One she didn't return, but he didn't really expect her to at this point.
Which was fine. These were early days yet.
More to the point, as he turned to the last resident of the room, he was happy to see that no one had attempted to wrest control of the introductions back away from him.
Oh, Bonnlyn had made a token attempt by 'interrupting', but it was a perfunctory thing at best. And likely an entirely accidental byproduct of a boisterous personality. Something he'd easily stepped around by responding to her brazenness without being flustered.
Instead, he'd simply breezily moved onto the next person, thus guiding the tempo of the conversation.
It's easier to take control of a room if no one realizes you're doing it after all, he thought.
Which sounded like an act of complex Machiavellian social engineering, but was really just a matter of confidence. After all, most people were pretty hesitant to speak first in a group full of strangers. To that end they were usually quite happy for someone else to take the reins of those first tentative interactions.
Even if they never admitted it.
And by taking on that task, he'd already positioned himself as the leader of their little group by being the one to facilitate their introductions.
Sure, a million and a half things could tear him from that post in the next few hours, but as humble as it was, this was a foundation to build from.
"And that leads to our last, though assuredly not least, member of this little group." William noted how the orc shifted uncomfortably as all eyes in the room turned to her. And it didn't take a genius to guess why a former-slave might be uncomfortable with too much attention.
"You, uh, didn't introduce yourself," she deflected.
He cocked his head to the side. "Of course, how forgetful of me. William Ashfield. Chef, mechanic and now Marine-Knight cadet."
…Also a chemist, an accountant and a half-dozen other things as well - as a result of skills he'd picked up both this life and the last - but no one but him really needed to know that right now.
"You're the Kraken Slayer!" Bonnlyn shouted just a second before Olzenya looked about to say the same thing – much to the elf's irritation.
He very definitely didn't let his eye twitch. "An exaggeration. I injured a kraken using a trauma-boosted lighting bolt after it attacked a ship I was riding and knocked out my escort. Rest assured, it was not a feat I could ever repeat."
"You hurt a kraken with lightning?" Marline asked quietly, something other than irritation in her gaze at last as she eyed him contemplatively.
He shrugged. "I did. As I said though, it was a trauma-boost."
Which ostensibly meant that the aether he supplied his patron was of a more emotionally charged variety than the norm. Which in turn meant the fae being had deigned to reward him by adding a 'bonus' onto his contract.
Something that was far from guaranteed. Fae, by their very nature, were strange and mercurial beings. What they considered worthy of super-charging a contract was impossible to predict and almost never consistent.
"That's still rather impressive," Olzenya said begrudgingly. "After all, it must have been a considerable injury to scare the beast off."
He shrugged, feeling a little uncomfortable at the praise despite himself. "Just a tentacle."
Bonnlyn scoffed. "Just a tentacle he says."
"They do have eight of the things," he pointed out. "Hardly a maiming by any stretch, given that the limb will regrow in time. Which in turn makes the name I've apparently been saddled with all the more ridiculous."
"I suppose it does," Olzenya actually seemed to perk up a bit at that.
Bennlyn just scoffed. "Ridiculous or not, you should embrace it! It's already out there now. You should try to profit from it."
He smiled stiffly, before trying to change the topic. "Perhaps. For the moment though, we seem to have steered off topic."
Once more, the orc seemed to flinch as every eye in the room turned to her, idly gripping the legs of her pants.
"Oh, uh, Verity. That's my name. No last name. Obviously. I'm from the Greenhill estate." She flinched. "Not that I'm part of the Greenhill family. They just own mine. Or did. Used to. Y'know. Before I got signed up to be a Marine-Knight."
It was actually rather interesting, how fast the young woman could get the words out. He idly noted that none of the other girls seemed particularly surprised by the revelations of the green skinned woman's origins.
"Oh, the academy emancipated your family too?" Olzenya of all people asked, a genuine note of curiosity in her voice. "They don't do that for all cadets."
Verity – and it was noteworthy that she had a 'human' name – could only shrug. "I guess?"
Marline too had turned her evaluating gaze from to the orc. "They only do that for prospects they really want. Do they have your family working somewhere in the capital?"
"Uh, just outside it. Offered them a job on some farm there. Paid work rather than the… other kind. As field workers, given that's what we used to do."
Now William too was sizing up the orc. If the Academy went through that much trouble for the orc, well it implied she had talent worth the extra investment.
And suddenly, not being part of some noble's retinue doesn't seem quite as bad as it did before, he thought.
Sure, he was still with the 'dregs' of the academy, but at least one of them – likely two given Bonnlyn's plebeian origins – was a talented dreg.
Plus, this has made taking over as 'leader' a lot easier, he mused.
