Arenya Azural, trepidation flooding her mind, gathered her bags and headed to her first course. Parents’ reassurances from before she left vanished from her mind to be relaced with a tightness in her chest. Not even the morning prayers helped take her mind off things.

Stepping outside of Gryphon Wing, Arenya managed a grin at least. The sun was bright and the light warmed the academy. She extended her wings, intent on catching every last ray of light she could…

“Is that her?”

Arenya spared a glance for the trio of students leaving Serpent Wing. They were too distant to make out any identifying marks, but not so far away that she couldn’t tell they were staring at her, or so far that she couldn’t hear them - at least not when they shouted so.

“Of course that’s her - how many other students with wings are there in this place?”

“Ask her how many apples she ate. Come on, I’ve gotta know if ate five!”

“At least six!” she yelled back. “I lost count!”

The trio of students froze. Even at this distance, the shock was evident in their bodies that she’d answered. It occurred to Arenya at that moment that she really should have ignored them. She tried to turn, continue on her path, close her eyes and the students would just vanish, but some sense of humiliation kept her glued to the spot.

One of the students whispered something, far too quiet for Arenya to make it out.

“Greetings, my brothers in learning.” A familiar voice, one that made Arenya sigh in relief. The accent was as unmistakable as the sarcism dripping from her words. “Is it your intention to gawk at Miss Azural all day?”

Cartalis strode from Serpent Hall towards the trio of students. She wore dark breeches, black mechanic’s boots, a blue tabard, and the most brutally piercing scowl Arenya had ever seen in her life.

With the silence between them broken, Arenya finally managed to turn and stride away. While she couldn’t make out the response the other students, Cartalis’ raised voice was clear as day.

The degree to which Cartalis tore into them was nothing short of disturbing. She threw out names of The Six left and right in swears so harsh that Arenya felt like her ears were going to fall off. Arenya didn't believe in them - perish the thought! - but even so, hearing such harsh language used so brutally was uncomfortable to say the least.

Arenya trudged on towards her next class, but her strides were not so large as before. The spring in her step was gone.

“Apologies, Arenya.” Cartalis appeared next to her, seemingly out of nowhere. Though, she is breathing hard. Did she run to catch up to me, or get tired from all the yelling? “Those three mean well, but they’re ignorant. They were... I don’t think they realized they were staring at you so, nor that they made you so uncomfortable in the process. I informed them.”

“Thanks.” Arenya attempted a sheepish smile, folding her wings behind her. “I mean, you were staring at me too on the train, s-”

Cartalis flinched and nearly tripped. The blood drained from her face. “I… My apologies. I did not intend to…”

Arenya suppressed a sigh. The first day of life here, and already I’ve insulted the closest person I have to a friend. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean anything by it. They did.”

Cartalis’ grin was lopsided and muted. “If you insist. Nevertheless, I would very much appreciate you being forthright with me as you were just now. If in the future, I do something you find unacceptable, tell me.”

“I will.” Arenya proceeded to violate that rule immediately by not saying anything about Cartalis' outburst to the others.

As they continued to walk toward the main buildings, Arenya desperately fished for a new topic. “You’re… you’re a magitech, right?”

Cartalis nodded, smile returning to something Arenya found more normal. “In training, like all of us here. It is the most common class for students incoming, but the majority merely dabble a bit before finding a path in the alchemical or incantorial fields.”

Arenya could feel the excitement radiating from Cartalis as she continued. “I, however, am what is oft considered a born and bred magitechnician.”

Arenya blinked. “You mean your parents were magitechs too?”

Cartalis’ quizzical gaze gave Arenya a moment’s pause. “My father is. My mother is a culinary sorceress. They're both quite qualified in their fields. Nevertheless, they support my siblings and I in whatever we wish to pursue. Why do you ask? Were neither of your parents BladeM…”

She trailed off. “…Right. Of course they were not. What is your backup plan?”

A moment of silence passed between them. It shouldn’t have been nearly as awkward as the encounter with the trio of students surprisingly invested in Arenya’s apple-eating habits, but Arenya felt no less uncomfortable. Deep in her soul, she knew it to be a terrible idea, but no convincing lie came to her. All that was left to her was to tell the truth.

“I might try looking into becoming an incantorian, but if it would require too many additional classes and we can't afford the switch... I would go back the farm and help with the crops again. Money is tight, even with my scholarships.”

It wasn’t until after Cartalis covered her mouth with eyes wide as saucers that Arenya remembered she could have simply said the question was “unacceptable” and refused to answer.

A few seconds of silence longer, and Arenya spotted the building of her first course of the day and an opportunity to break away from the conversation. Despite how foolish she felt, and her internal hope that Cartalis would forget the conversation if only they kept away from each other for the day, the thought of wandering the intimidating hall alone to find the room felt like a punishment. And so, when Cartalis admitted that she’d neglected the course on her first year and was taking it as well, a weight lifted from Arenya’s chest.

