The dining hall is vastly baroque. Gilded buttresses soar above you, sparkling in the warm light, and lovingly painted frescoes spread across the ceiling, depicting mythological scenes. One entire wall is dominated by a painstakingly elaborate stained glass window showing a series of youths holding mythical objects; one crowned young man you recognize as your very distant ancestor, King Elias, looking radiant while bearing the diamond globe of Voigt.
He looks something like you. If you were standing on a cloud staring beatifically at the sky, that is.
More important right now is the matter of food. A gorgeous spread is served in an arrangement that feels more like a meal at a grand ball than at a school. Sitting at a long banquet table with Dominique and Beaumont, you watch as Pascal Haberlin ascends an ornate platform that could be part of a theater stage.
Next
We welcome you all to a new year at Archambault!" booms Pascal from the lectern. "And may I take the opportunity to welcome again our newest student, His Highness Prince Hugoz! How marvelous to bring yet another royal connection to our Academy walls, after Prince Rosario's successful study here!"
Wild applause thunders through the hall.
Despite your efforts, you stick out of the crowd as if you were seven feet tall. Everyone turns to stare at you, and as the chatter rises once more, there's a buzz of urgency in the air. A cluster of students contrive to pass your table to gawk, while even the older ones turn to stare at you and whisper amongst themselves while they watch.
Beaumont looks as unimpressed with the whole thing as he did last night. He flicks through a sheaf of papers while drinking a prodigious amount of coffee with his croissants, looking the picture of a businessperson in his office. Dominique leans on his elbow while he eats his cereal.
"I can't believe you're here," he says. "You look like you should be in the palace! Not like the rest of us at all!"
Dominique looks chastened, and as he finishes his cereal, he turns to Beaumont. "What's the first lesson?" he says in an evident effort to change the subject.
"You need to figure out your timetable," Beaumont says without looking up. "It's Natural Science, with Vere Serafin."
"Oh, no," Dominique says dolefully.
You look up to follow Dominique's gaze to the teachers' table, and see a hawk-faced woman in her middle age dressed in a smart, if dour, charcoal-gray suit. She's frowning at a couple of the other teachers, and gestures with her fork for emphasis as she speaks. As you watch, she signals to a servant, who rings a bell to mark five minutes left of breakfast.
Soon, it's time to go. Your first lesson awaits.
Next
Today, Natural Science takes place in the laboratories situated in the Schneider Tower. Lady Vere Serafin ushers you in, along with Beaumont and Dominique; you sit upon tall stools. The knots on the desks have been worn smooth and shiny with age, but the inkwells are brand new.
There are other final-year students attending the Academy, but the tiny class size is one of the points boasted about in the prospectus; the idea is that students get plenty of personalized attention from the teachers. In practice, it feels odd to be in such a spacious room with only two other students.
"Welcome to Natural Science," Vere says. "I believe the final member of this class is due later, but there's no need to dawdle. Let's start with something simple."
She details the chemistry experiment you are to perform in pairs, and then gestures to two sets of equipment.
"Prince Hugoz, please decide who to work with," she says.
Dominique edges his stool closer to you.
"Can I go with you?" he whispers. "Beaumont's so grouchy whenever I work with him."
Absolutely," you whisper to Dominique, and he grins in delight.
While Beaumont quietly sets up the test tubes under Vere's scrutiny, you and Dominique settle at your station. It's a reactivity test for the small samples of metal; you are to place the metals in tubes of acid of variable strengths, record their reactions, put them in order, and estimate what they are as a result.
Dominique loosens his tie restlessly, then puts on a pair of goggles. "I hope you know what you're doing," he says. "I can't remember anything from before the summer. Did you hear that the Honorable Florin Kraemer's been sent overseas with the military?"
You strongly suspect that if Dominique is left to his own devices, he will at best be a distraction and at worst disrupt the lesson altogether. That, of course, may jeopardize your reputation with Vere.
Dominique's shoulders stiffen. "How horrid," he mutters. "It's just that it's far too quiet in here to think."
But with your example and instructions, you keep him in line. By the time the lesson wraps up, you have gathered plenty of results in your notebook.
Next
With ten minutes to go before the bell, Dominique pauses. "What's that one meant to be?" he says, pointing with his tweezers at the final sample. "You should do it. It's probably the most reactive. I don't want to drop it!"
A small sample of slightly shiny metal sits upon the desk in front of you. You carefully lift it with your tweezers.
While Dominique watches, you drop the metal into the test tube with a flick of your tweezers. Dominique yelps and startles as the acid fizzes wildly, but it does not overflow.
"That's amazing!" Dominique says, and Vere calls over.
"Yes, excellent," she says. "And of course Laurie did his usual good work."
Beaumont nods as though such a thing was only to be expected. He has already cleaned up his workspace.
The bell rings. Vere shoos you out, and you head towards your next class.
Next
Politics class takes place in Noble Clemence Marchand's classroom, which seems to be more of a plushly decorated office than anything else. The room is lined with books from floor to ceiling; it has been set up with a selection of deep armchairs. You spot a framed photograph of Clemence shaking hands with Prime Minister Edith Belke.
Clemence themself is a dark, broadly built person with cropped hair and large glasses, dressed in a blue tweed dress. They look in their forties, younger than Vere or Pascal, and greet you enthusiastically, shaking your hand with both of theirs. With Beaumont and Dominique, you settle into your armchairs and the lesson begins.
Next.
I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this year," Clemence says. "We're going to have such fascinating insights about the Queen and her governance here!"
Dominique, who has curled up in one of the armchairs like a cat, pipes up. "The Queen's lovely."
Clemence nods cheerfully. "Oh, of course," they say. "And the political implications of the role of the monarchy are always to be considered. Queen Estell has been relatively hands-on during her reign, compared to her mother who tended not to deal directly with parliamentary issues."
The others glance at you surreptitiously.
Beaumont opens his notebook and starts scribbling. "I'm sure it's all right for the royals to get involved as long as they know what they're doing," he says.
"Indeed," Clemence says. "In the past there have been some…clashes between the monarch and Parliament where disagreements occur, but that's not been a problem for a while now."