Admittedly, he'd not have had to do that if he'd been allowed to form his own retinue, but that had never been truly likely. Honestly, he'd originally placed fifty-fifty odds on being placed in some allied noble's retinue or his fiancée's.
Being busted down to general intake had honestly never even crossed his mind – which was just proof positive that no plan ever survived first contact.
"Well, I'm at least glad to know we've got at least one upcoming star amongst us." He gave the orc his most charming smile, watching her flush in response – because as much as inconvenient as the gender dynamics could be in this world, he'd be damned if he didn't make use of them. "We're lucky to have you on our team."
He deliberately ignored some muttered words from Olzenya about being 'talented for a plebeian'.
Nothing to be done about it now.
What mattered was that for the moment at least, he'd at least gotten the team over the first hurdle together.
And in doing so, he'd cemented himself as the 'center' of the group.
Now comes the hard part, he thought as genuine conversation slowly started to blossom around him – stilted at first, but it was a start. Turning them into the best team in the academy.
They needed to top the academy leaderboards.
Needed.
Because if they couldn't do that, the last ten years he'd spent planning and preparing were basically worthless.
And he wouldn't allow that to happen.
So, it's the best or nothing, he thought.
--------------
Olzenya resisted the urge to scowl as she emerged from the veritable prison cell the Academy dared to call a room.
Cramped didn't even begin to describe it. Between the torture device pretending to be a bed, her desk and locker, there was barely enough room to stand, let alone engage in her morning exercises. Thus it was that she was forced to perform them in the 'communal living area'.
Fortunately for her 'good' mood, none of her teammates had yet seen fit to rise from their slumber, the doors to their own cells remaining stubbornly closed.
Something to work on, she thought.
Because for all that she'd been forced to team up with a plebian, an upstart and a madman, she refused to languish in obscurity. Her older sister's schemes might have placed her here, but they needn't keep her here.
She needed only perform well enough to draw the eye of another noble.
She'd made a mistake yesterday, lost control of the room by misjudging her fellow noble – though fortunately Marline was of a more reasonable sort. In doing so, rather than take command of the room's plebeians, she'd instead made an enemy of them.
Because that damnable man had played the part of an ally rather than an overseer.
An intelligent move on his part that put the three-fifths of the group under his sway.
Though whether the human knew that, she had no clue. It was entirely possible he really was just that lacking in noble decorum.
Her insults the previous night likely held a grain of truth after all, even if she'd outwardly retracted them.
Either way, she needed to somehow get either the man or the orc on her side so that she could more effectively command their team.
She didn't even consider the dwarf. Some things just weren't worth it.
Truth be told, the human was likely a long shot too. Which really just left the orc, who at least seemed aware of her betters and her stations.
So now I just need some leverage over her, she thought as she moved through another set of sword forms – her imaginary blade whirling through the air. Given that she apparently has some talent, the carrot would likely be the wiser-
The rest of her thoughts were cut off by the door to the main hall opening. A door that was supposed to be locked.
Caught more than a little off-guard given that she was clad in little more than her bedclothes, she nonetheless managed to scowl mightily at the academy servant who carelessly strode into her team's quarters, humming a little tune as she pushed a small cart before her.
When the woman finally did notice Olzenya standing there, she jumped a little.
"Ah, my apologies young miss," the human said, her broad capital accent coming through in full. "I didn't expect anyone to be up at this time."
Olzenya made no attempt to hide her harrumph. "If you're here to clean, it seems an odd time for it."
Something strange passed over the other woman's face – a hint of smugness? – before she shook her head. "Nothing like that. I'm simply here to deliver your uniforms. Ideally, you'd have woken to find them waiting for you on the table."
Ah, she'd been wondering about that.
"Very well," she gestured magnanimously to the table. "You may leave them and go."
The woman did so, leaving the table piled high with black uniforms with gold inlay, all of varying sizes.
"Thank you," an irritating familiar voice called absently through a yawn.
The servant paused, eyes going wide – as did Olzenya's - at the sight of her male teammate, in little more than a pair of boxer shorts, as he stepped from his room with a yawn on his face and his arms stretched high over his head.
"I, ah, it's no issue, young master." The servant stuttered, torn between fleeing, flushing and staring.
Though she chose the latter as Olzenya glared in the staring woman's direction. Casting one final glance back, the human woman trundled away, closing the door to their quarter's behind her.
"Bye," the man actually called out.
Finally, 'alone' once more, the high elf turned a gimlet eye on her teammate, even as the others started blearily appearing from their own rooms – before freezing in place at the sight of their male teammate practically flaunting himself.
"Have you no shame!?" The high elf finally hissed, her cheeks flushing as she glared at the human. "Put on some damn clothes!"