The man just glanced at her as he wandered over to the table. "I am wearing clothes. Or at least one piece of clothing."
He tugged at the rim of his boxers.
"You'll not hear me complaining," the damnable dwarf whistled as she emerged from her own room, not being subtle at all in her staring.
At least the orc had the decency to look a little flustered. Her fellow elf… looked surprised, but that was all. Which helped Olzenya reign in her own worst impulses. If her fellow noble could keep from staring at the veritable satyr they'd been saddled with, so could she!
…Mostly.
"Don't encourage him," she hissed at the dwarf, before twisting back to the male 'noble'. "And don't encourage her!"
The man actually had the audacity to grunt as he picked up his uniform, inspecting the workmanship of the seams.
"Why did you even come out like that?" she finally muttered.
"I sleep like this," he said back casually as he threw the pants over one shoulder. "And I thought it smart to get this out of the way now."
"What's 'this'?" Marline asked, the dark elf's tone cautious as she regarded the human clinically.
"The awkwardness," he responded. "In case you all failed to notice, this room has exactly one shower. Or rather, one bank of shower heads."
Just as he finished, the 'rise' bell rang out.
"And given that we've got about ten minutes between that bell going off and first muster, we really don't have time for individual showering."
The dark elf frowned. "How do you know that?"
Indeed, Olzenya was a little curious herself. She'd obviously tried to do as much research on the academy as she could, but obviously her sisters had hardly been forthcoming with details and her mother's and aunt's experiences were likely to be out of date.
And intended for houses beyond the Royal line, she thought venomously.
"Handbook," he grunted. "In the desk drawer."
Ah, she'd missed that. And given the way the rest of her cohorts did, they had too. Hell, she'd practically gone straight to sleep after retreating to her room and renewing her patron's contracts.
Yet the 'satyr' had apparently had energy enough not only to search the place but actually sit down and read something.
"Point is," he continued. "We're about to spend the next four years living together. In very tight quarters. With all the awkwardness that entails."
Olzenya hated the way the thought of that excited her a little. Not least of all because she could see the same emotion flitting across the dwarf's face – and she'd be damned before she had anything in common with that horny monkey.
"I see," Marline grunted, her tone unreadable. "We're going to be sharing showers."
"Yup." He gestured down at himself as he threw his clothes over his shoulder and retreated to his room – presumably to grab a towel. "So, either get used to getting up before the rise bell or get used to seeing me in the nude because I ain't losing out on beauty sleep because you're a bunch of prudes."
That was… surprisingly pragmatic.
"Well," Olzenya coughed as the man once more disappeared. "I think I can be professional enough to get over a man in dishabille. In the name of saving time of course. Sleep will likely be a precious commodity going forward."
She ignored the way the dwarf stared at her, as she walked over to grab her own clothes.
She wasn't lying after all. The man had a point.
Sharing showers was only natural.
And if she happened to catch a few glimpses of her teammate in the process, well, there was nothing to be done about it.
"I'll get up early in future," Marline grunted. "I'll also wait for you all to finish today."
Bonnyln just chuckled, even as the little gremlin wasted no time in stripping down. "Suit yourself, weirdo. Because this alone has almost made the whole merchant-marine thing worth it."
Olzenya rolled her eyes, before noticing that the orc hadn't moved.
Indeed, she looked rather frozen.
"Orc, is there an issue?"
"She has a name," the dwarf muttered.
"I-I don't have a towel," the greenskin murmured.
Olzenya sighed. She really should have seen this coming. And she didn't want them to lose points because one of their team went to class dripping wet or stinking to high heaven.
And besides, this was an opportunity to get the other woman into her debt. At least in some small way. A show of compassion to make up for last night's blunder.
"It's alright," she said, feigning reluctance. "I've got a-"
She didn't get to finish her sentence.
"Here's one of mine." That annoyingly chipper male voice called as he reappeared, clad in nothing more than a towel, while he threw another at the orc.
Who actually managed to catch it before the balled up piece of fabric hit her in the chest, though her mouth remained open the rest of her seemingly paralyzed as the man dashed past on the way to the team's bathroom.
"I-thanks?" she called after his retreating back.
"Don't mention it," he grunted. "Feel free to keep the towel."
Olzeyna just scowled at the lost opportunity.
—--------------------
Verity had seen a boy naked. She also had a nice new uniform. A shiny black and gold thing.
The uniform. Not the boy.
The boy had been pink.
In the shower.
Another new discovery that she found she much preferred over a dip in the river or a bucket and rag. Not entirely because the shower had a naked boy in it, but it certainly played a role in her newfound enjoyment of the novel way of cleaning.
And she'd get to do it every day!
Though next time she'd tried not to stare as much. Ignoring the fact that William had been very nice to her in the time she'd known him, both ma' and pa' would box her ears something awful if they found out she'd been acting the perv.
