This time he was utterly sincere as he responded. "I will."
She spent just a few seconds more, before nodding. "Alright, I'm off then." She turned to the Instructor. "Keep an eye on this one."
"I will," Griffith responded just before his aunt clambered back into the carriage they arrived in.
William watched her go before turning to the dark elf. "Well, I'm all yours Instructor. Please be gentle."
The woman's eyebrow raised a little at the obvious innuendo, but said nothing before gesturing for him to follow as she started striding towards a nearby building.
-------------------
True to his escort's words, William noted the many interested eyes that latched onto him the moment he stepped into the auditorium and made his way over to his designated seat. Though to be fair, he had a feeling that had occurred for just about every young man that had entered. Of which there were about twelve, with most of those seated in the 'general intake' seating area.
He genuinely had to wonder if they knew he was the 'Kraken Slayer' or if they were still in the process of trying to figure out which of the arriving young men held the moniker.
Ultimately, he supposed it didn't matter. What would be would be. Until then, he found his gaze roaming around the room as he took in the sheer variety of races present.
Naturally, the noble sections of the auditorium were almost entirely comprised of high elves, dark elves and humans, but the general intake area was significantly more varied.
Humans made up the majority of the section he was sitting in, but the number of orcs wasn't too far behind. Thereafter he could see a handful of dark and high elves, a trio of dwarves and was that… yes it was, an honest to god wood elf.
He'd genuinely thought the rabbit ears were some kind of peculiar hat at first, but as he watched them twitch, he realized they really were attached to the young woman.
Beyond that, it was easy to see that the room had already been pre-arranged into houses. Sure, uniforms hadn't been distributed quite yet, but most of the nobles' clothes gave some clue as to their house of origin.
And Academic Houses were usually divided by geographic region of origin anyway.
The only exception to that rule were the general intake students, who were a mishmash. The Royal Army sourced from just about anywhere, and as such the quality of style and clothing worn by the people around him varied. From clothes that wouldn't have looked out of place in the Royal Court itself, to peasant garbs that looked to have been carefully sewn and resewn a dozen times over.
Sure, exactly none of the better dressed noble attendees would be higher ranked than a third or fifth born daughter, but it was still amusing to see how uncomfortable they looked sitting next to a bunch of baseborn peasants.
Even in his row of five, he could see a high elf glaring at her orcish neighbor. Who also happened to be his neighbor.
It was actually a little sad to see – made doubly so by the thorned tattoo around her neck.
A former slave, he thought. Given that she'd have been emancipated as part of her oath of service to the Royal Marine-Knights.
Brown hair tied back in a pony-tail, she looked about sixteen – little more than a girl to his eyes – and was dressed in what he could only assume were her nicest clothes, given the notable absence of patches in her cream tunic and brown pants.
Likely a field worker of some description prior to her conscription, her arms were likely as thick as the thighs of the elf whose gaze she was deliberately avoiding. Not that one could really tell given how much the former-slave had shrunk in on herself.
"Relax," he said quietly, actively surprising himself as much as the girl, as her wide eyes flitted toward him.
As did the elf's.
"You're here because you have a right to be here," he continued. "You passed the tryouts right? Beat a bunch of other potential mages to get selected?"
He'd not known that was how Royal Marine-Knight candidates were selected. He'd long thought they took anyone with potential – that wasn't already selected to be part of some noble's retinue – but it turned out that wasn't the case.
Potential mages had to compete for a spot. And those that failed would invariably end up employed in logistical roles. Iron-smiths and Farm-Witches being the most prominent examples that came to mind.
"Y-yeah," the orc finally whispered.
He smiled. "Well then, you've earned your place here. Be proud of it. Sit up straight. Ignore blondie over there. She's just pissed that you clawed your way up to this level while she managed to flunk her way down to it."
Because if she had any real talent, she'd have been inducted into another noble's retinue.
Still, it was amusing the way the blonde squawked indignantly at his words. Still, to give her credit, rather than just spit out some bland insult, she took a moment to think of a rather apt rejoinder.
"And what does that say about you, hmm? Both a man and a noble sent to the academy? Here to escape some scandal back home? Or did your poisonous tongue leave you simply incapable of attracting a wife?"
He just smiled back at her. "A little of column A. A little of column B."
That shut her up, if only because it left her with little else to say as he freely admitted his own 'ineptitude'. After a few moments more of staring, she turned away with a huff. Smirking internally, he turned his attention back to the stage, but not before he heard a single quiet voice.
"T-thanks," the orc whispered. "For that. Even if you could have been a bit… nicer. I, um, I am proud to be here."
"As you should be," he whispered back, refusing to let his own complicated feelings on the subject mar the young woman's 'good fortune'.
Not everyone wanted to burn down the system and form a new one. Some people just tried to live as best they could within the circumstances that were given to them.
He wasn't one of them though.
Not this time around at least, he thought as a number of instructors walked onto the stage.
One of them, he couldn't help but note was Instructor Griffith, the dark elf standing out as the only non high-elf on the stage. More to the point, her outfit was now augmented by a half-cape slung over the right shoulder, emblazoned with the Royal colors of Black and Gold.
All four of her colleagues had a similar garment, but in different colors. Colors that rather neatly matched the heraldry of different regions of Lindholm. One of those colleagues stepped forward to stand before the pulpit, her voice projected by what could only have been some kind of magical amplifier.
"Welcome cadets. Welcome to Blicland Royal Aviation Academy. Your home for the next four years." She paused dramatically. "And if you look to your left and right, you will see that those individuals occupying the row of seats in your section shall be your team for the next four years. In many ways, your family. People that you shall learn with. Live with. Sleep with. Eat with. Fight with. Bleed with. Kill with. And perhaps one day, die with."
William froze.
He… hadn't known that.
Which meant he'd just insulted at least one of the individuals he'd be spending the next four years with.
Shit, he thought, deliberately not turning his gaze right.
That way lay trouble.
Instead he turned his head left, hoping he'd not managed to-
Nope, the dark elf on his left was also clearly a noble given the quality of her clothes. And she was glaring at him.
Hard.
While a dwarf winked at him over her shoulder.
Shit, he repeated.