There was much for both Tilo and Nemo to see, the center street lined with small shops and tents, each smelling of different delicacies. From spices to meats, expensive foreign foods seemed to be the prevalent theme. Despite being the property of the kingdom of Mirell, Stonehall Academy acted as a meeting point of hundreds of cultures, furthering the desire to sell foreign delicacies that might provide a form of familiarity. Well aware that the wealthiest of nobility sent their child to Stonehall Academy, gambling merchants made it their business to sell the rarest items that could procure. 

These small shops even breached the center courtyard of the academy; Tilo couldn’t help but admire the tenacity that was evident everywhere they walked. 

Nemo, on the other hand, was underwhelmed. Not by the academy, of course - its neat nature was a stark contrast to the cobbled-together homes of the city - but rather by the familiarity of the marketplace. Sure, there were differences; it was somewhere new, after all. But the similarities were great enough that he couldn’t really make out what made it different. 

He let out a brief sigh as they entered the academy’s main courtyard, suddenly jostled aside by a redheaded young boy wearing what was most assuredly an academy uniform. 

“Sorry about that, sir!” The teen called back as he dashed away, wearing the widest grin that his face could bear.

“It’s alright!” Another sigh, this time reminiscent. The kid sort of reminded Nemo of his first youngest brother.

Oddly enough, Tilo looked concerned. “You still have your money, right?” 

“Yes?” Nemo felt through his pockets. He wasn’t concerned about any currency. He never kept money on his person, only in his suitcase. However, he did find that the small wallet that held various copies of family photos was absent from its normal pocket. His heart skipped a beat. 

This is the one difference that he had wished wouldn’t have been a difference.

No one would ever be pickpocketed in his hometown and because of that sense of familiarity, he’d let his guard down. 

“Nothing’s missing?”

“No,” Nemo lied. He could just make new copies; there was no need to inconvenience Tilo. 

“Is that so? Alright. Now, it’s just this way- oh! Professor Krylin! Perfect timing!”

Tilo dragged Nemo away from the busy quad and into a loggia, following after someone that Nemo himself couldn’t see.

They walked for some time, in and out of corridors and through various doors, until Nemo was thoroughly lost. While the marketplace had been hectic, it had at least made sense. The maze that was this expansive building was something Nemo couldn’t grasp his head around. 

Tilo paused in front of a door, tugging it open with familiarity. It opened up to a small office, with a single desk and chair surrounded by shelves of uniform books.

“Professor Krylin.”

Pale eyes turned upwards to meet the two young men. The woman who sat before them was undoubtedly Sylvan in origin, similarly to Nemo. She, on the other hand, was clearly a fae-type Sylvan, and had a more direct relation. With facial features that leaned towards no particular gender, as well as her incomprehensibly pale complexion and hair, her characteristics were inarguably inhuman. If those visual indicators weren’t enough, the pointed ears and slightly shimmering skin were also helpful.

“Tilo. Nice to see you again.”

“I have your package. Well, we have your package.” 

Tilo gestured to Nemo, who was doing his best to make heads or tails of where he was.

“A new friend? Did you make this one properly this time?” She teased.

Without pause, Tilo retorted. “I’m almost thirty. I’m certain I know how to make friends by now.”

Professor Krylin shifted her attention to Nemo. Though her eyes were cold, her general demeanor was astonishingly friendly. “Did he drag you along, or did you agree?”

“I agreed, professor.” 

She gave a knowing nod. “Hm. Well, that’s definitely progress.” The professor eyed Nemo up and down. “I recognize you - a few years ago, you snuck your way into my class, didn’t you?”

“You remember that?” Nemo’s mouth was agape.

“Well, I could hardly forget, given that you sat right next to my best worst student. I suppose you did deliver the Resaumbul Bowl, too, but-”

“‘Best worst-?’”

Professor Krylin pointed at Tilo. 

Tilo pointed at himself.

“How-”

It was Professor Krylin who gave the answer Nemo was seeking. 

“His grades in all of his traditional classes were awful, from the sciences to languages. Surprisingly enough, though, his math grades were outstanding, which was much better than most of the students in the combat division, same as he was.” She gave a hearty laugh. “It’s a wonder he was only expelled during his final year, given that out of all of the classes he took during his third year, only three of them ended up with passing grades. Out of the eight total classes, it’s supposed to be that to stay in this academy you need to pass all of them.”

Tilo raised his hand as though he needed to be called on to speak. “I paid attention in class,” he defended.

“If only you took notes to go along with my lectures.”

Tilo looked slightly defeated. “That’s… fair, but I can’t give my fullest attention and take notes at the same time. It’s just not possible - I don’t want to miss a single thing. And I did well the first year. Besides, I had other reasons. You know this.”

Krylin gave a wry smile, acknowledging but otherwise ignoring Tilo’s interruption. “Still, a passion for learning is something I will never ignore. You certainly have that - hence the ‘best.’” 

Nemo was no longer listening, caught up in a single phrase of what had just been spoken.

“You were expelled?”

Tilo wouldn’t meet the young man’s eyes. “Ah… that’s part of the reason why I was more concerned with my credibility than yours.”

Nemo closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. His brow wrinkled with contemplation. After a few seconds, he let the held breath loose. “I guess that’s to be expected.”

Tilo’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re not disappointed?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. But I’ve never been the judging sort. What happens, happens.”

Tilo looked guilty. “No, I think I should have been a bit more upfront.” 

“If I may interrupt, I’d quite like to have my package. I have a quick meeting with a student in a minute.” Professor Krylin adjusted her glasses in disappointment, letting the sunlight reflect from the lenses and onto Tilo’s face. 

Nemo’s eyes widened and he reached into his suitcase, pulling out a box that would never have fit in the size suitcase Nemo had pulled it from. He placed it on the nearby desk, leaving it to be opened by its rightful owner.

His eyes betrayed his curiosity about what lay inside and Krylin waltzed behind her desk in response, removing a small, undecorated knife from one of the top drawers. With a surgeon’s precision, she cut the paper and ribbon that sealed it closed. The flaps of the undecorated box that gave the package its square shape lifted up and she pulled them aside.

With long fingers, she delicately reached in, pulling up and out a simple wooden box, unadorned save for a small carving just below the keyhole.

A carving of a weeping tree.