With countless tables to study at, dozens of rooms for lectures, martial halls, alchemy labs, and conjuring benches, all adorned with beautiful magic-resistant gray brick walls, Arenya kept having to force herself not to stop and stare through every open door they passed. She’d heard of the contraptions called elevators before, but she expected never to see them, let alone so many or in as frequent use. Her work on the farm involved so much walking, after all - what was a few steps up to the second floor compared with a day of planting?

Though, with three entire floors, with much taller ceilings than the farmhouse’s, she could imagine getting too tired even for that if she traipsed up and down the stairs bringing in bushel after bushel of apples.

Of course, that was before she left. No more helping with the harvest, at least not for a while. This was her world now, strange as it all was, so she’d best get used to it.

Once she managed to wrest her eyes away from the building itself, however, something else caught her attention…

“Cartalis?” she whispered. “Why is everyone staring at us? Is it my wings?”

Cartalis rolled her eyes as they passed yet another group of students giving them strange glances. “Not merely that, though given the sheer quantity today I would imagine you are a factor. There are even more gawkers than usual.”

If asked, Arenya wouldn’t have been able to describe Cartalis’ expression at that moment. Some mixture of annoyance, disgust, and exhaustion? “I’ve turned down advances from what oft feels like half the students in the Academy. They care not about me as a person, or even for my looks. They just know who my father is and suspect I would be willing to ‘hook them up’ or some such. Why they think that my father’s daughter would be such a fool, I wouldn’t know.”

Arenya remained silent. The events of the day so far meant she was trying to be more wary of further conflicts with her friend. And anyway, what would she even say? A question about how Cartalis had learned this was happening? A question about her father? A reassurance that Cartalis' prettiness probably was at least a little bit of it? She wasn’t even remotely sure why God had seen fit to put that last one in her head.

The walk didn’t last long enough for another topic to arise, as Cartalis pointed out their destination: a room with a plaque reading YD209 outside each of its three doorways. The number of chairs alone, each with their own miniature desk attached for note-taking, was breathtaking. The room had entrances on two floors, even, and a staircase for an upper balcony that seated even more. The chairs themselves didn’t quite stack up in quality to the ones her family had bought from the nearby carpenter, and the lack of tail holes seemed like it might make her tail ache after a while, but that seemed unimportant relative to the sheer scale.

Arenya didn’t even notice how she was staring until Cartalis started yanking on her arm in an attempt to drag her to a seat. “I recognize this sort of thing is unfamiliar to you,” she explained, “but more students are arriving. It is best to stake your claim on the best chairs in the room before they’re all taken.”

Arenya looked around. All the seats looked the same to her. “Which chairs are those?”

“The ones near the front, of course! How else shall we manage to ask so many questions?”

Arenya wasn’t sure she really wanted to ask “so many questions”, especially not when she felt so out of place still. It was hard to say no to Cartalis’ earnestness, though, so she allowed herself to be led once more to the very front of the room just in front of the lecturer’s table.

It quickly became clear as the room filled that Cartalis’ concern was unjustified. If anything, the front two rows of seats were being actively avoided. “Okay, perhaps I fibbed a tad about the seats being quickly taken, but they are still the best ones. Why risk losing them?”

Arenya nodded along to the explanation, but her eyes focused on the students. While a few women were dressed in knee-length skirts and full-sleeved shirts like she was, many others wore low-cut shirts and small skirts, or trousers tight enough that she was shocked so few men seemed to be staring. The sort of outfits that Arenya had never worn, and would have been lectured profusely if ever she’d tried. It felt almost embarrassing just to be nearby.

She almost expected some men to be without shirts at all, but in that aspect she was happy to learn she was wrong. Still, many wore shorts, or shirts without sleeves on them. A few were quite good looking, Arenya couldn’t help but notice, but the feeling of something being not quite right about it all didn’t leave her. Of course, her family didn’t dress up every day - you wouldn’t want your best outfit to be soiled by sweat and dirt on the farm, and outfits with shorter or thinner sleeves were wondrous on a hot summer day of watering crops - but this was the city. Cartalis, at least, seemed to dress like what she’d been raised to think a city woman would - not like back at home, but at least somewhat modest.

She hoped that maybe Cartalis was wrong, and the stares being thrown their way in the halls and here were just because of their outfits, and nothing more.

Of course, Arenya didn’t have to ask around to know that was just wishful thinking. She’d never felt her wings a humiliation before, but now…

“Greetings, my wondrous students!”

The room quieted in an instant. The voice’s sheer thunder almost left Arenya’s ears ringing. At the front of the room stood a man, tall and dark-skinned. He wore all black, including a hat of the type Arenya had only heard stories of, and carried a long wooden cane that he clearly didn’t use to walk. His large beard and wide smile were infectious, and she found herself having to force her tail not to wag. Could it be? Could he really be a…

“My name is Professor Kazurist. Welcome to Introductory Incantations. Now let’s begin, shall we?”