Potions were magical, well that much was obvious. But Sion wasn’t thinking that they were that type of magical. She meant that potions were wonderful. 

And that, they were. 

In this situation, they were lifesaving. Or rather, first impression saving. 

The potion that she had chosen for this particular situation was used to refine. A single spritz was really all it took. Her wrinkles were ironed out, her hair was back to its natural state, and most importantly, her resting apathetic face was tinged with just a sprinkle of emotion.

She was, regrettably, two minutes late to the orientation. A shame. A minuscule mistake, yet it was a black mark. And Sion Estrix did not claw her way to Alantin to gain black marks. 

Alantin’s School Of The Elite did not disappoint appearance-wise. The resemblance between the Academy's building, and the Royal Manor was uncanny. The golden gates, the sculptures of soaring griffons, and the crystal-built founders of Alantin glaring at the students. It was petrifying for some. For more, it was exhilarating.

Sion fit into the vast majority of new students. For her, the glamour of the building reminded her a bit of her own home. Though the House of Estrix was currently lacking in all things concerning finance, they didn’t show it. It was one of their strongest principles. You are allowed to hurt, you are never allowed to let someone know you are hurting.

Alantin followed the same principle. During its early years, it received masses of competition. The school was in last place, no commoner could tell that from its appearance, however. Alantin finally reached the top when the third dean came into power. Ever since then, it was the king, queen, and the court itself.

“Tardy students sit in the back”, a passing spirit informed Sion. A minute was equal to an hour in the Royal court. Alantin was considered as royal as any.

Even the seating arrangement of the Orientation was extravagant. The chairs had princely lining and silken cushioning. Nourishment and drinks were served by floating spirits, each spirit had a coloured ribbon attached to it.

The back row was almost as alluring as the other, but the difference did not go unnoticed. The spirits were clearly older models, they wobbled in the air as they floated from one incoming student to the other. The drinks were half-filled, and the food was slightly grimy.

The residents of this row were quite obviously the bratty bunch. That much was not a surprise for anyone. Alantin served the brightest of students, but also the wealthiest. It was only natural for spoiled children to mix into the crowd.

The first seated brat had miles of hair. Braids are woven into each other, creating an intricate design of beauty. She had silver-framed glasses, tinged with a rosy hue. A scowl was engraved into her face, her eyebrows were raised high into the sky, and her nails were clawing her way into the cushioning of the chair. This girl bore a strong resemblance with her mother, Sion thought. 

The second was a boy of an inch in height. Spiked hair, colours swirled in each strand. He scoffed as the teachers made their way to the stand, mocking their way of walk. He snatched a floating spirit from the air, gave it an aggressive squeeze, and let it back into the air. The poor spirit coughed up specks of dust after the vigorous attack, zig-zagging its way to the stand. The boy laughed at the spirits' helplessness. Sion wanted nothing more than to give the boy a proper beating.

But knowing the House of Estrix's current financial situation prevented her from doing so. Even the measliest of houses could find out her secret. Or her houses. And she would much rather avoid that situation altogether.

The last one appeared as the softest of the crowd. Soft curls adorned a rounded face, a face gleaming with joy. A uniform smeared with spots of mud and leaves. Their shoes were dirt-crusted, and curls were crowned with coloured leaves. They imitated a crown on top of her waves, She muttered incoherent words, flicking her hand this way and that as she chanted. She was a bit like the children Sion saw in the local park.

The fourth was another boy. A boy with cotton pink hair. A boy with faerie wings. A boy who had almost gotten her punched by an inconsolable demon. 

The boy turned to her, a nasty grin moulted on his face.

“Hello!”