Looking down at his pocket watch, Mordecai had a satisfied smile on his face, "I love it when everything is on time."
Putting away his timepiece, Mordecai stood up from the comfortable wyvern leather chair in the waiting room as the doors he had been waiting on swung open soundlessly, "You may enter."
Rolling his eyes at the deep, ominous voice coming through the doorway, Mordecai walked into the large office decorated with large bookshelves and magical artifacts. Most of the room, however, was dominated by a large wooden desk with an equally large man behind it with dark skin, a perfectly bald head, and a white goatee dressed in an elegant white robe that shimmered with a rainbow hue.
"You know, trying to be all mysterious and powerful only works when the person hasn't seen you after happy hour on the Isle of Jular," Mordecai said offhandedly while addressing the old man sitting behind the desk.
"You promised not to bring that up," the man pouted, "I was just practicing for the new batch of Cadets today. You only get one first impression, you know."
Mordecai sighed and didn't bother trying to argue with him, "Can I deliver my report now? Maintaining this many deviants is draining even with my Stasis."
The old man waved his hand, signaling Mordecai to continue, "As you know, this year, there is an unusually high number of those with above-average magical attunement and affinities. There are two hundred new Cadets, with 136 being from a noble house or sponsored by a Patreon, and 64 commoners who are all being guided to the front gates as we speak."
---
"You know, even after spending every day for the last month running, I would rather do it all again if I could skip this line!" Freya's voice slowly crept up in volume until she was almost shouting.
Standing next to her, Fenrir gnawed on a strip of dried meat, unbothered by strange looks cast their way. He couldn't blame them, though. Freya and him were covered head to toe in grime, their clothes were threadbare, and they probably didn't smell too good, "It does seem unusually cruel. It's also rather strange that Mordecai didn't guide us into the city."
Freya sighed as tried to ignore the dirt covering her body and the fact she would have to spend ages detangling her already fairly curly red hair, "I just want to sleep in a bed and wake up the next morning safe with the fact that I won't have to run a marathon or some other hellish training. Is that too much to ask for?"
"Didn't Mordecai say we would have mandatory physical training every morning we have classes?" Fenrir commented absently, only for Freya to turn a deadly glare his way, "Or maybe I misheard."
Avoiding eye contact, Fenrir looked up at the gleaming metal walls and enormous gates surrounding the Capital. Scanning along the wall, Fenrir could spot countless patrols of guards in pristine heavy plate armor marching along the bulwark.
The walls themselves were nearly twenty feet tall with arrow slits built into even increments, but also larger portholes that were at the moment sealed and hiding massive magic cannons capable of firing up to VII-tiered spells.
'I guess that's why it's called the Iron Capital.' Fenrir mused to himself as he looked at the hour-long line leading to the only checkpoint in and out of the city, 'But why couldn't they make another gate?'
---
After they had made it through the checkpoint, Fenrir and Freya were finally admitted into the Capital. The first step into the city, however, wasn't the actual city, but instead a large pillbox with ballista bolts poking through large arrow slits leading to a second and much smaller gate.
Fenrir and Freya weren't the only ones in the box, and they were forced to stand shoulder to shoulder as the gate behind them slammed shut, and the gate in front of them slowly began to open.
"Doesn't this feel a bit excessive?" Freya asked, and Fenrir only nodded, "They're acting like they're in the middle of a war."
Before they could talk further, the second gate fully opened, and the crowd around them surged forward, seemingly just as eager or more so to make it inside.
Half walking and half carried by the mob of people, Fenrir and Freya eventually found themselves standing on the side of a massive cobblestone road with people crossing and horse-drawn carriages cutting one another off.
The capital and its occupants screamed wealth with large storefronts made out of solid stone, affluent merchants covered in jewelry, and noble men and women dressed in expensive silk clothes with servants following them around their arms burdened with countless bags and boxes.
But besides the wealth on display, there was another key factor that showed how different the Capital was from even the other large cities. Fenrir could sense the magic spill through the air like a dense fog, 'It's almost like being back in the grove.'
Fenrir was broken out of his stunned shock as Freya grabbed onto his cloak, "Come on, we need to find the Guild Hall and register!"
Letting himself get dragged along, Fenrir wondered how they were going to find the Guildhall when, to their surprise, they turned around the corner and were greeted with a captivating sight. The massive building loomed before them, exuding an air of mystique and adventure.
With an understated elegance, the Guild Hall stood tall, its architecture blending seamlessly with the surrounding cityscape. The craftsmanship was impeccable, evident in the delicate engravings that adorned the entrance and the subtle play of light and shadow cast by the windows.
"I don't know why, but I was expecting something, a little more…run down?" Freya said with a questioning lilt in her voice.
Fenrir shrugged, "As long as it doesn't have another three-hour line, it could be made out of gold, and I wouldn't care."
Freya nodded in agreement as they wordlessly walked down the street and joined the small stream of people constantly going in and out of the Guild Hall.
As they stepped into the building, a wave of sound that somehow hadn't managed to spill out into the street washed over Freya and Fenrir.
The ground floor was mostly open in the middle, with large boards cluttered with papers lining both side walls. Various groups of robed and armored people milled about the boards reading the papers, which were most likely open quests, before grabbing one they found suitable.
At the opposite end of the hall was a large wooden desk to either side of which were two large doorways leading further into the hall. The only people who seemed to walk through the doors were guild officials who also manned the wooden counter, seeing to the needs of the countless adventuring parties.
But there were two seemingly out-of-place groups gathered in front of the desk to the left side.
The reason why they were usual was first because of their size being around fifty and the other more than a hundred strong. The second and third were the appearance and age of the two groups.
While the rest of the Hall's occupants were young adults to middle-aged and dressed for battle, the groups were in their teens, with the smaller bunch garbed in dirty, worn tunics while the larger group wore elegant and fine garments without a speck of dirt on them.
"This is why I didn't want to go to the academy," Freya muttered as she and Fenrir joined the back of the smaller group, "I bet they did this shit on purpose. Look at how smug they are."
Fenrir looked over at the group, who were clearly nobility, and occasionally snickered while pointing towards their group, "You shouldn't get irritated so easily, Freya. It will just label you as an outlier that they need to knock down a peg."
Freya grunted with a snarl crossing her lips, "So what, I'm just supposed to stare at the ground and sit on my hands while they walk over me?"
Fenrir stared into Freya's piercing blue eyes as a predatory smile spread across his face, and his steel gray eyes gleamed like sharpened swords, "Only until their backs are turned."
Freya snorted but her cheeks twitched as she smirked, "Quiet down, will you? Some people might take you seriously."