Still… perv or not, she'd certainly gotten an eyeful this morning.
So it was that she actively had to fight down the urge to hum a jaunty tune as she and her fellow cadets were given a tour of the Academy's many facilities.
While the first day had mostly been an opportunity for cadets to arrive and be introduced to each other, the second was set aside for tours of the facilities. Classrooms. Obstacle courses. Four entire warehouses filled with decommissioned airship hulls that would apparently act as mock arenas for training exercises.
"What about the airfields ma'am?" A cadet from another group asked.
The group they were in all had the same uniform. Royal black and gold, which marked them as part of the general intake program. The only real difference between the groups was the number on their sleeves.
Each group had its own, corresponding to their room.
The number on her and her friends(?) sleeves was seven. Which was supposed to be lucky, though she'd never found out why.
Instructor Griffith, as she'd introduced herself, shook her head. "We won't be visiting there today. Or at any point this year. Flight training begins in the second year of the academy. Your first year will be focused on deck combat, magical aptitude and general theory. Not flying Shards."
More than a few people sagged at that, though no one was stupid enough to say anything. Not even the nobles – who she could still spot even though they now all wore the same uniform.
It was in the way they walked and talked. It held a kind of understated confidence that just didn't come naturally to people like her.
Even William, who was quite nice, did it.
Then again, so does Bonnlyn, Verity mused as the group continued on. And she's supposed to be a peasant like me.
Though not a slave.
And that was a significant difference.
She absently shook her head, refusing to let any kind of self-recrimination rear its ugly head. She wasn't a slave anymore. She was a merchant-marine cadet. She'd earned it.
William had said as much – and he was a noble!
Even Ozleyna seemed impressed when she told that the academy bought and freed her family too.
Personally, Verity hadn't thought anything of it. She'd thought they did that for every slave that did well in the tryouts.
Perhaps she hadn't needed to take down all the other competitors in the final melee?
She shrugged as they entered another building – she supposed it didn't matter now.
"And this is the laundry room," Instructor Griffith said as she gestured to a great many familiar looking taps and buckets. "Cleaning supplies will be kept here and are not to be taken out of this room. You are expected to keep your clothes clean at all times. Failures in that department or improperly wearing the uniform will result in demerits."
Not for the first time, Verity thanked the all-gods that Bonnlyn had helped her with her own.
Not that she couldn't figure out how to get it on, but putting the clothes on and putting them on properly was apparently two different things.
It seemed a little silly to her, but she knew better not to question and had tried to commit as much of it to memory as possible. Though she had no idea how successful she'd been on that front.
I suppose I'll find out tomorrow, she thought as the rest of her house-mates glanced around the room.
Olzenya raised a hand. "Excuse me ma'am, but where are the servants and receiving baskets?"
"Instructor," the dark elf corrected absently. "And servants? Receiving baskets?"
"For us to leave our clothes for cleaning?" The high elf cocked her head.
For just a moment, Verity could have sworn the ghost of a smile slipped across the Instructor's face. "You misunderstand me cadet, the cleaning and maintenance of your clothes is your responsibility and yours alone."
If anything, the ripple that ran through the room at her words was more pronounced than when she'd said that they wouldn't be flying Shards for another year yet.
"Cleaning? Ourselves?" One girl sounded close to fainting.
"Such is the onus of House Lindholm." Griffith had zero sympathy. "You aren't like those other houses. For all they might parade themselves around the academy with their heads held high, they're ultimately little more than peacocks being fitted with spurs. Perhaps they might perform well in the inter-academy competitions, but those are mere tourney fields - not a real war. Make no mistake, you as cadets of the Royal House are the true war hawks. You're here to learn how to be Royal Marines, not just Marine-Knights. Women and men like yourselves are the real first line of defense and the real reason why both the Solites and Lunites have failed three times to drag Lindholm into their personal quagmire."
She eyed the room, as if daring anyone to correct her. "To that end, you're expected to learn how to care for your gear and uniform. If you don't know how, then learn. No one's here to hold your hand. Resources are available to you, it's up to you to figure out what they are and make use of them."
For just a moment, Verity could have sworn the instructor's eyes were directly on her. "If you fail, that failure and the debt you'll owe to the crown because of it will be entirely on you."
The good mood the orc had slowly been nurturing over the course of the morning dimmed a little at that.
Only a little though.
Because she wasn't an idiot. A little unworldly perhaps, but not stupid. She knew how things worked.
And she also knew that the Royal Family hadn't bought her contract for nothing. Because nothing in life was free.
Especially not for an orc.
So, she'd work hard.
Prove she was worth the investment.
And hopefully her family would remain free as a result.
So long as that happened, she'd be willing to do just about anything.