1221, Astian calendar.
11th of Febrose, nearing the end of winter, signed up for the watchman.
12th of Febrose, joined the watchman.
13th of Febrose, captured by Knights of Trilly.
15th of Mayal, beginning of spring, sent to the Parish of Darly as a slave.
25th of Mayal, recruited by the white priestess, Anna.
30th of Mayal, assigned a mission.
1st of Junal… Went to Kexer special academy.
—
Kexer special academy, ranked 2nd in the whole category and lists of institutes of teachings.
It boasted a longstanding history, built since the reign of Cyrillus, the 3rd king of Creopia. It had produced powerful and versatile talents that branched and touched all corners of various fields.
From the knight grandmasters of some household knight orders. Heroic nobles of the kingdom that protected its border. The paladins of the church. Or the deadly assassins of the dark moon organization.
Because of its extensive history and influential presence, along with its reputation among the academies, it became one of the most powerful in the kingdom.
Its previous headmaster, expert in negotiation, allowed it to acquire a huge amount of land. Amounting up to 4 learning halls, 50 acres of lands, and extended facilities fitted for nobles to use.
Located 3 glasshours from the City of Vresmond, a major hub of trading. The academy placed itself around the nature of forests, lakes, or rivers. Of which most of it exploited for the sake of its students.
An academy fitting for gentry of all class or talented, geniuses and uncommon individuals among the local populace of not a member to nobility.
Its requirements for entry.
Born of a noble house and supported by a letter of recommendation from alumni or determined by judges to be worthy of entering the academy.
Ages from 14 to 17.
Hubert, 17 years old, stood outside, in front of the main hall of the academy used to welcome new admissions of students.
He felt uneasy as sweat trickled down his forehead, not only from the heat of the crowd around him but also from nervousness. His body trembled so lightly as his heart beat in excitement and anticipation.
He was but a pinch of salt among all others. Squeezed and surrounded by the crowds of students numbering to at least 200.
Ranging from the most young looking boy, accompanied by servants, to the most ragged and rugged of mages with their exhausted and baggy eyes, to the seasoned, wounded and eager young men.
He was just one of many others from the crowd. Doing the same, hopeful of changing the course of their future in the academy by glory or knowledge.
Chattering could be heard around and in the crowd as the friendly and vibrant chatted and talked. While those more cautious and wary, silently observed.
The crowd stood in front of the door to the academy. Above the entrance to the hall, a massive clock powered by magic ran, and with each second that ticked, the arrow moved.
It was unusual for Hubert, his eyes were fixed to the clock, something he had never seen in his entirety of life. Something so complex and confusing his mind couldn't afford to apprehend.
He felt overwhelmed by all of it. He was just a peasant from the north and now he found himself surrounded by mechanical masterpieces, in an area unknown and unfamiliar to him. While also standing in the middle of the crowd of people he never met nor acquainted with.
The massive wooden doors of ironwood hadn't opened.
"When will the door open?" a man asked.
"Servant! I want milk, now!" a boy commanded.
"Boring…" one of the people muttered.
"Can they be a little considerate of our position? Now even my expensive suit is drenched in sweat!" another complained.
Broom
A high brassy symphony echoed and revibrated in the air, overwriting the noisy chatterings of the crowd.
All eyes drawn into the source of the sound, some annoyed, some curious and interested. The crowd gradually turned from that of a bunch of squawking ducks to that of silent trees.
A man stood in front of the door, trumpet clenched tight in his hand. A man in suit and of high hygiene, standing up right with an aura like that of a messenger of the king.
"72nd cohort! We welcome you to the Kexer special academy!" the man exclaimed, his voice stern and loud, but also welcoming.
Then the door made of iron wood opened. From there, walked out several figures, 4 in total, each of extravagant and sophisticated style and clothes.
One was a woman with a busty body in a midnight blue dress. Her face was beautiful, graceful and seductive, with a beauty mark under her lips. Her dark blue hair tied into a high ponytail. A smoking pipe sat on her tapered and soft fingers leisurely. Her presence, attention grabbing,
Another was a man of huge stature, chest naked. His muscles raw and powerful, his chest hair resembled that of a bear. His hair silky and pulled back, his mustache styled imperial, around his shoulder, a tiger, a skin of one laid. His presence, dominating.
Another was a woman of short stature, wearing a light green apron over a white sleeved shirt and short pants suited to summer. Cute and petite, her presence, though not intimidating, was shrouded in determination that blazed in her eyes. A pair of round glasses sat on her nose, and a cap of green was on her head. Her presence, friendly and appealing.
Another was a man in a mage robe of red and blue. A staff of wood sat comfortably in his hand, carved in its end, holding a gem of half-blue and half-red. A pair of square glasses placed on his nose, and his hair was black. His presence, ordinary yet shrouded in mystery.
"Greet the halls' masters!" the man that sounded the trumpet exclaimed.
The crowd looked at the figures in front of them, their gazes and attention focused. Their silence, amazed and mesmerized, slowly disappeared, replaced by a small cheer.
Then that cheer snowballed into something bigger and louder.
From the small cheer, erupted one akin to that of countless fireworks, energetic and spirited.
"Kexer! Kexer! Kexer!" the crowd chanted.
The four hall masters smiled at them, then at each other, before turning around and entering the academy. A sign of acceptance and allowance, something of a standardized and traditionalized custom of Kexer special academy.
The crowd of newly admitted students rushed inside. With their suitcases clenched in their hands, weapons in their waists, or servants by their sides. Hubert followed.
—
"Here's your uniform, and… here is… your room number!" the clerk said enthusiastically as she wrote down in her book while another hand gave Hubert a key attached to a small wooden board.
On the wooden board was carved the number 125, and on its other side was carved the letter C.
Then she just realized what key she gave to Hubert.
"We deeply apologize, since you didn't bring any servants and no one was available to pair with you, we must place you in a room with a servant," the clerk apologized.
Hubert looked at her with raised eyebrows, confused, as he did not know what she meant.
"Ah, the room is that way, in the C dormitory building," the clerk pointed to a direction.
"Thank you…" Hubert muttered as he gripped the small wooden board in his hand and read it.
Though he was of a farmer background, he remembered the time his mother taught him to read and write in the middle of the night under the watching moon.
He navigated his way to the C dormitory building along with countless other newly admitted students. Hubert walked while observing his surroundings, the crowd and the kind of people that made their way with him.
Only then he noticed one thing. All the people that walked to the C dormitory building were servantless. Most were unsophisticated and wore basic, though fancier, clothes than that of serfs.
While the stylish, elegant and rich had already disappeared from his sight the moment they began lining up the clerk station. It was something he would not care for usually, but he felt uneasy about his future.
Though he didn't come here for his future, but for freedom.
A few moments of walking later, he ended up standing in front of a room closed by a decaying wooden door, on it was carved the number 125. It was at the very end of the corridor, narrow, dusty and dirty.
"That's why the clerk was apologizing…" he muttered as his leather boot, newly tailored, covered in a spider web.
"Where did I even get these?" he murmured, his tone slightly annoyed by such luxury .
Knock
Knock
His hand, gloved, knocked on the door.
"Hello?" Hubert called.
Creak.
The rusty door hinge echoed a high pitched noise as it was being opened. Hubert was preparing himself to greet anyone who opened that door. The only thing he knew of his new roomate was that he was a servant.
"Hell-" he greeted with a smile on his face and a respectful and friendly tone. But he stopped as soon as he started.
Ron greeted him with an abyssal blank stare.