nearby vampire, who stifles a laugh, causing Max to turn, glaring at the pair of them.
"Fine," you say, trying to move the conversation on before a fight breaks out. "But what about Lady Rastan? That's an aristocratic title."
"Nope," Sonia says. "'Lady' is a professional title in the magical community; it's like 'Granny' or 'Mistress.' Besides," she adds after a moment, "that's what she told us to call her, and none of us are stupid enough to do otherwise, because she'd magic the flesh off our bones."
"All right," you say, not quite sure how you feel at being part of an undead class consciousness. "Shall we go and meet the new kids on the block?"
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